(This is from a few years ago)
I’ve been talking about needles for a while. I asked my Sir if we could try it and his response was “Great, I’m gonna have to stick myself with needles now, aren’t I?”
Umm yes please.
His reaction was unexpected. Its just not his thing. So I was telling a friend of ours about it and she offered to help us with the whole process. He and I talked a little more, all the while getting to know the friend of ours better and better.
And so I found myself in a bedroom with two lovely women willing to take this next step on my journey. Both friends eager to have this experience with me. My Sir’s laughter drifted in from the other room. I think briefly how grateful I am to him.
One woman lights candles and helps me undress. The other woman reassures that she is happy no matter what and will not be disappointed if I can’t do it.
I look down at my body and feel the need to apologize. I need to warn them. Their faces were soft. Encouraging. They both reassure me that my warning isn’t needed. They both were so supportive. And the acceptance they both felt for me made tears sting my eyes.
One woman sat next to me with a grounding soft voice and her fingertips in my hair was soothing. She was excited for me and her energy was infectious. The other woman slid on gloves and sat on the other side. Her hip and thigh molding into my body. Her body slowly invading my space. I’m nervous and she understands. She was soft and slow. Her voice was low and even. She had a sensual quality to her.
The first needle. Then the second. Each needle easier than the last. Their words sliding over me like velvet. Her hand touching my shoulder. Her arm across my back. And with each needle her fingertips slid across my skin. I soaked in her energy. One needle hurt and I screamed. She and I made eye contact briefly.
I was shocked. Honestly shocked.
She feels soft to me. Her voice soothes. Her touch slides. Her energy is calming.
Her face looks… mean. Her cheeks glow and I see sweat on her brow. I ask her what I can do for her. She reassures me that she’s fine. The fierce look doesn’t leave her face. I watch her eagerly. She’s determined. Methodical. I feel the skill in her hands, they don’t waver. The contradiction is fascinating to me. Her face never relaxes. And yet, she’s worked very hard to make sure I’m relaxed.
She does two rows and offers pink ribbon. I choose a dark pink. The tug of ribbon isn’t unpleasant. The finished result is beautiful.
I feel beautiful.
They help me redress and my Sir comes to look at my pretty pink ribbon. His grin makes me feel loved.
Later as she’s slowly pulling out the needles, I screamed. Her giggle was delightful. She’s a soft sensual sadist and I’m so glad she’s my friend.
Thank you so very much. Both of you.