Hand strapping. I don’t know what it is about hand strapping, but it is really hot and brings out the young naughty little masochist in me. It is something that is really only suited to be dished out by certain people to make it feel ‘right. To date I have not felt the right vibe to do it someone else you very often.
I used to be dommed by an older English styled dominant of the old spanko variety. He brought out a naughty young lady character from my inner depths. I tried to deny this feeling/character, but it/she was often there when we played and she often would sit between us when we were alone. She certainly immerged when I was standing to attention legs together, hands at my sides head bowed or looking directly ahead ready to present my hands palm upwards for a hand strapping. I was usually in a suspender belt and stockings, perhaps some lingerie, but often nothing else. Not exactly school girl or Victorian ward attire, but there was a feel of that age in such a scene even though it was never spoken. We did not need to create the scene to feel it.
I loved and hated hand strapping. I hated it because it hurt and I loved it because it hurt and gave me such a thrill. It was always hard to lift my hand up and offer it to him to strap. I knew what was coming and I hated the burning pain, it made me want to cry, but at the same time it brought me such intense pleasure emotionally and sexually. As my hand was burning from the pain my clit was glowing and a warm excited feeling would wind its way throughout my body.
Having to then present my other hand was so difficult to do. I knew what would happen, yet I longed for it. If there was any moment that I knew I was a masochist this was it! I would have to put my burning hand at my side, or on his cock that was hanging out of his trousers, as I then replaced the fresh hand waiting for the pain to come. Then of course I would have to present the first hand for another strapping when it was still sore. It was hard to do, yet I loved doing it for him and for me. Over and over I would repeat this until I could not take anymore. He would be stern, but amused at my behaviour. He knew he had a masochist on his hands and he liked to prove it to him and myself by me offering my hand even though I was in pain.
Those masochist days have long gone for me, but the memories are there and the hot feeling whenever I see a hand strapping. I am not that person anymore and cannot bottom to a character that would suit such a scene. However, sometimes I am a school girl or Victorian ward in my fantasies and the hand strapping makes an appearance.
If I find the right person to suit such a scene I would love to strap their hand. Passing it on as it were.