I love Zumba. I’ve been attending a class pretty much once a week (or more) for the last 8 years or so. What is Zumba? Basically it’s a dance based exercise class. It has a mix of upbeat music and simple dance moves that is quite addictive.
It is not an easy work out. It is high tempo and hard work. I’ve recognised it as torture even before I knew just how kinky I am. I would say ‘I must be a masochist to keep doing this.’ Ha. Yes, yes I am a masochist and that is why I love Zumba. It hurts so good.
But something I love more than Zumba is Zumba with marks. Oh, fuck do I love it. I wonder if my instructor notices that I grin wider and dance harder some weeks more than others? Because damn skippy, I love to jiggle and shake when my body is covered in bruises.
There was one particular week I knew before I started I was in for a damn good time. I was covered in marks, mostly from whips on my back, butt, hips and breasts. Some flogger bruises on my butt and a huge bite mark on my stomach which is incredibly tender to any touch.
H had treated me like the pain slut I am that past weekend and I wore the evidence of their sadistic love with pride. I knew before I walked in that I was going to feel the burn and it was going to be hot.
I didn’t realise quite how hot, though. We had 3 new songs in the rotation and a few changed out for oldies and goodies. What almost every song had in common was that there was a lot of jiggling involved. Hip shaking, shimmying and running featured in a majority of the hour long session.
I was grinning from the warm up. My body is aching just by existing at the moment, any vibration magnifies that. It was the third song in though, where things got very interesting indeed. It was a song I knew, with a good number of hip shaking moves. So I was turned on from the beginning.
And then there was the running. It’s a common Zumba move. You start jogging slowly on the spot, get faster and faster, get your knees higher and higher as the music swells until it drops and you stop and a new movement takes over.
I get very turned on by pain. I mean, seriously turned on. I can come from pain alone. There’s a pressure point on my chest that guarantees a paingasm, deep, thumping pain like punches or kicks to the butt can make me come too. As can fast, rhythmic whip strikes. I have gotten very turned on at Zumba before but I’d never actually orgasmed.
Until that night.
It was the running. I could feel the tension building as I ran faster, got my knees higher. My everything ached, especially the bite on my stomach and the deep bruises on my arse and that ache, that deep, rolling, rumbling pain built and built and broke as the music reached the peak.
I gasped. My eyes flew wide open and I felt heat in my cheeks. I’m sure no one could tell I was blushing, I was bright red anyway but I was. My body suffused with shame and exhilaration.
My eyes shone and I continued to throw my all into the dances one had hip shakes that brought me close to the peak. Several times over I thought I was going to come again but the dance move changed before I could. I seemed to be practising orgasm denial on myself. Or was the music doing it to me? Anyway, after several build ups on one occasion, I tipped over that edge. Again it surprised me as the swell broke, my cunt contracted and my leggings got even wetter. I don’t know how I kept dancing, but I did and as I continued to move, the orgasm continued to flow. Fuck.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
What really shocked me was that wasn’t the end of it. We danced to one of my favourite songs. It’s a dance we’ve done since the early days so it’s like my body just moves to it without any input from my brain. In it there are hip shakes, jumps and running on the spot.
I can only think that it’s due to so many songs having such similar moves and keeping me on the very edge of pained arousal that meant that I came again with vigorous hip shaking. Not once but twice. Sharp, intense jabbing paingasms.
Each time I came I felt hot shame flowing through my body. How much of a pain fucking slut am I to come whilst dancing? In a room filled with other (thankfully) oblivious dancers? I’m such a fucking masochist.
And every time I flushed with humiliation, every time I felt the shame after paingasm I saw the same image in my head.
H’s sadistic grin.
I couldn’t wait to tell them all about it.
They made me come without being anywhere near me. Their marks and a strong beat was all it took.
Slave to the rhythm?
And happy about it too.