Pussy Pride Redux – Sex with Rings

Awhile back I wrote a post for the Pussy Pride Project on Molly’s Daily Kiss. I had a lot of fun with that post, and I have enjoyed reading other contributions to the meme. Recently I got a couple of replies to that post, and since I enjoy talking about my pussy (shocking, I know) I thought I’d do a follow-on post to it to answer those questions. This time, I got to elicit the Guys assistance as well, so (for perhaps the first time?) you’ll get to hear from each of them as well!

H.H. of MySexLifeWithLola said, “Can you or W write about what it’s like to have sex with all those piercings?”

Although I’ve actually written about what sex with my rings is like several times, especially when they were new, it’s usually in the context of the rest of a scene that we are in the middle of, not just about the sensations specific to fucking with rings. And I don’t think I’ve ever asked the Guys to write about it, although we’ve talked about it many times.

Here’s what W had to say:

Fucking Jade with Rings

If fucking a girl with rings isn’t on your bucket list, it should be. I’d like to say it takes a real man with cast iron balls to manage it, but that isn’t really the truth.  Sure, you can’t be a wimp, but the primary effect for me is mental. As soon as I see them or feel them on Jade I get hard as a rock, not so much from the physical sensation, but from the mental effect that they have on me. There’s just something deliciously wrong about a girl with metal rings implanted in her cunt, and to fuck such a feisty, unconventional girl is a huge turn on and conquest.

The feel of the rings depends upon the position and your technique. In some cases you can barely feel them, but with others you can feel a hardness along your cock as you forcefully push her open and you can feel friction around your shaft as you pump back and forth and manipulate her parts.  I imagine them to be guide rails placed there for the convenience of myself and that of other males that have the (power) to use her.

Most of all I like knowing that I’m fucking an industrial girl. A highly skilled, efficient, fucking machine that you can pick out of the crowd. Someone special that guys dream about and most girls can’t match.

I swear I didn’t pay him to write all that stuff. ;-)

Ad’s perspective is a little different, as might be expected.  He says:

Impressions of Sex with Rings

You wanted my impressions of sex with the rings. The first impressions that strike me are visual and tactile. The sight of the rings is eye catching and impressive. After seeing them you then want to touch them and play with them. Seeing how they can be pulled and what sensations they create. They do focus your attention to the sensations in that area. When touching them they are hard and smooth. Once you plunge inside you feel the rings sliding along your length. That can be distracting, in a good way, tho. The only small negative effect is while using a vibrator near the rings. The rings can be a little buzzy and pinchy when vibrated heavily, thus spoiling the mood. Overall the rings are fun for both partners!

So there you have impressions from both my partners about fucking me with the rings.

As for me…well, although the Guys sometimes can’t tell much of a physical difference, I always can. Getting fucked now that I am so heavily pierced is always “getting fucked with rings” for me, and they are an essential and integral part of the experience. I can’t be fucked and not be acutely aware of them, the entire time, even if I have adjusted and moved them around to minimize discomfort.

In some ways, this is good, and hot. As W says, it is definitely a mental trigger for us both. I know how much they turn him on, and, especially when he is fucking me brutally, shoving his way through them and hurting me, it’s extremely arousing. It is also very arousing to always be aware of these piercings in terms of my connection to – and ownership by – W. This, to me, is the essence of my submission to him, in a very tangible, almost irreversible way. It’s not some pretty little hood decoration that can be overlooked or ignored. There they are, hard, cold, infringing and in-my-face (so-to-speak) all the time. Always there, always a reminder of W, of being owned, of who owns me, of his possession of me. This awareness extends beyond fucking, too. I am aware of them this way every day, nearly all the time. Walking, running, sitting, doing yoga, riding a bike, turning over in bed, going pee, taking a bath, getting a massage, curling up on the couch or out and about, there isn’t more than a few minutes, maybe a half hour here and there, that I am not aware of them or having a random thought about them – and thus, by extension, W. This is true even more so, of course, when I am being fucked. And when it is someone else fucking me? The knowledge that I am marked that way – marked in such a visceral, physical way as W’s property – is a huge turn-on.

