I Know What You Did Last Night

September 29th, 2011

Blackness.

She tried to blink, but couldn’t. Coming more fully awake, she realized her head was covered in fabric. Tight. It wasn’t a headache, her head was tightly wrapped. Her ears hurt. Not badly, just a mild ache. Static. There were headphones over the wrappings, playing white noise. She tried to move. Nothing. Taking a breath to stem the rising panic, she realized she was at least free to do that, nothing blocked her nose or mouth. Something at least. She focused on breathing for a few moments.

Sitting.

She sent out her conscious the the rest of her body. She was sitting up, arms bound to the arms of a chair, wrist and elbow. Metal chair and legs bound to the legs, ankle and knee. Her head and waist were secured, as well. Naked. Completely naked. She shivered, though it was not cold.

She still felt groggy. What had happened? Where was she? She remembered the club. Out for a night on the town while her partner was away. Business trip. Back on Sunday. Was it Sunday yet? It had been Friday night. Was it only Saturday? She danced and drank with her girlfriends. They mainly ignored the men trying to pick them up. Ladies night out.

There had been one man. Persistent. Dark. Handsome. He’d caught her eye a few times. Sent her a drink. Oh god. What had been in that drink? Had she gone home with him? She remembered him staring at her while she accepted and tipped back the shot. Hot, hungry eyes. She didn’t remember anything after that.

Cold.

She gasped as a cool breeze passed over her body, mirroring the cold shiver running down her spine. She felt air moving around her, goosebumps covered her arms and legs. Someone was near her. Was it him? What did he want? Why was he doing this?

“Who’s there?” She called into the silence. “What do you want?”

She felt small pads being placed on her body. Two on each breast. Two on each arm. Two on each thigh. Two on each calf. Wires tickled her skin. She tried to turn her head, tried to thrash free, but there was no slack anywhere. Her body started to tingle and she froze. The tingling grew, first in her breasts until she yelped. Then those stayed steady and each limb’s tingling grew, one at a time, until she made a sound of pain, then stopped. Then it all stopped.

Breathe.

She reminded herself to breathe, and the white noise stopped, replaced by a voice.

“Where were you last night?” A computerized voice, loud and harsh.

“At… at the club. Syrens.”

“What did you do there?”
“I danced, and drank with the girls.”

“Then what?”

“I… I don’t know. Someone sent me a shot. I don’t know.”

Pain. All of the pads sprang to life at once. Her muscles clenched and she screamed.

“Who sent you the shot?” The pain stopped.

“I… don’t… a man. Tall, dark, black hair, blue eyes. He was wearing a black suit and a red tie.”

“Did you know him?”

“No.”

“Did you talk to him?”
“No. I don’t know. Not before he sent me the drink.”

“What was the drink?”
“I don’t know.”

“Did you drink it?”

“Yes.”

Pain erupted again. Pulsing this time, making her muscles jerk out of her control, breasts feeling like they were being stabbed.

“You drank something, sent by a stranger, without even knowing what it was?”

“Yes!” She couldn’t help but scream.

The pain surged for a moment and then relented.

“Then what?”

“I…” she gasped for breath, terrified of the answer she had to give. “I don’t know. I woke up here.”

Just her legs this time, higher than before. It felt like they were trying to curl into the chair. She clenched her jaw and growled at the pain.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.” She grunted.

“Maybe more pain will clear away the fog.”

All the pads sprang to life, in a wave of pain, from her calves up her thighs to her breasts and then out her arms. The pain growing and receding up and down her body. She writhed against the bonds, straining her tortured muscles even more. Her feet did not touch the floor, but curled helplessly in the air. Her hands clenched at nothing, just beyond the arms of the chair. She growled and grunted, screamed and whimpered. She had no idea how long it lasted, almost started counting the waves once, but gave up as pain overwhelmed her. Finally, it stopped.

“Now, what did you do after you drank the shot?”

She gasped for breath, drenched in sweat, shaking with leftover energy. Panicked and still without an answer. She wracked her brain, having been incapable of thought while he tormented her. She saw his eyes, remembered tossing back the shot. It burned. Her head swam.

“I sat down. He came over.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I… I must have. I don’t remember. It was Ladies’ Night. I wasn’t supposed to. I must have.”

“Then what?”

“I…” She didn’t want to say she didn’t know, she tried to think, she wondered if he’d know if she was lying. “We danced.” She tried, not sure if it was a lie or not.

