At the Dentist

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Had a very satisfying consensual pain experience with the hygienist yesterday. The stage was set a few weeks ago when I went in for my first exam at this office. The dentist was doing a thorough preliminary exam, using metal tools with sharp points to poke and prod and measure my gums. He was jovial.

I was minding my own business, counting how many teeth he had left to go before making the full rounds of my mouth, knowing that the scraping, stinging and screeching would stop if I could just sit still and get through all 32. Then the dentist, with his hands in my mouth, a small, sparkly-eyed gray-haired, silver-ring wearing gentleman, said, “I’ll stop torturing you in a few minutes. You’re doing great.” Hearing the warm, kind encouraging tone of his voice, I felt I could sit there forever if he’d have me.

I’d been noticing my submission to consensual pain, restraint, and service in my daily life. My colleague, with childlocking back doors, when we arrived back at work, joking said, “I’ll let you out if you’re good.”

The pedicurist with her metal tools invading the tender space between my nail and my skin tells me, “It’ll all be over soon and then your feet will be beautiful.”

I spilled a drink on my friend’s shoe and got a towel and got down on the ground to clean it up. He looked down lovingly and ordered me to, “Wipe that other shoe too. You’re doing a great job.”

I love being ordered around kindly. I love being congratulated for a job well done. I love someone who is hurting me to tell me that I’m being brave or strong and that it will all be over soon. I love being told that if I endure this ritual, I will be beautiful. I like pain when I get to choose what level it will be, 1-10, and when I get to stop it when I want. It is extra-specially scrumptious when the person inflicting the pain honors my pain, takes care of me without worrying about me, and offers flattery.

At the dentist yesterday, the pain was… well, magical. She asked me the proper way to pronounce my name. She asked me to show her how I flossed and told me that the various aspects of my technique were excellent, better than she had seen before. I felt like a star pupil, a good student… I would do anything to please her.

She looked inside my mouth and said that my teeth were beautiful, near-perfect (which they are). I have all 32 teeth, no cavities, “a nice white color against my brown skin,” she said. I have wanted to show off the inside of my mouth to lovers, the dark pink color, the beautiful row; it is pristine. Showing it to her, I got the reaction I wanted, one of admiration and aesthetic pleasing. The teeth güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri are deceiving, even the looks of my mouth, the gums will bleed when you get deep with them.

I told her that I didn’t think I flossed deeply enough, that I stopped when it started to hurt. I innocently told her that I liked coming to the dentist because I could stand it when they inflicted the pain on me but couldn’t do it myself.

She smiled and grinned, said that most people are the other way around.

I think I even told her that it felt nice to have the other person there to take care of me when I’d bleed.

She heard that and saw me and gave me a sense that I knew she’d take care of me. She told me that if at any point, it hurt too much, I could let her know and she might be able to give me something to help. I knew that all I needed was her kind caring tone and the option of stopping to sink deeper into the sensations that were soon to come.

She got out the hand tools.

They are metal and cold. They are long and sharp and pointy. They are curved and hooked. They are sinister and are designed to go under gums and between teeth, down farther than you can see. Into regions that soft floss and bristles cannot get to. When they touch your teeth, they are cold. They scrape. There is pressure. There are spots where it is only pressure, no pain. There are spots where the pain makes my eyes water. There are spots where the tool lingers and she stays, rooting out whatever is not supposed to be there.

Sometimes my mouth reacts and I feel my tongue moving involuntarily toward the pain center, like a flinching with the flogger or a wincing with the whip. I cannot stop it, it goes there to protect me. She is an expert and carries on, knowing that unless I say stop, I can take it.

She starts on the top teeth, front side toward the cheek. She toils away, leveraging to get out what she came for. After a few minutes, she asks me if it hurts.

I smile and say “Yes!”

She seems concerns and queries, “But it’s okay?”

I say something about how I’m okay with the pain, that it’s just another sensation.

She talks about pain balancing out pleasure, that in order to know the feeling of pleasure, we must know pain.

I feel like I have died and gone to heaven. She understands! Whether she knows on a deeper level what I am going through, she understands that it is a continuum of sensation. That we need both, that we cannot have one without the other. That as living feeling human beings, we witness both, we are both, we will have both whether we want to or not. And güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri if we choose to have pain, we will have pleasure. I will have happier, healthier teeth and a cleaner mouth. I will have beautiful toes. I will have praise and a figurative lollipop. I will get her smiles and approval. Aaaaah, how deliciously pleasurable.

