I am having a very rough week, my core values and beliefs are being subjected to scrutiny and situations and circumstances are causing me to ask questions of myself.
I am reevaluating my life and where I need to be heading and what I should be doing to get there. I am discovering aspects of my life that are out of balance and need recovering. In doing this I am looking back over the last few years as a whole and reviewing interactions and outcomes. I am finding a distressing trend that I need to address.
I can not stand liars.
People who knowingly deceive for the purpose of manipulating situations to serve their own sick ends annoy the hell out of me.
It removes the ability to consent from the situation. It removes my ability to make a choice. If you tell me the situation I will have a choice, will you always get what you want? Maybe not, but both of us can walk away in the end unscathed by the encounter. Unlike when you lie or twist the truth, or omit things. I would rather hear bitter, brutal truth, than a stupid fluffy lie.
This does more than annoy me.
It tends to destroy my faith that human beings on the whole are good and honest. That honor exists and people have a moral compass that stops them from doing immoral things.
Here is the sad thing. I internalize all of this. I hold onto it. I think it is my fault and that I have some huge flaw that attracts dishonest people to me. I take these people into my life and show them compassion and caring and allow them entrance to my heart. I buy the stories they tell me or justify what I know is a lie because I want it to be true.
I want to believe.
I am naive.
On top of this I have become a deep dark well of desires and wishes and hopes, of secrets and dreams that others have told me in confidence. I honor that and guard their secrets, thinking that their right to confidentiality, their right to have a silent friend who will say nothing, supersedes my right to honesty.
I will keep your secrets. They don't hurt me in the end. In the end they only damage you.
Your fear of admitting who you really are, or admitting your true desires, serves to smother you and hold you down in bondage tighter than any rigger could tie.
Your misrepresentation of your fact, destroys my trust in you, and causes irreparable damage to any future relationships I may have.
Yes I am a pain slut. Emotional pain even has caused an erotic response in me. But this, is NOT pain I want. NOT pain I crave or need or desire in anyway. This cuts at my heart, and bleeds for a very long time. This is a scar that never really fades away.
What do I learn... love as freely as I like, but trust is something I will reserve for myself. A select few who have spent a long time earning my trust are permitted into this inner circle. A few may gravitate close to it but essentially if I don't know you, I don't trust you. If you try to push, I will walk away.
Enough.
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
daydreams
At work and daydreaming, when I was very young I saw porn that likely was my first indication that I was kinky. Here is a version of what it was mingled of course with my own kinky twists!
He has captured me and I am helpless against him. His strength is to much for me.
We are in his barn and I am bound and gagged in rough sisal that is burning and chaffing my skin at wrists, ankles and waist. My eyes are stinging with tears and he is tying me to a beam with long ropes so my hands are stretched high above me. My shoulders are straining and he places a bale of prickly straw under my feet he has me stand on it. My shoulders are relived slightly but now he is binding me by my waist to
a pillar that is directly behind me.
I struggle but the ropes are entirely to tight for this to do anything but make them dig into my flesh further. Begging behind my gag for freedom. My mind is racing with what he will do to me.
He picks up a long wooden bar and unties my ankles, the bar is placed
between them so my ankles are spread wide, feet still supported by bales. He slips rope between the eyehooks on either end and binds my ankles to them.
I am shuddering in fear. My body fully exposed to him.
He picks up a leather strap and swings it through the air so it whistles as it passes beside me. My bare ass is pressed against a beam, he can only mean to strike breasts and vulva with it.
The first strike falls hard across the top of my breasts and I scream.
He stops and pulls out his pocket knife. Terror as he advances, flipping the blade open and resting the edge against my cheek. I dare not move or breathe, body tensed. His blade slides under the rough rope at my cheek and wiggles as he cuts the rope. The blade is withdrawn and he pulls the gag from my clenched teeth.
"I want to hear everyone of your screams little girl."
His smile is sinister as he tosses the gag to the dirt floor and backs up to take another swing. This blow landes directly over my nipples and I scream in a high pitched wail.
He walks back to rub my breasts in his rough calloused hands. His eyes are gleaming and I am babbling incoherently.
Then he begins to beat my tits with hard sure strokes. My screams echo to the high rafters and I think surely someone will hear and save me.
No one comes.
He is using his strap against my pussy now. I am whimpering in between screams. My lips so swollen and welted. Yet the strikes continue.
I cry and beg for mercy as he slaps that strap harder and harder against my inner thighs. Desperately I am struggling, his arousal is plain on his face. He works his way behind me and manages to strike at my buttocks where there is not enough protection from the pillar.
