Sacrifice

She lays on the ritual table, limbs restrained by leather thongs that do nothing to hold her still. They only serve to keep her on the table. Her clothing is fine white linens that is billowing around her like a soft white cloud.

She has consented to this act and he confirms the consent again. Then the room grows dark.

She is surrounded on all sides by candlelight, she can hear low chanting almost a murmur of voices, cascading like stream water over river rocks. It is cool and she shivers, feeling the hairs on her neck rising as goose pimples cover her arms and legs.

He has a long sharp black dagger and he is standing above her silent. The chanting around her grows louder and fills her ears, fear rises in her throat and her pulse quickens. She must remember her purpose, and holds her esolve firmly in front of her.

His blade flashes along the razor sharp edge as he lowers it and cuts through the linens that were her only protection. Shuddering she holds deathly still while her screams echo inside her head.

He is cutting her skin along her belly in a long slow stroke. The knife is sharp as a scalpel, but his desire is to cause her as much agony as she can bear. The knife moves ever slowly down her belly to her pelvic bone.

She is lost in the hot pain that radiates through her. She feels her blood weeping through the wound he is carving in her sensitive skin and she sobs in a release of emotion. Her blood is collected in a silver cup as it oozes down her body. The smell of it is strong and coppery.

He is salivating as he collects her life essence and he continues on with his cutting. Looking in her eyes he sees pain, fear, excitement. She is fairly glowing in her lust, in her desire to be this sacrifice.

He has carved the Goddess' symbol into her tummy, her skin shall bear her mark until as a corpse it rots off her bones, returning her to the earth where her life began. His hand smears the edges of the blood seeping from Her emblem, fingers coating in her essence. He moves lower and smudges the blood on her bared vulva.

She gasps and screams feeling his hand part her lips wide and the hilt of his dagger slides inside her. Her cum gushes out over his bloodied blade. Pain orgasm washed into and blended in her female lust.

More blood as he bring the chalice close and drips it onto her clitoris. It has cooled slightly and she is startled as he lowers his head and sucks the coppery bits from her lips.

Orgasm sweeps through her again, a storm of pleasure and pain cresting and building and overtaking her senses.

She loses consciousness.

When she awakes she is no longer tied down.

The candles have burned low, she is laying in the linen rags that have been torn and bloodied.

His hood is back and he is washing the sigil carved into her tummy. Warm water trickling deliciously over her flesh and washing the blood away. She admires his rugged handsome face as he cares for her. Emotions well up inside her and tears trickle down her cheeks.

He has marked her, now all will see and know she belongs to the Goddess. Sacrificed in pain and pleasure, Her emblem will become a shiny scar that will bear witness to her pain rights.

White Pain

Pain causes explosions in my brain. The white hot star exploding kind. Here is a good example.

I lay still, a sharp blade in his hand. I am on my stomach and panting into the blanket I have buried my face into. My ass is his canvas.

He is dragging the sharp edge over my skin and I can feel it parting the first layers. He mentions that blood has welled up and I whimper into the blanket. He is laughing.

The knife point drags over my flesh and a sharp white flash brightens behind my eyes. He drags the knife and I watch the white stain smear behind my eyelids. It is tracking with the caress of his blade. His hand slides over my ass and I feel fear as he parts my legs. The sharp point jabbing at my lips and scratching them.

I shudder but don't dare move, whimpering no and hiding as much as I can from him. Sparklers are going off now as the point jabs and calls my attention to my flesh that is swollen and slick wet with my desire. I shudder and have a pain orgasm, the burning White fire exploding and rushing to warm my body.

Fear that he will tear me apart starts over taking me. His knife is at the back of my neck and scratches hard down my spine. This one breaks skin and blood wells.

I muffle my scream and hold still, terrified.

Masochist

I am a masochist. I have always been this way for as long as I can remember.

