“A bruise is a lesson… and each lesson makes us better.”
~ George R. R. Martin
Me: You gonna teach me a lesson?
Him: Fuck yes and not just one either
Me: That sounds like a promise?
Him: Oh it most definitely is
That last line is usually delivered in a fairly quiet but firm tone, and if we are on a video call a look that conveys as much if not more intent than the words themselves. We have had some version of this conversation many times. It turns me the fuck on, him too just in case there is any doubt. I do love a good threat and I am partial to a learning a lesson especially if it leaves marks behind.
There are many things I miss about not being with a partner, regular sex, kissing, the intimacy of being physically close. So many things in fact but one of the things I REALLY miss is the marks that are left behind after a damn good beating. I have written many times before about how much I love marks. Doesn’t matter what type, bruises, bite marks, welts, knife marks, love bites, rope marks, pegs marks. I think my love of being come on is really just as extension of this too. It is after all another mark of lust and desire, just a slightly more fleeting one.
They are rewards to me, I wear them like a trophy. They are a visible sign of what I am, of what he is, reminders of what we did, a testament to my endurance, a statement of his power, and some of them, bruises, even come with a sensory reminder when you press and poke at them and that deep dull ache runs through you. I was going to say those are the best marks of all but how could I possibly choose between them and if I did I think it would the ones that look the most impressive. The deep dark purple bruises that blossom into different colours as they slowly fade, the raised ribbon welts that sting and tingle for hours and sometimes even days afterwards, the love bites that pepper my breasts or thighs with blood sparkled bruises. I want to touch them all, I want to take pictures so I can go back and remember them when they are long gone allowing me to relive the moments that gifted them to me over and over.
I have a lot of different kinks but being marked in some way is probably one of my top 10 kinks. It is one of those things that I would say is crucial to me having my kink needs met. I will endure more pain if I need to in the quest for marks and then I will lovely nurse and admire them and be sad and wistful when they are gone.
The downside though is that I have found my body seems to have got much better at healing and must harder to mark. However I have also recently discovered that changing locations on my body and exploring different implements and styles of play has resulted in me getting beautiful glorious marks. Seems my thighs are ripe for love bites and my arse blooms nicely under the skillful application of a paddle. More experimenting needs to occur but I am really excited to rediscover how my body marks in this new chapter of my kink life.
“No kind of sensation is keener and more active than that of pain its impressions are unmistakable.”
~ Marquis de Sade
It has been a long time since I have craved beating in quite the way I do now. In fact maybe not since I last was in an long distance relationship. Don’t get me wrong I often want one, and have initiated them and that desire ebbs and flows as with ones desire for most things but this is more than that. This is a dull ache that gradually becomes a deep seated need that grows and grows and increasingly fills me thoughts. The longer the time without it the more I crave it and my imagination dips into ever darken places.
I fantasize about extreme beatings (way beyond anything I would actually want or could take) I think about being violently overpowered and tied down and forced to take it. I ponder what it would be like to feel a razor sharp blade cut me. I daydream about blood running down my legs. I get lost in my imaginings and if I close my eyes and concentrate I can almost taste the pain.
Impact play and pain have always helped to calm and quieten my brain. After a damn good beating I will crash out and sleep like a log and the feel good calmness will last for days afterwards. In the moment the pain switches everything else off. It fills everything, there is no room for anything else only that. Everything else is forced to be quiet. It is a deeply cathartic experience and definitely has an effect on my mood but also on my ability to work, focus and sleep. I know people go to yoga and meditation or get a massage or go to the gym and whilst exercise and masturbation help for me nothing has quite the same positive effect on me as some sort of pain/endurance scene.
I am starving at the moment. The need to hurt is almost overwhelming but I know that also makes me really vulnerable and that makes me extremely cautious about who I would be prepared to trust with my body when I am like this. The answer is only one person for sure. Long distance relationships can be amazing in some ways, and technology at least makes them much more doable than they were in the past but mostly, for me, they suck. I vowed I would never fucking do one again after the last time because I found it so hard, not with a primary partner anyway, but sometimes love trips you up and as I have said again and again, never say never because life deals unexpected cards at times and the right way forward is to play your best hand and hope that sometime soon we get to spend some time together and he take his best hand to me and give me what I so badly need.
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