the life and musings of a kinky slut

Pretty Pincushion

“Oh you’re easy.”
“So I’ve been told.”

It felt like I was moving through water. It felt like new… fuller… a dull electricity.

Touching my hands as I slowly lifted them to my face.

Touching my chin as I rested my head on my hands.

Everything was slower. I swayed, as if I were floating in water. Though my shirt was off, my skin was warm, especially near where Big Sis had put the needles in me.

There were two in each arm and one in each of my breasts.

“Deep breath in.” I held it.
“Deep breath out.” I let it go.

The pain was sharp, but not as I had imagined it. It was pinpoint. A spot. A single spot on my skin that hurt. The one needle tip she buried was on my right breast. As she hit it, I felt that one spot, the one point where the needle rested, burst forth with exact pain. It grew, escalating to a scream in my mind. Make that one spot stop! After some more hits, I called yellow.

But I didn’t want them out. I didn’t want them gone, even as she removed them from me about fifteen minutes later.

I sat on the couch. Dreamy. Dazed. Delighted. I smiled. Tears softly ran down my cheek. My breathing was slow, metered, but not deliberate. My body slowed. My speech slowed. Everything was slow.

My voice was soft. I could not yell. I could barely speak full sentences.

I have one photo on my phone of me, turned to the side, glancing down at the pretty holes in my arm. Big Sis captured a moment of my bliss.

Before she removed them, she asked me if I wanted them out nice or mean.

“Nice please.”

They quickly slid from my flesh, as if they were never there.

“I guess I’m not a bleeder… Oops, spoke too soon.”

I did not bleed, not even as she hit me, until they came out. I watched as a small dot of red formed in one of the holes on my right breast. I wanted to dip my head down, spread my tongue wide, and lap the droplet up, but even in my haze I knew that would seem a bit odd.

My left arm, which had needles in the longest, to a depth away from my skin, and therefore received the brunt of Big Sis’s pats, bled the most. After cleaning the holes, she had me hold a paper towel over the wounds. The bleeding stopped. I sat, coming down.

Big Sis will eventually move into our home. When she does, she has already said she will use me as her practice pincushion.

I will definitely be doing needles again.

Categorised as: Amethyst | Friends | Needles

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