A Staple Of Our Relationship

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you may know that Sir often tasks me to try something new, in fact, it’s something of a staple in our relationship. Rather than him dictating to me what I should be doing he is encouraging me to get creative and think for myself. This works really well for me, I haven’t the time for being micro managed. (Though I have offered to try for Him, should He desire that level of control.) Also, when He is working away for long stretches, restrictions lifted and absolute freedom restored, I have the skills to be my own Sir.

Not long after my afternoon of garden rope with CC I was set to work again, with this task resurfacing. He doesn’t like to be predictable so it is one of the few that is repeated semi regularly. This task in particular always fills me with excitement and fear. Excitement because I get to try something new and different. Fear because I know He will want me to stretch myself, and also because I don’t want Him to not be entertained. The list of kink activities I wish to try is seemingly never ending, but even when I’m playing solo I still have to consider His needs, desires and limits.

Fortunately, His needs and desires are well laid out in the task- He needs me to try something new, and He desires me to push myself. Plus when it comes to limits, His are well matched with mine. Where there are things He won’t do to me, I am welcome to incorporate them in my own time. Still though, it’s a thought process that needs careful consideration.

So, I had this idea, to staple a corset onto my thigh.

It was something I’d wanted to try, but needed a push to get round to it. I’d heard about it from friends, and seen pictures in the wider community. And while I didn’t know anyone well enough to say “hey, can you help me with this” I wasn’t upset because I learn by doing.

Risk wise there wasn’t too much to worry about. I’d had staples used for medical reasons previously, so knew that I wouldn’t react to the metal. The staples arrive sterile, and I’m well versed in hygiene and keeping things clean being the daughter of a nurse! Plus, the damage done by staples is superficial and fast healing.

What could possibly go wrong?

So I ordered the staplers online, and dug some ribbon out of my craft drawers. Everything was looking set to be completed for the task deadline. I excitedly told Sir about my plans, in my roundabout kind of way. It is nice to surprise Him with the outcome, so I just buzz into His emails with hints and excitement without actually telling Him what is going to be happening.

Then I got a delivery notification. My parcel was going to be late. Argh!! I hopped into His emails again. This time requesting an extension. I told Him how disappointed I’d be to miss the end of the week but that I was really excited to share what it was once the package arrived.

The response I got was a surprise.

Not that He agreed to my having a couple of extra days. Sir is not unreasonable in any regard, and in this instance things were outside of my control. Rather His response. He was also really looking forward to seeing my planned task, was happy to wait a little longer.

Now, this may not seem like much from the outside, but to me this screamed the excitement on His side. Which made my tummy turn somersaults of joy. He is, and always has been, aloof. Like me He never says anything He doesn’t mean. But I wear my heart- and emotions- on my sleeve for Him, whereas He is a little more discrete.

The padded envelope fell through my letterbox the next morning, and once the boys were in bed I set everything up accordingly. Sterilising the space and my hands, setting up the tray with stapler, alcohol wipes, ribbon and staple extraction tool. I had the camera set up and was recording everything for Him. Then, when I was sitting comfortably there was nothing to do but start.

The first time I do anything to myself is always the hardest.

Whether I’ve done it a thousand times, like that first single column tie of a rope scene, or slightly less regularly, like pouring wax on sensitive areas, I always have to mentally wrap myself into the process. And that would be my first ever staple, while I’d had them in me before I’d been out for the count when they’d punctured my skin. Psyching myself up I went through the process in my mind. Carressing the skin with a wipe, laying the ribbon into position, pressing the head of the stapler into my thigh. Pause, tense the finger, release, tense again, pause “come on N, you know it won’t be bad” pause, tense again- this time all the way and….

Squeak!

Release. Breathe. Ahhh. That wasn’t bad at all.

Smiling to myself I prepared for the matching staple on the other side of the corset. I’d not made it half way down (up?) my right thigh when I made the decision to create a matching pattern on the other side. As the metal broke through my outer layer I chased the pain across my skin with a deep breath. The energy charging me up, not quite leaving me but never overwhelming. The more I did the cheesier my grin, a happy, floaty barefoot.

Once both thighs were beautifully adorned I wanted to wear them for a while.

I took a trip upstairs, bounced up them to feel the full impact of the metal barbs as they nestled in my skin. I was aware of the sensation, but it didn’t cause pain or squirming. Tightening the ribbon as I sat on the loo (more sanitary than it sounds) I found the pinging pin-points of pressure more delightful on the return journey. I continued with some chores for a while before settling down to remove my decorations.

Now then, this is where things started to go a bit wrong.

Don’t worry, no harm was done! I just didn’t quite understand the technique for removing the staples. The hospital had made it look so easy all those years ago. The instructions with the removal device matched what I’d seen. But cack-handed barefoot couldn’t do it properly. I ended up creating my own style. Loosening the grip with the device, and then wiggling them free with one wiped down hand. Then a quick swiping up of any blood (causing delicious stinging) with those alcohol wipes.

By the time each staple was out my grin wasn’t quite as broad.

Evidently Sir was pleased with the effort I’d gone to, that I’d pushed myself and the finished task. While it hadn’t quite gone to plan, I was safe and my legs were still in one piece. The pin pricks in my skin vanished in a couple of days and only a few little bruises. As someone who marks easily this was a good sign. On my left thigh I have quite a meaty varicose vein, I’d unthinkingly placed a staple into the skin over that which caused a more significant bruise.

Hindsight tells me that practising removal before you put them in is a good idea. Also, making sure that you avoid any varicose veins would also be sensible. While I wouldn’t recommend going solo for your first time exploring many kinks I was very happy with the result. I also have ideas for how this could be taken forward.

Perhaps one day I’ll try again?

With a little more experience under my belt, or even with a knowledgeable friend on hand to show me something different? Three and a half years on I know better who to ask for guidance. But also, in that time he has repeated that task more than once- like I said at the start, it’s become a bit of a staple request. I wonder what came up next?

 

 

A Staple Of Our Relationship is part of the story of how I became the woman I am today. The next part will be coming soon.