It’s so hot, my skin throbs with the heat and when I touch it, beneath my fingers I can feel it, warm and sticky and I bring my fingertips back to my face and I utterly enthralled by what I see there; blood. I smear it on my face, down my cheek and across my lips. I don’t know why, it just feels right, painting my face with my own blood. I reach down for more, repeating the process, marking myself, again and again. I bled for him and it feels good, oh so good to feel that raw and exposed to have given myself up to that, to him in such a primal way. My blood flows and with it comes peace. I am bleeding. I am complete.
It is hard to put into words the feelings and emotions that blood play elicit in me and I tend to find myself repeating the same phrases and words, primal, raw, vulnerable, laid open, exposed and so on. When we first started on this kinky journey of ours, blood play was something that I had no interest in. It wasn’t on my hard limits list but it wasn’t on my soft either, it just didn’t feature. It held no attraction to me but at the same time it also didn’t repulse me.
I am not sure of the actual moment when that changed but I do not the moment when I confessed to @domsigns. I stumbled across an image on Tumblr of a girl being played like a violin, despite it obviously being ‘fake’ it caused a strong visceral reaction in my gut and my cunt both of which twisted with longing, so much so that I shared the image with him.
“I think I want this, well not actually this, but the sentiment of this.”
Of course nothing happened then and there, he likes to store up information and then act on it when I am least expecting it and I also think with this new interest he wanted to be sure. Now and then he would share similar images back with me, each time they only increased my desire. I would find myself staring at the bright red blood, enthralled by its visual strength and power.
The first time he made me bleed was at fet club. I was tied to the St Andrews cross and utterly lost into whipping and flogging he had given me when he spanked me with the Vampire Gloves. I don’t remember it starting, or even being totally aware of the change of implement all I know for sure is that it felt so hot and so good and then he stopped, jarring me out of the moment. When I asked him why he has stopped he released one of my hands from the cuff and directed it round to my bottom. When he bought my hand back to my face there it was, clear as clear, little smudges of bright red adorned my finger tips. He had been right to wait, to put off this moment until he was sure that my fantasy was something I wanted to actually experience. By letting me play with the idea of it in my head it meant that when it happened, when I saw the blood the rush I got from it was not shock but hot heady lust.
Since then we have continued to explore blood play, and have slowly accumulated a fair few toys that have attracted our attention because of their potential for bloody outcomes, including the Christmas present I gave him this year. I am aware that this is not for everyone, that there will be people reading this who will be shuddering and I get that, I am not even sure I totally understand it myself but I do know that it is seriously fucking hot to me and that is really all I need to know.
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