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What's your favorite and why?

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JaneRamsey

Really Experienced
Joined
Jun 28, 2018
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247
What's your favorite and why?


1. Wrist cuffs

2. A cane

3. Blindfold

4. Other________________
 
JaneRamsey said:
What's your favorite and why?


1. Wrist cuffs

2. A cane

3. Blindfold

4. Other________________
Click to expand...
sissy chooses:
1. Leather restraints (Wrist 7 Ankles)
2. Horse whip
3. Full head hood with eye covers and penus gag
4. All the above
 
My collar and leash.
It’s soft black lined leather. He made it to match my wrist and ankle cuffs. It has a bell. Which I love. :heart: both our attitudes change when I’m all leashed up. The deep conversation we may have been having 10 minutes before about politics or religion or the fallacy of organic food(ha!)
is gone. I’m instantly wet. His voice changes. I’m sure mine does, too, but I don’t talk much when I’m collared. And I’m instantly wet. Because I know I’m existing only for him in that moment.

Clothespins.
Intermittent pain. I love the harshness of them against my pink nipples and clit. My tongue. Wood on soft pink. The removal of them, the relief, and the exqusite pain as he looks at me and laughs as he reapplies them. The second hurt is so much sweeter.

I haven’t tried floggers and stuff. I love his hands.
 
Farawyn said:
My collar and leash.
It’s soft black lined leather. He made it to match my wrist and ankle cuffs. It has a bell. Which I love. :heart: both our attitudes change when I’m all leashed up. The deep conversation we may have been having 10 minutes before about politics or religion or the fallacy of organic food(ha!) is gone. I’m instantly wet. His voice changes. I’m sure mine does, too, but I don’t talk much when I’m collared. And I’m instantly wet. Because I know I’m existing only for him in that moment.
Click to expand...

So. This is an amazing read. :heart:

He made a paddle for me. It hurts like nothing else, and I prefer his hands, but he gets *that look* in his eyes when he holds it. And *that look* is one of my favorite things.
 
clistenovena said:
So. This is an amazing read. :heart:

He made a paddle for me. It hurts like nothing else, and I prefer his hands, but he gets *that look* in his eyes when he holds it. And *that look* is one of my favorite things.
Click to expand...

I can cum just from *that look*.
 
4a. A new leather belt, with that special smell which makes her knees weak, and the chunky, hard buckle.

4b. A heavy, flat-backed wooden hairbrush.

I’ve seen *that look* reflected in her eyes. Still makes me shiver.
 
Ice cream: pistachio
Cake: German Chocolate
Transmission: Five speed manual
Music: Beethoven
 
JaneRamsey said:
Whomever doesn't like German chocolate cake should get off this thread! :p
Click to expand...

Hard limit noted.

I pretty much said most of what I had to say in another thread about restraints. But, this from Farawyn caught my eye and sparked a memory.

Farawyn said:
My collar and leash.
~snip~.
Click to expand...

There was a time when I was younger (hard to believe, I know) and I, perhaps wasn't quite careful enough in considering and modulating my reactions.

Now, Love was... I almost hate to say it since it would really hurt her feelings, but she was actually pretty prim in her public persona. Like literally the leader of a church youth group and such.

That was, needless to say, before she fell into the gravitational pull of my dark sphere of influence.


One of her favorite positions was doggy style. Which was a tad problematic as she'd had her left knee blown out by a shotgun blast and "rebuilt" (for some definitions of the term) with steel plates in place of the joint that did not bend. So, the only way we could manage was on the couch with her right knee up, her left on the floor, and her elbows on the arm. Which pretty much left me playing tightrope walker on the edge of the couch as I tried to find the leverage to give her what she needed.


Now, as I say, she was actually pretty prim and proper and the natural use of coarse language was more than a bit of a problem for her, even more so than communicating what she wanted which was problematic enough in the beginning.


So, there we were, and no horse-shit. She was in position, and I was doing my balancing act and trying like hell not to fall off while giving her the hard stroke she craved. And, 'lo and behold, out of nowhere, she busts out with, "That's right! Mount me like the bitch I am!"


After a frozen moment of "what the fuck did she just-" I lost it, both my composure and my balance, and fell off the couch cackling. Felt like absolute shit about it since I knew she was just trying to talk dirty for my enjoyment. And when I finally did regain control, I had to take her in my lap and cuddle her for a long time while I explained just how many ways what she had done had struck me as funny. Not least that if ever there was a woman who was less of "a bitch," I have yet to meet her. (*cough* Um, that's not a slight to any of you here, it just... Well, putting up with me alone should have garnered the woman sainthood.)


Any road, we worked it out and it even became something of a joke between us. Even years later, she could make me smile by referring to herself as my bitch. And I so am not even going to explain the blanket with the pair of wolves on it to anybody.


(*She did get much better at cursing under my expert tutelage and years later could walk into a bar and have sailors bailing out the windows, blushing and covering their ears. But, that's beside the point.)


Sadly, I have a vile sense of humor and always have to carry the joke just that one step too far. So, one... mmm... can't remember if it was Valentine's or Anniversary or what. Any road, one of those, I went down to Pets Mart and made a couple of acquisitions. And got a really strange look from the fetus running the checkout.

