Charmer likes to push boundaries, heck, we both do. I think little nudges in new directions tend to add up to big nudges that introduce new ideas, new things to think about, new experiences.

We’ve added Boot Camp weekends to the mix of late – we do them when it strikes Charmer’s fancy, no real schedule- but it has lately been running Friday-Monday on choice weekends.

Essentially, these are high-protocol weekends – time to a lot more “absolute” and mindful of the D/s FLR we embrace. Like you, I’m sure, we read a lot. We always keep track of stuff that falls in the “hmmm… Never thought about that before, we could try that sometime…” bucket.

Today, Charmer decided we’d try for an extreme edging experience. Not to be all melodramatic or anything, but I just wasn’t sure what she was calling for was possible. I mean, it’s a lot.

100 edges. Today.

Now, ok. Talk about problems. I can hear people now “oh, just feel bad for Snake, poor him, 100 edges today. Boo-hoo.” But think about that for a moment. 100 is a big number. And, I suppose, that’s sort of the point. What happens? What’s that feel like?

I’m here to tell you – yes, it’s mind-numbingly good feeling. Most of the time. But there are interesting side effects here. #1, I may find myself pouting, wanting it to complete, because it’s also aggravating – you go through that whole lead-up, chasing the O, getting closer and closer, your body gives in and you can feel that wave crashing over you… just as she stops.

Gah!

Then, since, you know, we have so many to get done (woe is me), there isn’t really even a rest period. Maybe 15-20 seconds to catch my breath. She’s done these in batches. 18, 18, 20, 24, 20. I’ve been a heaping mess of sweat, gasping for air, trying to be good and not yell at the absolute top of my lungs, but rather just… well, making an increasing amount of noise.

I don’t think about that noise. Not much anyway, and certainly not when we’re in the mix of things, but it does come glaringly to the forefront when Charmer bursts out laughing at me, at the noise I make this or that time. I love that we laugh at things, at us, at sex, at play, all of that. I really do. It’s pretty magical. But that reminder, and no realizing that I even knew I made anything burst out of my burning lungs… surprises me every time.

It’s kinda hot.