HappyComeLucky

This is the first in a pair of posts written about the same events. This one is my point of view. You can find Euclidean Point‘s in the next post.

A number can either mean very little or can carry huge significance. There are lots of significant numbers in the series of events in this post. 

It starts with two people. One sweet and brave kinkster, eager to have an experience. The other, allegedly a creative whirlwind with a slightly twisted mind.

As with a lot of things, a seed of an idea grew and blossomed into more. A planned impact scene flourished into a week of control leading to the scene. So, there is another number. Seven. Seven days of denial. Seven days of control and seven days of challenges.

I created a booklet with all the rules and challenges and sent it in the post. The joy of sending something physical and the added anticipation of waiting to see when it would arrive added an extra piquancy of delight.

The two people were really more than that as there were behind the scenes conversations with others to ensure that the intensity of the experiences could be maximised.

There were other numbers that are far less important, the miles driven, the hour of the very early alarm clock. Those details are insignificant against the other numbers.

It was agreed that after being in denial and under control for a whole week, Euclidean Point would have the opportunity to express their feelings first with their husband. The cocktail of submissive feelings, deep calm and fizzing good apprehension that mixed with the glee of knowing that every devious twist I had added was about to be used to define what happened to me was definitely something I recommend. Kneeling on all fours, being their footrest whilst they discussed their plans made me thrum with anticipation. I know that I whimpered as they stroked their feet against me.

Next there was one hand on my leash, leading me upstairs to sit on one chair. One mirror in front of me. Two people to interrogate me and then to give me what they decided that I deserved.

Twenty five was the number of times that EP had edged. Twenty five times of being denied an orgasm because I had said no. Twenty five intense experiences, where some of them had been made even harder by the helpful assistance of EP’s partner.

There was real passion and the strength of every one of those experiences when EP demanded to know how many orgasms I had enjoyed whilst they had suffered. The passion in their eyes made me wonder for a moment whether I should admit all of them. I hadn’t been counting them so it was an estimate, but it had also been a very busy and pleasurable one. I totted them up and gulped slightly as I admitted the truth. If you really want to understand the power of numbers in context, just be brave enough to tell the person that you have tortured for a week that whilst they were being denied, you enjoyed thirty seven orgasms.

I like my experiences to have passion in them and I can completely confirm that every peg pinch, face slap, tweak, spank and everything else was delivered with passion. I may still need to work on looking meek and sorry though. After punishing me on the chair, I was on the bed, arse raised and ready. It was the first time that I have been co-topped and amongst all the amazing sensations and delicious pain, the adventure of being hit by evil stinging things followed immediately by hard thudding things in a cycle took my endorphins on a new dance. That was followed up by the sensation of being struck in two different places at the same time. My brain just felt like it was having a big bang moment as the sensations were coming in from more places than I could focus on.

After all of those numbers, EP had one more instruction to deliver. I have never been told to “Go fuck yourself,” with quite the level of intent as I did that day. So, I did. While they watched.

After lunch, it was the finale of the week. I walked into the room where earlier, I had been beaten. This time, I was in charge and found the most delightful, subdued EP. They had performed so fantastically all week that it was hard to find fault. However, as I have a creative mind and I know that the thought of getting things wrong makes them into even more of a squirming mess, I decided to focus on the fact that they hadn’t added visuals such as graphs to their journal and so therefore there was still room for improvement.

Another set of numbers that are important are the two options that were in a twitter poll for twenty four hours. Can you imagine the squirming triggered by knowing that people were voting on what would happen to EP but not knowing what the options were. I wish more people could have seen the expression on EP’s face as I explained that option one was that they would be tied symmetrically, and option two, asymmetrically. The tiny fact that EP does not like asymmetry was available to voters.

I am smug about the tie that made everything asymmetrical whilst not causing any unwanted shelter or protection from where the blows could fall. Beating and teasing EP was an absolute delight. The noises, wiggles, tensing and gasping was an absolute delight and I loved playing Ep like an instrument. Having her partner watching allowed me full rein with teasing and discussing her responses and twisting the things that she had said that she enjoyed. 

Eventually, after making EP choose how many cane strokes she had, it was time to bring the week of delight/torment to an end. With the help of the Doxy, I made her come again and again until she felt sated.

The whole experience was an absolute joy and has definitely fired up my creativity for future plans that will be of benefit to my lucky friends.

PS: I absolutely this experience. I am a ridiculously lucky Honey.