I’ve had these adorable Hot Octopuss nipple pegs sitting in my slut kit for months. When they launched their range of BDSM toys, HO (who sponsor my site, so if you buy from them you’re supporting my work etc etc) kindly emailed me to see if there was anything I’d like to try out, and obviously I leapt on the opportunity to use my job perks to chat up a hot boy. I sent the link on to Bracelet Game and asked him to pick something fun. ‘Check out these kinky objects – with what do you fancy ruining me?’ A week or so later these lovely silver nipple pegs appeared in the post.
This is possibly one of the reviews that’s been longest coming, because although I’ve been carrying them in my slut kit almost every time I see him, we keep getting distracted by other things instead. Hallway blow jobs, strugglefucks, and watching Jordan Gray perform her incredible show at the Soho Theatre (I’m shoehorning this in so I can tell you she’s got another run starting 13th December, which you absolutely must go to if you can: her show is even better than a hallway blow job/epic shag in terms of the joy it provides so buy tickets). ANYWAY.
As far as sex toys go, these nipple pegs are one of my most hotly-anticipated products, because I’ve been wanting to use them for so long. They have sat there, looking all cute and shiny, calling to me every time I go to see this guy.
Nipple play rocks
I fucking adore nipple play: having my tits touched is one of the few sexual areas where I can genuinely say I have never been fully satisfied, because there is no such thing as ‘complete satisfaction’ unless and until I find the equivalent of a tit-butler to follow me around 16 hours a day, grabbing at my boobs at all times. I live with an almost constant ache that is ‘wanting to have my tits touched’, and although you could also say the same of my arse (casually smack it please, all the time. ALL THE TIME), my bum will always come runner-up in the ‘places I want to be touched’ because it doesn’t come with the extra sensitivity provided by nipples.
That was a very long-winded way of saying ‘touch my tits’, but I’m a long-winded pervert so there.
I had a quick go at using these nipple clamps on my own, just to make sure they fit (translation: I am secretly quite a wuss when it comes to physical pain and I wanted to make sure I could actually get them on without crying). What I learned is that they are absolute fucking agony.
Perhaps it’s the size of my nipples, or maybe my aforementioned wussery, but I found them to be utterly excruciating. I know a few masochists (and one guy in particular, you know who you are) who would adore how utterly vicious these deceptively-cute nipple pegs are, so you should be immediately clicking the link to buy if you love extreme nipple torture, but personally I found them Way Too Fucking Much. So – like the Grade-A genius that I am – I ripped a bit of cardboard off a box I had lying around, folded it a couple of times and made a clamp holder so I could store them in a wide-open position, loosening the springs a little before I got to use them in anger.
On the night I go to meet BG and (hopefully) play with the clamps, I’m feeling quite down, but very keen to be hurt in fun ways. It’s a wet night that screams ‘winter’, and we have cosy plans: make out, eat dinner, watch a deliberately terrible movie, play with nipple pegs (not necessarily in that order). And when we get to the ‘nipple play’ section of the evening, I basically come almost instantly.
[Insert record scratch sound effect]
Yeah, I know.
Naturally I’m concerned that this post is going to look like I’m blowing a hell of a lot of smoke up a site sponsor’s arse, so I’m going to front-load it by saying that no, I don’t think I have ever come purely from nipple play. And I definitely don’t believe that these nipple pegs are so magic that they can make you spaff yourself the second you put them on. They’re cute, fun, cruel implements of kinky delight and if you like the look of them you should go buy them from the Hot Octopuss website because they sponsor me and buying their products is a great way to support my work while getting your rocks off (I also thoroughly recommend the Amo, the Kurve and the Atom Plus).
But fundamentally, I’d feel like a fraud if I told you it was these nipple clamps alone that made me come: credit for that goes to the guy who used them on me.
Take me to the bedroom and hurt me
The evening we play with them, we’re being soft and gentle with each other. Dancing and making out to music in the kitchen, and eventually re-discovering the joy of just putting slow songs on while we lie on the sofa, frotting and snogging and being mindful and sensitive to each other’s touch. It starts off casual, then swiftly becomes urgent as I realise I’m so wet that grinding against him is causing a damp patch to spread all the way through my knickers to my yoga pants. Panting into his ear, I ask:
“When this song is over, please will you take me into the bedroom and hurt me?”
He says yes, and shoves his crotch nice and firm against my own, letting me grind out a little more frustration while the final verse echoes in our ears. Then he leads me to the bedroom and I strip naked, kneeling and squirming with excitement on the bed while he lays out various implements including these gorgeous nipple pegs.
“Stay still, I’m going to put these on you,” he tells me, and I put both my hands behind my head to give him room to work. Also, if I’m honest, because sometimes gripping my fingers tightly against each other, or gently tugging on my own hair at the roots helps me to grin and bear it through some fairly intensely painful things. I use the hand-grip tactic at the dentist, and the hair-pull when I stub my toe. And I really want to be able to tolerate the pain of these nipple pegs: I’ve been waiting to try them for oh-so-very long.
So: naked and on my knees on the bed, hands behind my head, extremely hot kinky guy standing over me with nipple pegs in hand.
