Daily Assignment 12/19/10 Desensitization

I'm not sure how many nerves are in the clit, but I've heard it's a major nerve center. It's sensitive, easy to over stimulate, and on whole, one of the nicer things about being a woman. Which is why I was doing something crazy last night.

Yesterday morning I had engaged in a conversation with Master Barrett, and later Master Brandon, about my clit. I was trying to maintain a position that despite being a nympho humiliation pain slut, I couldn't stand direct, vibrational, non-stop, full power stimulation to my clit, for extended periods of time. It just isn't possible. At least not without being tied down and losing my ability at coherent thought. Sure, I've done twelve hours before, but I was so fucking sore when it was done, and I barely remember the last six or so hours, that I'm not sure that qualifies as "enduring".

Master Barrett was of the opinion that as a NHPS, the over sensitization of my clit was part of the "Pain" factor in NHPS. Master Brandon agreed. So in an effort to mollify both gentlemen, I agreed to start subjecting myself to direct, vibrational, non-stop, full power stimulation. I started last night.

My goal was simple: one hour, wearing my butterfly clitoral vibrator, on full power. At least that's what I promised Master Barrett. It should of been easy. Lie there on the bed naked, wearing the butterfly, try not to cum for a full hour. That was the plan until Master Brandon got a hold of it.

After my shower I tossed the terry cloth towel on my desk chair and grabbed my toybox. Master Brandon had been rather specific, and I quickly pulled out everything I might need, but hoped not to, and placed it on my bedside table. Still stark naked, which also included an empty pussy, I slipped into the butterfly harness, strapping it around my waist and thighs until the small purple plastic vibrator was positioned directly above my clit. Snuggled tightly against my slit, the little plastic bump spread my folds just a bit and I wiggled my hips to make sure it wouldn't come loose.

The ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs went on next. I admit that I like the look. There's something about me wearing nothing but thick bondage cuffs that just looks... sexy. I had been a little hesitant about this part, especially since it meant that getting loose would take a minute or two. Once I was appropriately clad (in just restraints) I sat down in the center of my bed and spread my legs. It wasn't hard to attach the caribiners I had connected to the ankle cuffs to my metal bed frame. My thighs ached as I did it, but my forced splits and the discomfort I was in went away as soon I laid flat. I pulled on the ankle cuffs and was assured that my legs were now bound open in a way that would require me to actually sit up, scoot back down the bed, and then unlock each cuff by hand.

Next I turned on the butterfly vibrator, to full power of course. I let out a sound that was part moan, part whimper, and part purr as it began buzzing against that nerve bundle. Almost immediately I felt ripples of pleasure streaming up from my clit and my pussy tightened, convulsing around an imaginary cock. I took hold of the butterfly remote, still set at maximum power, and tossed it down my body until it rested next to my left ankle. I lifted my hands to piece of rope I had tied to the headboard frame and then attached my wrists cuffs to it.

I could move of course, but I couldn't reach the remote, not with out untying my hands, stretching, and reaching down to grab it. But what was available were the items I had placed on the bedside table. I turned and looked at them, hoping I wouldn't need them. Then, with my wrists still above my head, I tried to concentrate - on not cumming.

I'd like you to imagine what it's like, being tormented like that. If you're a girl, you probably know, since getting a bit tender down there can happen at weird moments. But if you're a guy, you're sorta clueless, so I've got to explain. Imagine being tied down while I rub your cock. I know... stop smiling. Now imagine I'm using oil and that I'm concentrating on the tip of your cock, with only the occasional long stroke down the length. Hey. I said stop smiling! Now imagine me ignoring your overt physical responses, and timing my strokes so that they don't meet your pulses, your thrusts, and continue to rub against the tip, sensitizing the skin until you are feeling not only arousal, but a bit of discomfort. Imagine I change my strokes so that I add more long ones, but not enough to make you cum, and I continue to focus most of my hand movements on the tip of your cock. I never stop and I never increase the speed and I just keep building up pressure until you cock is like granite and ever stroke of my hand is a mixture of agony and ecstasy in one slippery movement.

