When Eglė and I relocated from London to Lithuania we spent a few weeks staying at her friends’. While extremely lucky to have friends kind enough to have us around for almost a whole month, living with another couple presented some challenges when it came to privacy.
The flat was set up to be an AirBnB, and we had a room all for ourselves. It was a very cosy room, but small, crammed with our partially unpacked luggage, and definitely not soundproof. Thin walls and an old wooden door did not offer much insulation, and it was obvious that if we could hear our friends preparing breakfast in the morning, they could hear us making noises in the bedroom.
But the situation wasn’t all bad, and the lack of sound insulation provided a neat trick to spice up the games and teach Eglė a new skill: silence.
The first idea was to teach her to have silent orgasms. While not particularly loud, I thought it would have been nice to see her holding back any noise. The game didn’t turn out to be a particularly successful one though, and she coped very well with the challenge of muffling down her moans to almost inaudible whimpers. Something I enjoyed witnessing at the first attempt, but that I quickly lost interest in — I much prefer to hear her cumming at full volume.
I then shifted my attention on a different challenge. It was a Sunday morning, and our friends were still in bed. I had heard them waking up and engaging in some pillow talk, but after that they had gone quiet, probably snoozing into each other’s arms. I had planned for this game to take place on a Sunday morning, when there are next to no noises coming from outside and our friends liked to enjoy the start of the day in the bedroom, in the room exactly next to ours. All that was separating us were a few inches of wall.
We had woken up early and while Eglė went for a shower, I nipped out, enjoying a brisk walk around the block and in the nearby park, where nettles grew in abundance. As it was nearing the end of the season, I struggled to find a good harvest, but when I returned to the flat, roughly 30min later, I was holding a dozen nettles, varying in length from the tiny ones to a couple of huge ones almost as long as my arms.
Eglė had never tried the sting of the nettle in a bdsm context, but she was obviously very familiar with their effect, as she let out a gasp as I entered in the room, mimicking the gesture of offering her a bouquet of flowers. Only slightly less romantic than a bunch of roses.
She was naked after the shower.
“Stand up” I said as I laid the nettles on the chest of drawers.
She had her eyes fixed on them. I couldn’t detect fear, but the expression of concern was surely visible.
“Go there” I instructed her “near the wall.” I pointed at the wall that separated our bedroom to that of our friends.
She closed her eyes, in a gesture of acceptance, and marched to the corner of the room where, instinctively, she raised her arms, placing her palms on the plaster, almost as if she was reading herself for an inspection.
The rules were clear. “There are only about ten centimeters separating us from them” I reminded her, for effect. “Don’t make yourself heard.”
I walked back to the chest of drawers and carefully selected the first nettle. I wanted to start on her back, gradually increasing the difficulty of the challenge as we went more in depth in the game. Part of me was regretting not having spent more time setting the mood, and I had started to feel the transition into the game had been too abrupt, but with Eglė standing at the wall, the game had started and there was no way back.
The first nettle was a medium sized one with slightly yellowed leaf. It was probably the weakest of the bunch. The perfect tool for a gentle introduction to the magical effects of nettle sting. I ran it across the length of her back, too lightly for the tiny needles to rupture and sting, just so that she could feel its touch. I saw her shiver lightly, and I grinned in anticipation of what was about to come.
I increased the pressure, running the nettle from between her shoulder blades down to her low back. She inhaled heavily, arching her back slightly. It was a stronger reaction than I had expected. Maybe the yellow nettle wasn’t as weak as I had anticipated. I checked its potency with my left hand and yes, it might have been yellow, but it definitely wasn’t weak! I increased the pressure further, now crisscrossing her back as if I was painting her skin. She whimpered softly and raised herself on her tiptoes, almost as if attempting to escape the bite of the devilish leaves.
I continued until her back was dotted with raised bumps. Aside from the occasional hissing, she had coped very well. It was time to bring it up a notch.
“Turn” I ordered.
She lowered her arms and faced me. She had a determined expression on her face, and she was smiling, clearly enjoying the game.
I went back to the drawers and picked up a couple of the smaller nettles, the freshest of the bunch. I quickly tested them on the inside of my wrist and, oh boy, they did have a sting!
“Spread your arms, and point your palms towards me.”
She hesitated before complying, evidently confused by the instruction. The next target would have been her arms. Her reaction was immediate. As I pressed the nettles on the delicate skin of her upper arm, she retracted. She had managed to hold off from making any sound, but she should have resisted moving away from the nettles.
“Don’t move again, or your nipples will be paying the price” I whispered in her ear.
She only flinched at the second attempt, letting out a muffled moan of pain, as I rubbed the nettles closer and closer to her armpit. I switched arm, making sure to use a fresh side of the small nettle bunch, this time immediately applying more pressure, and on the most delicate part of her underarm.
She flinched, and instinctively raised her arms higher.
“What did I just tell you??”.
