Tuesday, October 7, 2014

My First Time With A Hitachi

Yesterday was the first time I have ever tried a hitachi.
It was also one of the most, if not the most, surreal scenes of my life.
I went over to visit some kinky close friends: my friend The Brat, and her Master, who is also my play partner.
Most of the visit was just hanging out with my slavey friend, talking, laughing, and commiserating how evil our respective Masters can be. But after we went out to eat, we had some unexpected time on our hands...and I knew my friend had a Hitachi.
"Would you mind," I asked hesitantly, "showing me your hitachi?"
I'd never seen a hitachi up close. Everyone keeps telling me I HAVE TO GET ONE and it is the most AMAZING THING EVAH and the orgasms you get from it are OUT OF THIS STRATOSPHERE. But you know, I was skeptical.
"Sure you can see it," she said to me. "C'mon. It's in the dungeon."
She was a little embarrassed at first to find it still had some residual hot sauce on it from her own scene with it the night before. But after cleaning it up nice and tidy, she handed it to me.
"It comes with two speeds," she showed me, "but we have a variable controller on it, see?" She began to turn the dial on the controller left and right, and let me feel for myself how the buzzing ebbed and flowed.
Then her Master walked in.
"You're not gonna know what it feels like unless you really try it out," he said. Then he threw the gauntlet on the table: "I bet I can make you come through your underwear with that thing."
"Bet you can't," I said.
He pulled my shorts down to my ankles, put a condom on the hitachi head, bent me over a padded bench, and pressed the thing home.
I struggled for a minute. It was...humiliating, to say the least. But once I realized he was not going to stop until he was damn good and ready, I gave up, and settled in.
But I was not going to come.
"How long has he been doing this?" I asked my friend, who was now sitting on the bean bag in the corner, looking nonchalantly at her phone screen.
"A few minutes," she said. "Why, you want to time how long it takes you to come?"
"I want to time how long it takes him to give up."
"I wouldn't make that bet if I were you. He can keep going for a long time."
Six minutes. That's how long it took him to realize he could not make me come with that thing. Six minutes, and during those six minutes, my friend took a bunch of pictures of me looking bored and giving her the finger.
He gave up, put the hitachi down, tortured me in other ways for a few more minutes, made a bunch of vague threats, and left.
As soon as he left, I asked my friend: "Can play with that thing some more?"
"Sure," she said. "Don't mind me, I'm just looking at my phone."
So I started some self exploration with this hitachi toy. It was a little bit harrowing, and kinda exciting at the same time, knowing her Master might walk back inside any second, and if he did, he would be greeted with the vision of me with my legs spread, my panties pushed to the side, the hitachi shoved well up my cunt.
Now this is where things started getting surreal.
I was getting really into it, really enjoying myself...when my friend, that lovable BRAT, started playing the theme song to the "Will It Blend" videos.
Here's the thing: Some time ago, Husband threatened to train me to get wet every time I hear the "Will It Blend" theme song—and he has been making good on his threat. I can't even remember why he decided to do this to me, or what brought it on. But in my opinion, it's one of the most despicable things he's ever done to me, and that's saying something.
And I, stupid me, I made the mistake of telling my friend what Husband has been up to lately.
When I heard that "Will It Blend" song come on in the dungeon, I was snapped back into reality.
"Really?" I yelled. "Really?"
"I'm just trying to help Husband," she said sweetly. She said some more things about reinforcing my relationship and being a good helper, I think; but I'm not sure exactly what she said, because I was too busy cursing her out at that point.
She returned to looking at her phone screen as if nothing had happened.
It took me a while to come, but I did. With the knowledge her Master could walk in on me at any moment, and the Will It Blend song playing in the background, I came.
It was...nice. I'm not gonna say my orgasm with that hitachi was any better than the ones I get with my own vibrator. It was about the same, I think.
But damn that scene took a surreal turn I hadn't been expecting.
I didn't tell her Master I had come with the hitachi after he'd left the dungeon; I let my friend tell him after I'd gone home.
Frankly, I consider that tidbit a victory for me.
I usually suffer for my victories later. But right now? Score one for Shelby.
Addendum: When I told Husband how my morning went, he immediately told me he's now going to buy a hitachi with a variable speed controller, and find a way to program the thing to work in harmony with the Will It Blend Song.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Ten Things Not to Say to Your Master After Being Punished at His Feet

