Tuesday, January 11, 2011


i am far from perfect. But, even knowing that, i know that my Master loves me, even though it's not something "required" of our relationship.

Every now and then, what i see as my imperfections cause this cycle of self-depreciation. Tonight, for example - Master and i had the opportunity for a chance to play. i was strapped down, and while Master thumped implement after implement onto the bed, i had no clue what He had planned. When He started it felt like His goal was to wear my skin off through various beatings...from the thud of leather clad hands, to the obnoxious sting of a kite stick turned mini-cane or the sting of His bare hands, i squirmed and tried in vain to escape.

One of the strangest things about being me is my brain and my body are not always in agreement about what is pleasure, pain or any intermingling of the two. Master laughs at me and often ignores my brain while following the cues that my body gives Him. Meanwhile, i'm often frustrated because even though i know i've liked the sensation in the past, i'm not enjoying it in the moment, or even able to find head-space where i can at least cope with it. Tonight was one such evening. While my body was busy experiencing pleasure, my brain jumped from each impact, lurched into a myriad of emotions. When Master was satisfied with the shade of red covering His property from tits to thighs, He turned me over and began again.

And again, my brain and body didn't agree. Even though Master, throughout, had been reinforcing His satisfaction with how well i was doing by telling me i was His good girl, i didn't feel like it at that point. In fact, i was feeling horrible because every four or five impacts on my ass i had one singular thought . . . "i want to punch Him in the eye." During the percussion strikes upon my body when i wasn't concerned with getting my hand loose to punch my Owner, i alternated between guilt at thinking about attempting to hurt my Master, struggling to cope with the beating and searching for the endorphin high to fall into sync with my body's desires...

And i couldn't. i cried from the pain, but didn't achieve a cathartic release.

Master fucked me afterwards, even though i had confessed my horrible thoughts - and it was during the sex that at least a few of those lovely stress reducing tears fell from my eyes...

And i didn't punch Him in the eye at the end of it all. Instead, i'm circling this mess of emotion, wondering why i cannot keep my heart, body and mind all of one mind (snort) about what i signed up for when i accepted a life without choice.

With a sore bum.

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