Showing posts with label kink of the week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kink of the week. Show all posts

Saturday, February 22, 2014

It all started with a crop

The first implement that Mr Reg bought to hit me with was a crop. I distinctly remember my excitement when he used it on me. It signified a rite of passage: we moved from an experiment with rough sex to the next stage; he was buying things to hurt me as part of our sexual relationship.

That first time he took me to the attic and tied me to the beams using handcuffs. We had never played there before. I was horny from anticipation, worried about what would happen and feeling very submissive. The pain of the crop landing on my skin startled me. I was very tense, making it hurt more. He hit my pussy with it, and my ass. I think I screamed a little and after a while Mr Reg stopped. I felt relieved and a bit disappointed that it was over at the same time. He did not hit me very hard; I don't remember any marks or soreness the next day. I do remember feeling extremely submissive and a bit confused the days after the session.

It was in the stage of our relationship where we did not discuss any of it yet. I had no idea that Mr Reg bought it. Or when. Or in what store. It is amazing how far we've come. As I was writing this, I realized I don't know these things and asked him about it. He bought the first one in a erotic shop, where they sell toys. Later he ordered some online at a riding apparel store. It may sound trivial, but talking about these things is very important. It leads to conversations about our feelings. About our relationship. I no longer feel blocked when it comes to talking about sex, my body or my masochistic and submissive personality.

Later Mr Reg bought a number of different spanking tools: whips, riding crops and canes. I learned that the pain of the crop was one of the milder ones. And that I like pain. A lot. The crop won't send me into subspace. But it hurts enough to feel focused. The sound is scary; the impact painful and a relief at the same time.

We started to play with other people. Sometimes Mr Reg joins me, sometimes he sends me off by myself. When I meet other people by myself, I am often the one who is supposed to bring the toys. The crop is always one of them. The crop hurts enough if necessary, but it can also be handled by someone with less experience or who is less sadistic. My backpack has a special part where you can put a hockey stick. It is perfect for crops ;)

As I wrote in my last blog, I am shared between Mr Reg and Master. As it happens, the crop is also one of the first things Master hit me with. Every time we meet, I bring it with me. Along with a black rod. The black rod is made of fiber glass (or so I am told by Mr Reg). It hurts very much. It feels like punishment. The crop is the reward. Painful but good. Hot. An instrument to control me.

Obviously, if Mr Reg or Master feel like it, they can turn this wonderful instrument into a nasty painful thing by hitting me so hard I scream beg them to stop. Especially when they hit my pussy with it.

The crop and I have a long history. I look at it with fondness. It was there from the beginning. And hopefully it stays with me for a long time to come.




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Kink of the Week

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Pondering hoods - Kink Of The Week

I distinctly remember the first time I saw someone wearing a hood. It was a beautiful slave, at a party. Her master had her on a leash and she was wearing very high heels. The hood was made of leather and covered her head completely. She could not see anything. She completely depended on him for guidance. She was very calm and he was very nonchalant, walking around with her casually. Tying her to a post sometimes, showing her off. All I could think was: "I want a hood like that".

The next time I saw hoods was when I was in California. A good friend took me and his slave to some stores. One of them had the biggest collection of hoods I had ever seen. We were shopping for a kinky dress and I was too shy to tell them I wanted to try one of the hoods. So I admired them secretly. They looked great. Leather hoods, latex hoods, gas masks, hoods with openings, hoods without openings. Just looking at them made my knees weak.

A hood shows form. It is round and smooth. To me it shows perfection. I love looking at people wearing hoods. I can't keep my eyes off them. You know there is a person inside. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is the perfect form and the complete surrender of that person to his or her Master. Giving up their personality, being anonymous. I want to touch the leather. Or the latex. Or whatever fabric it is made from.

I love hoods. As I wrote earlier in the post that lists my kinks, I love wearing hoods, even more than I like watching people wear them. It makes me surrender completely. I don't have to watch out for what comes next. I can hear everything much clearer, but more distant at the same time. When I wear a hood, I know all my imperfections are hidden. All I have become is a body. It calms me. Lately I have come to a realization though. I tend to withdraw when I surrender. When I am wearing a hood, I can concentrate on the other person for a while. But soon it becomes harder and harder. I register sensations, but nothing else. I can't interact anymore. I can't talk coherently. I can't think. I just am. It feels great. I am in subspace. It feels like I am in heaven. But it is really difficult to serve someone well when I am in that state. I can't focus on him. I can hear, but not really understand. I can obey, but not concentrate. He can use my body, but not count on my mind. Which makes me wonder. Why do dominants like their subs and slaves in a hood?



