It starts with a pinch and ends with a scream – what do I mean?

Get ready subby guys: you lot who like me to tease and torture you, because today we’re going to talk about your nipples. Those cute, tiny, unprepossessing lumps of flesh that sit on your chest – otherwise useless but for the fact that I can use them to elicit your moans and squeals.

When people think of nipple torture, usually their mind goes straight to clamps – whether it’s the harsh metal ones which pinch harder the more I yank on the chain, or the lighter ones which start as just a teasing pinch, then get stronger and more painful when you hang weights on them. But nipple torture starts long before this: in that delicious moment as you expose yourself for me to touch. Biting, scratching, pinching, using just my bare hands to get your nipples hard and sore. I like watching as they transform from the calm, slack softness to the taut hardness that signifies you really want me to do more.

Nipples, more than almost any other part of the body, respond so fantastically to temperature. Extreme cold we know about – you only need to hop out of a warm shower on a freezing winter’s morning to have your nipples immediately rigid and twitching against the cold. But heat, too, is effective in nipple torture – nipples are just as sensitive to warming and burning sensations. Candle wax, for instance. Hot metal. The brief touch of a gentle flame. Nipples, in their swift and decisive reactions to stimulation, are an excellent toy to play with. They’re like buttons I can press to make you purr or scream, alternating between a quick lick of pleasure and a hot stab of agony.

Submission isn’t always about intense pain, but I think here it can be – most people I know who enjoy nipple torture are genuinely masochistic – they enjoy agony as much as the average person enjoys ecstasy. They want to feel the ice and fire of pinching clamps, harsh slaps and hot wax that burns the skin. They want me to push them to the point where they cry out. Or, more realistically, whimper against a gag.

Nipple torture also allows for some excellent predicament bondage – those ties that give you a really difficult choice. I’m sure you know the ones: where you may be able to free yourself if you struggle against your ropes but if you choose to, the ropes you’re fighting will pull tighter against the nipple clamps, making you the agent of your own agony. Or a chain attached to clamps that are pulled tight and upright, forcing you onto your tiptoes if you want to relieve the bite of the metal into your delicate flesh. It seems easy at first: just standing on your toes, no big deal. But after a minute your calves start to ache, and your feet start to tremble, and you can feel the clamps gripping harder as you start to droop with exhaustion. And all it takes is a sharp smack from my cane or my belt and you know you’ll rip yourself free…

It’s at this point I have to let you in on a secret: I think my sadism when it comes to nipple torture comes from the fact that I genuinely struggle to have it done to me. Not in a flirty, playful ‘oh Sir I’d hate it if you did that’ way, I genuinely bite through the agony myself when bottoming so I know exactly the right ways to make it hurt.

As a result, I enjoy it a lot as a Domme – knowing exactly the kind of pain I’m dishing out to you makes me feel exquisitely cruel and sadistic. Every whimper of misery that escapes from your mouth is music to my evil ears.

(Images courtesy of the dastardly folks over at Club Pedestal – they can also be found on twitter @ClubPedestal)