Hygeia and I have talked about cutting for a while now – how it turns me on, how it turns her on, how practical it is to actually do it. Despite that, however, I was surprised when she called me early last week to let me know that she was holding a play party on Friday, and was I still interested in trying it out?
(Yes! Oh, hell yes!)
Much more specific and detailed conversation ensued over the next few days. And each conversation left me exhilarated, frightened, and incredibly turned on. Somehow, such deliberation did not take away from the submissive frisson I felt – the care Hygeia was taking to ensure I was satisfied and safe with the play we had planned added to the trust I felt.
I’ve imagined my flesh parting under a blade – opening like a small mouth, breathing exquisite pain and bloody words. I imagine the burn, afterward. I feel myself getting drippingly wet as I fantasise about my eyes being blindfolded, not knowing where the next cut will be.
Let me set the scene.
A small, intimate party. Twelve people, two rooms. Random conversation swirling around as CBT (cock and ball torture, not computer-based training nor cognitive behavioural therapy) was inflicted on a willing victim. No alcohol, but ginger ale and chocolate and wicked, wicked laughter. A sink of antiseptic water. Music playing.
Hygeia let me squirm and mingle for the next two hours, as two male subs had their scrotums stretched, pegs attached to very uncomfortable places, and two mistresses tormenting them wickedly. Never having witnessed CBT before, it was most interesting. But my stomach was feeling the nervousness!
Then an interlude whereupon my good friend Kiana was suspended from the ceiling – she could stand on her toes, but only just – and had fishing weights dangled from clamps on her nipples and labia. It was an absolute turn-on for both her and those of us watching as her husband carefully flicked the dangling weights with a crop, or flicked her instead.
Finally, Hygeia told me to strip (“How much do you want taken off, Mistress?” “As much as you want, slut.” Followed by a grin when I stripped to the buff within seconds), and I bent over the whipping chair. My back and buttocks and thighs were thoroughly warmed up as she flogged me two handed and every once in a while switched to a thumpingly hard paddle – although after I swore and was punished harder for it, she switched back to the slightly lighter implements.
Then it was off to the side room, where a plastic sheet had been wrapped over the play table. Hygeia and the other mistress, Demona, laid me down on my back, and pinched and teased and rubbed and twisted while they discussed what to do with me. Some of the party came through to watch the proceedings, knowing very well what was to happen, while others deliberately avoided the room. Understandably. One dom whom I’d just met that evening, Adonis, stayed the entire time, watching and commenting from the far end of the room. Knowing that he was there, gentle eyes seeing me at my most vulnerable, only added to my experience.
Donning gloves, Hygeia broke open the box of acupuncture needles. She talked with me again, telling me that she wanted to pierce around my aureole, and checking that I was okay with that. As I assented, she told me to close my eyes and keep them closed. Then she and Demona went to work.
I felt a sharp sensation on my left breast, and a pressure as the needle slid under my skin on a shallow incline (“Breathe, Dee. Good girl, you’re doing well. Breathe.”). She stitched it up and back through again, then out once more, then told me to look at my breast. A long, narrow needle lay across it, pointing towards me. As I expressed my amazement – and more than a little pain, although good pain – she bade me lie back again, so she could put in more.
Together, she and Demona placed two needles around each aureole, then moved down to my cunt. Carefully, they slid needles into the mound of my mons, which hurt considerably more (although they only went in a little way). Once they were satisfied with the placement, they playfully flicked their way around them all, causing shivers of reaction to surge through me.
I was slipping into subspace, and enjoying the safeness I felt in the feeling. I knew that Hygeia would look after me ever as she tormented me, and Demona too was tempering her torment with trust. Which was good, as it was time for cutting.
As Hygeia’s husband retrieved the new razor blade and boiled the jug, Demona played with my cunt. She opened it right up for Adonis to admire, pulled the trimmed hairs and threatened to tweeze them out. She lubed her glove and slid fingers inside me, distracting me as Hygeia took the needles out.
“What is this?” Hygeia asked me as I lay with my eyes closed as my breath hitching, and I was so lost that I didn’t realise she was drawing the blade over my skin. A long burn blazed across my breast, and I moaned my breath out. It felt incredible.
She and Demona spoke in amazement as they watched the blood bead from the cut, and checking that I was okay (oh, yes!), she cut me again. And again. A knife was sterilised and brought over, and Demona joined it, pressing hard enough to make welts but not to cut. The burn spread over my breast and chest and joined my cunt as I struggled to not spasm on the table. I breathed and sighed and lost myself in the heat – and I delighted as Adonis came closer to watch the process, and others came to see as well.
Eventually, it was over. I was brought a mirror so I could see the pattern that had formed, and water to sip with a straw. The table was ratcheted so I could sit, and those who had not wanted to see the cutting came to admire the results.
I was flying. Adrenaline continued to pump through me, and my kneecaps jumped uncontrollably under the blanket that was brought. But the grin on my face wasn’t going anywhere. Hygeia sent one of the subs to get a damp washcloth, and she tenderly patted down my breasts and chest.
Later, there was wax play with three female subs on a purple tarp, but that’s enough for tonight. More on that tomorrow, I think.