Pleading for release pleading and telling him I will give him anything he wants. Anything at all.
He circles in front of me tossing the strap to the side and using his fingers to part my pussy lips wide. Oh! Agony in those aching lips.
"You are dripping wet in your lust. Filthy pain slut. You are already
giving me exactly what I want"
With that he thrusts fingers hard inside me and my orgasm rages
through me. Squirting out over his hand and forearm.
"And I shall have even more of you now girl"
He moves away sucking my cum from his fingers and picking up a cane.
He walks back up close to me so I can see this is no bamboo cane. It is made of blackberry and the thorns have been sanded off only where he is holding it in his hand.
I start to scream and beg, "NO NO NO PLEASE OH MY GOD NOOOOOOO"
He only smirks and steps back to take aim at my chest...
He has captured me and I am helpless against him. His strength is to much for me.
We are in his barn and I am bound and gagged in rough sisal that is burning and chaffing my skin at wrists, ankles and waist. My eyes are stinging with tears and he is tying me to a beam with long ropes so my hands are stretched high above me. My shoulders are straining and he places a bale of prickly straw under my feet he has me stand on it. My shoulders are relived slightly but now he is binding me by my waist to
a pillar that is directly behind me.
I struggle but the ropes are entirely to tight for this to do anything but make them dig into my flesh further. Begging behind my gag for freedom. My mind is racing with what he will do to me.
He picks up a long wooden bar and unties my ankles, the bar is placed
between them so my ankles are spread wide, feet still supported by bales. He slips rope between the eyehooks on either end and binds my ankles to them.
I am shuddering in fear. My body fully exposed to him.
He picks up a leather strap and swings it through the air so it whistles as it passes beside me. My bare ass is pressed against a beam, he can only mean to strike breasts and vulva with it.
The first strike falls hard across the top of my breasts and I scream.
He stops and pulls out his pocket knife. Terror as he advances, flipping the blade open and resting the edge against my cheek. I dare not move or breathe, body tensed. His blade slides under the rough rope at my cheek and wiggles as he cuts the rope. The blade is withdrawn and he pulls the gag from my clenched teeth.
"I want to hear everyone of your screams little girl."
His smile is sinister as he tosses the gag to the dirt floor and backs up to take another swing. This blow landes directly over my nipples and I scream in a high pitched wail.
He walks back to rub my breasts in his rough calloused hands. His eyes are gleaming and I am babbling incoherently.
Then he begins to beat my tits with hard sure strokes. My screams echo to the high rafters and I think surely someone will hear and save me.
No one comes.
He is using his strap against my pussy now. I am whimpering in between screams. My lips so swollen and welted. Yet the strikes continue.
I cry and beg for mercy as he slaps that strap harder and harder against my inner thighs. Desperately I am struggling, his arousal is plain on his face. He works his way behind me and manages to strike at my buttocks where there is not enough protection from the pillar.
Pleading for release pleading and telling him I will give him anything he wants. Anything at all.
He circles in front of me tossing the strap to the side and using his fingers to part my pussy lips wide. Oh! Agony in those aching lips.
"You are dripping wet in your lust. Filthy pain slut. You are already
giving me exactly what I want"
With that he thrusts fingers hard inside me and my orgasm rages
through me. Squirting out over his hand and forearm.
"And I shall have even more of you now girl"
He moves away sucking my cum from his fingers and picking up a cane.
He walks back up close to me so I can see this is no bamboo cane. It is made of blackberry and the thorns have been sanded off only where he is holding it in his hand.
I start to scream and beg, "NO NO NO PLEASE OH MY GOD NOOOOOOO"
He only smirks and steps back to take aim at my chest...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Cane
Crave the intensity of it.
No warm up.
Cane brought down hard and cutting against my bare ass.
Strike my thighs, my tummy, my breasts.
Welt and bruise me.
Tender flesh torn and battered.
Break the skin with the hard strikes.
Feel my passion flare and burst free of me.
Scream in agony.
In sweet blissful pain.
Overtaken in a tide of red desire.
Scour my soul with the grit of lust.
I am clean.
No warm up.
Cane brought down hard and cutting against my bare ass.
Strike my thighs, my tummy, my breasts.
Welt and bruise me.
Tender flesh torn and battered.
Break the skin with the hard strikes.
Feel my passion flare and burst free of me.
Scream in agony.
In sweet blissful pain.
Overtaken in a tide of red desire.
Scour my soul with the grit of lust.
I am clean.
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