With great power comes great responsibility. So when you design a massive task, you might need to lead by example.
That was probably a good thing. I don't know how much more squirming I would have survived with this task hanging over my head, especially while on no touch and with a very helpful Sir who made sure I didn't forget what would happen tonight. The reminders he sent me during my work day were...vivid. Knowing *I* was the one who designed the series of events in the first place was a very particular mindfuck. A realisation that has even more heat curl in my stomach as I'm writing this report.
The great news for the other contestants? You can make it to the end! With the caveat that it will leave you shaking, feeling absolutely used, and potentially with a few edges. Which wouldn't be a problem if your Dom hadn't expressly forbidden it.
I faced myself naked on my knees in front of the mirror for the CALM FOCUS discipline. This was probably the moment when I most keenly realised what I had set myself up for. I knew every instruction that was coming. I knew exactly what every single element would do to me (or so I thought) and the magnitude of the task hit me in breathtaking fullness in that moment. It had me squirming with desire to get started, mixed with a healthy dose of dread flaring up at the thought of the last discipline combined with my instruction not to edge.
Still I found myself in a calm, if lightly trembling state by the end of the five minutes. Surrendering control is a beautiful thing--a submission that allows you to live in the moment, to trust you'll be alright in the end. All I had to do was give it my all, try the best I could to fulfil every task. Moment after moment, until it was done. I could do that.
I got to my feet for the WARM-UP. Arms, legs, ass. In that order. Getting the XXL plug in (why did I think it was a good idea to say 'largest plug' again?) always takes my breath away for more than one reason. Sheer size is the obvious one, the lack of a tapered tip another, but the cold metal feels like an assault on warm skin and even more so against the heat of your insides. Adding the 6 inch dildo in my pussy and the weighted clamps (thank you, Sir, for that little gem I didn't even consider) got me squirming even harder.
You know how doing exercise in front of a mirror is a little awkward? Try it naked, plugged, filled and clamped. It's one of the elements of the task I knew would have me writhing, and it didn't disappoint. The mingling of sky-high arousal, shame, and anticipation for what was to come was breathtaking. The planks were alright, though tensing your muscles while you have a large plug in is an intriguing sensation. It was also a good reminder that I had a gruelling personal training session in the morning and that the exercises that were supposed to be light were going to be worse than I imagined. I had to restart the jumping jacks three times before I figured out to push the dildo inside of me, base and all, as the ONLY possible way to keep it in for the exercise. I had to reinsert it one more time before the squats. All the while, there was no escaping the fullness of my pussy and ass, the sway of my breasts, worsened by the sting of the weighted clamps. Pretty sure I burned a great deal more calories thanks to the fiery blush on my face.
I finished the exercise and Sir reminded me to take off the clamps, and to leave everything else in. Despite my bravado about designing this task, and my very careful consideration of details, I think I forgot about the dildo I had in contrary to my male competitors. I'm sure Dungeonmaster is going to get a good laugh out of that little detail
The next discipline was the SPANKING. I felt like I'd been relatively conservative with the amount of spanks, to somewhat compensate for the magnitude of the overall task (let's see if our other contestants feel the same), but there were several parts about the discipline that surprised me. For one, I'd forgotten how much the charger cord stings when swung at full force. Last time I used it was on my thighs to test before a punishment I handed out, and that was a lovely sting. Hitting your back at full force was surprisingly painful. And had me shivering in delight and covered in goosebumps at the same time. Ever assigned pain to yourself? Not just spanked yourself after getting spanks assigned in a thread. I mean, chosen yourself what implement and how many spanks you'd be delivering to yourself. If so, you might now what an absolute shortcircuit it caused in my brain when the pain was more intense than I expected while I knew it was me who did this to myself and that I was going to go through with it to the end.
My back was a patchwork of angry red lines when I was done with it. The soles of my feet were a different kind of pain. Less intense while being applied, longer-lasting in its impact. Next I had my legs spread and applied the spoon to the inside of my thighs, directly over the bruises I'd left there on Monday. When Sir ordered me over my desk, spoon in hand, I was shaking. Not with the pain, though there were several parts of my body that were burning, but with what this was doing to my mind. Even the hits of the spoon on my sit spots and ass cheeks had me squirming--this time mostly because of the hard slaps which had never sounded quite so loud as today.