Stabbing pain in her breasts, her arms seized. She screamed and it was gone.

“Do not lie to me. What did you do after he came over to talk?”
“I don’t know.” She was shaking and gasping, fear and pain warring for dominance.

The white noise came back in her ears. Her body started tingling. All the way back down to the beginning, all at once, and built slowly up. They did not stop for her screams this time, but kept building until she was thrashing and sobbing as much as her bonds would allow. Then he pulled the pads off, one by one. Starting at the top. Until all were gone. The tension released, only the restraints kept her from sliding to the floor. Tears soaked the fabric around her eyes, her lips moved, but only breath escaped.

 

Darkness. Static. Nothing.

She regained control of herself. Got her breath and heartbeat back to normal. Calm for just a moment. Still nothing. Panic started bubbling up again. She focused inward, no injury or lasting pain. Outward, she felt no movement, no breezes, nothing. Was he gone? What did he want her to say? She couldn’t remember what had happened. What if that wasn’t good enough? Was he mad she didn’t remember him? Why was he doing this? Her mind spun in useless circles. She had only the vaguest impression of him coming towards her after the drink and then nothing.

“Let’s start again. What time did you go to the club last night?”

“9 o’clock.” Grateful to have a question she could answer.

“Who did you go with?”

“Erika, Sarah, and Heather.”

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Two glasses of cider, a cosmo, and that shot.” She shivered a little, hoping she hadn’t had more after the shot, but not knowing.

“When did you leave?”

“I…” Panic. “I don’t know.”

“Who did you leave with?”

“I don’t know.”

Shocking pain ran down her left thigh.

“Not good enough.”

“I don’t. I had the shot. He came towards me. And I don’t know.”

Her right thigh this time, a straight rod delivering high voltage directly to her skin. She squealed.

“Tell me what happened after the shot.”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

She cringed against the chair as the rod delivered shocks across her breasts, right over the nipples, crying out and trying to wrench free.

“You do remember.”

“No, I don’t, I can’t.”

The electricity crackled from her left hand, up her arm, across her collar bone and back down to her right hand. She screamed, then gasped for breath.

“Tell me.”

She bit her lip. “I…” What could she say?

The rod ran down her chest, over the left nipple, down to her clit and back up again, right nipple not spared. She swore vehemently, but he only did it again, in the opposite direction.

“Such language. Now, tell me what happened.”

“I looked over at him, lifted the shot in a salute, drank it down. It burned my throat, and hit hard. I sat down on my stool and looked back at him. He had gotten up, and was walking towards me.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know!”

He ran the electricity over her arms, chest and legs in big zigzagging motions. She screamed in protest, trying to thrash, or move, or jerk, or anything but sit there perfectly still, except for her hands and feet clenching and curling in the air.

“You do know, you just won’t tell me. This would all end, if you would just tell me what happened next. Don’t you want me to stop?” He zapped her clit.

“Yes, please. I do. But I don’t know. I can’t tell you. I don’t remember.”

He answered with more electricity. Fingertips, toes, one by one. Up the side of her calves, the inside of her thighs, circles around her clit and her nipples. Tell me, echoing in her ears with each shock. She squealed and clenched her fists and fought the urge to curse. He zapped her earlobes and the tip of her nose and she forgot herself, spitting curses until he zapped her lips. She snapped her mouth shut and breathed heavily through her nose, curling her lips inward and licking them.

“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.” She gave up on insisting she couldn’t, he didn’t seem to care.

“Then remember, you could have stopped this.”

 

Static. Darkness. Cold.

Constant cold air was blowing on her now. But he had stopped hurting her. Stopped asking questions. She wasn’t even sure if he was there anymore. What now? What else was he going to do to her? Why didn’t he believe her? What else could she say? She wracked her brain, trying to pull up more of last night, but there was nothing. A big black hole in her memory. Why hadn’t her friends saved her? Why had they not been there for her? How had they let her end up here? Did they even know what had happened to her? Had they seen her leave? Had they told anyone she was missing? Was anyone looking for her?

“Are you ready?”
“No.”

“Will you tell me what I want to know?”

“I… no.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth. What happened after you drank the shot?”

“He came towards me. And then I don’t know what happened.”
“Wrong.”

Pinching pain seared through her nipples, causing her to gasp, but this pain didn’t go away, and she started to whimper.

“Tell me the truth.”
“I can’t.”

More pinching around her nipples.

“Two clothespins for every lie. What happened?”

