First session for Pi l'Irrationnel

Here we are, I'm in front of the given address, it's 11.58 am, I'm waiting patiently and nervously for 12 o'clock sharp to be able to enter the building. A flight of stairs awaits me, I didn't remember Parisian floors being so rough, I'm out of breath, it's long, I'll keep Madame waiting, go up faster.

Indeed, Madame has been waiting for me, but she knows how to put me at ease - it's our first appointment, I'm a seasoned beginner, it's my first real experience as a masochist, I'm nervous, I'm babbling. Madame gives me her advice for the session: breathe, relax, communicate and don't forget the safe words. It's not going to be easy - I'm an anxious person by nature, with a bad memory whenever I'm stressed - but I put on a brave face and make a joke.

Bathroom, ablution, I knock on the door indicating that I'm ready, Madame opens the door and pinches my nipple with a smile and leaves immediately saying something to me, flute I didn't understand what she said, probably my first order, think fast, do you follow or do you stand still?

I follow the movement, like a frightened, excited puppy following a new master. I barely have time to explore the room with my eyes before I find myself with a collar around my neck, it's stifling, breathe; bracelets come to adorn my wrists, my heart speeds up; Madame surrounds me, explores me, clutches me in her claws while speaking to me in a soft, benevolent voice, I need to be reassured, thank you Madame. I feel like a bird captured in the talons of a magnificent golden eagle, my heart racing, my breath quickening even more. 

I didn't have time to say "phew" before I was tied up in the Y position with my arms stretched skywards, hooded and with a mask over my eyes. Madame can work in peace, and I can concentrate on letting go. She spends long minutes teasing my nipples, pinching them, exploring every inch of my bare skin, looking for my weak points, which she quickly finds. At times, she fetches an accessory and applies it to the skin at her mercy; I confess I don't know how many instruments Madame has used on me, the nipple clamps for sure, the swifts too. I moan, I let out ouchs (bad idea), I squirm, my senses are already overwhelmed, I squeeze my thighs, I let out a little moan of pleasure, and again, again, the moans increase until I reach orgasm between impacts, touches, caresses, pinches, raptures and ecstasy. 

I'm freed from the Y position, Madame starts to tease me in a detached way, I tense up, I try to escape from the hands that are exploring me, not out of pain or fear of what they're doing to me but out of fear of reacting badly to the pressure, I've told Madame I'm not a submissive, beware of danger, I throw out the word "orange" meaning that it's a little too much. Madame respects the safe word and holds me less tightly in her clutches, teasing becomes caressing. She moves away and I hear her fussing. I huff and puff, swaying on the spot, still blind, standing, heart pounding, waiting for my next test, listening for noises, looking for clues. 

Here I am, with my torso stretched out on the cage and my hands attached to it, my buttocks available for Madame, and I make the acquaintance of the badine - I'm afraid of it, as I said. I grunt, it hurts and at the same time it excites me, it awakens the beast in me, my buttocks now dance to the rhythm of the strokes which alternate with caresses and teasing, at one point I even catch myself swinging my loins backwards in search of her touch. I'm breathing heavily, Madame is happy, she can see that I'm enjoying myself, very much so, and at a break she fetches a little hourglass and puts it in front of me, two minutes non-stop on my buttocks, she tells me. My mind panics but I'm still joking "Do I have a choice?" Of course," she replies, "you can stop whenever you like. 

I don't want to stop, my beast doesn't want to stop, she wants to cum again and again. 

How can two minutes seem like an eternity and yet be too short? I came again and again, with Madame's dexterity at the helm, the badine did its work, I'm all wet, I feel like I'm dripping on the floor, my body is nothing but pleasure, I arch my back, my arms pull on the restraints, my beast growls, screams, rues, enjoys. The badine is gone, so is Madame, and I slowly come back down to earth.

A pain suddenly grips my posterior, Madame passes an ice cube over my incipient bruises, pleasure gives way to pain quickly, a new wave of pleasure overwhelms me.

The last trial, here I am, tied to the cross of Saint André, blindfolded, waiting for my new torturer; he makes his entrance with a shattering noise, at the speed of sound he slams behind me. My heart hesitates between stopping and racing, my nipples come back to me with a sharp pain, the clamps are heavy, I think I've inherited some weight. 

The rest of the story is between the whip, Madame and me.

No doubt about it, I'm a masochist.

Thank you Madame for these Shared Pleasures and your kindness.

Pi the Irrational

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