Fuck her. The engraving machine said I could engrave what I wanted with a price listed per character.


Fortunately, I found the woman whose sense of humor (also vile) most closely matched my own and when she opened the necklace box gleaned from a well-known jeweler to find that collar sitting in there, she cracked up as well.


I didn't actually expect her to wear it.


You see, her brother when they were children had a habit of choking her until she either passed out or almost. This when he wasn't setting her Barbie car on fire as he pushed it down the driveway. So, she had definite issues with having anything around her neck. Even her blouses had to be roomy through the collar.

(We won't discuss the moment when she took my hand and placed it there and informed me in no uncertain terms that her life was mine to do with as I wished. She'd been reading bodice rippers again, so I don't really count that time.)

I would imagine you can imagine my surprise when she actually put it on. Of course, the effect was a tad ruined when she barked and then started whimpering and brushing her face on my shoulder. And then licked the corner of my mouth. With the entire length of her tongue.

The thing is... Well, in my younger years, I'd actually had a problem learning to moderate my strength. Yes, actually, I'd ripped the doorknob off a door when I got distracted and didn't get it twisted enough before yanking on it. Twice. And I'd actually caused some pain, not the good kind, for a couple of lovers when I was still first coming into my practical experience.

(Not what you're thinking! I'm not that well endowed.)

Well, Love had managed to convince me that I could be a little rougher with her, that she wasn't made of crystal. However, I'd also been known to break cinderblocks and bricks... So, I was still careful. More careful than she liked, although I didn't completely understand that since, as I say, articulating her wants and needs didn't come easily to her.

Over time, that collar became something of a symbol. When she put it on her neck, and she only ever put it around her own neck, it was a message to me that she wanted to be taken and used, her boundaries pushed with the one hard limit that if I came anywhere near her with a shotgun, she was the fuck outta there.

The night I pushed her over the edge and brought her through twenty-three climaxes in fifteen minutes and caused her to squirt hard enough she soaked the bed from her waist to her knees the first time, she was wearing it for me.

We hadn't tended it or taken care of it for a couple of years before she passed. There just didn't seem much point since she couldn't wear it anymore, along with everything implied. The leather is cracked and aged. Then again, so am I. I don't know why we kept it, really. Or why I still have it and have even now dug it out and am fiddling with as I scan over this to see if I really want to post this or not.


I don't know. I mean, I know that wasn't what you were looking for with this thread. But, I guess maybe it's telling that the 8' braided leather bullwhip is gone, the leather flogger with fifteen strips of leather, the velcroed restraint system, all of her toy chest with the various sized vibrators, dildoes, butt plugs, nipple clamps, anal beads, and whatever the fuck else it was that we accumulated over the years for me to use on her whenever she put on this fucking thing. And yet, I still have her collar wrapped around my fingers...
 
PuckIt said:
~snip~ the 8' braided leather bullwhip is gone, the leather flogger with fifteen strips of leather, the velcroed restraint system, all of her toy chest with the various sized vibrators, dildoes, butt plugs, nipple clamps, anal beads, and whatever the fuck else it was that we accumulated over the years ~snip~..
Click to expand...

By the by... Anal Beads =/= Lawn Mower Pullcord Starter. Just sayin'.
 
gracie920101 said:
Oh Puckit! You made me cry then I almost peed on the couch fromx laughter after reading your analogy.:D:eek::eek:
Click to expand...

It was a hard lesson. (Harder on some than others.) But, I by God learned it.

Definitely NOT going to get her motor runnin' that way. :eek:

giphy.gif
 
PuckIt said:
Hard limit noted.

I pretty much said most of what I had to say in another thread about restraints. But, this from Farawyn caught my eye and sparked a memory.



There was a time when I was younger (hard to believe, I know) and I, perhaps wasn't quite careful enough in considering and modulating my reactions.

Now, Love was... I almost hate to say it since it would really hurt her feelings, but she was actually pretty prim in her public persona. Like literally the leader of a church youth group and such.

That was, needless to say, before she fell into the gravitational pull of my dark sphere of influence.


One of her favorite positions was doggy style. Which was a tad problematic as she'd had her left knee blown out by a shotgun blast and "rebuilt" (for some definitions of the term) with steel plates in place of the joint that did not bend. So, the only way we could manage was on the couch with her right knee up, her left on the floor, and her elbows on the arm. Which pretty much left me playing tightrope walker on the edge of the couch as I tried to find the leverage to give her what she needed.


Now, as I say, she was actually pretty prim and proper and the natural use of coarse language was more than a bit of a problem for her, even more so than communicating what she wanted which was problematic enough in the beginning.


So, there we were, and no horse-shit. She was in position, and I was doing my balancing act and trying like hell not to fall off while giving her the hard stroke she craved. And, 'lo and behold, out of nowhere, she busts out with, "That's right! Mount me like the bitch I am!"


