Pegs, pain and pleasure

Every time he twitches it fires a pain response.

Every time it fires a pain response three things happen, firstly his face contorts, initial wide eyed shock at the intensity before gritting his teeth to ride it, secondly I squeal with delight and thirdly, it turns him on.

Every time the pain turns him on, it makes him twitch.

His arousal is a complex mixture, at the base is the physical sensation, it’s seasoned with a dash of “this is fucked up and I shouldn’t like it” and completed with the essential ingredient of my reaction.

Twitch, pain, arousal, twitch, pain, arousal.

I’m genuinely gleeful, watching his little merry go-round of a predicament. Helping it along with a little flick here and there, a gentle tap against the metal clothes-pegs so carefully placed. A cautious pull to gauge the reaction, unable to contain my own, noisily bouncing with loving giggles.

Flick, ouch, pain, arousal. Flick, ouch, pain, arousal.

Repeat.

The pegs were new. Casually left on the table; planted as bait? His objections were too finely tuned, too well crafted, designed to give control to be made to do something he wanted to do anyway. “Nooo….that would hurt!” his massive grin at odds with his verbal response. Had he hoped I would suggest it?

He practically threw his clothes off on his way to the floor.

I’d taken it slowly; despite our shared enthusiasm this was still new. Two on each side of his sensitive thighs. Easy to grip, a fold of skin between the tough plastic coated teeth.  His honesty getting the better of him “they’re OK actually…Oh god, why did I say that…?” His panic-stricken face understandable, did he just unleash a crazy-eyed sadist on his most sensitive parts with assurance that he could take more?

Luckily I enjoy each new level too much to rush. I vary the pleasurable torture with torturous pleasure, taking him deep in my throat and then stopping suddenly to return to the pegs.

Chuckling at his misfortune, I tease him about what I could do, what I should do with him vulnerable beneath me. “Are you really going to let a unicorn put pegs on your balls?!” I ask with mocking banter. The unicorn Kigu stripped away as I get warm and increasingly excitable.

Even with two more on his balls he stays rock hard. “Your cock gives you away” I remind him but he already knows, cheekily requesting that his cock “Shhhh!” but to no avail. It pumps underneath my hand. It tells me he wants more.

What about here?” I threaten smacking the underside of his balls, watching the pegs rattle against him. “I know that “no” doesn’t mean no…” shaking my head in time with my own, except I mean it. “You have red, you know you do, otherwise…it’s your cock next.PPP Blog

The anticipation makes him squirm, forgetting about the pegs already in place the pain reminds him not to close his legs again. Slowly I build to it, teasing words, gentle strokes, harsh smacks against the pegs to pull hard against the skin.

The two pegs on either side of his cock really push him. Biting down, making the skin so tight. He breathes hard. Trying to stay still to process the pain. My reaction is a calmer consuming appreciation of this moment, of our dynamic, of having this mutual trust to share experiences.

We maintain eye contact as I check in, a whispered enquiry with deserved strokes “How you doing?” I’m so proud when he nods, when he can take it, when he still, still, wants more.

The ones on my cock hurt.”
He breathes, slowing, calming himself.
Good…you’re doing really well

“You got all serious there!” he flips the mocking back to me, a goad to push me. A clear message that is received loud and answered with one final peg. Hard metal gripping against the skin underneath his balls.

Seriousness isn’t misplaced, the pressure of all the pegs combined is apparent in his expression and in his breathing. He’s beginning to reach his limit. I relish our achievement for as long as I know he can bear. Prepping him for the agonising end to our fun. He knows it’s coming and whimpers.

Deep breath in….aaaand out” my hands moving swiftly and in time with his exhale to unclip the pegs.

Breathe – in, out, remove, pain, arousal. Breathe – in, out, pain, removal, arousal….each one.

Another cycle of pain and arousal to leave him peg free but just as hard, tender bits of indented skin calling for my fingers to find them, to push, to draw reaction, masochistic tendencies much like mine, best savoured in a cycle – pain, processing and pleasure.

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