1. Oh wow, that's it? And here I thought I was in some trouble.
2. I'm not laughing at you, really, it's just, your accent is so cute.
3. You need a new dandruff shampoo. It felt like you were snowing on me.
4. I hate to say it, but I'm beginning to notice you really need to work out more. Especially your arms.
5. You know, at some point you're going to have to start thinking you're getting too old for this.
6. Yeah, sure I learned my lesson—whatever.
7. What was I supposed to stop doing again?
8. You should cut your toe nails. What the fuck did I say? What else am I supposed to look at while I'm kneeling down there?
9. Are we done now? Good. So let me tell you about the conversation I had with my mother.
10. It's too bad you didn't take pictures while you were doing it.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

I Fisted Myself

Last night, after visiting a fun munch, I came home to discover Sons 1&2 were out, and Son3 was already fast asleep. In our house, this magic alignment of the stars means only one thing:
BOOM! Husband and I can make some noise.
We started out soft and slow: talking, caressing, and relaxing into each other on the bed. Since we were about to have sex, it was natural that our topic of conversation be sex related, and we shared a few nonsensical whimsies with each other, the kind of silly intimacies that fill you with a heightened sense of awareness about the other person.
We got onto the subject of fisting, and I mentioned to him again I would love the opportunity to fist another woman. Now, I've mentioned this to him many times before; I wasn't telling him anything new. But for some reason, last night, this fact tapped his cerebral cortex.
"If you really want to fist a woman," he said, "you could start with yourself."
"That's not possible," I scoffed. "I can't fist myself."
"I bet you can. You won't know unless you try."
I paused for second to look at him. "Are you serious? You want me to fist myself?"
As he bounded off the bed to get the lube, I realize he had taken my question of disbelief as a sign of enthusiasm.
I was in for it now.
He set me up with a pillow under my butt, and ordered me to spread my legs.
"I'm going to go first, to get you ready," he said.
Gee, thanks, I thought.
For the next few minutes, I didn't really think anything anymore, because I do like fisting, and Husband knows what he's doing.
But I was nervous, too, about what was to come, and my nervousness made me tight.
"Relax, this is going to take a few minutes," he said, easing his hand in further.
"It should take more than a few minutes!" I grunted.
"You're tight."
"I'm scared."
"Don't be scared. I'm preparing you. You can do it."
A few minutes later, he pulled his hand out...and ordered me to put mine in.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," I kept saying. "This is not going to work."
Husband held my leg out wider. "Just reach in...c'mon...you can do it."
I slipped my hand inside myself. Now, I'm no prude; I've touched myself down there many times before, for the sake of tampons and hygiene. But this? This was way different. I wasn't just touching myself, I was sticking my whole hand in there...and Husband's face was right there, watching me.
I felt...sticky. And a lot more roomier than I'm used to. His own hand had really stretched me out. I hadn't been expecting that.
I wasn't expecting how easily my hand fit in there.
I wasn't expecting how much I'd like it.
Husband kept moving my legs around and pulling me up so I could reach in more. "There you go," he said proudly. "How does it feel?"
"Sticky," I said. "And weird."
"I don't think it's weird. I think this is fucking hot. Where's your phone?"
"Damn, I can't get a picture."
The scene lasted a few more minutes like that, then we progressed on to other things.
After everything was over, and we were back on the bed, sated and showered, he remarked again how hot I looked, fisting myself.
"We'll need to do this again," he said. "So you can have pictures. You can put them on your blog." He was quiet for a moment.
A quiet, thinking Husband is always a dangerous situation.
"You know what?" He said, the excitement high in his voice. "You should do a whole 'Will It Fit?' series on your blog. We can plan on different things to try, and every time we do, we can take pictures. It'll be fun." (He started humming the tune from the "Will It Blend" series on Youtube. Yes, he can be a dork, but he is a sadistic dork, what can I tell you.)
"It'll be...fun?" I said. "What kinds of things do you have in mind?"
"Some stuff we have in the garage...do you really want to know more?"
I tried to turn away in horror, but he grabbed me, kissed my head, and laughed.
So now I have joined the proud (are we proud? Let's say we are) ranks of women who can say they've fisted themselves. It's sticky. It's also kind of
degrading...which I guess for me, is what adds to the fun.
I have no idea what Husband is planning next. After all these years, that man still keeps me guessing.
But stay tuned, because pictures are coming.