pain fun

[Joker50]

The whole of this is based on real events:
A good few years ago on a dare web site, in the days when I was someone else, I set a female member a pain task; We corresponded for a while and then suddenly she left the site. I received an e.mail to say she was sorry she hadn’t ever done my dare but, others had managed to ruin the fun she was having - she wanted to re-assess her world.
I replied, I was sorry to see her go but if she wanted to keep in touch, she was welcome too.
And that was it, until a few weeks ago, when an e.mail appeared, titled ‘Hello' and a message that read, 'reply if you are single or available please.’
I replied with ‘Hello?' and then there was silence again, until last Friday week.

Out of the blue I received some pictures and a report.
She apologised for not replying to me from the week earlier and filled me in on what had been happening to her after she left the site.
She had met a man on a dating site who had taken over her world. He was a little bit older than her but he had given her all she could want for and even though it wasn’t his thing, he had inflicted the pain she occasionally craved. As time went on she could tell his heart wasn’t in the sexual play anymore, he had started to become work obsessed and then to top it off she had become a golf widow.

At first she had tried to be a good housewife, participating in all the normal things expected of them as a couple but, the moment he was gone to the golf club and she was alone, she was stripping naked and finding ways to abuse her breasts and pussy; Ways that slowly became more and more extreme; Some she knew would leave marks she could enjoy for a while but the marks faded quickly and would be gone by the time they went to bed, so he wouldn't know what it was she was doing to herself and it satisfied her need to be sexually turned on by pain.

And then it didn’t matter, she could be marked, he was often in bed before her, she started pushing her boundaries, Thumb tacks dropped inside her panties and bra, she bought an ass plug and inserted it coated in whatever she felt like, so long as it gave her a thrill. Se would flick her clit before they went out and often, whilst they were out. She put paperclips on her nipples under her clothes, bits of candles pushed in her pussy covered in toothpaste.
She began to leave her clothes off, going to the shops in shorts that almost but not quite showed her pussy. She cut tops down so her nipples might get exposed and when she got home she would punish her breasts and pussy if she had seen them reflected in a shop window. But when he came home she would be his dutiful girl, not that it mattered he was so interested in golf, work and promotion, sex had become a rarity.

Then one day he came home from work and fucked her hard in the kitchen; He was overjoyed, his company had finally given him what they had been promising once he reached a junior management position; they were sending him on an overseas trip. She was delighted for him, but it wasn’t the news or the hard sex that made her happy, it was what she was going to do whilst he was away.

She had taken him to the airport and kissed him passionately, he had told her to be a good girl and enjoy herself. She had promised she would and he left to board. She waited to see him board, the doors close and the flight leave, then she had returned to the car.

In her own words;

I saw him go - the flight left - I walked back to the car - unlocked it - got in the car and thought about you.
Am I a bad girl, because I thought about what you would have me do in this situation? To be honest, I have thought about you a lot recently; I wasn’t sure if you would like hearing from me, so I went on the site and looked at your profile - it hadn’t been accessed in a while, maybe you weren't like that anymore. I could have asked for dares but it wasn’t what I wanted, if I was to play it would be for you - so I thought about what you liked, then did it.

Instead of driving down to the pay-station and exit, I drove up and parked on a much quieter level. I got out - locked the car and walked across to where I could see the planes landing and taking off. It wasn’t cold but enough of a chill to wear a light coat over a thin cotton dress - you know the ones you like with the shoulder bows, they are so difficult to get these days but I have had one hidden in a box for years - Did I always know I would come back? On the day I had made myself so busy that I had only dressed just before we left, so he had no idea I was wearing it or what was underneath - being chilly it was the perfect excuse to be wrapped up and hidden.