“I don’t know.”
Now there were three on each breast and she was panting and squirming with the pain, tapping her feet in mid-air and clenching her fists.

“Tell me.”
“He came toward me. He must have sat down. We must have talked. We didn’t dance. But I don’t know.”

Two more, above her nipples. Strong and small. She breathed quickly with the pain, whimpering with every exhale.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Please, I don’t know.”

Two more at the top of her breasts.

“You can, I know you can.”

“No, please, why are you doing this?”

Two more just below the collarbone.

“Tell me, now. I just want the truth.”

“I don’t know. That’s the truth.”

Ripping pain as he yanked all the clothespins off at once. She drew a sharp breath and then screamed. Shaking, and shivering against the chair.

“Apparently I’m being too nice.”

Cold liquid splashed over her chest, then arms and legs. It smelled like alcohol. He ran a wet cloth over her exposed skin. She shivered harder, terror rising bile into her throat.

“What, please, what… I don’t know what you want. Please…”

“Only the truth. That’s all I’ve ever asked for.”

Stabbing pain in her left breast, sicking sliding under the skin and another burst of pain. A needle, he’d just slid a needle through her skin.

“Oh god, please. Don’t, please.”

“Then tell me.”

Pain in her right breast, she could only focus on the horrible feel of the needle sliding through her skin.

“Tell me the truth.”

“Please, please, please. I don’t.. I.. please, I…”

Pain lower, right above the nipple, slower, sharper.

“Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“I.. please… don’t, I… please.”

The other breast again, right above the nipple, matching sets of fear and pain.

“Tell me what happened after you drank the shot.”

“I don’t know, I woke up here, I must have passed out. I don’t know.”

“Good girl.”

The needles came out fast and clean. She was crying and shaking as he wiped down her breasts with alcohol. The headphones came off, the wrapping around her head started to unwind. She was dizzy, she didn’t understand. What happened? Light began to assault her eyelids, she cringed away and found she could move her head. The restraints were coming off her arms, then her legs. His body was in front of her lifting her, carrying her, a hood still on her head, but thin. Softness beneath her, a bed. It was darker here and he slid the hood off. Stroking her hair.

“Such a good girl.”

She opened her eyes, startled by her partner’s voice after so long with the computerized one.

“What?”

“Shhhh. You did so very well.” He wrapped her in his arms and she curled up against his chest, sobbing with relief. “Such a good girl.” He repeated.

“Thank you, Sir.” She whispered, as she fell into an exhausted sleep against him.

“You’re welcome, little one.”

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Second Monday

May 25th, 2011

Chores done. Dressed and ready. He comes home, quick chat about the day and the state of things. The fly swatter is already out as he grabs a snack. Popping sparks. Toy backs away and is called forward, she still shies and is put on her knees. Earplugs, and headphones. Can you sign to her? But her glasses are off, I have to sign quite close. Can you hear him? No. He sends me for a blindfold. Blind and deaf now, I lead Toy downstairs.

Holding Toy’s hands in the playspace. I step away to put my glasses on a shelf, she reaches out for me, not quite frantically. He sets the music, I can’t tell if she hears the beat or is just fidgeting. The movements irregular. He gets on the leather ankle cuffs for her, and then the bondage mittens. Drags her to the cage and sets her in it.

Toy looks Hot!

She does, but there’s a frown on her face. I never fully enjoy it when they frown. But Toy does look hot, all bound and sensory deprived.

He gets out some hemp, 8mm. Starts to tie.

You know, it’s going to be your turn to be ignored first soon.

Yes, Sir. I’m okay with that.

Especially if it includes sense dep, I can sink into that, into whatever senses remain, spacing out the others. Delicious.

He gets an evil idea and grabs the TENs to distract Toy. Her breathing changes, but she stays fairly quiet. He returns to the rope, starting a drum tie. Slight panic in me as I realize I’ll be upside down. It’s been a long time, will I have the stamina? The tie is tight, secure. Rope burns as it passes. I can’t quite space, Toy is too distracting in her predicament.

He pauses between ropes to change up the TENs, we watch her reactions. She’s still quiet, not sure if she’s enjoying it or not. She’s not saying anything. It takes quite a few turns before we get any moans or whimpers.

Would I rather be in Toy’s place or mine? Mine, I like leather and sense dep, but here I have rope. He points out that when I’m upside down, certain tender bits will be quite open to Uncle. I panic a bit more. Gasping and whimpering slightly. Oh gods, that’ll hurt. The ‘biner is put in place, not as painfully as I’d feared. Then comes my blindfold.