There is also a lot of imagery and physical sensations related to the rings themselves that turn me on, such as pulling my cunt lips open by the rings and spreading them wide. The image and the actuality of that – and how that makes me feel on a very base, emotional level – is very powerful.  Having them slicked with come, again, both visually in my fantasies and in reality. The image of a cock pushing through the barrier they form, and then being surrounded by and encased by metal. Sometimes I am able to hitch my hips up in just such a way as to feel the fourchette sliding along the ridge of W’s cock (I avoid doing this to Ad because he doesn’t get off on the sensation like W does.) That image alone can send me over the edge. Another image, that of one man spilling his seed inside me and my rings dripping with his semen, only to have another man push into me, sliding his cock over my cum-slickened rings, is an especially powerful and erotic one to me. Perhaps this is because I no longer get soaked on the outside of my pussy very often anymore (an unusual and unintended side-effect of having my inner labia constantly exposed, I think.) But whatever reason, having them stroked with lube or spit or semen is very, very erotic, and heightens the ultra-sensitivity that I already experience in my labia.

On the other hand, sometimes the physical sensation while I am having sex – always always always being aware and having to think about and adjust for them – can get tiresome.  And the aforementioned issue with wetness. Sometimes I just want to get fucked, you know? To feel a hard, thick cock slide into me without having to worry about/compensate for/adjust to the rings.  To not have the primary sensation be the rings, rather than the fingers, hand, cock or toy.  And yet…that very sensation…feeling the metal, the pinch, the slide when they get wet…feeling them as an obstruction and as a tool used to cause me distress or pain…feeling them being pulled or twisted or tugging on them or pulling them open myself…is all very erotic and physically pleasurable in a way I hadn’t expected when I first got them installed.

Question number two was asked by a reader that calls himself Chaos.” He asked, “Your pussy piercings are so beautiful. Do you plan to get more? And what do you think about pierced cocks?”

First of all, thank you very much for the compliment. I love my rings too and find them beautiful as well, though sometimes I look at them and am amazed at what I have done to my body. My pussy is no longer anything like what it was before them – it’s been a true body modification, and one I just didn’t expect, to be honest. As W said once, “We’ve created something entirely different from what it was.” I told him yeah, and that means since he created it (or it was created) in large part for him, I guess that means he’s stuck with me. ;-)

To answer your questions, I don’t think I am going to get any more genital piercings. I may get a few more in my ears, but I don’t really have a desire for other places to be pierced either (never my nipples.) The only other genital piercing that I have considered is a triangle, but to be honest, the potential for nerve damage is high enough in that one that I don’t think I ever will take the chance. And I love the way my hood piercing looks, but it is so distracting and annoying, and makes it hard to orgasm in a normal way, that I don’t think I will put it back in.

As for cock piercings…um…I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person! And certainly never fucked one. W has a fantasy of getting me fucked by a heavily pierced cock, but it’s never come about.

Yet. ;-)

Task 15 (Public O) Penalty Assessed – Part 1

The Task was the following:

Task 15: Public O – Have an orgasm in the following places: car, restaurant, public restroom, public sidewalk, store of your choice.  Penalty assessed for each omission.

I completed the following:

  1. Car
  2. Restaurant
  3. Public Restroom
  4. Store of My Choice
  5. Workplace (replaced Sidewalk)

And was assessed the following:

Penalties: 3

The penalties assessed are as follows:

  1. Wear a cunt clamp to a restaurant
  2. Wear a chain, bells (or similar dangling device) from your cunt rings into a public restroom
  3. Wear a breast press in a public park

The implementation of Number 2 is shown here:

Looking like a regular ole girl going out with her man for dinner on a Saturday night.
But I have a secret...
Headed out--have a little peek.