I've done that to guys, so be nice to me.
There is another issue which guys need to understand, and that's the difference between clitoral orgasm and vaginal ones. If we want to be technical, guys can only have one orgasm, and it's analogous to a woman's "clitoral" orgasm. Guys don't get to have vaginal ones, and let me tell you, vaginal orgasms are insanely better. We may not be able to open our own jars, but for sex, being a woman rocks. IF we have a decent partner, and aren't cramped, or puking, or sore, or in our time of the month. Okay, I admit there are down sides. But enough of the sexism here. We're talking sex.

My little adventure in selfbondage was attempting to create the circumstances causing clitoral orgasm. My hips were bouncing and I couldn't stop my self from rolling my loins in sexual frustration as my pussy said "fill me" and the bondage cuffs said "sorry, you can't do that here." Fifteen minutes into the hour I felt that spark and surge of need turning to excitement, and then turning to OMG YES! I exploded with a strained cry that I muffled as best I could, letting the endorphins flood my brain and the sexual epiphany of release turn me into mush.

Usually after an orgasm I sort of just lay there, basking in the glow of "oh yes..." But when you are tied down to a bed, legs bound apart while a motorized sex toy is humming against your clit, with over forty minutes of time left before you can turn it off, basking in the glow isn't exactly an option. In fact, its sort of like screaming your head off while riding a rollercoaster, and then, instead of the coaster streaking back into the station at the end, when you're ready to get off, it takes a forty five degree turn, tips downward, and then begins this herky jerk spiral that has you screaming and puking your guts off.

I didn't puke by the way.

But my clit was objecting to the vibration. Despite the generally benign nature of the vibrations being applied to my clit, the nerves were being stimulated beyond their capacity. Thus, a touch that only moments before had been erotic, wanted, and felt incredible, now became laced with other sensations: pain, discomfort, and increased sensitivity. I hissed, arching my back, as my clit sent mixed messages. I got "let me off this ride" and "oh god yes. Another one?"

When I had set up this little... desensitizing procedure… it was with the intention that I would try not to cum during the first hour. Ooops. Master Barrett had seemed pleased I was just TRYING to meet his expectations. Master Brandon however had contingency plans.

I stretched my hands over to the bedside table. The rope binding them to the headboard was pulled taut, but I was able to pick up the item I was reaching for. The steel chain felt cold to the touch and I trembled as I brought my hands down to my chest. My fingers worked their way to the ends of the chain and I found the two steel alligator clamps, lined with dull, but pointed little teeth. I pinched them open, set them against both tender, distended, and sensitive nipples, and then let go.

For about thirty seconds I totally forgot about the discomfort of my clit. Instead, I hissed and groaned and arched my back as real pain shot up through my breasts. Most of it went to my brain, but some of it flooded down toward my toes and the second it got near my pussy, it did something to me. It made me WANT.

I know. Weird huh? But that’s just the way I am. What can I say? Pain turns me on. Well… sort of. Pain INTENSIFIES my need if I’m ALREADY turned on. So don’t think coming over to my place and breaking my arm constitutes foreplay. It doesn’t. But coming over to my place, tying me up spread-eagled, stuffing me with a vibrator and then WHIPPING me silly before fucking my brains out sounds like a hot first date.

My hips began this mad little dance, a herky jerk of muscle twitches and thrusts that were lewd, provocative, and would have resulted in my immediate fucking had I been naked on a beach in a crowd of guys. Of course, being alone, on my own bed, tied spread eagled (kinda) just meant that I had to suffer through it.

And the minutes ticked by.