I undid the coat and walked back to the car - unlocked it - reached up under the coat - pulled on the shoulder bows that held the dress in place. As you can see in the pictures I have attached I haven't changed much body wise - still slim; so when I gave the dress a tug - then wriggled slightly - the dress slid down over my small tits - down my body - over my ass - onto the ground. I picked it up - threw it in to the car - kicked off my shoes and felt the cold concrete beneath my feet. I hadn’t planned to go any further but the thrill of the cold air and what I had done so far plus the certainty that my pussy was wet - I wanted more.
Underneath the dress, I was wearing the black bikini you can see in the pictures. I was about to strip that off when I was almost certain I could hear you daring me to go further. I looked around the car park, it was very quiet. I moved the car to where I had been standing to watch the planes - got out - stripped off the bikini - tied it to a piece of pipe - got back in the car - drove to the far side of the parking lot - parked so I could see my abandoned bikini - lay the car seat back - pulled the coat apart so my body was exposed.

In the distance was my bikini. I was a slut for what I was doing. I was certain you would punish me and then I brought my hand down hard on my pussy.
I started to talk out loud - I was a slut; Slap! - A cheap whore; Slap! Slap! - A dirty fuck toy; Slap! Slap! Slap! - My tits, ass and cunt need fucking; Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! – look at me, I used cunt. You know how much I hated that word but I no longer cared, I wanted it to be abused; Slap! Slap! Slap! Slop! - I was soaking!
I put my legs up on the dashboard and rammed my fingers in, two then three, four, I curled my hand - moved enough to push my thumb underneath my fingers - curled my hand in to a fist - I was so full but no matter how I tried there wasn't room to fist myself properly - I tried to slap my clit more but the angle wasn’t good - I turned to my tits - grabbing my nipples hard - stretching them, smacking my 33c milk sacks until they were a dull red topped off with bright red nipples.
I was ready - I was horny and wet - I had no inhibitions - I yanked my fist out - dropped the keys in to the foot well - hurriedly got out of the car - my coat streaming behind me, exposing me - I ran across the parking to retrieve my bikini. I was about to untie it from the pipe when the thought crossed my mind; I looked at the car - the opportunity would probably never happen again - Not like this!
I dropped the coat to the floor and made myself walk back to the car. Daring myself to stop at each of the concrete posts - to sit down - spread my legs and count - twenty at the first post - forty at the second - seventy at the third and finally to a hundred as I smacked and flicked my clit harder at each one - always denying myself.
At each one I looked at the wet patch I had created, each bigger than the one before. My pussy was a soaking mess by the time I had finished at the fourth post. I stood and looked at the last wet patch I had created – wondering what you would do to me if you could see them.
I walked to the car - got in and drove to retrieve my coat and bikini.
Talk about good timing, I had five minutes left on the parking pass before it went to much longer hours and a higher price. Naked, I drove down to the pay station, pulled my coat around my shoulders and thrust my arms into the sleeves as I got out of the car - walked to the machine and paid the fee.
I turned and as I did so the guy who had come up behind me at the machine handed me a piece of paper.
I walked back to my car - drove to the gate - pushed the ticket in - drove home.
I wanted to see what it said on the paper but deliberately forced myself to wait. Once inside I wondered about naked whilst making a coffee, then pulled it out: It read; Grayson, 45, you were naked on level 10. If you want to fuck or play games that push your limits, this is my number. I put his number on a word doc and filed it away as you had taught me to do, which is why I still have your dare, among other things - I have a picture of your cock - I hope it tastes as nice as I always wanted it too.

No one can challenge me the way you do and I wanted to hear from you again. If you really are still single - I almost wet myself when I saw your reply -
I want to do something we haven’t done before - meet - I want you to use me in person - if only once please.
To prove I am serious, I did the nettle dare and everything you specified in the dare - including the pictures - I haven’t sent them all - some weren’t worth viewing.
Yes, I do remember you told me to always send you everything - let you be the judge - so punish me for not doing so - I don’t care - so long as I can be your pain slut - your bitch - use me as you want!

