I was dressed in a plaid miniskirt and a white ruffled blouse. I wore ballet flats, complete with little bows, and my long hair was divided into two pigtails. As we crossed the foyer of the hotel, my only thought was how I didn’t blend in very much. Especially because I wore my thick, black leather play collar. The silver rings on it jingled softly, but they might as well have been clanging bells as far as I was concerned. I felt obvious, and my discomfort only increased sir’s pleasure with my appearance. The women at the check-in desk followed our progress, their gazes burning holes in my back. We obviously weren’t members of the wedding party staying at the hotel. We were attendees of the “other” group (400+ kinksters), and we were headed to “Try It Out Scouts” in the main ballroom of our first kink convention.
The room was dotted with tables full of different implements and supplies. An expert in the application of a particular tool (like clothespins or rope or fire cupping etc) stood beside it to help attendees “try it out.” I started with my standard favorites, impact toys, and climbed on to a spanking bench to try out paddles and a series of cane-like items. I enjoyed the different spanking styles and the different weights of toys. The things, and the person, that I had been anticipating sat in the back corner, but sir steered us to other tables first. Whether he deliberately tried to draw out my nervousness or not, the effect was the same. My stomach did tiny somersaults as we winded our way through the tables. Finally he pushed me towards Angel’s table.
“Time to try your first needles,” he said with a nudge.
Angel and I have had a colorful past full of bitten nipples and pulled hair which was pretty benign stuff as far as her repertoire was concerned. I thought she’s the bee’s knees. She was smart as a whip, sweet as an angel, and sadistic as a… alas, words failed me to describe the depth of such sadism. Suffice to say she charmed me and terrified me by turns. Sir had always had her in mind when it came to trying needle play, and I was excited to have a chance to try them out with her in a casual setting.
I had no idea whether or not I was going to like needles in a play context. I had acupuncture most of my life, but those needles were as thin as a cat’s whisker and only went a couple millimeters into my skin. I got my tattoo in my mid-twenties, and the feeling of the tiny needles dancing over my back relaxed me to the point where I fell asleep. The rest of my needle experience was purely medical and mostly unpleasant. During my years of trying to conceive, I had jabbed needles into my abdomen, ass, and arm, and I promise you, it all sucked. Because of the contradictory sensations, I really had no idea what to expect from my try out with Angel.
Sir and I watched as she slid needles into the breast of a beautiful woman. The needles had light blue handles, and Angel didn’t hesitate as she slid them just under the surface of the skin, poking the ends back to the surface. It reminded me of how my mama and I pinned fabric when we sewed. The woman smiled and Angel beamed, and I thought, maybe I could do this after all. When they were finished, Angel turned to look at the line of people that had formed by her table.
“Oh, you’re next darlin’,” she said to me with a evil smile.
FINE! (I’m being dramatic) She looked her adorable, devious self. I plunked myself down in the folding chair opposite her, and she squeezed my hand.
“Now lift up your skirt.”
I didn’t have a clue what that had to do with needles, but I stood up and grabbed the hem of my skirt.
“I’m just kidding!” she laughed. “This is going to be super easy. In fact, you’ll look back when I sew your pussy shut like this was nothing.”
I laughed, but my palms were sweating. Having my tender bits sewed together had been a fantasy of mine for a long time. To be more accurate, it was a nightmare and a fantasy all at the same time. Part of me wanted to try it, and part of me said that I was absolutely insane to think it was a good idea. Hearing Angel talk about it made it feel like we were one step closer to it actually happening, and adrenaline was zinging through me mixed with a little bit of panic.
She told me to unbutton my shirt, because she would place the needles through the skin of my breast, just above the cup of my bra. I took a deep breath and centered myself. I focused on Angel’s face and refused to look down to watch the needles pierce my skin. I saw the motions of her placing the needle, but I didn’t feel anything.
“Look at that. How does it feel? They’re my thinnest and shortest needles.”
I stared at the pink plastic jutting out from gleaming stainless steel. “Um. I don’t feel it.”
“Want another one?” Again there was lots of grinning on her part.
She placed three more after that. I felt those more, because my body had become sensitized in that area. Like it knew that poking was happening so I should feel it. Logically I knew that I should feel the needles as I’ve felt them before, but this sensation was overall pleasant. Then Angel pushed with her finger on the center where the needles crossed.
I’ve heard other people describe the endorphin rush from needle play as “flying.” When Angel pushed on the needles, energy bubbled out of me like the fizz of an Alka Seltzer. It was an endorphin rush, yes, but I felt like one of those erupting volcanoes that you make for the science fair. I had to have been grinning like a dope as I sat there and gushed.
“Energy is just coming out of you like crazy,” she said and motioned for sir to come closer. “Touch her arm.” Angel looked at me again. “Can you push that energy into your sir?”
I tried. I looked inward and visualized moving the bubbly feeling up sir’s arm and into his body, but to be honest, I don’t think I did a damn thing. I felt boneless and more relaxed than I had in days. Eventually sir stood back again to watch.
“Ready?” Angel asked. “I want you to look down.”
If she hadn’t called my attention to the needles, I would have missed the entire thing. I certainly didn’t feel it at all. With a swift downward motion, Angel stabbed the last needle into my breast. Trust me when I say that the word “stab” is no exaggeration. She plunged that needle into me like Norman Bates through a shower curtain. My jaw dropped open as Angel rocked back in her chair and started to laugh.
“Well, that’s kind of mean,” I sputtered, not really meaning it.
I would have laughed too if I wasn’t so high.