Panic. Space. Floating. I won’t be able to see what’s coming. Fear. Breathe quickens. The blindfold is tight around my forehead. My eyes close automatically. I feel myself floating away, still standing. Calm down. But I’m gone, sub space take me away.

I feel him get the lift rope. He drops me to the mats and threads it, pulls and I am up. I fidget for a moment with my arms, settling for my hands on my head. He spins me. Focus, breathe. My hands are the solid point. I’m not really spinning, I tell myself. My hands are the solid point. I am stationary in regards to my hands. Keep breathing.

He goes to Toy and I hear rhythmic flogging. I hear her, too. Whimpers and moans. I think there were a couple swipes with Uncle then. Louder moaning.

I can hear metal tinkling. Nipple clamps, I think, later I find out how wrong I was. He bring some to me, too. Sharp, tiny stabbing pain. I think it’s the ones he used last time, but it hurts so much more. I squeal and gasp, curling upwards and grabbing the bottoms of my breasts. the usual reaction to keep nipple clamps from dropping, but useless in my upside down state. I dare not touch them. So much pain, my gasps turn to tears. I can’t do it, I am going to fail so soon, I am going to yellow. Oh gods, it hurts. But he takes them off before I am completely overwhelmed. And I hang, hands back on my head. Focus and breathing take longer to find. My hands are the solid point. I am not spinning. Breathe and listen.

Uncle returns, slapping the undersides of my breasts. More squealing and curling. Forcing myself to drop my hands back to my head, exposing myself for more strikes. Promised strikes on exposed flesh, keep my legs where he puts them. Hits on the feet, solid, comforting.

Toy squeals too, but mostly I’m just listening to her for hints of new implements. A paddle, not the speed hole paddle, this one is longer and thinner, more solid. More like being hit with a big stick than a paddle. I’m at such an odd position for corporal.

I feel him untying the lift line, spinning it out. Focus on my hands. I am not spinning, my hands are the solid point. Breathe, relax. And I am in his arms and then on the ground. Gasping for breath, and toy squeals as he tosses her down behind and on top of me. Her arms and head over mine. Both of us gasping and ragged, he leaves us to recover.

The headphones are painful, but I do not protest. I twitch and she moves after a while. Thank you, Toy. But she cannot hear me. Finally, our breathing is calm. She readjusts for her own comfort, too. He returns, sits on the bishop’s chair silently. Leaves again. Returns this time with the flyswatter.

Up! Get up! He smacks us with the flyswatter.

I struggle off the floor. Toy gets up, behind me.

Kneel! Kneel properly! Show her how to kneel!

Smacking me with the flyswatter, I grab her knees, push them apart and place her mittened hands, then return to my own position. We kneel. I feel him sitting on the trunk in front of me. I can hear him stroking the flyswatter.

She’s fidgeting!

He pops me again, and I grab her hands in panic to stop her.

Is she kneeling properly?

Another pop and I grab her knees and push them apart again. Really, Toy? What are you doing?? But I say nothing and return to kneeling.

We stay there, it isn’t long, but I’m in a state of panic that she wills start fidgeting again. She doesn’t, and he takes off my blindfold.

Look up at me. Untie each other. Come meet me at the massage table.

Scene done, now for clean up and aftercare.

 

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First Monday

May 12th, 2011

Tonight is Rope, maybe even suspension.

We arrive on time, head in and start cleaning. Check list complete, change clothes and cuddle up to talk and wait. He is home, a couple minutes to spare. We have a short talk about the cleaning and what it brought up. Toy and I go downstairs with tub #1, but he calls us back up because we’re giggling and he’s making himself dinner.

Down again when he’s done and into the recently cleaned playspace. I sit on one leg of the bishop’s chair and toy curls up at my feet. He likes the image of us there, and puts up the suspension ring.

Toy is pulled out to the mat, put on her knees, blindfolded and her arms bound in bondage tape. She immediately begins fidgeting with it. Up to the bishop’s chair, strapped in securely. Told to listen, be aware and think.

