Friday, February 5, 2016

Phallic Friday - a needle

I was thinking about this post last night and I thought I might do some writing - pick a fetish item and write from the point of view of the inanimate object. I don't know why I thought of that - and I've no idea why I came up with a needle - but there you have it. A glimpse into my scary mind.

And I had great lines last night...but today they aren't so hot. So my apologies, but I need a post!

The Needle
Pressure surrounds me, guiding me, forcing me, pushing me. I have no choice in where I go, how I go, or even if I do this. I've been possessed by a master and I have no choice but to give up control. I hate the loss of control; never knowing what I'll be subjected to but I need to place my trust in these fingers and hope they use me responsibly.

While maintaining pressure, my sharp head is pushed against an elastic-like surface. I bounce from the first touch as if my master was unsure of the force required. Then those fingers close tighter and I pierce the surface of the flesh. A tiny droplet of blood smears along my length as my sharp point is pushed inside.

Pressing against flesh and muscle, just along the surface, I slide past a tiny vein, warm with the movement of blood. But the fingers do not let me bask in this warmth, I'm pushed further along. Exploring new territory. I'm opening flesh that had previously been knitted together. I've created an entry point and I'm inserting smoothly through tightly woven cells. The flesh pressing against almost the entire length of my steel is warm, elastic, moving and alive.

I'm stopped. Just short of a pulsing blood vessel that I was looking forward to moving against. The fingers release me and that tight pressure on my furthest point vanishes. Replaced by flesh and muscle closing tightly around me. I've not felt anything like this before. Enclosed in warmth. A moving warmth. Beneath my steel muscles ripple as if my tiny body is upsetting the balance of the body. Maybe I am. Maybe my sliver of insertion has caused problems for the flesh. Maybe I'm an irritant. A foreign object the flesh wants to expel.

But it's pleasant here surrounded by such incredible beauty. The colours of the cells around dazzle me. Needles are all silver, all the same. Here, each cell is a slightly different shade. Each shade emits a different feel against me. It's fascinating to lie here and to never be still.

To be inserted so deeply that only a small point protrudes into the air is more than I ever imagined would happen. To have my entire length surrounded in warmth, pulsing warmth is more than I can bare.

I feel a vibration through my length. Thrilling movement. All along me.

Then pressure on my external part. Damn it. No! I don't want to be removed.

Submission means I have no choice.

Quickly, so quickly I can't feel a thing, I'm pulled out of the flesh and exposed to air. Boring air that just floats on by.

I want the flesh. I want to be inside again.

I'm sure the flesh wants me.


  1. Wow. That puts a whole new slant on the idea of POV!