Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Love, Terror

So, as we've shared, Master took some vacation time and we had a stay-cation. There was lots of awesome. Time for play, time to watch some of our favorite TV shows together, and time to spam FetLife with buckets of pictures and videos (at least on Master’s profile). It was awesome.

One night Master threatened me with the stun gun. He uploaded a video of me rolling around on the floor, trying desperately to get away from the thing. Something we all run into in the kink community (and on FetLife) are folks who don’t see why we might be enticed by something, and edge play, especially of the terror & fear variety are widely looked at with…disdain…at best. In fact, a FetLifer commented on said video: “That just looks wrong. There is nothing but terror in her eyes.”

Maybe we need to state it in our profiles, or slap it on every picture, but Master and i are edge players – we do think of RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) when we play – but we play on the edge, really hard, and our favorite is psychological: terror, fear, phobias. Because we have known each other so, so, long, and have built our trust to run deep and strong, i feel safe playing with my fears and terror with him. i trust my Master with my life, in a way that i will (probably) never trust anyone else. So we play with those deep, dark corners of power exchange.

i get off on being terrified. i want to be afraid. i blatantly tell Master all of the things that make me scared (okay, most of the things), in the hope that he will find a way to use them against me. When he bought the stun-gun, i told him the noise was scary; and i was rewarded by seeing the sadist’s eyes glimmer with delight at the thought of my fear. We have had that thing for two years, and he’s never once touched me with it when it was lit up. He just turns it on so i hear the snap and crackle, and makes me think he’s going to pop me with it. Someday, he will pop me with it, and then maybe i won’t be afraid of it anymore. That actually makes me sad. So right now, whenever he pulls it out, i soak up the terror it instills, i drip with terror, wondering if this is going to be the time he actually makes contact. i let my body experience the desire to enter fight or flight, while my brain realizes there is no where i could go (or would want to go) to escape, and there’s no chance of winning a fight. The best part is that Master gets off on it, too. He likes making me afraid, likes seeing me squirm and plead. He likes that when we have sex when terror play is involved, i am dripping the evidence of my arousal. He even likes putting me back together after he’s taken me apart like that. It’s what we do, and i think we do it well.

That night was hard; he really did take me apart, between the stun-gun, the electro-sex box, and the things he said to me while he fucked me. i was a sobbing mess, it was hot, and i can’t wait for the next time he can make me so terrified that people i don’t know would be able to recognize it in my face.

After, he told me i was a good girl. He touched me and held me. i examined all the nooks and corners of my brain and found myself at peace, contented, relieved, in the wash of a cathartic release from the terror. Some people get that from the floggers and the whips, but for me, the best cathartic releases come after terror.

So plainly put... i <3 terror, and so does Master.

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