More Stick

It was a day of carrot and stick. Before there was the stick, there was a lot of carrot. I was working from home due to icy conditions and crutches not being the best of friends, and V decided to orchestrate a remote play date with a series of challenges. At completion of each, there was the potential for an orgasm (or several) depending on the challenge. My kind of challenges!

Except the the first involved ice. <cue a pouting Jade>

He’s been teasing me about playing with ice and snow and cold for awhile now; he has a thing for it. I do not. And in fact have been quite vocal about it for some time. “Not a spider,” he always says, referring to his contention that I have one hard limit, and that is spiders – anything else is, well, “not a spider,” and fair game. Not true, but I’m usually not in a position to argue the point (although this is me, I will and do argue the point, lol.)


Challenge 1: Get a bowl of ice cubes. Insert a cube into your vagina. Use Baldy (my beloved Hitachi) on your clit as long as the ice stays in/on. The second you remove the ice, Baldy comes off. Keep it up until you orgasm, or until the ice cubes are completely gone. If you last for  ten minutes of ice time without an orgasm, you may have one at the end.

This was far more challenging than it sounds. I loathe ice and cold. Long ago, I had begged W to do snow bondage pictures, but he never did, and I’m glad he didn’t because I probably would have whined about it the whole time! What’s wrong with me that I ask for things I hate?

This was no different. Well, I hadn’t asked for it, but I did hate it. I even made a little video as I tried to put the ice inside myself, thinking it would amuse V. It did, especially when I couldn’t even mange to get it inside before I was whining and whimpering and saying “nope nope nope.” But. Of course I persevered. This was a challenge, after all, and hey – orgasms at the end!

I finally did manage to get myself off. The ice must have numbed me inside, so that it no longer hurt to hold it in, and as my body began to pulse and throb to the excitement the vibe was generating, suddenly it wasn’t the ice I was thinking about, but V pushing it inside me and holding it there even while my body clenched and unclenched, trying to push it out.  Because even when he’s not there, it is still he that is doing it to me, and that thought drives my desire.

Funny how that works. But it DID work. As I worked the ice inside myself, pushed and held it in with the fingers of one hand while I worked Baldy with the other, I was seeing/feeling his hands on me, doing it to me. Making me take it. It’s usually that little bit of CNC that trips me over, when I’m on the edge, and this time was no different.

“How was the orgasm?” he asked after.

“Cold,” I said. “And short.” The ice hadn’t exactly been an enhancer of the situation, as other toys will do. It was merely his tool to make me do something he wanted me to do, and that I didn’t. As such, a winner.  

But I still didn’t like ice.

Challenge 2: This was less successful initially. I was instructed to lay on the floor, exposed from the waist down, and position myself with my upper half under my bed, then masturbate to orgasm. I’m a generally neat person, but no Suzi Homemaker, my underbed would probably be dusty and not terribly pleasant to lie under: exactly his intent. Fortunately for me, my house is also very tiny, so space – and the space under my bed – is at a premium. I couldn’t fit under there. Plan B was less unique, but more manageable: I was to use a kitchen implement to get myself off. The handle of a spatula in my pussy, Baldy on my clit, and I was soon happily orgasming, and it lasted longer and was better than the ice one.

 Challenge 3: This would be my downfall. I was to use Baldy again, applying it to my clit for five seconds and then removing it for ten, over and over again, for ten minutes, or until I managed to come, whichever came first.

This was maddening. I could never quite get excited enough in the five seconds, and ten seconds was enough to cool down enough that the next five were again only a tease. So I…cheated. A tiny bit. Remember that thing about taking advantage if I was able? Well…yeah. In the previous challenges he had told me if I got to the end and hadn’t yet come, I could give myself an orgasm. He hadn’t exactly said I could do so this time, but…

Of course he hadn’t meant to deny me an orgasm, especially after making me torment myself that way. It must have been an oversight on his part. Right? Of course!

Bwahahahaha. When I fessed up, he reminded me of another time that I had made an assumption about one of his orders, and had been WRONG. “Don’t ever assume,” he’d said then. “Ask.” Now he said: “You’re in trouble.”

Trouble, aka STICK

For some reason, I always think he will forget about my punishments. Especially if a few days pass.

He doesn’t.

We had a date nigh that next Friday. He arrived at my house just as I was getting out of the bath. As I came out of the bathroom, he pointed to a spot behind the couch. “Stand there,” he said. “Hands on the back of the couch.”

I did as I was told, quivering a little in excitement. The last time he had told me to “assume the position” had been at the kitchen counter, and I’d received several heavy, unanticipated strikes with his belt. Just the sound of his belt sliding free of his beltloops can make my breath come short. And I suddenly remembered I had a punishment coming. But this time, instead of the sound of his belt whistling through the air, I felt his hand on my still-damp back, and then something cold. 

Between my legs.

Being pushed inside me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, twisting around.

“Hands!” he said, in the “I’m not messing around, kitty,” voice that I (generally) try to obey. I tried to be good, but still whined and twisted as he pushed a hated ice cube inside of me. But then, it melted, it was over, and I got ready to go out for dinner. I have had much worse punishments for stealing orgasms, so…this wasn’t awful. In fact I was a little surprised that he was so easy on me.

Then we were on our way to dinner. We chatted about this and that, until, abruptly, he pulled Baldy out of the front of his jacket. “Wha – ” I began, but he interrupted me. 

“Spread your legs,” he said. I obeyed. “Five seconds on, ten off,” he said. “Go. Now. And don’t you dare come.”

Oh, I wasn’t about to come, of that I was certain. I’d been down this road a time or twelve. 

It was a…challenging drive, with lots of him grabbing the hitachi and pulling it away from my wet, throbbing pussy. Apparently I forget to stop counting when it starts to feel good.

And then, abruptly, the game was over as we pulled up to the restaurant. No orgasm for me. I scowled. But okay, it was a punishment. I really hadn’t expected anything else.

I also didn’t expect anything more. I mean hell, I’d been teased and denied the whole drive there. 

Of course I was wrong. We had a lovely dinner, engaging conversation, a couple of drinks, and it was time to go home. We bundled int the car, and I was then teased and denied the whole way home again! And then guess what?!  There was more…with ice this time.

The fantasy I’d used while pushing the lone ice cube into my cunt became reality, with him pushing three of them into me and using the vibe on me until I was gushing melted ice AND pussy juice. This time he not only allowed me to come, he made me come unti I was sore and begging for mercy. 

And then I was begging him to fuck my frozen cunt.

It was the weirdest feeling. Like being very very full. He’s got a lovely cock, one that fills me nicely and, given a certain angle, rubs against my g-spot, but this felt like he was three times the girth, and I was a hard fleshy hole he was pounding. When he moaned as he pushed into me, when he gasped, “God…you’re so cold…” I almost orgasmed again.  And then, soon enough, I was coming, again, my thighs and belly cramping from so much tension and release, over and over all night long. I think I was sore for two days.

Punishment served. 

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