I am brought to the mat, stripped down, pesky new skirt takes some effort. He grabs a couple lengths of hemp. Arms bound behind the back, and then ropes around the upper arm, near the shoulder and then near the elbow. A simple box-tie, and then up to the ring. He grabs my legs and I’m in the air. Wow, interesting, ow, not so nice, squeezing the arms. Remember to breathe in between moans, and down again. So nice to be experimenting again, I tell him where it hurt and he moves some the ropes down a bit. Up again, the pressure shifted, better, but still uncomfortable, but oh so interesting. And then I’m upside down, and he’s giggling. Breathing ever so irregular, but it doesn’t really matter. I feel secure and bound. He drops one leg, but I don’t touch down until he lowers the other.

Order gets fuzzy here. He opens the chest of toys. I think the riding crop comes out first. Swats toy’s thighs and then my legs. Mmm, nice little riding crop. He digs deeper, finds the paddle with speed holes. A few swats on my ass. So painful, I spin and squeal. He digs again, nipple clamps this time, it’s a kind I’ve never tried. I yelp and he says he doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. My heart races. He digs out clips for toy as well. Uncle comes out then. Oh how I’ve missed it. Ass, thighs, breasts. Are you ready, toy? Toy gets a few swats as well. He scolds me to be quiet for the neighbors. He doesn’t have to be nice here, but I should be quieter. Yanks on the chain. One comes off. The other is for Uncle. I whimper, my eyes pleading. He doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. And off it comes. Leaves me to stew. Something scary that she’s going to like, toy says. And he pulls out the TENs, puts in on her thighs. I watch intently, curious how she’ll find it. She doesn’t say much. Intriguing and a few whimpers.

Toy’s hand has gone numb from the tape. He cuts her out, unstraps her from the chair and sets me off the mat. Grabs the sawhorse to put behind me and lays her down on it. Ties one hand with jute and then comes back to me. Takes me down, unties the rope, hands it to me. I drop to my knees to coil it while he ties her more securely. Jute on the wrists and cuffs on the ankles.

We tickle her first, one at either end. He pinches her sore nipples, she squeals and squirms, quite trapped and helpless. He gets a Violet Wand. Paintbrush attachment. I hear happy trees in my head as he starts painting her skin. I tickle a little at first, but then notice I’m getting mild vibration in my fingertips, so I just run them lightly on her skin, not sure if she can even tell, or if her mind is totally captured by the shocks. He asks her questions and she struggles to answer. Teases, and plays, we grin over her helpless form. He threatens a straight rod, but grabs a bulb with a coil inside, playing over her skin. We circle her, still questioning. She loses track, forgets to answer, forgets the questions. He turns it off, torments more, she still can’t answer, forgets more questions. I know the questions, I can help, I mustn’t. We could leave her there, go for a drive… He turns out the light and we back off, watching. Waiting, tasty energy. She can’t remember the question, Sir. He sends me off for Gatorade. I return, still watching and get dressed.

The light goes back on and he unties her hands, sits her up on the horse. Bends me over the end she just emptied and pulls out the speed hole paddle again. Paddles me as I squeal and squirm. Quiet not forgotten, but nearly impossible. I even cover my mouth with my hands a few times. He has me hold the paddle. It’s light, Sir. What? Light wood, Sir. I want to apologize, it hurts like hell, but the wood and the holes make it lighter than I expected. Should she have more, toy? Yes, Sir. And more come, skirt up this time. Stings so much, and I start to slip into painspace. Yelps turning to moans and heavy breathing. But then he undoes her ankles and bends her over, too. Swats her ass some.

There are twenty more, toy. Do you want them? Or does she get them? Or do you want to share?

I want to tell her we should share, but he’s asking toy, I have to be quiet.

Toy’ll take them.

As hard as I can swing?

And then she starts using my name and I add to the torment.

Oh, no, Sir. She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

Oh, no, sorry, Miss. Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Oh no, Sir.

No? So, she gets them? I thought you liked protecting people, toy? Don’t you want to protect her? Her ass is already quite bruised.

Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Yes, Sir.

Will you count for me, toy?

Yes, Sir.

And forty whacks, she counts beautifully.

Paddle goes down, he gives instructions for clean up and goes to the couch. Toy and I clean up, putting everything away but the cuffs on her ankles. He says they can stay. Then we join him on the couch. Snuggles, light chat, and Human Cent-Ipad. Toy is a bit traumatized, so we watch Children’s Hospital which is all sorts of odd, and silly. He sets up the chair and we start in on his back and shoulders. My wrists are being funky. He asks me to set up the table. We move over and I have a better angle. I mirror toy, her hands are stronger, but I do my best. Turns over and we finish working his arms. Then he grabs toy and torments her with logic, while I stroke his hair and giggle. She is aroused and I am amused. We finish aftercare between the kitchen and the couch. Talking, Dr. Who and snuggling, a great first night.

