Screwups

I blew my change to be released from chastity for an orgasm yesterday. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Saturday morning we woke up and were laying in bed chatting. My wife/Mistress/keyholder told me she’d like to unlock me to ensure that tiny (her name for my cock) “gets a good bath”. By this she means a good (usually harsh) scrubbing.

The prior evening we had watched Margaret Cho’s “Beautiful” comedy stand-up performance (excerpt here).  Margaret is awesome, we love her (but Cho newbies may want to check out her previous tours first). Anyway, part of her act was going off about stinky dick. So I jumped to the conclusion that my wife was concerned about that with me. Certainly that was true with the CB-3000, but I can keep the JailBird nice and clean. In addition, putting the PA lock back on is a bit of a hassle.

So, keeping my defensiveness in check, I commented back to my wife that I am very able to keep it clean, and that “a bath for tiny” really isn’t necessary. She dropped it for a short while, then brought it up again. And again I said we didn’t need to do that. You can probably guess what she said next. I didn’t see it coming – go ahead, call me an idiot.

“Well, I was going to release you today and let you have an orgasm. My plan was to get into the shower with you and let you soap up my naked body. Then I was going to wash tiny until he squirted. But twice now you argued with me about unlocking you, so you can just forget about it now.”

Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t say that, but I thought it really loud. What a dunce.

And that was that. It’s Sunday afternoon now, and she’s not said another word about it. But that wasn’t my only screwup that day. Oh no.

In my last post I mentioned that I wanted to offer my newly hairless body to Mistress this weekend in a special way. She approved a “surprise” scene for Saturday afternoon. When the time came, I gave her a note and asked her to give me 1/2 hour to get set up, then she could come up to the bedroom.

The note outlined that I would be tied to the bed and gagged, naked (but in chastity of course). My cage would be covered to hide my useless genitals, but in a way she could rub herself on it for her pleasure if she wanted to. The rest of my body was slick with massage oil, and the note suggested she could feel free to arouse herself by rubbing her body on mine. I thought she’d enjoy a bondage/lesbian/sensually erotic scene.

Wrong.

She came into the bedroom as I was finishing up with the wrist cuffs. She said “Here, let me help” and she tightened them both and locked them to the corner bed restraints. Her enthusiasm at securing me surprised me. My ankles were already tied out. I had a ball gag in and she tightened the blindfold. “Comfy?” she asked rhetorically. I nodded. Then she left, going downstairs to her office for what I estimated was about 1/2 hour.

At this point I had no idea what was going on. I laid there bound, gagged and naked, unable to do anything but await her return. Part of me wondered if this was a way for her to reinforce the objectification – leaving me as a toy to be used if and when she wanted. Another part of me was worried that I had messed up.

When she eventually returned, I got my answer. “So, according to your note, you had a particular scene in mind, right?” I nodded weakly, concerned about where this was headed. “Well, what if I’m not interested in that? And by the way: I’m not. So let’s review your note.” She read the note to me, word for word. “It’s good you put the part in about me doing whatever I want to you, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

With that she sat on the bed next to me. The next 10 minutes were torture, consisting of her flicking my nipples painfully and tickling me relentlessly. I was yelling and begging for her to stop, thrashing around in my 4-point restraint. After that she took our leather paddle and reddened the inside of my thighs. Then some more tickling and belly-button stimulation which I also greatly dislike.

She tortured me as I yelled and thrashed, and I heard her laughing. Yes, she was really, truly enjoying the hell out of this. I was in tears from the torment. She said “You know I’m a sadist, right?” I nodded, as we both know that’s one of the reasons I wanted to marry her. She continued this torture for a little while longer.

But I wasn’t prepared for the next part. Behind the blindfold my eyes went wide as she asked “Where are my needles?” OMG. Just after New Years I gave her a present: scores of new hypodermic and acupuncture needles, along with alcohol wipes (this post). Through the ball gag I directed her to a dresser drawer. I could tell from her voice that she was serious.

I felt her rub a wipe on some skin on my leg, and then heard her opening one of the needle packages. “I haven’t had a chance to use these yet. And you said I can do what I want, didn’t you?” All I could do was whimper, torn between not wanting to be her pin cushion and wanting so much to sincerely please her.

“Stay still, don’t move,” she said. I felt her pinch the skin on my leg. I braced myself. I really hate needles, and she knows this. I felt the needle enter my skin as she pushed it through, and I bit hard into the rubber gag as I screamed. “That’s one,” she said, “I think we’ll start with five.” My whimpering protests were unintelligible through the gag.

I bit down hard as she swabbed, pinched and poked me four more times. Then she sat back and caressed around the areas. “Don’t thrash around now, we don’t want one of those needles poking into your testicles now, do we?” In my mind I saw a needle dangerously close to my tight scrotum poking through my chastity cage. Must … be …. still.

Seeing my blindfold had slipped, she adjusted it back into position and said “Keep this in place. If it moves again, that will be five more needles.” Ok, I think I can do that.

“Now I’m horny,” she said, and she climbed on top of me, still fully clothed. “Do not move around, I don’t want any of those needles poking me. Understand?” I nodded, truly scared for me and for her. She ground her crotch against my chest and worked herself up to an orgasm. In doing so, her chest was in my face and it moved the blindfold.

As she carefully got off of me, she noticed the blindfold was out of place again. “What did I tell you?! That means five more needles.” I whimpered and whined and begged. “Do you want more than five?” That shut me up, briefly anyway.

I felt more alcohol swabbing, followed by more skin pinching and poking. My teeth dug into the gag each time as I screamed during and cried afterwards. After the last one she laid down next to me and caressed my face, feeling my tears. I panted and calmed down, feeling very loved by her attention and grateful that the torture seemed over.

“Would you like to see?” she asked? “I’ll release one hand and you can get the rest.” She did so, and soon I sat up and removed the blindfold. I expected to see ten needles still in me. But there were none. There was just one place where two little blood spots indicated where one needle had been. Nine of the “needles” were mindfucks. I cried.

I unfastened my ankles and she covered me with a soft throw. We cuddled together, and I sobbed with my head on her chest and in her arms. I really am needlephobic, and this was an intense scene for me. Her aftercare was perfect, and eventually I settled down. We talked and processed things, we both learned some things about the other, and our intimacy deepened once again.

Overall it was an incredible scene. But she made clear that she wants to be in charge of them. Me defining the scene was not a good move on my part. I thought I was offering something new to her, but I see her point now and my error. In my quest to make her happy, I can do better.

Twice yesterday she sent me out crossdressed for errands. One to pick up dinner, and later to pick up a DVD. Today she send me out grocery shopping for ingredients for a new recipe she wanted to try. And yesterday as usual I was in my housekeeping dress for several hours cleaning floors, vacuuming, doing dishes, and other chores at home.

We have a local kink/BDSM party coming up in 2 weeks. Last time she put me and my newly received Prince Albert piercing on display (prior post here). I’m wondering if she will keep me chaste until then. That would be a full month. I’ve daydreamed about being milked at the party. I fully expect to be displayed again so people can see my cage and PA-lock.

But after this weekend I’ve learned my lesson about suggesting scenes or activities. The moral of this story? Mistress is in charge.

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