I was sinking into the chair, my body becoming one with the fabric when I heard a sound and opened my eyes. There it was! A sharp looking, water squirting, vibrating, metal instrument, one I had never seen before.

She tells me that some people love it and some people can’t take it. She says she struggles with it, it is too intense for her. She tells me some people refuse to let her use it in her mouth, others prefer that to the hand tool and want her to just use it. Because of the vibrations, some 30,000 rounds per millisecond or something, it creates heat and so the water is needed to cool it and the combination shoots all the nasty stuff out of under the gum lines.

She holds it up in front of my face as it’s vibrating, shows me how it squirts water, explains exactly how it’s going to feel.

Aaah, the communication, the negotiation, the sharing of experiences. The playing with gadgetry and tinkering with settings. The minutae and up-closeness of it all. It is our last round and I know it. After this, there will be some tasty tame teethbrushing, a quick floss, maybe some party favors. There will be aftercare after I allow her to go in there with this device.

I open my mouth, close my eyes. The sound of the thing is shrill in my ear. It is almost unbearable how it shrieks in this high-pitched way, through the mouth, into the jaw and then to the ear and the brain. The vibrational frequency is taking over my entire head cavity, whizzing by my teeth, dinging behind my eyes. I can hardly take it until I realize how fucking sharp the thing is and how intensely it creates a pinprick-like sensation in some of my sensitive spots. But it’s not a pinprick in size, which seems small. It is an incredibly deep prick from an incredibly large point from which the pain radiates out.

My gums are soft; they are vulnerable and exposed. When my mouth is wide open, I feel raw to the world; when they are being tested with tools, I am completely stripped down, open to the elements, entirely in her hands. The pain is insufferable, intolerable, if I were performing, I’d shriek and clamp down on something. If I was fucking, I’d moan and swear or bite the closest thing to my mouth. Because I am a good, compliant, submissive dental examinee, I keep my mouth open, güvenilir bahis şirketleri clench nothing, take a breath in (with my mouth wide open, this is not so obvious) and stare at the bright light.

After what seems a long time but is really only about 4 or 5 teeth in, she takes it out and asks me what I think.

I say, “It’s intense. Probably an 8.”

She asks me if I want to keep on going.

I say definitely.

She says what sounds like music to my ears, “You didn’t even wince.” She is noticeably impressed and I am getting off on this reaction.

I tell her that I’m just feeling out the sensation, sounding tough, letting her know that I am a junkie for pain if she’s listening.

She sprays my mouth down with some cool water, suctions it out with the little tubey vacuumey thingy and gets back to it.

I am experiencing each moment, I am alive. I explore this with a curiosity, about what happens to my body, where my mind wanders, what colors and smells and textures i remember. There are times I sink into it, the world drops away and I am in a pinhole, I feel and hear nothing but the shrill pitch.

There are moments when I imagining telling her to stop, where time will stop still and I am begging for her to stop, imagining her reaction.

There are minutes that pass that I forget where I am, where I have travelled outside of this space and time, where I am a prisoner of war and have been enduring this torture for years and years, intermittently, on and off. I am connected to all those who have suffered before me. Those who have chosen this path, those whose lives have involuntarily been subject to endless pain and suffering. Where there is nothing but pain.

There are teeth that she hits where I go into another place, to a bedroom or dungeon, there is someone else softly kissing the rest of my body, the pleasure and pain overlapping, one taking the edge off the other adding depth to the other subtracting into nothingness until I am a black hole, absent sensation.

At one point, I see her pretty blue eyes, her mouth and nose covered by a mask, her focus and attention to me. I am moved by how careful she is, how important it is to her, my mouth, my teeth, me. I am all she is focused on, she sees nothing but me and tends to me with her entire being. Her hands dextrously moving, her eyes concentrating, her breath slow and methodical, filling up the mask and then sucking it back in. I breathe with her, coming back into the room. I know that we are close to being finished and I am relieved and reluctant.

The bliss of pain is like none other.

The aftercare is warm and fuzzy, there is rinsing and smalltalk. We discuss when we will do it again — in 3-4 months. I am elated. My mouth is settling, the aftermath of the pain has me forgetting already, though there are sore spots I know I’ll feel for hours to come. I feel cleaned out, refreshed, and rejuvenated.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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