After a frozen moment of "what the fuck did she just-" I lost it, both my composure and my balance, and fell off the couch cackling. Felt like absolute shit about it since I knew she was just trying to talk dirty for my enjoyment. And when I finally did regain control, I had to take her in my lap and cuddle her for a long time while I explained just how many ways what she had done had struck me as funny. Not least that if ever there was a woman who was less of "a bitch," I have yet to meet her. (*cough* Um, that's not a slight to any of you here, it just... Well, putting up with me alone should have garnered the woman sainthood.)


Any road, we worked it out and it even became something of a joke between us. Even years later, she could make me smile by referring to herself as my bitch. And I so am not even going to explain the blanket with the pair of wolves on it to anybody.


(*She did get much better at cursing under my expert tutelage and years later could walk into a bar and have sailors bailing out the windows, blushing and covering their ears. But, that's beside the point.)


Sadly, I have a vile sense of humor and always have to carry the joke just that one step too far. So, one... mmm... can't remember if it was Valentine's or Anniversary or what. Any road, one of those, I went down to Pets Mart and made a couple of acquisitions. And got a really strange look from the fetus running the checkout.

Fuck her. The engraving machine said I could engrave what I wanted with a price listed per character.


Fortunately, I found the woman whose sense of humor (also vile) most closely matched my own and when she opened the necklace box gleaned from a well-known jeweler to find that collar sitting in there, she cracked up as well.


I didn't actually expect her to wear it.


You see, her brother when they were children had a habit of choking her until she either passed out or almost. This when he wasn't setting her Barbie car on fire as he pushed it down the driveway. So, she had definite issues with having anything around her neck. Even her blouses had to be roomy through the collar.

(We won't discuss the moment when she took my hand and placed it there and informed me in no uncertain terms that her life was mine to do with as I wished. She'd been reading bodice rippers again, so I don't really count that time.)

I would imagine you can imagine my surprise when she actually put it on. Of course, the effect was a tad ruined when she barked and then started whimpering and brushing her face on my shoulder. And then licked the corner of my mouth. With the entire length of her tongue.

The thing is... Well, in my younger years, I'd actually had a problem learning to moderate my strength. Yes, actually, I'd ripped the doorknob off a door when I got distracted and didn't get it twisted enough before yanking on it. Twice. And I'd actually caused some pain, not the good kind, for a couple of lovers when I was still first coming into my practical experience.

(Not what you're thinking! I'm not that well endowed.)

Well, Love had managed to convince me that I could be a little rougher with her, that she wasn't made of crystal. However, I'd also been known to break cinderblocks and bricks... So, I was still careful. More careful than she liked, although I didn't completely understand that since, as I say, articulating her wants and needs didn't come easily to her.

Over time, that collar became something of a symbol. When she put it on her neck, and she only ever put it around her own neck, it was a message to me that she wanted to be taken and used, her boundaries pushed with the one hard limit that if I came anywhere near her with a shotgun, she was the fuck outta there.

The night I pushed her over the edge and brought her through twenty-three climaxes in fifteen minutes and caused her to squirt hard enough she soaked the bed from her waist to her knees the first time, she was wearing it for me.

We hadn't tended it or taken care of it for a couple of years before she passed. There just didn't seem much point since she couldn't wear it anymore, along with everything implied. The leather is cracked and aged. Then again, so am I. I don't know why we kept it, really. Or why I still have it and have even now dug it out and am fiddling with as I scan over this to see if I really want to post this or not.


I don't know. I mean, I know that wasn't what you were looking for with this thread. But, I guess maybe it's telling that the 8' braided leather bullwhip is gone, the leather flogger with fifteen strips of leather, the velcroed restraint system, all of her toy chest with the various sized vibrators, dildoes, butt plugs, nipple clamps, anal beads, and whatever the fuck else it was that we accumulated over the years for me to use on her whenever she put on this fucking thing. And yet, I still have her collar wrapped around my fingers...
Click to expand...

Puck; this isn't the place to post this but I'm gonna anyway. I'm sitting here literally crying as I'm sure a few other people are too. Good tears. Thank you for existing for her. Thank you for loving her. Thank you for laughing and cuddling and doing what she needed. Thank you for keeping the collar even if it is old and cracked and she isn't there to wear it. Thank you for sharing this memory. The stories you tell speak so much hope and love ... Thank you.
 
Angedesoleil said:
Puck; this isn't the place to post this but I'm gonna anyway. I'm sitting here literally crying as I'm sure a few other people are too. Good tears. Thank you for existing for her. Thank you for loving her. Thank you for laughing and cuddling and doing what she needed. Thank you for keeping the collar even if it is old and cracked and she isn't there to wear it. Thank you for sharing this memory. The stories you tell speak so much hope and love ... Thank you.
Click to expand...

Post away! I love it when threads turn into good stories :)
 
JaneRamsey said:
What's your favorite and why?


1. Wrist cuffs

2. A cane

3. Blindfold

4. Other________________
Click to expand...

metal cuffs, because they need a key to remove

a large paddle, because I like symmetrical applications

anal figging, because it's a nice prerequisite to anal sex

violet wand, because I'm really into electroplay

I didn't number any of these, because they are all connected, in a devious way.
 
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