When I was a child I was a scratcher. I would scratch myself with needles and anything sharp at all. The sharp edge on a plastic item would cause me to become blissed out at a very young age. I remember being around 8 and brushing my hair with one of those really stiff bristled brushes. My hair was laying down my back and over my shoulders in long rippling waves and it was summer so I was wearing a tube top. The bristles scraped down my back and shoulders as I brushed my hair. I can remember shivering in delight as they dragged across my sun browned skin and turned it a bright red. My skin protesting the abuse as my nerve endings sent pleasure sensations coursing through me.

At 10 I discovered that the pain sensations were pleasurable from impact. My father had given me a beautiful leather belt for my birthday. I was amazed by the texture of this animal skin. So supple and soft, yet strong. I don't remember the first time it struck my bare skin, I know it was accidental. I know the strike caused my pulse to race and breath to quicken. I know it was followed quickly by more. I bruised myself and my mom was very distressed when she saw that. She told me that bruises were ugly. I couldn't see ugliness in them. The were glorious reminders of pleasure.

I spent my entire childhood being sexually assaulted by various people who were in positions of power over me. Sex became something different to me. An expression of love. And hate. I don't remember my first orgasm I must have been extremely young. Sexual acts had a physical pleasure that was separated from anything emotional or anything cerebral at all as I would disassociate during the abuse. My body would react with orgasms, but my mind was elsewhere.

I do remember when I started to masturbate at around 9 and have orgasms. I would disassociate from that as well.

Until pain. Pain was mine. Pure. Untainted by any abuses.

Cleansing.

Jarring.

Pain was grounding. Yet freeing.

At 12 I started cutting.

At 14 I started burning.

Each level of pain I climbed higher with, I achieved a new sense of purity. A new sense of balance.

I remember heating metal pieces in fire. 14 years old, a few friends around, one was a boy I was fucking. I plucked the shard of metal from the fire. It was glowing red hot. He asked me what I was going to do with it. I told him it was to mark me. He didn't believe I would do it.

I was staring at it, eyes bright in pain lust. The red glow reflecting in my clear green gaze. I licked my lips. My nipples were erect and I was soaking wet. Every nerve ending in my body was clamoring and banging. Almost as if begging for it to be placed, here on my thigh, here on my tummy, no here on my breast..

The red glow fades, I know I can't have it to hot or the metal will go past my skin and into my flesh. I wait and turn it over and over with the tongs. My friends are jeering now, daring me and calling me a wimp. I can't hear them much through the blood that is pumping hard and fast. Ears hearing only that rushing and thumping of my excitement.

I bare my thigh, my free hand smoothing over my sensitive skin. I have goosebumps and am salivating. I wipe my mouth and push my hair back away so it hangs down my back. Intent now, I hover the piece above my thigh, I can feel the heat radiating.

My boyfriend, in an attempt to distract me, turns my face to his, and he sees close up for the first time the rapture that pain lust is causing. He is aroused by my intensity and His lips are on mine.

I drop the hot metal onto my thigh.

His kiss is firm and insistent and I allow him to rape my mouth with his tongue. Orgasm rips through me as the bright hot burn sweeps over my senses and obliterates everything but lust. White hot sparkles drift and float and burst behind my closed eyelids. Awash in the intensity of the burn, I am pliable and surrender to his kiss. Heart racing as I abandon inhibition and rub my nipples against his chest. I hear his groan and can feel his desire swell between us. I am in control of this moment, his lust following my own. Every pore, every cell is aflame in lust and I am pouring it out of me and into him. His hands tangle in my hair that is spilled down my back and tug at it unintentionally. I am transported, orgasm shudders through me again as the intensity drives my endorphins ever higher.

Far off, I hear my girlfriend gasp and start to scream "SHE DID IT"

The moment is torn from me as the lips retreat and he is pulling the metal off my leg. You can smell a faint scorched scent as if I had burnt a bit of my hair. My skin is yellow where the metal touched and red all around, as my body reacts and isolates the wound. Blood rushing to the site as my skin reacts and my body begins the healing process.

He is swearing at me and wiping his mouth. I taste faint copper and realize I must have bit him at some point. I lick his blood from my lip and murmur apologies. More lust raging inside me. He isn't really hurt but I have startled him. And he never kisses me again...

