Tuesday, April 29, 2014

My Secret Ridiculous Kink

The thing you have to remember is, kink is not an absolute. Kink is sometimes relative. Kink has nuance to it; kink has subtlety and variation. Kink depends on the person enjoying it.
Or not enjoying it, as the case may be.
What is kinky to one may not be kinky to another at all.
There are kinks we feel are safe to admit, because they happen to be popular at the moment, and fit some kind of ideal. But then there are the kinks that aren't so common, aren't so normal; but to some, they are the ultimate turn on.
Sometimes, our biggest kinks are the ones we don't want to admit to.

So this is one of my biggest kinks, and you'll probably find it absurd, you may even find it laughable, but here it is: I have a thing about my face. People touching my face, especially my cheeks and forehead, is a very intimate experience. You can pinch my nipples, you can spank my ass, but if I let you touch my face, you should count yourself a member of a very small circle.

If you are gentle with my face, if you caress it, press your palm against it, maybe run a finger lightly down my nose...I will smile and close my eyes as a deep sense of closeness unfurls inside my heart. If you hurt my face—well, let's back up. Nobody gets to really hurt my face except Husband. But if you make me think you might do something painful to it—poke it, bite it, maybe even slap it...my hackles will rise, and I will try to fight you.
You are pulling on some wild savage strings right there.
The only person who can get a different reaction out of me is Husband. When he touches my face, I immediately melt. And when he hurts my face...there's no resistance, no anxiety, no fight. Just me, giving up all control over one of the most sensitive parts of my body, offering it up to him wholly and without reservation, baring this part of me as a token of my love.
When he hurts my face, I sink into subspace.

Which is why hurting my face is something he loves to do.
One of Husband's favorite things to do
(This is one of those cases where it's one of his favorites, because it's one of my favorites, and he loves watching my physical responses)
(What can I say? I'm very responsive)
is to get out the tweezers...tell me to lie down on the bed, face up...and, um, tweeze my face. He goes after all those tiny little hairs every woman has on her cheeks and chin.
Some women have them worse than others. The hairs on my upper body are blonde, so they are harder to see, but Husband catches them, each and every one.

The other day, we were in bed, about to have fun. He held up the tweezers in his hand, and told me to lie down on the bed. "Hands at your sides," he said. "Not a word. Don't move your mouth."
He began to use those tweezers to hunt down and pull out every single hair on my chinny-chin-chin. It hurt, but he took his time, ignoring my tight-lipped whines and moans. Sometimes, he would just play with a stubborn hair for a while, yanking at it, teasing it with his fingers...but not quite pulling it out all the way, not until he was ready. Then he would ease it out slowly, bit by bit, and I would feel that hair leave my body with prickling sting. I closed my eyes, relaxed into the feel of it, and basked in his control.
Then he moved the tweezers to my nipples.

My eyes flew open. That had hurt.
"Move over," he said. "Head back."
I knew what he wanted: I moved over to the end of the bed so that my head hung down the side. Quickly, he shimmied out of his boxers, and pressed his cock against my mouth. When I didn't open fast enough, he squeezed my nipple with the tweezers.
Before I could finish my shriek, he had filled my mouth.
"Hands at your sides," he repeated. "Keep them there."
I flattened my hands back down. He pumped his hips, jamming my mouth with his cock. And as he moved against me, fucking my face, he continued to squeeze my nipples with the tweezers.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Squeezing one nipple, then the other.
I moaned and whined, but my cries were muffled around his cock...just the way he likes them.

"Use one hand to play with yourself," he ordered. "Open yourself up. I want to watch."
It was beyond me at that point to resist. I was mindless, steeped in my own fog of subspace. I spread my legs wide, opened myself up to his view, and began to do as ordered.
"There you go," he said. "Don't stop. That's a good girl."
His thrusts came harder now, and his cock took over my throat. Spit dripped down the sides of my face, but I was too spaced out to care. My fingers moved faster, making tiny circles against my clit.
"Keep going," he said. He pinched my nipple, hard; I moved my fingers faster. He pinched the other nipple, and I dug deeper into my folds. "That's it. C'mon."
I groaned against his cock, feeling my orgasm building as he used the tweezers to play with my nipples like a fine-tuned instrument. A jolt of agony would go from one nipple straight to my clit and back to the other nipple, mixing my pain with insatiable pleasure, until the feeling was almost unbearable.
He knew the instant I came: he could see the spasms taking over my body, feel my mouth close around his cock, hear my cries of pain-filled ecstasy around his prick. In the last second, he used the tweezers to squeeze one nipple and his fingers to squeeze the other, pinching both hard enough to make me scream. As my agonized cry tried to escape my throat, he rammed himself down my gullet, impaling my face on his cock.
His come dribbled down the sides of my face, mixing with my spit and tears.

I know he's going to want to recreate this scene again. It was so very fucking hot.
But first all the hairs on my chin have to grow back.

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