Monday, August 4, 2008

Hard Limit.

I have, as time goes on, a lot fewer limits than I ever would've guessed. There was a time when I couldn't have dreamed of having any kind of casual or kinky sex. Admittedly, that time was around fourteen years old, but still. And then again there was a time only a couple months ago that I swore I would do anything in bed except the bathroom functions, it went without saying I wasn't that sort of girl.

I'm still pretty damn sure about poop.

The amazing thing about breaking through limits, though, is that I've enjoyed it. I didn't break, say, my limit against being hit in the face because I could just barely tolerate it; I broke it because it's hot as hell to be slapped across the face mid-cocksucking and told just how bad and naughty I am. Tearing down limits means finding pleasure in more places. It just means that increasingly, they're places I just can't tell my regular friends about. "He spanked me" is good ol' girl-talk; "he put clothespins on my pussy and made me pull on them and call him Daddy while he fucked me" is somewhat less so.

In conventional girl-talk the script is for the boy to make bizarre requests and the girl to act as the voice of reason and deny him, then laugh that he even asked. "And... get this... he wanted me to call him 'Daddy' and let him whip me with a belt and make me piss myself!" The story becomes much less shareable when it's followed up with "So I did, and I fucking loved it."

Anyway, the current limit-I-will-never-break is the stun gun.

I'm pretty scared of electricity. I panic a little bit even from doorknob shocks. I hide under the covers during thunderstorms. Just the sight and sound of the stun gun are fucking terrifying; the idea of actually allowing it to cause me pain is beyond me for now.

Why do I say "for now"? It's entirely possible that I will never have 300,000 volts routed through my ass, and yet somehow manage to live a fulfilling life.

But... I know me.

Yeah, by the time I'm thirty I'm going to be doing something that one-ups 2Girls1Cup, I can pretty much see that coming. I'll probably enjoy the hell out of it though.


  1. Electric poop -- the final frontier. These are the perversions of the hittyslut Holly. Her unending mission: To explore strange new kinks. To acquire out new toys and have a lot of orgasms. To boldly go where cuddly doms order her to go.

    (The only thing that makes my sex life the least bit interesting is all the crap that goes into making it exist at all. If Holly is Star Trek, I' telethon?)

  2. Yeah, no worries on the poop. So not into that.

    Seriously, I know you've heard these words from me before, but I'm really not into that! :) I mean it!

  3. Stun guns are weirdly 1-second bursts. My sister brought one back from a trip to Florida, and once I got past the horror of the sound it makes, I couldn't stop shocking myself with it. It'd be a bit different in a sexual context though, or for any prolonged amount of time, I had little burns just from holding on for a few seconds.

  4. I've never done the poop thing, closest I get is a friend of mine who loves - who knew? - being given enemas. But I always leave her alone for the aftermath. It's a bit icky.

    But speaking of poop - and 2girls1cup - one of the great things about the internet is that just when you have convinced yourself that you're really perverted you stumble across something that reminds you that there are plenty of people out there much worse. I find that reassuring...

  5. So you hate electricity, huh?
    Why do I have the feeling that there is a blog entry in our future which will read in part "He brought out a stun-gun and threatened me with it while I was hog-tied and sucking his c#$k. I came right there!"?

    Bet me?

  6. Repeat after me: shock collars! You work your way up gradually to ZAP, ZAP ZAP. Check out Mistress Yin's July 25th post on how to use them properly: