Blood

*******WARNING***********


I know some of my readers may get squeamish at the sight of blood so this is advance warning that this blog post contains graphic photos of cutting and bleeding!


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The following photos are from my cutting scene the other night, the host was gracious enough to send them to me.

Thank you, to everyone who participated in this scene, it was the first time and I fell in love with cutting so it is likely to not be the last time.

My shoulder is healing nicely, the lines are distinct and there is zero redness or sign of infection. I expect to be fully healed in the next week.

I am blessed with the ability to heal fast! Even though I have deliberately irritated it to ensure scarring it is already very obvious that I be recovered completely within a week.

My entire body is sore and aching today from the scenes on Saturday, I spent a good amount of the night completely tensed up and today I feel it in my arms, legs, back and butt.

Ok Photos... ready? Those of you who are scared covered your eyes?

Good!

The blood trickled and pooled, I coagulated quickly and we had to scrub at it later to make it bleed more.

"You will feel me cutting the skin in a swirl now."

Pretty picture! This is now framed art on my wall!

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Amazing night.

Oh My Stars

I used to have a dom who said "Oh my stars" instead of "Oh my God" it was rather endearing. For some reason that just popped into my head, this is completely unrelated. but Valinor if you are reading maybe I made you chuckle your great laugh, or at least smile!

So stars.

The evening started off as many play parties do. Me, smoking hot in a great outfit. Hair and makeup done beautifully. My lover on one side a cherished playmate on the other. Mingling among the guests and greeting the host and hostess. I had made plans to top later but other than that my night was fairly open.

Normal so far.

The host informed me that he had the evening free and was available for play. A scene popped into my mind.

Now I have been slowly over the last year been popping my own "cherries" by doing things that I consider to be edge play. Others I am sure would think my play is rather tame in comparison but you must keep in mind that up until very recently my hard limits have included... Nothing that breaks skin, no permanent marks, no blood play, no needles and no knives.

I have had broken skin many times although it was always accidental. I have had myself branded three times now with temporary brands, and they have not completely faded. I have had a hypodermic needle inserted in the skin of my arm. I have had a few knife scenes.

I spoke to the host in an excited tone and told him what I had hoped to do but that I had no stencil. He was quick to allow me to surf the net and find it.

I made a few quick modifications, traced it onto tracing paper carefully, and took a deep breath.

He smiled when he saw how intricate the design was. We discussed placement.

I stripped off my bra and dress. Commenting how I was breaking a hard limit and if I chickened out not to be surprised. He just smiled and nodded.

Hopped up on the table in front of a crowded room. He placed the stencil on my chest. We made certain it was positioned correctly, he pressed it into my skin so it would transfer. He grabbed a felt and connected the dots as the transfer wasn't the greatest. I examined it in a mirror and gave my ok. He unwrapped a disposable scalpel and poised it just above my skin.

"Now you will feel the edge of the blade against your skin" I whimpered at the first touch of cold steel.

"And the first cut" I gasped and held my breath as the sharp steel pressed into my skin. Oh sweet glorious pain blossoming! My entire body came alive in that blissful moment. Sparkles start in the edge of my vision and the endorphins start flowing.

The scent and taste of blood flood into my nostrils and mouth. Intoxicated at this first splash, the urge to scoop the drizzle of blood into my mouth is nearly overpowering me. I imagine my tongue coated thick with it and feel faint, a buzzing in my ears.

He continues to talk as he cuts, a line here, a swirl there. I am gasping, whimpering and moaning. Humping at air and giggling. Arousal is flooding over and around me. My scent is driving me nearly insane with primal lust.

I ask for a break about a third of the way through and he obliges. I am offered water and decline. Preferring to lay there, squirming in delight and squeezing my legs tight. Oh how I long to suck at the cuts he has made. My sex is swollen and soaked with my juices. I feel myself near orgasm and ask him to continue.