“Ready?” he asks gently, and I nod a couple of times. Take a deep breath, because I know this is going to hurt. And then ohhhhhh…
The first peg goes on and it’s agony. Delicious, pinpoint, zips-straight-down-to-my-cunt agony. I breathe out, one long breath, to push myself through the pain, and he asks OK? and I say OK and at that point he lets go. Allowing the spring to pinch my left nipple just that little bit tighter, turning up the dial from ‘10’ to ‘11’ and making my thighs start to tremble.
I promise myself I will make it through this pain. I asked for this pain. I want this pain. And I will be a good fucking girl.
He takes the other peg and attaches it to my right nipple, and the combination of both of them together gives me such a powerful whip-crack of excruciating torture that if it weren’t for the corresponding flood of lust in my cunt I’d probably have immediately tapped out.
But this is where I get to tell you the most important aspect of nipple play, for me. And the bit that he did so brilliantly he had me almost coming just from these kinds of touches alone: the relief when the clamps come off.
The second my nipples had been woken up with that triple-espresso shot of pain, every single nerve ending was crying out to be soothed and touched and gentled. And that’s exactly what he did. Slowly and delicately squeezing the end of one peg, removing it, and then applying wet lips to the hard peak of my nipples with gentle sucks and kisses.
Unnnnnngh.
That post-pain comfort is where the real rush is. Because with my eyes closed and my lips clamped shut, and my hands tugging at my hair from the base to distract myself from the pain, I hadn’t expected such a sudden onrush of pleasure.
He toyed with me like this for a while – pegs on, just delicately, with his fingers preventing the clamp from shutting all the way, then occasional zaps of intensity as he let them go, but always interspersed with that gloriously soothing comfort. Wet lips, wet fingers, tongue: I confess I can’t tell you exactly what he did and in what order, because I was too wrapped up in the sensation. Too busy focusing every atom of my brain power on the rush of endorphins that washed up and down my spine.
And you know what happens when endorphins wash up and down your spine, right? Well, what happens to me is I feel like I’m about to come. The first part of an orgasm feels just like that – like there are waves out to sea swelling and ebbing, swelling and ebbing, not quite getting to the shore yet but not far off.
The pain pushes them further away, then the gushing release of pleasure drags them in. Out, in, out, in until I am biting my lip and feeling the intensity of it not just on my nipples where he’s touching me, but in my cunt and clit too. I tell him:
“Fuck, I might come like this,” and I hope he heard the surprise in my voice. I hope you lot all do too because I wouldn’t normally make such a bold claim as to tell you I’ll come just from nipple play. Frankly, I have been so awestruck by those who say they can that my admiration occasionally tips over into disbelief (not something I’m proud of: other people know their bodies better than I do, my disbelief here is mostly just misplaced envy).
I didn’t come purely from the nipple pegs: I came because the second I told him I might, he reached down to my soaking wet cunt and started rubbing at my clit with exactly the right speed and pressure. I came because as he was doing that, he kept his other hand firmly on the nipple peg that was left, alternating it between nipples and interspersing that with those glorious endorphin-rush relief-swells as he swapped out the peg for his lips.
Pain and pleasure, so skilfully and patiently and perfectly applied, all the while I’m kneeling as still as I possibly can, focusing every ounce of energy that I have on nurturing those waves and urging them to crash upon the shore.
Touching my clit was what pushed me over the edge, but I wouldn’t have been so close to it if it weren’t for those evil/fabulous little pegs, and the beautiful way he used them on me.
Should you buy the Hot Octopuss nipple pegs?
As ever, I am compelled to end this not-a-review by highlighting that it’s not a review. I have not rigorously put these through their paces like a Which? Best Buy agent testing washing machines. Nor have I any intimate knowledge of your own nipples and body. In fact, this write-up is going to come with a whole host of important caveats that try to temper the impact of that record-scratch: it was a weird and special moment, and an intense and brilliant scene. And kink equipment is so much harder to talk about than vibrating sex toys because I’m mostly submissive, so if I’m writing about a tool to dispense pain then the effectiveness of that tool very much depends on the person who’s wielding it.
That night, I was just the right kind of stoned to be able to feel everything in my body. We’d done some stunningly hot make-outs on the sofa, and prior to that some actually-kind-of-emotional-and-beautiful make-outs in his kitchen. I was feeling giddy for this guy. Also fragile, and horny, and eager to be hurt. He used a pain/pleasure technique that many have attempted in the past, but few have managed build to such a successful peak – fulfilling my need for pain in a balanced, measured way, one that worked more beautifully than any other nipple clamp play I’ve done in the past.
On the same night, in the same hands, it’s possible that any old nipple clamps would have done the same job as these did. But tantalisingly, possibly, potentially… maybe they wouldn’t?
I’m not telling you these specific Hot Octopuss nipple pegs made me come, but I’m not NOT saying that either.
These nipple pegs are cute as fuck, and they’re brutal. They’re small enough that you can carry them in your handbag wherever you go, and they cost less than thirteen quid. So I’m just saying, you know… might be worth a go.
Buy these cute silver nipple pegs from Hot Octopuss for £12.95/US$16.95
1 Comment
not our thing—but now we think we understand why it’s might be sexy. your words did their magic—you’re a successfull spell-caster!