(Psst – You might be able to get a better peek by clicking thru one of the above.)

We didn’t get a picture at the restaurant unfortunately. (My bad, I actually misread the assignment and didn’t realize that the restroom part was specified.  If I had, I would have taken a picture of it in the restroom with my cell phone.)

I’m actually posting this before I have W’s agreement that this completes the Penalty adequately, so we’ll have to see if he approves or not!  If not, we may have a do-over.  ;-)

Clarification: It appears this does not qualify as having completed the penalty, due to the length of the dangly not being long enough. :-( Looks like I gotta do this one again!

Don’t Change Me!

I was reading a post in one of my favorite discussion groups on Fet, “Not Quite Ready for Polite Company M/sers”–

Oh, wait. I’m not in an M/s relationship, so maybe I shouldn’t be part of the group, or comment in it. Actually, for the most part, I don’t comment much, due to the above, and feeling that since I am not in the dynamic they speak of, I really don’t have any place to comment. But I like the group’s (for the most part) no-nonsense approach to M/s relationships, and willingness to say what they think without a lot of the pussy-footing around that goes on in some of the other discussion groups.  I mean seriously–if you say you’re in a Master/slave relationship, then, um, haven’t you consented to give up those very rights that so many “slaves” claim to still have (and then bitch and moan about not having, or being asked to give up?)

I’m not talking about the person that says they’d jump in front of a bus if their Master told them to, but simple things, like…cutting or changing the color of their hair. Wearing (or not wearing) certain items of clothing. Wearing nail polish, shaving themselves a certain way, losing weight, eating certain foods, learning to do certain things to please their Master/Owner.  I mean, isn’t that what this type of relationship is about–submitting to the wishes and desires of another?  And that’s just in a D/s relationship, where, in my opinion, there is still “wiggle room” as one commenter said.  I mean, it’s submission, right? In an M/s or O/p relationship, the very basis of the relationship is slavehood, being owned, by the other. Within that context, it seems pretty simple to me. Any, and every, aspect of my appearance is subject to pleasing him and to submitting to his desire.

Having come from a D/s background when I met W, I was actually a little disconcerted/nonplussed that he didn’t have any requirements about such to me. But I soon learned that not having requirements didn’t mean he didn’t have a preference. I paid attention and have tried to incorporate the things he does prefer into the way I present myself to him.

Toenail polish was one. If you look at my pictures from two years ago, I am not wearing toenail polish in any of them. Then one summer day I got a pedicure and went over to his house. His reaction was overwhelmingly positive–and to this day I am seldom without it when I go to see him.  Yeah, sometimes that means I have to sit at my desk and paint my toenails just before I head over to his house–and I’m okay with that. ;-)  And the other day I was wearing fingernail polish–and he noticed, and made a point of praising it. I was ridiculously pleased that he had noticed, and though I had heard him remark that he liked painted fingernails before, it wasn’t really driven home until he noticed the other day.  Nail polish on my fingernails is harder to keep up in my profession, but I am already pretty certain that as often as I can, especially if we are going out somewhere, I’ll be doing them now too.

And then there’s my labia piercings. Do I even need to go into those?

But all that isn’t so much about submitting to his stated desires.  He doesn’t tell me to do those things, and is not upset when I don’t.  I do them because  I like to please him. I consider it a function of my submission to him to find the the things that please him and do those things for him. Pro-active submission? Maybe. But within the context of our dynamic, it works.

And he has made adjustments in his approach to this thing that we do as well. I have learned to be pro-active, yes, but he also recognizes my own need to, occasionally, have specific things that I am told to do.  He gives me more direction now on what to wear, and if I ask his preference directly, he will usually tell me.