She lowered her head and whispered “Not to move again. Sorry, Sir.”
I turned back and went for the bedside table, where we kept some essentials. Among which, obviously, various small toys, and when I turned back towards her, I was holding a pair of weighted nipple clamps.
I dangled them for effect in front of her, removed the weights to begin with, and then applied to her nipples. They are exquisitely sensitive, and even these rubber coated clamps are a challenge for her to take. She squealed lightly and shut her eyes as I applied the clamps, then inhaled deeply a couple of times to get used to the pain. I didn’t give her the time to recover, and as she was drawing in her second breath I carried on where I left, applying the small nettles to the inside of the arm. Caught by surprise, she moved again.
I made a sound with my tongue and moved my head in a gesture of disapproval.
“I’m sorry” she said.
In response, I added the first set of weights to the nipple clamps, adding to her discomfort, attaching them to the end of the clamps, enjoying the sight of her nipples being stretched down. “I’m sure this will act as a good reminder.”
I made a step back, taking in the view. She had closed her eyes, and she was inhaling deeply, taking in the pain. I took a new set of nettles, of medium length, and moved towards her.
“Open your eyes.”
With my eyes fixed on hers, I lowered my arm, bringing the nettles towards her legs. I could see her tense up, and I paused, with the nettles just brushing her inner thigs. I clearly remember smiling, almost grinning, and she smiled back, until I flicked my wrist and whipped her inner leg with the nettles.
She raised on her tiptoes, almost jumped up, an action she surely immediately regretted as it made the weighted clamps dangle, and shut her mouth and eyes, trying to repress a yelp.
“Open your mouth” I ordered, knowing it was going to be more difficult to keep silent with her mouth wide open. For effect, and to add a touch of humiliation, I looked around to search for an object that could force her to keep her jaws apart. The only suitable item was a white rubber eraser, which I placed between her teeth, vertically.
“Make sure not to drop it” I said stressing the word ‘not’.
Then I raised the nettles, inching towards her chest.
She moaned, her eyes fixed on the ever closer leaves, inching towards her nipples. She reacted even before I touched her, out of fear than out of pain. As I increased the pressure, she didn’t manage to hold the position, instinctively folding her arms to her chest and retracting away.
“Resume the position” I said calmly. She was panting, but had a determined look — I knew she could take much more than that.
In the meantime, I could hear voices coming from our friends’ bedroom. They were not awake, and probably getting ready to walk into the kitchen to have breakfast.
Time for one last test.
I lowered my hand to Eglė’s pussy and start massaging her.
“The last test will be your pussy” I said.
“No!” she whispered with a moan.
“I will pass the nettle three times, each with more pressure than the last.”
She simply closed her eyes, in a sign of acceptance, and took a deep breath in.
I waited a few, long seconds, keeping on massaging her lips and spreading them slightly apart with my fingers.
“Open your eyes.”
I let the nettle run across her chest, as I was making my way down. Then, I placed the end of the nettle branch, close to where I was holding it, on her clit and in one swift movement I ran the whole length of it across her pussy, between her lips and onto her clit.
She shot up to her tiptoe, and covered her mouth with her hands to suppress a loud moan.
“This doesn’t count” I said with a tone of disappointment “Hands are not allowed.”
I could see her eyes tearing up. Her demeanor was changing.
I went for a fresh nettle and repeated the drill. First going across her chest, this time making sure to hit her nipples, already squeezed by the clamps, and then running it across her clit.
Her legs shivered and she grabbed her hairs, pulling on them. She managed not to let out any noise.
“Ask for it.”
She looked at me, her eyes wet with tears.
“Please, stroke me again” her words distorted by the rubber eraser she was still holding in her mouth and saliva now dripping down her chest.
I proceeded, this time resting the nettle on her clit and then waiting a few seconds before slowly inching upwards, millimetre after millimetre, enjoying the sight of her body getting tenser, raised on her tiptoes and with her hands balled up in tight fists which she kept across her chest, her fingernails white from the effort. She bit on the eraser with such strength that it split.
As she spat out rubber, I placed a hand on her neck and went down again, this time pressing the nettle with my hand directly onto her pussy. I wasn’t wearing any protection on my hand, so I was getting stung too, but I kept pressing and rubbing her until she let out a high pitched yelp which made us both freeze.
They must have heard it, although it probably was too unexpected of a sound to be recognized as coming from our bedroom.
I let her go and tossed the crumpled up nettle on the floor.
Eglė slid down on her knees, bringing both hands to her pussy. When she looked at me, tears were running down her cheeks.
I stood there, watching her for what must have been more than a minute, taking in the sight of her body relaxing and slowly melting onto the floor, and her breathing becoming more shallow.
The rash on her skin wasn’t very visible, despite her very light complexion.
Then I went down to my knees and hugged her, kissing her wet cheeks and holding her tight in my arms.
Silent games, turns out, can be a lot of fun.
And there were still the clamps to pull off her nipples…