As an adult I had to hide my love for pain even more. Married to a vanilla man and being a mommy. I felt society would never accept a pain-lover.

Then I found BDSM online. Years of hiding fell away and freedom was at last granted to me. It has been a glorious 9 years or re-awakening and exploration.

Pain is ecstasy to me. It washes me in sensations that I cherish. Pain is my most longed for and loved companion. Sex is fun, but something entirely separate and distinctly different from the all encompassing enrapturing state that pain places me in.

My toy box is beginning to take over an entire closet now with instruments to cause levels of pain that I can experience and share with others.

I am always negotiating scenes and many are surprised when sex is no part of it. It is not required to get me off. Sex is intimate and.. sex is a different animal entirely.

Give me pain... I am very much a taker when it comes to the glory of pain.

Mr Bus Driver

I admit to having a thing for men in uniform. Women too but for some
reason a man in any uniform at all makes me wet.
They are simply.... Delicious!

It had been a long day at work. The hotel was busy and as front desk
manager it was my job to run around and put out fires all day. Now I
was walking on tired feet to the bus stop so I could go home.

It was very late and my heels clattering on the pavement was the only
sound except cars driving by.

My tailored suit was rather rumpled looking and my bag was slung
carelessly over one shoulder.

I could hear the bus coming and started running to the stop. My heel
chose that moment to crack and break. Stumbling I pulled off my heels
and ran for it. Heedless to the sidewalk destroying my silk stockings.

The bus pulled to the curb and I stepped on flashing my pass and
collapsing onto the first seat. A shoe in either hand, I abruptly
burst into tears.

"Rough day?" The bus drivers voice sounded soothing and compassionate.

"Heh you could say that!" I sniffled and set my shoes down to rummage
in my bag for tissues as the motion of the bus rocked me gently. It
felt so good to be going home.

I glanced around and realized it was just myself and the driver. I
stuck my shoes in my bag and took a closer look at him.

He was really young. Maybe 30 at the oldest but looked 22. Why do
redheads look so young? No matter, I admired his unruly mop of red
curls and felt a familiar stir in my loins.

We started chatting and I found out this was his last run. His car was
parked at the station. I looked down at my torn stockings and
wondered.. So I asked if he lived anywhere near my house. He shot a
look sideways at me. A soft smile played across his lips. His lips
were very pale and looked so soft.

I suggested that he could play knight in shining armor twice in one
night. Lifting a foot and showing him my foot clad only in a torn
silken bit of stocking. Flashing my leg under my skirt and knowing it.

"I can give you a ride home."

I wasn't looking for a ride in his car at that moment,but it would do for now.

At the station he tells me to stay on a bench and comes back for me
with his car. Nothing fancy but again I was much more interested in
the man.

I get in when he opens the door for me and once I am settled provide
my address.

We arrive at my house and he looks out at it. I tell him thanks for
the ride and wait for it. He hops out and opens my door for me. I slip
out and stand there looking up at him.

Impulsively I ask him to come in. Resting a hand on his arm and
feeling his strength.

He is kissing me in a soft leisurly kiss. I feel his tongue slide out
to taste me and press close to him.

The next thing I know we are in the entrance way and he is undressing
me. I am trembling so hard with desire I can barely undo his pants
before dropping to my knees and enfolding his cock in my wet eager
mouth.

He is groaning and I have slid my hands inside his pants and tugged
them down while suckling at his tool. He is so hard and he smells
amazing! My hands find his butt cheeks and squeeze them pulling him
closer to my mouth.

More I need more. I rise and pull him to the bedroom kissing him and
stroking his cock as we go.I pull his clothing off, hallway strewn
with the evidence of my hunger.

Pushing him onto the bed I straddle him and rub my dripping eager
pussy on his hard cock while I feed him my nipples. He has a talented
tongue and I must experience it. Clambering around so I am sitting on
his face I reach back to stroke him and fondle his balls as his tongue
dives between my lips.

It is going to be a long night....