And of course there’s the heels. ;-)

If our dynamic was different, though, if he did like to dictate my appearance, I would have no problem acceding to his wishes.  I know without a shadow of a doubt that he could tell me tomorrow to cut my hair off, dye it purple, get a new tattoo, remove an old one, pierce any part of my body, only wear skirts and fuzzy sweaters from now on…etc., etc., and I’d do so. Our agreement–the parameters of our O/p relationship–ostensibly only covers my sexuality, but my own internal parameters go far beyond that.  Internal slavery? Perhaps.

The point is, this is about submission. Submitting to the desires of another. And what could be more basic than submitting to their desire for how you should look? It’s a no-brainer, IMO.

Wanton Wednesday – New Pretties

I hurt myself today.  Well, I got myself hurt a week ago, when I (rather impetuously) decided to get 4 new piercings (2 sets) to accompany the 3 sets in my inner labia that I already have. That’s ten total!  It wasn’t actually impetuous, I had been thinking and talking about it since W had gone out of town in November, and Ad says he knew it was coming. Only W was surprised when I called him Tuesday night and said, “Let’s get my new piercings done tomorrow.” Ha.

Anyway. Courtney didn’t have the right size rings for my new piercings, so we had to do some shifting around and make creative use of the rings I do have. We ended up placing 1 ring across each of the 3 sets of sealed holes that are in the center (the new piercings are at the top and the bottom of the old.) The result of this was that it effectively created a chastity device–sealing me up! I think W was shocked at how well it worked–I could barely work a finger inside myself once I was sealed shut! And okay…good thing, too. Last time we waited about, oh, 48 hours before he braved the steel gates of my ring fortress.

This time…has been a bit different.

I think he’s been surprised at how much he enjoys torturing me this new way.

Meanwhile, today, I finally gave in and masturbated.


Click thru to see my rings in all their glory. ;-)

Do you feel like sometimes you want to be a little more than just half naked? A bit more than just slightly suggestive? For the weeks you want to play with the wicked & wanton crowd, feel free to join us on Wednesdays.

Wanton Wednesday #41 Participants

Close Your Eyes and Think of England

I may not have shared this before, but W has that thing where he faints at the sight of needles. Baso-something? So you’d think he wouldn’t be my first choice of companions to take to the piercer’s for my new piercings.

You’d be wrong.

Of course, I had to ask him several times if he was SURE he wouldn’t pass out on me. PLEASE. “Close your eyes and think of England,” I may have said. Or maybe I just thought it.

He didn’t pass out though! In fact, he and my awesome piercer had a high ole time poking around (“poking around”–hah, I made a pun without meaning to) in my nether region, making it “pretty” with lovely purple beads and poking new holes through my inner labia.  Four new holes.  Besides making me pretty, though, Courtney-the-piercer also facilitated a fun new game called “Make Jade Insane with Lust and then Deny Her the Rough Nasty Fucking She is Begging For,” by effectively closing up my girlparts by putting a single ring across each of my three healed sets of piercings so that I am, for all intents and purposes, unfuckable.

Ya’ll know that game, right?????

Well, if you don’t, you’re not alone.  Before last Thursday, I didn’t know that game. I mean, the Mean Guy is all about fucking me and getting me fucked. He has been the number one advocate of making-Jade-orgasm-as-often-as-possible, and I’m here to tell you, I’m perfectly fine with that!  In fact, he has even gone so far as to say that he really didn’t see the appeal in orgasm-denial.  What fun is watching a woman squirm, in hearing her beg & plead, I ask you.

Hell, even I can see the fun in that, and I’m not even a Top.

Apparently, now, so can W. And all it took was me climbing up him in the kitchen, clinging to him, humping his leg, whimpering through the pain of rubbing the new piercings against him and begging him to please, please undo the rings holding my cuntlips closed so he could fuck me.

Suddenly, a light bulb went on in his head. I could literally see it. He got the wickedest grin on his face. “I think,” he said slowly, “we’re going to leave you closed up til next week when we go back to see Courtney.”


A monster has been created.

And meanwhile, here I sit, admiring my new piercings…and aching for cock.

