Guest Post: “Paintball” by Moonbeam123

Posted: February 2, 2015 by Isaac Cross in Art, Guest Posts

Editor’s Note: It is no great secret that I love needle play. It is my favorite thing either as a top or bottom. But I’ve been doing it for so long (nearly a decade now) that I sometimes forget the fear and exhilaration of the first time. Luckily, every now and then I have the opportunity to provide the experience of a first needle to someone else, to share with them the joy of my favorite kink. After one such occasion, the lovely Moonbeam123 wrote about it. I loved the writing and got her permission to repost it here because I think it is great window into needle play for those who haven’t, yet experienced it, as well as a look back at how many of us felt that first time. Enjoy. +Cross

“Paintball”
by Moonbeam123
Originally posted here on Fetlife.com

Bruise

You get up on this table right? And the whole time you are thinking to yourself. I love pain. But this? And you strip to your panties. A state even some boyfriends never saw you in. And you lay down on the table. He puts on these gloves. Blue surgical gloves. That’s one of the best parts. Then he grabs the box- and you just know. Know what’s to come. And as he opens it. Your heart freezes. And you debate calling it quits but something inside you tells you stay. So you do, because that second voice- it’s louder more desperate. Deeper. Stronger- more innately you. So you lay there.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the ceiling. You stare at the imperfections but gloss over them as you look up and see him getting ready.

Then he pulls out the small packet. Ripping it open. It reeks of alcohol and he slides it over your skin. Your chest. Arms. Legs. Then he takes those professional doctor gloves and grabs the next packet. A sterilized needle. Taking it between his middle finger and his thumb he looks at you. Should he continue? Your heart stops again. But there is that second voice, begging you to stay glued to the table. You nod egging him on. He pinches the skin. He lets you breath and tells you he will do it on the next exhale. You brace yourself breathing in.

As you breath out a fire bite is taken from the needle. A harsh burning pinch as the needle violates you. Pain envelopes where he placed the needle and it did not feel good.

Ready to run off the table the pain is gone after less than a second. Not so bad.

After a little while he pinches again. Next exhale he says. You are nervous to breathe out and there is that sting. Worse this time as he slides the second needle underneath the first and it pinches. The two rubbing against each other in a way that eggs one another on to increase the burn.

By the 3rd needle he asks if you want it in your arm. You don’t trust him. Fearing it will hurt worse. The skin is tougher. But his soft soothing voice convinces you. Why the hell not? And he pinches. Letting you know the next exhale he intends to slide in a third needle.

And that’s when. That first voice. The voice of sanity, reason, anxiety, fear, becomes silent and fades within you while that second voice rises to the challenge. That second voice. That second you. Is now all there is. The room begins to blur. Nothing is in focus. You start to levitate inches off the table. You realize that the only thing in life is right here. You are all that matters. He brought you here. Its equivalent to heaven, perhaps that’s why it’s banned by religion, it’s to blissful for this life. Too unreal. You start to giggle. But he just smiles as you laugh.

A fourth needle is set. He pinches your leg. Something you would have said no to earlier but now you want it. You can’t let it stop. You would almost let him do anything now. He pinches. Your breathing is fast. “Hey slow down. You’re okay,” he says realizing your chest rising and falling rapidly. And you sure as hell trust him because he got you this high. So you slow your breathing. Once it’s slow you look at him. Begging. Asking for it. Its then he smiles. On the next exhale he slides it in. It’s like a hot kiss. Then another then he moves to your left side putting them in your chest and then arm.

He pushes his fingers on the cross where the needles meet and wiggles them. Its pain…pleasure. Intense pleasure. Why are you laughing? It’s such a happy feeling. A warm giggle. Your whole body is warm. Shakey. Happy. No words can escape.

On one of the needles you look into the mirror on the ceiling. God you’re beautiful. Red wine lips. The way you gasp and follow it with a truly blissed out smile. Your long hair thrashed behind you. A woman in ecstasy.

It’s on the tenth needle you look over. He is gripping the table. He is breathing. Like a lion with a fresh kill in front of him. Breathing in your scent. Absorbed. He looks like he is in the middle of an orgasm. The only blissed out expression you can relate it to is an orgasm. Then you lock eyes as you are giggling. He smiles at you. The only time you have seen a boy look at you like that was the summer that one boy was in puppy love with you, and you had woken up to see him admiring you like the most beautiful woman on earth. And that’s what you are to this sadist, beautiful. For allowing him to do this. But you admire him in the same loving way for taking you there. Here. In this beautiful world.

On the 12th needle you are done. He twists them out. Rotating them so they burn coming out. Then he wipes the blood away and you sit up. He rubs your back. You don’t even trust your legs to stand up because you are so high. Your smile is wiggly. Your legs are wiggly. And you hug him.

Minutes later. You slide off the table. You are one of the many super models in the room that evening. Beautiful to every sadist. And days later someone sees the bruises the needles left and you have to lie and say you got them from paintball.

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