His next cut has me cumming and laughing. I can't speak anymore. I am murmuring and floating. I know there are people around me, I have no idea what is going on anymore. My eyelids are fluttering and eyes are rolling. My hips move of their own accord and I am loathe to hold still. My nipples are erect and I am gripping a hand tightly.

Pain is my lover and I embrace Her wholeheartedly. Her sweet voice is causing me to writhe slightly under the cutters hands. Sweet tendrils of agony as he carves my skin into the design I created. Bright red blood is dripping down my shoulder, smearing into the white hot swirls of pain. My Goddess is with me.

He comments that he only has a few more lines causing me to beg... "Go slow, please."

I hear laughter around me, and I am reminded there are people watching. His last cuts are much slower, languid even, I am orgasming in the blissful, bright, sting of the last swirl.

Now he is spraying alcohol into the lacerations and blotting with a paper towel. I am moaning and giggling at the bittersweet tingling of salt in a wound. I am near orgasm again and as he seizes the paper towel and begins rubbing vigorously, scrubbing at the fresh cuts I cum a third time.

There is blood everywhere and they are taking photos. He holds up a paper towel with a near perfect smear of my blood in a beautiful mural. Delight as he suggests I frame it and I immediately agree! He sets it aside and tells me it is time for a few touch ups.

I shudder and take a deep breath. His blade descends in his final strokes. Red wings beat in time with my fluttering heart..

It is over.

I lay there, drifting, mindless.. momentarily stunned.

A mirror is held up so I can see the art he has painstakingly carved into my chest. I smile, ecstasy is making the world very golden, with bright red blood splatters.

This is a photo of my shoulder this morning.

It bled all through the night, all over my sheets and pillowcase. Good thing I know how to get bloodstains out.

I will be framing the paper towel and putting it near the front door of my house. It is a nice compliment to the BDSM KINK flag that I have not so discreetly placed there.

I want more now.

Craving blood.. yum..

The Bathhouse

I enter the steam filled room and allow my robe to be untied and slipped off my shoulders. It is hot and as I stand there acclimatizing to the humidity and the dim lighting my hair is coiled gently at the nape of my neck and pinned in place.

Tendrils of steam entice me further into the room and I can hear the gentle sounds of running water. My body is glistening with moisture as the water condenses and forms droplets on my sensitive skin. Licking my lips and immediately there is an ice cold bottle of water in my hands. I sip gratefully at the refreshment, icy trickles down the inside of my throat to rest in my belly.

I am guided further in and there is a woman waiting with a pile of cloths and two containers. One contains white crystals and the other is full of clear water. She invites me to stand in front of her with my feet shoulder width apart, miming how she wants me to stand. I have the feeling we share no spoken language, but body language and gestures are universal, I know what I am to do.

She grabs a cloth and scoops up a handful of crystals, holding them in her cupped hand she drops some into the rough cloth and rubs it into my glistening skin. The abrasive crystal are rough and she is through. Her hands are sure and as she feels me relax into the rough caress of the salt scraping she slows and rubs in tiny circles.

She adds more salt as the first batch has rubbed away and she rubs all over my shoulders and down my arms, scrubbing my wrists and hands. I am tingling and feel so clean. She continues scratching at me with the abrasive, down my back now.

She pauses to add more crystal to her cloth and then rubs over my buttocks and between them into my deep cleft. I nearly cry out as she rubs my sex, but her touch remains impersonal and I must surrender myself to relaxation instead of allowing it to become a sexual event.

My vulva is tingling at the manipulation and I nearly cry when she moves on. Down my legs as she picks up each foot and scrubs the sole.

She turns me then and scooping up more salts she scrubs over my collar bone and down my chest. Rubbing my breasts and nipples with the coarse salt. She swirls the salts over my belly and then rubs over my mound to the tops of my thighs.

She drops the cloth as she has completed the scrubbing and picks up the ewer of clear water.

She drizzles the cool water slowly over me and I sigh in delight at the sweet trickles washing over my lightly abraded skin.

Amazing how the cool water serves to only intensify my arousal.

She tsks at me and points to a door in the distance.

I leave her and walk into a steam filled room. There are other bodies here, reclining on wooden benches. Everyone is fully naked and there is an elderly man dumping water onto the hot rocks in the center of the room, billows of steam cascade and tumble away from him. He gestures to an empty bench and I cross to it. Lowering myself to the wet, warm wood and then reclining.

The steam encloses around me and I am wrapped in the smothering heat. soon it is to much for me and I get up. The man pointing to another exit.

The next room is taken up with a large stone pool. There is no one there, so I walk down the stone steps into the cold water. It is refreshing and I linger only for a few moments before crossing the pool and exiting through the last door.

I am back at the beginning and there are lockers where my belongings wait for me.

I sigh and dry off with a soft fluffy towel, dressing and returning to the outside world.  Calm relaxation my new state of mind.

Anniversary

This time of year will always be special to me. My birthday, and several cherished family members birthdays. My ex husband and I were married in October, it was a pretty ceremony and full of the love we had for each other at the time.

More importantly it marks the anniversary of telling my three teenagers that I am bi-sexual. I cried when they accepted me so openly and told me they loved me and that they had kind of guessed as much. I wept tears of joy and relief at finally being able to admit to them, and then the world who I am. They each held me until we ended up in a huge group hug. Wiggling and giggling at each other while they kissed and hugged and tickled my tears away.

Soon after I advised them that a good friend of mine was indeed my girlfriend. They had guessed as much as well.

I am so grateful everyday for my gorgeous kids and their capacity to love. Thank you goes out to them everyday for being the amazing people that they are.

No shame, no embarrassment, no judgements, no name-calling, no harsh phobias.

Love, joy, acceptance and understanding.

Who could possibly want for anything more?

Bruises

I play hard.

I Top pain loving and sensation loving bottoms who will play hours with me and I love every minute of it.

I bottom to some very sadistic Tops who wield pain like a mighty sword and carve my flesh into beautiful murals that are reflective of the intensity I like to play.

A photograph of the bruises from play that is 48 hours in the past is able to illustrate my masochistic nature.

So an explanation of the photo is somewhat important I think. I wouldn't want to leave to much to imagination! HAH!

The photo was taken by my Wulfie (thank you darling, you are always so accommodating!) I would like to point out that not all the bruises are yet visible as they are so deep they haven't all surfaced yet.

So to point out first the bruise on the top of my right buttock (along my hip etc) this bruise is from a flogger beating against my ass repeatedly. There is another bruise that is slowly forming on the other side in approximately the same spot.

The person who was flogging me for those bruises, tends to strike in an overhand motion thus striking the top of my butt and across my hip. The night of the scene my right side swelled quite large and was a shadowed purple, the bruise did not start surfacing until this morning.

The bruise that is directly in the centre of my left butt cheek is from my rubber flogger. I had just purchased it and was showing it off. There was a group of about four people sitting conversing while I showed it off. One of them was a very large black man. He handled the flogger lovingly and told me how nice it was.

Me being the girl I am asked him if he would do the honors as I had not yet had the delight of feeling it strike me.

He was happy to oblige.

I lined up at the rack again and he started gently striking the pre-reddened curve of my ass. This was my third scene of the night now and I was keyed up so very high I thought I might just touch the ceiling!

He asked how it felt and I moaned rubbed hips against the rack and saying it felt really good.

Then I called him on.

I have a good habit of asking for what I want and when I told him to hit me about four times harder with it he was more that willing to test it. His laughter was music to my ears.

He lined up and asked if I was ready. "YES"

The strike was hard and I rocked into the rack moaning and screaming at the same time. Delicious pain obliterating the world around me in a bright red blur.

He struck me again, again, and again. I was babbling a bit and whimpering. Then he really let loose.

I ran away from him and the rack and he looked amused as I danced around the room and wiggled and shook my body all over. The intensity was so high I thought I might die in pure painful bliss.

I came back to the rack and he joked that he could see why they tied me down.

I laughed back and told him, I might run away for a second to absorb the pain but I ALWAYS come back for more.

His laughter was low as he asked if I would like some more. I told him yes one more. Gasping as I braced myself.

He swatted at me lightly and I peeled laughter merrily. Oh I adore people who PLAY! We bantered back and forth joking about how he gave me one more.

I stomped my feet in mock frustration and called out loudly so the entire party could hear me. "Oh PLEASE PLEASE ONE MORE!"

He gave me one last stroke and I gasped and crouched low holding myself tight in the reverberations of the last strike and the pain it blessed me with.

Oh right I was explaining bruises (oops I lost myself there for a moment).

The remainder of the smaller bruises are from various impact implements ranging from fists, hands, paddles, canes, and straps.

Needless to say the evening was eventful... as usual!

Rope

For almost two years now I have not willing submitted to any scenes involving rope. I am rather impatient person, after all. Having to stay still while a rope enthusiast tied me up was just something I wasn't interested in at all.

When a man who is known in the community for his amazing rope work approached me to negotiate a scene I admit I hesitated.

I didn't wait to long though. I selected the rack to be tied to and left the rest to him. We have played before and I knew I could trust him to bind me and beat me to the exquisite golden glow of sub space.

I crossed the room to stand in front of the rack. I am dressed in purple fishnets, a waist cincher, black lace panties and a black fishnet dress. Black satin gloves encase my hands to my mid forearm.

Two more people I know and trust jumped into the scene as well, "warming me up" they declared while he worked on tying me.

My wrists and ankles cuffed, as they put clothespins on my tits and then swatted them off with a cane and a nasty piece of neoprene shaped into a thin strap.

I am now facing the rack and they are swatting my ass alternately with strap and cane. I am screaming at them in wild obscenities. They continue taunting me and telling me that swearing and name calling is not a safeword. I laugh and toss my hair at them dramatically.

There is no sense of decorum and no dignity in this scene! I am completely at their mercy and I am now struggling wildly against my bonds. Tied by wrists and ankles in a spread eagled position. All the defense I have is to twist and plunge my body back and forth on the equipment.

Not effective.

Especially once the rope master realized I required more rope to be securely bound. He tied me into a chest harness while my tormentors slipped under the rack and tortured my tits.

I was screaming with laughter by now and the sadistic giggles were erupting from my friends as the rope slipped between my thighs and I found myself humping and grinding into the binds.

One grabbed a vibrator and started rubbing it all over my labia and all over that damned rope. I squirmed and gasped and moaned.

Now they ramped up the pain. Beating me mercilessly with floggers and canes and crops. The harness was now fixed to the rack. I thrash against it and the knowledge I am truly helpless overcomes me. I struggle harder feeling the ropes biting into my tender flesh.

DELICIOUS!

I was gasping and giggling and cumming all over that blessed rope. Moaning and flying way off into sub-space.

Amazing, gasping and groaning. The man bearing rope has now taken over the scene and is hitting me with heavy strokes from his flogger.

Cumming and feeling my juices soak my panties and drip down my thighs.

The scene continues for some while. The pain and pleasure rushing over and through me in intense fiery waves. His hands tangle in my hair and I press back into him. He is giving me exactly what I want, more and more pain, pushing me ever higher.

I am gasping for air now. Breathless and hot. He senses that I have reached a limit. Stopping to check on me. I am at the edge of my endurance for bondage and express this to him.

Quickly he has released me and turned me so I am in his arms. He holds me tight as I gasp in air and relax in his embrace.

Our scene is over, he leads me to a sofa and I sit there, trembling and recovering. Minorly senseless and majorly ramped up I cast around for the pain slut I have brought with me.

