Memories and Munches

6 Jun

He reaches in his tool box.  “These are nipple clamps,” He says, holding them out like Exhibit A.  

Adjustable nipple clamps with spring action

“Here,” he hands them to me, “Look at them.  Take your time.  Really get to know them.”  The chain makes a little noise as it pools in my hand, and that sends shivers through me – shivers of – anticipation?  fear? delight? 

i’m looking at them but i’m distracted by the cloud of wondering what they’re going to feel like.  

“See,” He says, “They’re adjustable.  You can make them so loose they’ll barely stay on,” He takes one back, demonstrates turning the little screw, “Or…”  and i watch the opening in the clamp disappear, “excrutiatingly tight.”  His voice is calm, just describing.

i can barely breathe. 

He takes the clips back.  “Of course, you don’t even need real nipple clamps,” He says.  “A clothespin, a couple of clothespins will  work just as well.” 

“Oh,” I gasp, “That would hurt!”

“Your point?” He says. 

Then, “Where do you keep your clothespins?”

“i – i don’t think i have any,” i say, hoping that’s true.

“Ok,” He says.  “No problem.  A clothes hanger will work too.”  My eyes widen, and he nods, “You know, the kind you hang pants on.  Here, I bet you’ve got one in your closet.”


I went to a munch this weekend.  A gentleman I’d been talking to on FetLife sort of talked me into it, and I’m glad i went.  It was nice to be around people with similar interests (sexually, anyhow) and I hope it’ll keep my kinky self from completely atrophying. 

Yes, I know it’s only been a week in real time since my last playtime with Sir, but in sub time it’s been ages, particularly since I’m pretty sure i’ll never again actually find a Dom i want to play with, much less have a relationhip with.  😦   Not that I’m in any hurry. 

So, I don’t like new situations, meeting lots of new people, or stepping too far outside my comfort zone, and yet, there I was at the munch, in a room full of wonderfully kinky people, all new to me.  Whew.  Just as I was starting to maybe feel a little bit comfortable, chatting with some young people across the table from me, this other young guy says, “Hi, what’s your name?”

“Aisha,” I say, of course.

His eyes get big.  “Aisha?!” he says, “Isn’t that – it is, man – Aisha – she’s a power ranger!  Wow, man, you’re a transformer!!!”

Stunned, i shake my head, “no,” power ranger Aisha has nothing to do with Aisha, the favorite wife of the prophet Muhammad.  But maybe i had actually become a transformer, he certainly couldn’t hear me.  He began talking to the guy beside me about their favorite power rangers.   Power rangers.  I didn’t even know they had names.

I thought, “Good grief, what on earth am i doing here?  I’m at a munch and Young Guy here’s about 12 years old, and he what?  Thinks Aisha’s a power ranger?  OMG.”

But then I thought, “O for heavens sake, he’s like 12 years old.  So what.” 

So I looked her up.  Here’s the other Aisha. 

She may look a little perky for a Power Range, but hey, I guess she loses that perkiness when she transforms, right?


Here she is ready to kick ass and take names. I guess...

So I ended up having a good time at the munch despite Young Guy, and  I guess if the issue comes up again, i’ll just go ahead and transform and kick somebody’s ass, right?  

You may be wondering what the connection is between the munch story and the nipple clamps.   Truth of the matter, there isn’t one.  Sorry.  I guess I’m just trying to make the transition from memories of pleasure and, yes, pain, to the more mundane reality of my not-so-kinky current life.  


Sometimes, i miss Sir.


Getting back to that hanger He was talking about…  He had me bring Him one from the closet, just an ordinary skirt hanger with the spring clips, except He said it had to be one that He could move the clips back and forth on the little bar.   Cause, you know, He had to be able to adjust how far apart they were so they’d fit on my nipples. 

O, my. 

He didn’t even use them that night.  The next day, He called and told me that i had to spend 5 minutes looking at the hanger and touching it, and then write about what it was like.  Here’s what i wrote:

“Dear Sir,

As you instructed, I examined the hanger for 5 minutes.  Here are my thoughts: 

“I can’t believe I’m really doing this.  I can’t believe doing this can make me wet.  Do I just get wet no matter what he says?  It’s a nice enough hanger.  There’s the clips.”  I moved the clips up and down several times.  I played with the part that goes on the closet rod a little, spinning it round and round.  “I don’t think he could really put these on my nipples.  I think it might, like amputate them.  That would be sad.”  Then I just began to get pictures of memories – of the other night, in bed, the hangar, holding the clips near my nipples, thinking about you saying that you’d make me hold them open over my nipples, then other things from that night, your hands, the mark of your hands on my ass, and all the time, I’m looking at the hanger, so now when I look at the hanger it’s going to turn me on.  “OMG, he’s frigging eroticizing the hanger,” I say to myself.  My body tingles.  Especially my nipples.  I touch my nipples with the steel rod of the hanger (through my clothes.)  I feel myself getting wetter.  I think some of the same thoughts I had earlier over again.  
Finally, five minutes are up and I start writing this.  Writing this turns me on too.”
That was back in the early days, i wasn’t even using “i” instead of “I” in my writings yet.   Feels like a long time ago. 
 Nipple clamp hangers vs Power Ranger Aisha – it’s no contest what i’d rather be writing about, is it?  Sigh.  
He had me put the hanger in its own designated spot in my closet, it wasn’t supposed to mix with my other hangers.  Really.  So when i’d see it, i’d think about – well, you know. 
It’s still there too.   Oooh,  sort of makes my nipples tingle just thinking about it… 





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