Ring My Bell
I’d forgotten what they felt like, my six lovely steel cuntrings.
What they felt like in my lips as I walk, their presence a subtle reminder as they brush against the insides of my thighs occasionally, and less subtly when they pull, twist or pinch beneath my clothes.
What they felt like beneath my fingers when I wipe across them after I pee or brush them with my fingertips when I touch myself, or as I spread them, disentangling them, so that W will have entry to me.
What it felt like to tug on them, pulling them wide when he is inside of me, or using them–closing my hand around them and his cock–to grind against his cock as he thrusts. This is such a unique sensation, both the physical pain/pleasure of it while also being a mental sensation (the image of ringing his cock with steel, of fucking him with the steel teeth of my cuntrings) that is exquisite.
I got them reinstalled last night. They’ve been out since the surgery, and while I had had plastic retainers in them, all but two slipped out before I could get the steel rings put back in. I was terrified I’d have to undergo the misery of getting them re-pierced (not that the piercing itself is misery, I like that, but the healing is awful!) Also, another 2 weeks of no sex and then an additional 6-10 weeks of “careful” sex would just not do. I’ve had enough of being a no-sex girl. As evidenced by this weekend when I finally begged my way into three days of hard fucking, and have the tender, bruised pussy to show for it. (Yeah, I can’t help grinding my pussy into my chair every so often. The rings just intensify the discomfort. Yummm.)
Anyway. So last night I got them reinstalled, and we had a long conversation with two of the wonderful folks at our piercing palace, being pretty clear about how we use the rings, both sexually and in bondage, because we are looking for different types of rings and different set-ups that will facilitate (and be able to handle) our bondage play. They were enormously helpful (as my piercer, C, always is) and quite enthusiastic. And then, in a exhibitionist-that-loves-objectification’s dream, W and C stood over me on the piercer’s table and moved my piercings around as if I was an anonymous body, or just a set of cuntlips, pulling on and looking at the placement of the rings and talking about spacing for additional piercings (if we want to do that) and the different looks we can achieve with what I’ve got. I admit to getting a bit excited by that, not to mention the sensation of simply having them pulled open and having the rings replaced. I love it that she is so warm & enthusiastic personally and yet purely professional and impersonal at the same time–I can have a piercee-crush on her and get excited about it while still feeling safe and not sexualized. If that makes sense.
So after that, is it any wonder that I wanted to have my rings “used” properly? Before we could do that though, I needed to get a picture for next week’s Wanton Wednesday. I had such fun with W on my first official excursion back in to kink when he had me wear my steel bra and heels the morning before that I felt ready for a little bit more, and what better opportunity than to find a way to show off the reinstalled rings?
Funny thing is, I expected a pretty little picture. Handcuffs, sure, and metal bra, and okay, fuck-me pumps and steel cuntrings, but nothing really scene-like, right? A sweet, sexy picture.
Ya’ll know that I call my Owner The Mean Guy for a reason, right? Suffice it to say that although it was a short one, the addition of a mouth spreader and a chain around my heels linking and spreading the rings made it more scene-like than maybe either of us had anticipated. A lovely, accidental happenstance. :-)
And then this morning…finally…W fucked my rings. Oh wait, I am supposed to say he fucked me, but somehow it seems right either way. He fucked me, he fucked my rings, I fucked him with my rings. And when he growled at me that I was his “industrial cunt,” and “industrial cuntmeat,” I knew I was back.
Oh yeah, you can ring my bell, baby.
And now, for my favorite disco-lovin’ Mean Guy, a VH1 clip (with Suzanne Somers!) talking about the demise of disco followed by a video of Anita Ward singing “Ring My Bell.” ‘Cuz I know you all got that tune in your head anyway.