I may die before I can get back to the piercer.  Because I was supposed to go back Monday (tomorrow)…but…we are expecting a huge storm. Which means it could be several more days before we can get over there.

Death by denial-of-sex. Is it possible?

Ring My Bell

I’d forgotten what they felt like, my six lovely steel cuntrings.

What they felt like in my lips as I walk, their presence a subtle reminder as they brush against the insides of my thighs occasionally, and less subtly when they pull, twist or pinch beneath my clothes.

What they felt like beneath my fingers when I wipe across them after I pee or brush them with my fingertips when I touch myself, or as I spread them, disentangling them, so that W will have entry to me.

What it felt like to tug on them, pulling them wide when he is inside of me, or using them–closing my hand around them and his cock–to grind against his cock as he thrusts.  This is such a unique sensation, both the physical pain/pleasure of it while also being a mental sensation (the image of ringing his cock with steel, of fucking him with the steel teeth of my cuntrings) that is exquisite.

I got them reinstalled last night. They’ve been out since the surgery, and while I had had plastic retainers in them, all but two slipped out before I could get the steel rings put back in. I was terrified I’d have to undergo the misery of getting them re-pierced (not that the piercing itself is misery, I like that, but the healing is awful!)  Also, another 2 weeks of no sex and then an additional 6-10 weeks of “careful” sex would just not do. I’ve had enough of being a no-sex girl. As evidenced by this weekend when I finally begged my way into three days of hard fucking, and have the tender, bruised pussy to show for it. (Yeah, I can’t help grinding my pussy into my chair every so often. The rings just intensify the discomfort. Yummm.)

Anyway. So last night I got them reinstalled, and we had a long conversation with two of the wonderful folks at our piercing palace, being pretty clear about how we use the rings, both sexually and in bondage, because we are looking for different types of rings and different set-ups that will facilitate (and be able to handle) our bondage play. They were enormously helpful (as my piercer, C, always is) and quite enthusiastic. And then, in a exhibitionist-that-loves-objectification’s dream, W and C stood over me on the piercer’s table and moved my piercings around as if I was an anonymous body, or just a set of cuntlips, pulling on and looking at the placement of the rings and talking about spacing for additional piercings (if we want to do that) and the different looks we can achieve with what I’ve got. I admit to getting a bit excited by that, not to mention the sensation of simply having them pulled open and having the rings replaced. I love it that she is so warm & enthusiastic personally and yet purely professional and impersonal at the same time–I can have a piercee-crush on her and get excited about it while still feeling safe and not sexualized. If that makes sense.

So after that, is it any wonder that I wanted to have my rings “used” properly? Before we could do that though, I needed to get a picture for next week’s Wanton Wednesday. I had such fun with W on my first official excursion back in to kink when he had me wear my steel bra and heels the morning before that I felt ready for a little bit more, and what better opportunity than to find a way to show off the reinstalled rings?

Funny thing is, I expected a pretty little picture. Handcuffs, sure, and metal bra, and okay, fuck-me pumps and steel cuntrings, but nothing really scene-like, right? A sweet, sexy picture.

Ya’ll know that I call my Owner The Mean Guy for a reason, right?  Suffice it to say that although it was a short one, the addition of a mouth spreader and a chain around my heels linking and spreading the rings made it more scene-like than maybe either of us had anticipated.  A lovely, accidental happenstance. :-)

And then this morning…finally…W fucked my rings. Oh wait, I am supposed to say he fucked me, but somehow it seems right either way. He fucked me, he fucked my rings, I fucked him with my rings. And when he growled at me that I was his “industrial cunt,” and “industrial cuntmeat,” I knew I was back.

Oh yeah, you can ring my bell, baby.

And now, for my favorite disco-lovin’ Mean Guy, a VH1 clip (with Suzanne Somers!) talking about the demise of disco followed by a video of Anita Ward singing “Ring My Bell.” ‘Cuz I know you all got that tune in your head anyway.