Kinky Musing

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Flesh Hook Suspension

by on Oct.14, 2013, under Flesh Hook, Uncategorized

So for sometime I have been fascinated with flesh hook suspensions.  For those that know me I love to push a physical boundary of those that I play with and this is the next evolution of that to me.  I have for sometime wanted to suspend people by hooks, but it is not something I have really explored.  Over the years I had participated in two hook pulls in which I have small hooks (12GA) placed in my chest and pulled against other people and objects.

Fast forward to a couple months ago I was at an event called Paradise near Seattle, WA.  On the second to the last day of the event they did a hook pull event that also included some flesh hook suspensions.  I watched with fascination and said to myself I want to do that.  I didn’t have the courage right then and there to find out if I could in fact do it.  I thought about it and talked with people about my desire.  One night I was at a friends art show opening and we got to talk about her experiences with flesh hooks and by the end on that conversation we had a date tentatively set with the person who has done the majority of her suspensions.  I remember walking away from that conversation thinking “what the fuck did I just get myself into”.

Well yesterday I did it!

(continue reading…)

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Do as the Romans…

by on Apr.05, 2010, under Play Type, Uncategorized

Emetophilia is arousal due to vomiting:

“Some emetophiles find the act of vomiting arousing; for them, the sequence of “spasm, ejaculation, relief” in vomiting is erotically charged. Other emetophiles are aroused by seeing and/or hearing others vomit. Some desire a partner who will vomit on them, while others wish to induce vomiting in a partner, or even force them to vomit.”

  • Sexual interest in vomit or vomiting
  • Recurring intense sexual fantasies involving vomit or vomiting
  • Recurring intense sexual urges involving vomit or vomiting

I have spent years pushing my body through some pretty serious kinky endeavors and journeys. In the past few years though, I have become much more interested in pushing my psyche and building a stronger emotional base from which to explore. Many of these buttons we have discovered somewhat accidentally, whereas others we sought with purpose.

It started perhaps two years ago.  “Daddy, I ate too much but it was so yummy I couldn’t help it. If only I could bring it up I would feel better”.  Was I kidding? I thought I was. Did he think I was kidding? He thought I was.  But then it become more frequent, and soon I was ‘jokingly’ asking him to help so that I, “would feel better”.

Did I seek out Roman Shower images, porn, stories? Nope.
Did I jack off to the idea, lick my lips and day dream? Not even once.
Did I even throw up on purpose, on my own? Couldn’t even if I had wanted.
Did I imagine Daddy forcing me to do a variety of seemingly degrading activities? Sure!

So, why the interest?? I think it was the idea of forced control over my body,  not having the choice,  an overpowering feeling of relief.

We had just come in from a large dinner, and again, I started up with how my tummy hurt and it was so full. Daddy joked back that he could help me throw up so I would feel better. I smiled mischievously and said, “Yes, please”.  Half a second later I was being lifted to my feet by my hair, a look of shock on my face. I yelled for my Papa Bear to save me and got only a snicker of laughter in return.

Daddy pushed me into the bathroom, onto my knees, opened the toilet and shoved my head down. Oh how I wished I hadn’t put off the house cleaning for a few days!!  I found his fingers grasping at my face, pinching my cheeks and forcing his fingers in deep.  I heaved and bucked, but nothing. Deeper still, me thrashing and whimpering.  Suddenly there it was.  Tears came to my eyes and sniffles. But I was distracted by the sound behind me. A belt being pulled quickly though jean loops.

Typically that means that either my neck or butt are about to spend quality time with the leather, either wrapped tightly, or flying through the air. I was surprised when I didn’t feel the leather, but not as much once I heard the sound of a zipper being pushed down. But before I was sure of it all, my head was back in the toilet, fingers again reaching, stomach lurching.  As it came again, so did the cock into my cunt!

I was ridden hard, pelvis slamming into the cold porcelain, head hitting the toilet seat cover, throat tightening and expelling, pussy contracting. And when it was all over, I couldn’t help but be smiling ear to ear…

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