His home

This post is set about a month ago. I wrote it on the train back to London. For context we live around 400 miles away from each other. We had seen each other 2 weeks prior to this for my graduation and a night of living out some of my most depraved fantasies.

Still covered in welts and bruises, my nipples still showing evidence of much loved abuse I sat on the train assuming I knew what would happen during the next 4 days. I had agreed to be his slave. Truth is, I had no idea I would feel the way that I did. I was still on a high from seeing him two weeks ago, still loving the whimper of putting on a bra across my beaten nipples, but I felt as though I had not seen him in months. A smile never left my face throughout the three hour train journey, all of which was spent checking my reflection and texting him. I could tell he was ad excited as I was and that was the most amazing feeling.

As I got there I was told to always sit on the floor, I was not allowed on the furniture without permission, because I was late, in the beginning I was the furniture. During the last two weeks he had acquired some new toys. Thee studded wooden paddles and one deceivingly pretty kitty dragon. My arse instantly marked and bruised and it was a pain I had not really had much experience with. A whip was a quick harsh sting. These paddles delivered a harsh sting from the studs but a lasting thump from the wooden paddle. I quickly fell into a love hate relationship as I accustomed to this new dimension of pain.

I welcomed each blow, I welcomed the lasting pain from each time I sat down because I needed it. I needed him. I’m not writing this post to talk about the different feelings or levels of pain from each toy. This particular blog was written because I realized something about myself I did not really understand until he pulled me close to him and sat me between his legs. It is not hard to admit that in the past, while we have always talked and we have eaten together, when we see each other we play. However in this instance this was 4 days of us, the mundane tasks such as watching tv or waiting for him to come home from work. so insignificant an event but it evoked a sense of belonging. As he watched tv and I sat cuddled between his leg and he occasionally ran his hand through my hair. Or as I sat on my knees in the hallway waiting for him to come home and the smile on his face when he did, the call for me to go to him. No need for a whip, a belt, a wand, a paddle or a clamp I belonged. I wasn’t there purely to be beaten or for sex. I was there because he wanted me there.

I did know I belonged with him before this of course, that is something we both knew a long time ago, our relationship isn’t conventional but it works for us, always has, always will. It was the power in such a small touch distracting from a normal activity that showed me we are so much more than just play partners.

Of course we did play. Even now as I write something that was set a month ago my body is still covered with faint marks of one of the most extreme scenes we have done. I will leave you with the image, tied, unable to move on all fours, anal hook, whips, leather straps, paddles, snap dragon, kitty dragon all implements I had felt before but all in a quick and lasting succession until we both knew I had broken. He lifted me up and I laid in his arms and cried and drifted away.

Is it too much?

I mentioned earlier about the list I was sent and instructed to fill in and the sheer horror that possessed me when doing so. However as the months progressed and the number of times we could meet increased, we were speaking everyday. It was so different, so new. I mean he just got me. I could tell the man anything (even that I have a slightly disturbing knowledge of serial killers), and at no point did it feel like he just accepted it, he liked it. He liked me.

This in turn inspires confidence to tell him that my opinion on some things had changed. To tell him about the beautiful detailed fantasies I was having at night. Fantasies that I’d have never dare speak of before. Dreams of being used, of being whipped. Dreams of being broken. Now I’m not about to sit here and say to you that I woke up one morning and decided I loved pain. What I am telling you is as your experience grows and you drop all the walls you have naturally built through passed experience and natural inhibitions, you start to realise things about yourself, things that have always been there you just never understood them or how to express them.

With regards to my growth however I am going to speak mainly about masochism as this is a part of me that I believe has grown the most since I entered this world with him. The greatest gift he gave me was the access to my true self. In any important relationship be that with a lover, a family member or a best friend you will notice that things change. Probably why girls think if they spend so much time together their periods will sync. Sorry.. Off topic, but what I mean to say is embrace it! Embrace yourself, do not hold back because you will only regret it. 

Now, every time we have played together it has been a memorable experience and I always take something away with me, but one particular scene sticks with me, as the first time I really started to accept that I was some what of a masochist. I had just been punished because I could not remember all my positions.. seriously, I have THE worst memory ever. I was on my knees and rope was keeping me in a very compromising position with clamps on my nipples and rope cutting into me as I moved. The wand (vibrator) pressed against the rope brought pleasure along with a need to move which brought pain. Amidst these sensations new elements were added to amplify the pain and I heard him say four words… Is it too much? It was in that moment that I realised it was not too much, not at all. I loved that it hurt, I wanted it to hurt more and he delivered. That is the short hand version of the scene but as I said that was the first time I had acknowledged that I enjoyed the pain. Speaking with him now, it’s the first time he realised I enjoyed pain and he could develop and grow his sadistic desires with me. It was a special moment we shared together.

I will speak more in detail about masochism in a later post, this post was just about my journey into acceptance. My coming out as a masochist not to anyone but myself and to him,