A pretty ordinary headline when the subject is BDSM, limits which has to be pushed, limits one wants pushed, are scared to push, limits to be found..
Luckily, no ones limits are quite the same, and what perhaps sometimes might be a cliché in the BDSM world in general isn't, when it comes to the individual experience. At least not, if it is one of the good experiences..
I thought a lot about where I am situated in the world of limits of pain. I always saw myself as a bit of a weakling (I don't like to talk about myself as a wimp, but translated this is probably what I mean). I have thought even longer about if I, when it comes to receiving pain and wanting pain, am of the "hard-core" kind of persons, or if I am still a weakling, like when I hit my pinky toe against the corner of a table leg, and tears roll out of my eye sockets..
I have been looking around the internet, and seen amazing pictures of stripes on asses, where blood is drawn and almost running (I am not there, yet?), or pictures of asses mostly rosy colored, and where the color quickly disappears.. (I have always been more than that).. I have a Danish blog, too, and in Danish there is no such proper word for it, but in English it is easier to describe, what I am. I am a pain slut, and the further down the road, Mr. and I thread, the more obvious to me it is.
Yes, I am submissive, too, and I will follow his wishes no matter what he asks of me. I have great confidence, that he knows my absolute no-go's, and that he will not try to push me to doing what I can't. But mostly, I am a masochist, I want the pain, the whip, the cane!!, so it aches all the way into my soul..
When it comes to the strokes themselves in a spanking being hard or hard enough it is of course obvious, that it is not the force applied in each stroke, that makes the difference, what makes the difference is, that it is the right force and the right number of strokes, in a given situation. On the bottom line, even for a pain slut with a red-and-blue-striped bottom like mine, the slut will always wan't just that little bit more. Alt least afterwards..
Last night..
We watched a few more or less silly TV programs, who ever thought it was nice to sit and watch quiz game shows with an actor from a B-movie and a white hair-dyed radio studio host saying silly things on TV!! ( I will of course immediately send my apologies to those of my readers who actually think that this is good entertainment for a Friday night). On the other hand I can always polish my self righteous angel halo thinking, that I am better off and smarter than all the people who actually enjoys that kind of TV..
In the sofa, sitting close, 5 days since we were last together, 5 days of missing him.. Soft kisses, my heart pounding, just nice, a bit exciting. Especially because I in the back of my head remembered what I wrote in the good night texted message the night before.. On writing knees I begged him for the pain, promising: "I will do anything, be so quiet, if you just please would.."
"Slut, in a few minutes I will ask you to go downstairs to get the cane. And then I want you to do exactly what you promised me, you would. I do not want to hear a sound from you.."
I was placed in the sofa, first laying down flat on my stomach, but, not good enough..
"Slut, get op on your knees, point your ass towards me, and spread your legs just a bit more.."
No warm-up. I felt the cane, again and again, making exactly those parallel stripes on both buttocks, I wanted.. And in the middle of the pain the knowledge, that the pain doesn't lessen by more and more hits, nor by the fact that I am in subspace.. The pain for me is just as present and sharp with each hit that I receive, and so is the knowledge that I still want more, want to feel more, take in more.. The knowledge that I want to and can show him, that I can take what ever he gives me, that I am proud of it, that I want it, that I want him.. But also the knowledge that I desperately want the marks which the cane leaves on my buttocks. The marks which are his way of marking me on the outside as well as on the inside, the marks that makes me so proud, that I have to watch them again and again, the swelling, the tenderness, the colors..
The marks from last night an hour later were beautiful, striped, closely placed, centrally on the buttocks, so that it still hurts, badly, or nicely, every time I sit down. Today they are colored like blueberries, big, and confluent. They are of the kind I can enjoy watching for more than a week..
Last night I first got the cane, then soft, tantalizing, exciting touches, his tongue, my reward. And then, I got the cane, again.. And I was quiet..
Last night I took more than I ever did before.. And I am happy..
Luckily, no ones limits are quite the same, and what perhaps sometimes might be a cliché in the BDSM world in general isn't, when it comes to the individual experience. At least not, if it is one of the good experiences..
I thought a lot about where I am situated in the world of limits of pain. I always saw myself as a bit of a weakling (I don't like to talk about myself as a wimp, but translated this is probably what I mean). I have thought even longer about if I, when it comes to receiving pain and wanting pain, am of the "hard-core" kind of persons, or if I am still a weakling, like when I hit my pinky toe against the corner of a table leg, and tears roll out of my eye sockets..
I have been looking around the internet, and seen amazing pictures of stripes on asses, where blood is drawn and almost running (I am not there, yet?), or pictures of asses mostly rosy colored, and where the color quickly disappears.. (I have always been more than that).. I have a Danish blog, too, and in Danish there is no such proper word for it, but in English it is easier to describe, what I am. I am a pain slut, and the further down the road, Mr. and I thread, the more obvious to me it is.
Yes, I am submissive, too, and I will follow his wishes no matter what he asks of me. I have great confidence, that he knows my absolute no-go's, and that he will not try to push me to doing what I can't. But mostly, I am a masochist, I want the pain, the whip, the cane!!, so it aches all the way into my soul..
When it comes to the strokes themselves in a spanking being hard or hard enough it is of course obvious, that it is not the force applied in each stroke, that makes the difference, what makes the difference is, that it is the right force and the right number of strokes, in a given situation. On the bottom line, even for a pain slut with a red-and-blue-striped bottom like mine, the slut will always wan't just that little bit more. Alt least afterwards..
Last night..
We watched a few more or less silly TV programs, who ever thought it was nice to sit and watch quiz game shows with an actor from a B-movie and a white hair-dyed radio studio host saying silly things on TV!! ( I will of course immediately send my apologies to those of my readers who actually think that this is good entertainment for a Friday night). On the other hand I can always polish my self righteous angel halo thinking, that I am better off and smarter than all the people who actually enjoys that kind of TV..
In the sofa, sitting close, 5 days since we were last together, 5 days of missing him.. Soft kisses, my heart pounding, just nice, a bit exciting. Especially because I in the back of my head remembered what I wrote in the good night texted message the night before.. On writing knees I begged him for the pain, promising: "I will do anything, be so quiet, if you just please would.."
"Slut, in a few minutes I will ask you to go downstairs to get the cane. And then I want you to do exactly what you promised me, you would. I do not want to hear a sound from you.."
I was placed in the sofa, first laying down flat on my stomach, but, not good enough..
"Slut, get op on your knees, point your ass towards me, and spread your legs just a bit more.."
No warm-up. I felt the cane, again and again, making exactly those parallel stripes on both buttocks, I wanted.. And in the middle of the pain the knowledge, that the pain doesn't lessen by more and more hits, nor by the fact that I am in subspace.. The pain for me is just as present and sharp with each hit that I receive, and so is the knowledge that I still want more, want to feel more, take in more.. The knowledge that I want to and can show him, that I can take what ever he gives me, that I am proud of it, that I want it, that I want him.. But also the knowledge that I desperately want the marks which the cane leaves on my buttocks. The marks which are his way of marking me on the outside as well as on the inside, the marks that makes me so proud, that I have to watch them again and again, the swelling, the tenderness, the colors..
The marks from last night an hour later were beautiful, striped, closely placed, centrally on the buttocks, so that it still hurts, badly, or nicely, every time I sit down. Today they are colored like blueberries, big, and confluent. They are of the kind I can enjoy watching for more than a week..
Last night I first got the cane, then soft, tantalizing, exciting touches, his tongue, my reward. And then, I got the cane, again.. And I was quiet..
Last night I took more than I ever did before.. And I am happy..
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