Spotting him I tell my rope loving friend I need to ask him to tie a bottom up for me. He agrees and off he goes to re prep the scene space while I drink water and recover. I am floating back down and my sadistic side is coming to the surface.

I eye up the man in the collar.

He is next...

To be continued...

The Bite

My hard limits include needles and piercings. I am minorly afraid of needles having had multiple IV's and blood drawing encounters go horribly awry. I generally don't like any type of play that breaks through the barrier of my skin.

You can imagine my own surprise when I asked a favorite playmate to poke me with a  needle. I am sure she was more than a bit surprised, as at the last piercing party I attended I had to walk away, I simply became to scared.

The day of our play date arrived and I was slightly anxious, but also determined.

She looked at me from across the room and asked if I still wanted to go through with it. My jitters stopped cold and I froze.

"Yes."

"Would you like to see it?"

"Yes."

"Where would you like to have it?"

"Where would you suggest?"

"Do you want mildly sensitive or highly sensitive?"

"Can we go for mid-range."

Her response is a nod and a smile. She remains seated for a moment longer before rising and collecting gloves a needle and alcohol wipes. She pulls a chair up beside me.

"Put your arm in my lap."

I obey and she turns it so it is palm up. Tender white skin and pale blue veins in my wrist exposed. My hand is relaxed and open. I am breathing very shallowly.

Fear is fluttering at me with delicate wings.

She rubs the skin of my forearm with alcohol wipes. The spot chosen is midway between my elbow and wrist. My smooth skin is grasped gently between her thumb and forefinger.

The needle is poised to pierce.

"Take a deep breath in... breathe out slowly."

I obey, long slow breathing, she tells me again and yet again. On the third intake of air my body relaxes slightly, I release the air and she slides the needle through the skin of my arm.

Swirl.

I am cast into subspace immediately. I am looking at my arm resting in her lap. Slowly clenching and unclenching my fingers. I touch the pierced skin with my fingertips. The sensation in my arm is only a slight burn, not painful just very strange.

I look at the foreign object in my skin and my mind is completely blown away by it. She discusses with me how the needle is resting under my skin. Grabbing the ends she lifts away from my body and I can see the skin trapped by the hypodermic.

Tilt.

She twists the needle around as if it is the hand of a clock, moving the needle under my skin, stretching it and causing my entire arm to burn. She holds it at a turn of slightly more than halfway. I am gasping. She lets the needle go and it springs back. My skin is resilient and the hypodermic snaps back to it's original position.

I notice my arousal at this point, my nipples are hard and aching. My panties are very damp. I admit to myself how highly erotic this is.

There is a small droplet of blood on the pointy end of the needle, so brilliant and stunningly beautiful. My beautiful playmate leans in and kisses my lips, I am eager and return her kiss passionately. She is turning the needle again, this time she goes about seventy percent around.

My entire being reduces to that needle in my arm. I am the burn that radiates out and fills my body with the sweet ecstasy that only a rush of pure endorphins can produce.

The hypodermic is released and I gasp out that I am finished. The needle is swiftly removed.

I sit there panting as if I have just run for miles.

A moist alcohol wipe is placed gently over the two needle holes in my arm, the alcohol slowly resolving into a gentle burn as it cleans the tiny wounds.

I comment how it looks like I have been bitten. My friend laughs and says it is her bite mark. This makes me smile and glow with an inner warmth. I adore being marked and while it is a tiny nick it may be the most intimate imprint I have ever received.

The room slowly comes back into focus and I realize that our audience of two has been there silently observing the entire time. I had forgotten they were there.

We discuss other places for needle play and which places are highly sensitive and which places are to be avoided. Different types of gauges and different styles and methods are also discussed.

I am languishing now in the burn of the alcohol as she tenderly attends to the small wounds.

I know next time I will have her 'bite' in more stimulating spots.

This is a true testament to how much I  trust this person. Needles remain a hard limit with everyone except her.