Guest blog: My first e-stim session

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I’m really chuffed to welcome @JenetalTorture back to this blog, whose past hits include a delightful, funny and sexy post on impact play , as well as this excellent blog on vac play that definitely doesn’t suck . Continuing the theme of introducing you to fun, sexy kinks, today Jenby is talking about the delights of e-stim, specifically overcoming fears and getting stuck in to her first e-stim session ever – enjoy! My first e-stim session Electricity, then I feel it move me… …Like a burning deep inside, something bursting me wide open, impossible to hide! I’ve always had a thing for electro play , but very much from what I’d describe as a safe distance. For years my mind equated electricity with shocks, and unpleasant ones at that. From the annoying bursts of static you get off door handles to the rather more serious and ever-so-slightly fatal ones you get off lightning or the mains. I would watch people getting zapped with cattle prods or disciplined with shock collars and find it incredibly hot, but was always too squeamish to seriously consider trying it in real life (incidentally, if you do want to try shock collars, make sure they’re specifically engineered for human necks, a pet shock collar is incalculably dangerous and likely to get you put away if you’re found in possession of one). But what I always failed to appreciate was that there is far more to electroplay (or e-stim) than short, sharp, ever-increasing shocks. Someone recently explained to me that electrical stimulation was essentially having your muscles moved without your control, likening it to being a puppet for the current, and by extension the person applying it. Needless to say, me with my dollification and hypno kink , I found my ears pricking up at last. So it was that I found myself on the floor of a dungeon, arms pinioned to my sides and calves bound with pallet wrap, having electrical pads stuck to my intimate areas: two on the butt, two on the inner thighs. I was then sealed into darkness with a latex hood, and two clover clamps were attached to my nipples. I’d call it a baptism of fire, but fire play’s one of my few hard limits, and I certainly hoped the voltage wouldn’t be that strong. Let’s call it ‘going off the deep end’. My tormentor had a box which he used to control both the settings and the strength of the stimulation. “Tell me when you can feel something,” he said. I waited with bated breath. Slowly, a faint ripple made itself known in my bum. It was unlike anything I’d felt before, like a muscle spasm, but one that had managed to extend itself indefinitely. This was setting one, and it was not unpleasant. Setting two increased the ‘insistence’ of the ripple, to the point where I had to raise my bum off the ground to allay discomfort. It was entirely unconscious, as though my body were finding the exact point where the pain transitioned into pleasure and holding it there. In a sense the electro was moving my muscles in more ways than one. Setting three was even more intense, the flesh of my butt jiggling and jerking sporadically, with occasional cramping sensations shooting up the inside of my thighs. I screamed so loudly that the owner of the venue was later to inform me that I was the loudest painslut they’d ever had. And I loved every second of it. It turns out, however, that that was just the warm-up. Back to setting one. My shrill moans faded almost instantly as the warm waves of pleasure washed over me once more. “Yeah, setting one’s quite pleasant,” said my tormentor, audibly disappointed at the abrupt end to my screaming. He then proceeded to bump up the intensity, and setting one became more forceful, but no less pleasant. Unfortunately, I knew what was to come… Setting two had me writhing in agony, my legs and butt involuntarily lifting off the ground again to try and find some respite. Then, my tormentor threw me a bone (or so I thought). “We can just leave it on two if you like.” I thought this strangely generous of him, but my relief was short-lived. The clamps on my nipples were being tugged (they had a fiendish design, lined with claws that dug in when pulled, I was still feeling them four days later), and a sharp metal implement was being dragged over my hips and bum, still ultra-sensitive from a bout of impact play. “Any time you want this to stop, just say ‘three’.” There was no contest. I wailed for him to zap me to his heart’s content, and as the sensations in my backside built to a crescendo, a booted foot on my thighs forced my legs to the ground with a smack, bringing the full force of the electro down on me like a ton of electro, which I imagine is worse than a ton of bricks. “Who gave you permission to lift your legs?” my tormentor said, over the screams. When the pads had been removed and the hood was off, I was shown the control device that had had me at its mercy. A tiny, unassuming thing to the untrained eye. I was told we’d gone up to 23 out of a possible 100, and I just laughed. Fair to say I’m now a fully paid-up electro slut. Next stop: dildo town! Although if I’m going to have that going on inside me, and indeed if you fancy trying electro for yourself, please do remember the golden rule . Happy zapping!