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My second trip to New York was very eventful indeed. I would have to say it was almost an out of body experience. My first trip to Insex, being my first real experience of BDSM, was really out of curiosity to begin with. We have all heard the saying "ignorance is bliss". Well I would say that was my attitude coming in the first time around. I have always had an interest in BDSM related things, but other than childhood experiences I hadn’t ever been in a real scene with the likes of the staff at Insex, let alone PD. I enjoyed rough sex with my few boyfriends, but they never seemed too adventurous other then a soft spank. The first experience at Insex was so amazing I didn’t even realize how scared I was until I had time to think about it. By then I was back in Texas for several days. I had taken a considerable beating for a newbie. After time went by I grew anxious of what was in store for my next visit. Also, the first time around I had only seen limited areas of the site. I became an active member and felt as if the members were my friends or maybe even family. I saw that the girls were happy, or I would say ecstatic to be a part of Insex, the enthusiasm was understandable. Even so, I was afraid. I had all the faith in PD, all the faith in Insex. I think I was afraid of me. I knew a little bit more about my limits, and knew that yes, I had them. I knew they weren’t what I expected. I had started to make BDSM a part of my life in regular sex with my special guy. My boyfriend had surprised me to the fullest by implementing some aspects of BDSM play, and I learned it was a huge turn on for me. With all these things spinning in my head, such a confusing new set of feelings, I wondered if I could handle what PD had in store. I was, to say the least, nervous.
When I arrived in New York I settled in and the next day I helped PD try on some items he was having made in the metal shop. I looked in awe at all the gadgets they were making and wondered if I would get to use any of them. My anxiety quickly gave way to excitement. PD told me we needed to practice because he had some special things in mind for me. We had a scene that night for a few hours. He left me tied while he worked on the submersion tank that had been used for Betty that day. I can remember wondering if I would really be able to handle everything he said he wanted to try. I wanted to at least try. I had been waxed right before the shoot, but she left a little patch, which PD flamed off. That scared me so bad that I quickly shaved the remaining pubes the next morning in preparation for the feed. PD had apparently wanted me to do this, and he told me that I was a smart girl the next morning.
I think the excitement level gets the highest watching them get the scene ready. After Zeta put my makeup on and my outfit was put together, I realized the time had gotten very close indeed. I was sure by that point I was in for quite an experience, but I was ready to try anything. When the feed began, I felt the anticipation flood my body. The anxiety had given way to giddiness. I was instructed to lie down, and I watched with wonder as PD began to tie me. I liked the way he tied me, my wrists to my ankles. In my pathetic attempt to be helpful, I gave him a lot of feedback on how it felt. PD doesn’t need any help. We all know this to be true, but somehow when I get in sub mode I feel the need to chatter away. Maybe this is good or bad, I don’t really know, but it is me. PD noted this and quickly gagged me, I still tried to tell him that sharp shards of metal from the show’s preparation where stabbing my back. A little discomfort was only to be welcomed, and I found it somewhat humorous to try to "talk" to him despite my gag. The rag he stuffed in my mouth tasted of dirt and oil, but it tasted of very little once my mouth dried out. I wished I would have taken one more drink of water, but I knew I would have to wait a while for that.
PD asked me if I was comfortable, I nodded in agreement. He smiled slyly, causing me to wonder what was in store. Pulling off my panties, he exposed my soft pink flesh for the whole world to see, and I began to get the sense of just how vulnerable I was. Tugging and prodding at my musky wet folds, I felt a mix of fear and desire fill me up. He then took my toes and told me I had pretty feet. I knew better then to simply take a compliment as such. My eyes widened as he showed me some leather cord. Pd took my toes and tied them so tightly, I was not able to move with causing great pain. Then he proceeded to cane my feet. The first caning I had received back in February was much worse, but the memory of it was enough to bring me to frightened tears. PD asked me if I would like him to stop, and I did of course. When he stopped caning my feet he proceeded to cane my pussy. My pussy was very sensitive and my clit was throbbing. Each stroke sent a jolt of pain that outdid the last one, after very few strokes I was ready to take a full fifty strokes on my feet again in order to get out of the pussy caning. When I agreed to this PD decided I agreed maybe too readily, noting I had not been suspended as of yet. Tying my ankles properly, he dragged me across the floor. This act can raise fear in most I think, but I was curious at this point. I sobbed quietly and followed his instruction, trying to keep from being too afraid. PD instructed me to tuck my head, and I did so as I was lifted of the ground. The feeling was quite liberating and I became talkative again. This was put to an end quickly as nipple clamps turned my super sensitive nipples in to little mounds of pain. Before I had a chance to think, he had attached me to a lead from which he swung me, this pain was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I didn’t think it could be any worse, but then he added clamps to my pussy lips causing me to scream in pure, sweet agony. The odd thing is, it was worse to have them released. I think I would have worn them instead of letting him take them off at that time.
After he let me down, I could only wonder what was to come next. Strangulation. I felt like when I swallowed it tried to go up in my head. I wanted to sleep. It didn’t hurt that much. I just thought my head was going to pop. The breath control was really scary. I was so frightened that I immediately tried to bite a hole in the bag so that I could breathe. Instead PD got a new bag and gagged me so I couldn’t do anything about it. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I was given a little hole to breathe out of. As if breathing out of a hole the size of a coffee stirrer wasn’t hard enough, PD began to cane my breast. When he fondled my pussy, I got a little relief. I tried to breathe nice and deep, but PD put the tube on my mouth gag attachment. The breathing tube was very scary because I couldn’t tell when I was going to loose air. Re-breathing is worse then holding your breath I think because it tricks you a little. Then the clever PD made me suck on my own pussy, which is a very odd and sensual thing to do. Little did I know that the worst was yet to come. The cattle prod was the most terrorizing thing I had ever experienced. I couldn’t see, I was dizzy, I was scared. The prod hurt, to say the least. I felt like my skin was burning on contact. If I would have crashed out at any point, it would have been then, but I think I was too confused to even use the safe word.
Jesus! The Dildo. That thing sure looks huge doesn’t it? That just added to the sensation of being vulnerable. The industrial heater he used on my feet hurt a lot more then I had thought it would. I thought I was prepared for it. I had talked to Paul and Vic about it in detail. I wanted to try it. I thought it would be a piece of cake. I was wrong. When PD turned it on, I wanted to jump off PD’s ingenious contraption and run away on my burning soles all the way back to Texas. The tube he hit my feet, which just enhanced that impulse, but I wouldn’t safe word. No way. Did I have enough? Yes but I could take one more if I had to. I would cry and I would look at the camera if he said to.
My favorite is flogging. I like caning only because it is hard to take. I like the way I feel when I can take more then is expected. I like the marks it leaves. I like flogging because of how it feels. I like caning because of the way it makes me feel. Cane me and I’ll beg you to stop. You have to take caning one at a time. I will be in tears snotty nose and all. But I will let you flog me even after the caning is over. In fact I may request it.
Forced orgasms? The idea seemed laughable to me. It isn’t anymore. I wanted him to stop. It was like the song "hurt so good, come on baby make it hurt so good!" It was too much. After enough orgasms you feel like you can’t possibly take more, and you beg for the "pleasure" to stop. It took seven for me to beg for it to stop.
PD lets you think you are done, and then it is time for more. He pushes your limits. You go as far as you think you can, then he makes you go even further. He takes you, as a rose bud, and lets you bloom. Then he miraculously keeps you in that perfect state. I can’t wait to go back.
I think I need a drink of water.
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