It all began at our regular munch. Glancing briefly in my direction, he proceeded to explain how he had decided that he would like to explore the possibility of nailing someone’s breasts and hands to a table. So cheeky. He laid the bait. And he knew I would swallow it hook, line and sinker. Whilst everyone else shared their distaste at the thought, my curiosity perked up. An image began forming in my mind. I raised my head from my lazy afternoon slumber, basking in the sunshine on my towel, like a cat.
Tell us more, I asked. He smiled. He knew he had me lol.
It’s not something I’ve ever done. However, the first time we played together, we recognised a kindred spirit in each other. His Sadism is the exact Sadism that my style of masochism absolutely adores. And it seems my style of masochism feeds his Beast. In all honesty, whenever we come together it feels like we’re little kids. There is a playfulness and curiosity that comes out for me with his style of play. A joy. He finds true joy in torture. And I find true joy in being tortured. We laugh. It’s fun! It feels like we’re going on an adventure together into the unknown… and we are. However, we are venturing in as informed, mindful, consensual adults.
As mentioned in my previous blog. From that moment, we began negotiating. I researched every way I could think how, to find any information that might be useful, and thankfully had some very wise contacts from my old community who I knew would be able to guide me well. He researched as well. Way more in-depth than I thought to. We came together frequently to check in and “compare notes.” Also to determine that we were moving towards being on the same page (literally- with a document typed up that we would sign on the day).
And so it happened. We were ready. I rocked up on their doorstep with my aftercare bag of goodies, we sat down and had a catch up and chit chat, signed our contract… and then the fun began!
There is nothing in this world more satisfying than having something turn out better than you hope. The joy in finding people who find pleasure in the same things as myself is just inexplicably intoxicating. An afternoon of laughter as he proceeded to nail me to a table, one nail at a time, checking in with each and every one, that I wanted to continue.
I don’t go into subspace when I experience pain. I become super alert. Super focused. Hyper. High. My heart bursts with happiness. It’s moments like this that I do believe I’m a masochist. Or perhaps, one in the making. It’s this type of play that brings me to life.
Creative torture. I feel so guilty saying that “out loud.” However, my body truly never feels more beautiful than when it’s bearing the marks of a Sadist. I looked down at my breasts and for the first time ever they looked truly beautiful to me. Droplets of blood. Puncture wounds. I couldn’t stop staring at the holes between my fingers. Mesmerised.
Had I really, truly just endured having nails hammered through there?
Such subtle, beautiful marks, that no one knows are there but me. I love them. I feel most me right now, in this body that allows me this gift to both give and receive. It has been way too long.
*does happy dance*
