The first time I played so hard I cried from pain

To really explain this little episode, I have to go back to the night before, at the LAM after party. This was my second go on LAM, and I just could not get my head round what a different experience it was, for me. I just had *such* a great time, with - for once - minimal conflict. My first LAM was terrifying, intimidating, liberating, devastating...this LAM was relaxed, fun, full of pleasure and new found confidence and new experiences and all things scrumptious which I just want to put into a little box in my brain marked 'stuff to look at when life is boring and I want a naughty little thrill'.

Equipped with a new pair of black ruffle knickers bought for me by N, who insisted I show them off to everyone, my bum received a preposterous amount of attention that night. I'm very ambiguous about that part of my body, which I've always perceived to be far too large and sticky-outy to be attractive. In my thirties, I'm starting to come to terms with it, and so I'll show it off if I'm feeling loved and wanted. It seems to get quite a lot of compliments which go a long way towards mitigating my 'does my bum look big in this?' neurosis. Having said that, my body confidence is a very fragile thing, and I'll not be coming out of the toilets any time soon if I think someone's made a nasty crack about me. Pass the tissues under the door on your way out, I've used up all the loo roll crying. Yes, I can do the social confidence thing, and pull off the act pretty well, I hope. When I'm feeling welcomed and liked, I blossom. When I feel people are judging me and finding me wanting, I curl up and withdraw. I've got minimal body modesty normally, and will quite happily throw off my clothes and pad about naked in most situations, given half a chance. Unless it's a situation in which I think people are judging my attractiveness, a sexual situation, in private or public. It's at that point I need to really fight to overcome my shyness and allow myself to enjoy the opportunity despite feeling very vulnerable.

So I guess what I'm saying is - this LAM round, I was in my happy place, felt comfortable and with people who made me feel good about myself and whose company I really enjoyed, and so it was that much easier to get my bum out for perusal.

N played with me on the St Andrews Cross. She cuffed me to it at the wrists and ankles and we had quite a hard play, which I enjoyed every second of. At one point, S popped up in front of me and grinned - she is one hell of a woman! I didn't know whether I wanted to spit in her eye or scream like a girl, so I settled for blushing and hiding my head against the frame. There are very few women who can make me blush and duck my head, of whom N is first and foremost but S pulled it off twice that night!

God, what it is about that cross that just turns me on so much? It must be my favourite piece of equipment so far. I can feel myself going Very Wrong with anticipation even before I'm cuffed to it. And being cuffed to it is part of the fun - how else am I going to struggle so much without the cuffs? I'll tell you what though, they make these things for tall people, not for little shorties like me. It's a good thing I like a nice high platform boot because otherwise I'd never be able to reach the restraints! They need to think about making them a bit sturdier, too - I nearly toppled it over a few times, which is going to end in tears one day - and not nice sexy crying tears either, more like 'oh fuck I've broken my leg' tears.

I love it so much that I wanted another go after I'd recovered a bit, and so my lovely friend A was kind enough to oblige, since N was busy gossiping (sorry, discussing important matters of state...). She's the first woman apart from N that I've played with in public, and as she's first and foremost me old mucker, it was slightly wierd at first. Good though! She's such a softie that every time I went 'ouch!' she came round and cuddled me and checked I was okay. Bless her. It wasn't long before she got into her sadist mode, and that was fun. She'd picked up a lovely new flogger that she used on me and the funniest bit was where she said 'you do realise I'm flogging you to Enya, don't you? I suppose we lose all our goth points for this'. I laughed so much I nearly had to safeword! Then she carries on with 'you should think yourself lucky - I once flogged someone to the sound of Chris D'Burgh. And made them recite the lyrics'. Some people are sick - just SICK!

The evening was topped off with a lovely young lady getting an OTK spanking with her head in my lap. Crikey.

Anyway, the point of all this rambling is to explain that I had quite an impressively sore bottom the next day, and slept in a treat after a couple of pretty hard plays. The plan was to get up, and go off to a festival day nearby. Didn't happen though, mostly because I'm such a slapper even two nice hard goes on being tied up and beaten weren't enough for me, and I gave N the ole' big eyes routine and so, after 5 large cups of tea and 3 breakfasts, I found myself grabbed by the scruff of my neck and put firmly over the sofa while N experimented with her quirt.

I was wearing nothing but a pure silk kimono, and bent over on my knees with my head against the back of the sofa, and my bruised bottom up in the air. I've been so surprised at how I respond to being beaten - I should have got over the shock by now - but I was still taken aback by my reaction as I moaned little pain whimpers and noises of pleasure, all at the same time. I made increasingly loud pain sounds for N as she hit me where I was so sore already. Her hand on my head, above me, pressing me down. As the pain increased, I started crawling further and further into the sofa and away from the toy hurting me. She would stop and say 'Imp. Get back here. Now'. I would whimper and reluctantly moved back into the right stance. I began curling up into a ball - she stopped me with her voice and her hand on the back of my neck. By the end, each stroke hurt so intensely I couldn't help but cry out, and keep crying out for moments afterwards as the shock and pain from each blow took time to fade. She somehow knew this was the right time to push my limits, that I needed it, wanted it, before I even knew that it was what I needed and wanted.

As we finished, for the first time as an adult, I cried with pain, without holding back, and the purity of release was blissful. She held me, and comforted me, and slipped her hand between my legs. 'Imp!' she cried, in tones of shock. 'You really enjoyed that, didn't you?!'

Afterwards, I felt obscenely tired, and worn out just from climbing the few stairs to bed. I slept, and then for several days after I was headachey and cold, very tearful and oversensitive, achey and sad. And very hungry all the time, too. I don't know how much this was related - it may have been more connected to the fact that I started my period a few days later (two weeks earlier than expected). I also craved, and still crave, a repeat of the experience. If I could have it again right now, I would do. Want. Need. Must have - NOW!

Hmmm, I'm going to Club Twisted this weekend. *starts practicing big eyes and wobbly lip*