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And it is here I will take up again briefly:

I remembered writing Jane a nettle dare; even the odd detail from it. I knew I didn’t have the e.mails stored in the same way anymore, there had been so many girls before and after Jane, with different tastes that in the end the conversations and pictures had been moved in to files, then on to drives and then more drives I would have to look for them, if they even existed anymore so it wasn’t until Jane included it in her e.mail that I was able to take in the full details of how far we had gone.

Jane again:

After the excitement of the airport and the journey home plus the unexpected offer, I was already highly aroused, so when I opened the nettle dare e.mail again after so many years and quickly scanned through it. I knew if I was to be a slut for you, to let you use me for pain then I was going to do it. It would be my statement of intent to you.

I spent the rest of the day naked, rubbing my pussy and ass against anything and everything I could. I put pegs on my nipples and then more on my breasts. I opened all the curtains and at the back, I opened the patio doors too, so I could pull a sun lounger into the doorway – when I felt like it I would lie there with my hand constantly teasing my clit – but never cum – so many ruined orgasms – I was exhausted but insatiable.

I took a couple of white candles and covered my pussy and ass in wax and then roughly pulled the wax off so any hair would be removed too – I wanted to be as perfectly bald and pink for you and the dare as I could.

When the phone rang in the early evening from an overseas number and he asked how my day was going? I said it was okay, I was thinking of watching a movie but he seemed as distracted as I was. I asked about his flight and told me he it had been okay too, he was missing me, so I told him I was missing him too and then he was gone. I hung up slowly in case I was wrong and the connection had dropped and he hadn’t hung, I wanted to be certain.
And then relief coursed through me. I swiveled my body around in the chair – put my feet up on the back – spread my legs – smacked my pussy as hard as I could twenty times - not punishment for being a bad girl – I smacked with the joy that comes of potentially being your slut again - free to play for you with no worries.

It had been a while since I had read the dare carefully; so I recited the initial instructions a few times and then for fun I read the other e-mails we had exchanged. Some of that were related to the nettle dare - and a few that weren’t, so rude and disgusting, no wonder I like to smack and destroy my pussy so much - How you persuaded me to do fire and ice, the heels to wear and adjusting the books under my ass so my pussy wouldn’t burn until I could do it without the books. It all became so fresh in my mind that it seemed the last few years had never been.

There is something else too about the nettle dare: As I read through the e-mails, it seems that initially in our discussions we were discussing writing a play or a novel exciting, but, always fiction. The story or play grew in details as I contributed more background information. Exchanging bits of potential dialogue until there is a change in the dialogue:

Would I do this? Would I be prepared to take it on? Things were different back then, I wasn’t sure as others began to ruin my fun but today – my dripping pussy is so wet, my nipples ache with constant attention – today is different, today in my hyper sexually frustrated mood, turning back now is not an option but - being sexually frustrated or even proving myself to you wasn’t going to be enough - I would have to do something I had never done, something you had encouraged in me but I had refused and yet I had always secretly desired to try and now it was time.

I would be the actress; playing the role of the woman who needs her own self inflicted sexual pain to get through her life - the role I have waited years for. I stood and walked around having imaginary conversations as producers discussed my body - would my tits be big enough, was I willing to do anything to get the role?
Even as I asked myself these imagined questions, I answered with demonstrations of self abuse - smacking my tits red to make them look bigger – clamping my nipples with a trouser hanger – taking a hammer handle in my ass - a golf club in my pussy – of course I was ready!

For a moment reality kicked in and I looked around me at the items I had used through the day to abuse and pleasure myself, left out openly for anyone – who might see the connection between the objects - to see what a slut I was become again.

It was now I realised; not only was I about to do this for real! - I had always been the subject of the play! - You had always intended that I would be required to act the part! - Of course we could never be certain how the story would play out or what the ending would be - until I suffered for or maybe enjoyed, my prominent public role. And now there was something else that was driving me on; I was also intrigued to learn more about myself.

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