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Beauty is Pain

December 9th, 2010

A lot on my mind this week, so I may end up with several posts, just going to start typing and see where I end up.

I had a couple random ideas last week. The first being around forced feminization. Wikipedia defines it as: when a man is forced to put on women’s clothes and instructed how to behave and talk Yes, I am a girl, yes, I previously owned skirts and dresses. But I only wore them for Very special occasions – weddings for the most part, once I got out of school, and the Renaissance Festivals. Currently, at his request, and because it is too cold for shorts in December, I wear skirts four days a week, not always the entire day, but two of those days, it is generally two different skirts or dresses.

I regularly have people bring me skirts and dresses to increase my “girlish” wardrobe. I am often teasingly scolded for my lack of stockings. At play parties, I am often told I need more appropriate footwear. One of the groups I’m involved with in town has caused me to buy more lingerie in two years than I have ever owned in my entire life. Last time my mother visited, I even let her take me shopping to buy multiple skirts, and bought a couple on my own at a thrift store, and I don’t even buy clothes for myself normally. As noted last week, skirts and other girl clothes are big items on my wish list this year.

I think Wikipedia would consider all this to be consensual feminization, but every now and then I pause and wonder. Wow, when did I become such a girl? And then I feel better about myself when I get an invitation to shopping event involving make-up, manicures, perfume and other such things, and I remember that I am not that much of a girlie girl. Nothing wrong with all those things, they are just not me. I’ll stick with dressing more like a girl, because it not only makes the men happy, but it also helps me feel good about myself and my body.

Second random thought was about masochism and sadism. Back to Wikipedia: Sadism is pleasure in infliction of pain or humiliation upon another person, while masochism is pleasure in receiving the pain. I went to a class taught by Midori earlier this year, where she discussed the term pain, and her preference for “intense stimulation” instead because pain can encompass so many things that are not pleasurable. But that is neither here nor there, my thoughts were running along the lines of what am I really? I identify as a pain slut, so masochist is obvious.

But I also top violet wand scenes, delight in watching him giving others intense sensations and find entertainment in my own intense sensations causing distress in others. Does this make me a sadist? The latter two are not me inflicting pain or sensation, just enjoying the results of someone else doing so. When I top electric scenes, I am not doing so to cause pain. I enjoy making people squirm and squeak, but usually I’m trying to ticklish spot. I do not go for the screaming and the expressions of pain. It is intense stimulation, I agree, but I’m doing it to teach and share my experiences and enjoyable stimulation. I do not get joy out of Causing pain and am hesitant to even try, though I can be enlisted as restraints, tickler or biter.

So, perhaps, I’m a voyeuristic sadist, enjoying watching the pain of others and occasionally being a tool to assist in the causing of the pain. I think part of that also comes from knowing how much I enjoy the sensation they are receiving. So it is a sympathetic or empathetic enjoyment, as well as enjoying the interactions for themselves and the people involved.

I think I will stop there for the moment. I have another topic to write about, but it is much bigger and more personal. So I’ll post this as it’s own post, and work on the next one separately. What are your thoughts on fashion, pain and enjoyment?



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Gifts We Return

January 6th, 2010

In retail, the Holiday season ends on December 24th, and the Return season begins on December 26th. But that’s not what I mean, I don’t mean things you get that you don’t want. Things you get two or three of that you get rid of the extras. I want to talk about gifts that make you want to give back to the giver.

BDSM for me, involves a great deal of this. The care my parters take of me. The love and joy they give me. These are gifts, I give them in turn. The scenes my partners create for me are extraordinary gifts. I am rarely the driving force, but my submission to his will, my energy in the scene, my writhing and squealing and gasping, all give back to him.

In this line of thinking, the question “do you deserve it” always causes problems in my head. If I’ve had a trying time, and I really want the scene to make me feel better, I am quite tempted to say Yes. Yes, I deserve this, after all I’ve done, all I’ve suffered, I deserve this happiness. But there’s also the little submissive in my head saying No. No, I don’t deserve anything, I’ve done bad things, I’ve not been perfect/compliant/obedient enough. Which isn’t quite right, either. The truth usually is No. Gifts are given freely, there is nothing I can do to deserve it.

When such gifts are given to me, I do my best to give back as much as I get. There is no way to measure such gifts, but the shared love and joy we have in the giving.

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