It was about twenty minutes later when orgasm two hit me. I tried to hold it off. Really. But I just couldn’t. I didn’t want it. Trust me. When you know what the consequences are to cumming, you try really hard to follow your orders. After the flood of endorphins blasted through my brain and my breathing had finally slowed, I ignored the pain laced complaints of my clit and began freeing my hands. This was the dangerous part. I didn’t want to be tempted to turn off the butterfly vibrator. I freed one hand from the bindings and reached over to the bedside table. The bottle was there, waiting for me, and I popped the cap and positioned the plastic container over my left breast. I squeezed out a single droplet of the milky white fluid and then, when it landed cold and wet on my nipple, I moved it to my right breast. Before the droplet fell I began to feel this cold tingling sensation on the first tender nub. Soon both breasts were tingling with cold that began to heat. I placed another droplet on my finger this time, and then moved it down to my clit, pushing the digit UNDER the vibrator, smearing the cream all over the tenderized, over-sensitive nub.

OMG.

I went from simmer to boil in about four seconds. My body shook, my pussy contracted rapidly, and the sensations coming from my chemically tormented nipples and clit, not to mention the butterfly which was immediately returned to its place of honor, were enough to fry my brain. Lust surged through me and I would gladly have fucked literally ANYTHING at that point. My legs pulled tightly against the bonds holding me open and I grit my teeth as I virtually fucked… nothing.

Would you believe I came again? Sure, it was ten minutes later, but I came AGAIN!

My clit was now hurting. Not just discomfort, but real genuine pain. Of course it was mixed with need. It was still being sexually stimulated, and the worst part was that the two very different set of signals were being mixed and confused with one another. I couldn’t tell if I wanted off the ride or more. My clit was confused, which meant when I added Master Brandon’s next little incentive not to cum, it REALLY made things tough.

Like my alligator clamps for my nipples, the large alligator clamp for my clit is made of metal. I adjusted the spring inside so that it didn’t bite down quite as hard as it originally did, but it still left red teeth marks. I squeezed it open with one hand as the other pushed the butterfly down. Then I let it close on my clit, my hood, and even a good bit of skin.

Ouch.

Owwwww…..

Oh GOD THAT HURTS!

MORE! OH YES!!!

I had slid the butterfly back up and my now DISTENDED clit was in even MORE direct contact, forced contact, with the butterfly. Plus the vibrations traveled through the clamp. It was like pouring gasoline on a fire. My multi-orgasmic sex went into over drive and I couldn’t help myself. I glanced a few times at the clock. Just ten more minutes. Please… just hold it for ten more minutes.

You know that line? From Apollo 13? “Failure is not an option?” Yeah, well for me it sure as hell is. I had two minutes to go when I came for the fourth time. My orgasm blasted through me, easily the most intense one of the evening. It curled my toes, it had me turned into my pillow to scream, it had me jerking like a landed fish. And when I was done I felt like a limp noodle or a wrung out rag.

My fingers reached down and pushed the butterfly off my clit. The alligator clamp came next and the flood of sharp pain as the blood rushed back into (or was it out of) my engorged, swollen, very red, very sensitive, very painful clit. I did cry out that time, gritting my teeth. It took me a moment to deal with the pain and when I had mastered it, I reached out, grabbed the wire to the butterfly, and turned it off.

But I had cum again. Master Brandon said I might break four. I told him no way. But he told me what to do if I did.

Almost crying, I reached over to the table and picked up the last item. It was simple. A long plastic ruler came into view as I brought it down toward my clit. Five strokes for every orgasm he had said. Bracing myself as best I could, I snapped my wrist downward, bringing the flat of the ruler against my pussy. It struck the folds and my clit and there was the explosion of agony that raced through me. It hurt. A lot. I flicked the ruler again.

And again.

And again.

At ten I lost count. I’m not sure what happened. So I backed up. What else was I supposed to do? I probably ended up giving myself about twenty five smacks and then I was sitting up, my pussy burning with heat, red and swollen, as I struggled to free my legs. My thighs protested as I released the tension on them and then I was rolling out of bed. I fell to the floor and found I couldn’t walk. I crawled over to the desk, pulled my toybox to the floor, and grabbed my Husky Dildo. I rolled to the floor, rammed it in, and came.

So much for desensitization. Right?

Well, I have another session planned for Monday. Maybe I’ll make it the whole hour? Who knows?