The final part of the spanking discipline consisted of a mere 15 snaps of a rubber band against each nipple. How bad can it be, right? Turns out that was worse than I remembered too, especially on nipples that had been clamped with pretty vicious clamps before.
The next discipline is one of my favourites, ORAL. Sir wouldn't be Sir if he didn't order me to get my 9 inch dildo to participate. The two minutes warm-up were a lovely treat, even if I say so myself. No pressure yet, just getting used to a massive dildo in my mouth, stretching my jaw, hitting the back of my throat.
I thought I had designed this task carefully, building up in difficulty. One more lesson learned--apparently I now have trouble actually gagging on a dildo (I seem to remember someone else lost his gag reflex recently). It took me longer than I care to admit to figure out how to roughly fuck my face to gag ten times, and then ten more times after a break. It left me with what I can only describe as 'happy tears'.
Taking the dildo as deep as I could challenged the competitive spirit in me. Based on a visual estimate, I'd say I took almost 7 inches down by the time I was warmed up. The most frustrating obstacle was that the dildo gets quite thick and that the teeth at the back of my mouth got in the way (competitive much? Ah well, guess it's allowed in the Kink Games).
Holding the dildo as deep as possible for 200 seconds was another lovely challenge that I borrowed from a task blue handed out. It felt like a great finale. It WAS a great finale. Contrary to the 6 inch dildo, the 9 inch actually blocks my airways completely, meaning I can't even get the slightest bit of air through my nose while holding. I found out that it becomes VERY hard to count when you're running out of air. I'm pretty sure I did well over 200 seconds by the time I was done.
After graduating the oral discipline came the one I looked forward to most and dreaded most all at the same time, ever since Sir pointed out that I wasn't allowed to edge (which I very clearly hadn't realised while designing the task). Since being denied, ANAL is a surefire way to get me to edge. There's times when it takes me three strokes to get on the edge. This task consisted of a total of 200 strokes. 200. With my biggest plug, which gives this lovely stretch every time it enters me. Let that sink in.
It had been sinking in since Sir pointed it out last night. Slowly seeping into my mind and my body. The thought alone had me squirm and get a little desperate.
The first part wasn't too bad, though it had massive waves of arousal wash over my entire body. The 20 full-in, full-out strokes stretched my ass nicely for what was to come, and the slowness made it feasible to stay from the edge. I barely survived the 30 slow strokes on all fours without edging, shaking with the effort not to.
Laying on my side, I knew the 40 hard and fast strokes Sir ordered were going to my downfall. I stopped at 35 strokes, a millisecond before the edge hit. The only two reasons why I made it through the second try in this position was the kindness of a 2 minute break Sir granted me and half-biting through my lower lip.
Apparently I forgot to detail how hard or fast the 50 strokes needed to be while laying on my back with legs up. I went so, so slow, trying to calm the raging fire of pleasure that was ravaging my body and mind. I did survive the strokes without stopping, but I was still burning up, desperate, and so, so close.
Now, fucking my ass on my stomach for 60 rough and fast strokes...I could actually cum from that alone. Staying off the edge felt like mission impossible. I stopped on stroke 32. And believe me, I was thinking every unsexy thought I could come up with, but my body turned out to be stronger than my mind. Two minutes later I started again. I knew I wouldn't survive a third repetition, or hell forbid, a fourth or fifth. Ten strokes in I was already teetering on the edge of an edge, and all I could come up with was biting my arm so hard I still have the teeth marks an hour later. It helped. Barely. I got 60 strokes and crumbled, panting and moaning and so fucking desperate I could barely breathe.
The final task led me back to the mirror. Thanks to a minor alteration by Sir, my stomach now reads: I GOT OWNED BY MY OWN TASK. After I grinned for a good minute at that very true statement, I stared at my squirming, blushing, dripping, filled body for five minutes.
Desperate. And yet somehow content to my very core.