Saturday, July 13, 2013

I love canes

Kink of the week: Canes

The first time Mr Reg took me to play somewhere outside our home, I was spanked thoroughly. His friend put me over his knee and worked my ass for a long time. My buttocks were glowing and warm. I was excited. I had submitted completely. Next, he tied me to a vault. My arms and feet against the legs. I could not move and was blind folded.
My first caning
The pain from the first blow startled me. I felt a rush of adrenaline flow through my veins. Then the sting followed, right after impact. That was pure pleasure. I don't remember how many hits I received. They were aimed at my ass and my legs. After a while I was told I would receive three more. I felt relieved and disappointed at the same time.

 

 Where it hits me

I love the feeling of the cane on my ass and legs. However, I really don't like feeling it on my outer thighs. For some reason it doesn't sting there, it feels damaging. The feeling I get the second after the cane hits my flesh is one of destruction, not pleasure. It hurts in a bad way. Obviously my inner thighs are even more sensitive, but being hit there has an erotic aspect to it. The worst thing is being hit on my feet. I run as a way to workout and to clear my mind. Being hit on my feet feels crippling. Even if done lightly.

I hate thick canes

Mr Reg bought a cane soon after my first caning. And then he started buying more. Thicker canes, fiber glass canes, rubber canes etc. I don't really like thick canes. The feeling when I get hit is more thuddy, not stingy. It feels like I might break. One day we had another date with our friend. When we came to his hotel room, he showed us the thick cane he brought with him. It really scared me. He hit me with it, and it was really difficult to handle the blows. Only after hitting me with something else putting me in a light form of sub space, I was able to handle the hits. Thinking about that one makes my heart beat faster and I become excited just thinking about how afraid I was of it. I love being scared like that...

The really thick one left some marks

Why I love canes

I love canes. I love the stingy feeling right after impact. I love being close to the person that handles the cane. Unlike whips and other implements, canes require the other person to be close. And because of the shape and form the person using the cane can really control how it will hit me: how fast it hits me, how hard it hits me, where it hits me. I love the swooshing sound it makes and the sound of the impact. It is a symbol of punishment. That excites me. Even though I have never been punished with it. I think I like the feeling too much for that ;) And last but not least I love the marks that it leaves. The two red stripes with white in the middle make me smile for weeks after being beaten with it. I love canes :)

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Kink of the Week

Saturday, July 6, 2013

My ambivalence towards marks

Kink of the week: Marks

The first time I was caned I was appalled by the bruising it caused. After a while they faded (but not before turning yellow and purple and all the other ugly colors) and what remained were the cane marks. I loved those! They looked very different compared to the bruises: neatly aligned in a row, on my ass and legs. All the same color: two red stripes with a little white line in the middle.

This basically has not changed. I don't like bruising but love marks from a cane or sharp things. They remind me of the event, the person who caused them, the feeling it gave me and it somehow serves as a measure of the pain I endured.

Marks just after the fact

Hiding at home

One problem with marks is the kids. We are pretty open in our house. The bathroom door is almost never locked. When I shower, the kids walk in all the time. To brush their teeth, ask a question etc. When I am bruised, I need to make sure they don't see it. I walk around in a bath robe, need to get up early to make sure I shower before they wake up, and make sure my clothes cover my bruises.

Dating and going out

I date other people apart from MrReg, as I described here. Obviously all people are different, so some people I date are not into pain and don't like marks. A couple of months ago I planned a play date. Usually I end up with plenty of marks. Mostly on my ass and my legs. The timing was bad though; a couple of days later I was supposed to go on a date with a friend who does not like marks. There would be no way I could hide them so I asked MrReg to go easy on me and not to mark me. Thankfully he agreed and I could go on my date unmarked. A similar situation ended differently: right after a play date that would leave me marked we would go to the sauna. I expressed my doubts to MrReg but he did not think it was a big deal. This time I would have to go out with the marks. In the sauna I wore a towel around my waste most of the time, to hide my bruises. According to a friend, it looked like I had been in an accident. I was very self conscious, because my legs were so bruised. Not neatly marked, but black and blue. Under normal circumstances I like being in the sauna; looking at people, being looked at by people. This time I enjoyed the company, but not so much the sauna experience of being naked.

Showing off

I don't like bruises. I don't like looking at bruises. But, if I see a sub or slave with marks and bruises, I envy them. I wonder about what caused it. What the occasion was. How they interacted together. And I like to show off my own marks. To other subs and slaves. As a trophy. To sadists. As a token of my masochism.

Body

As I said, my feelings about marks are ambivalent. I was not going to write for this weeks kink of the week, because marks are not a kink for me. However, the other day a friend made a remark that got me thinking. He said he would like to see me marked. As an aberration. Which made me realize something: it is not about what caused the marks, it is about what is marked. It is about my body being altered. Temporarily of course. But still. Maybe that is really why I have conflicting thoughts about marks. It has something to do with the ambivalence I feel towards myself and my body.


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Friday, May 3, 2013

Face slapping

Kink of the week: face slapping

As I wrote on my list of kinks, I like being dominated and I like pain. Face slapping mainly falls in the first category: to me it is part of being dominated. It makes me feel submissive, vulnerable and horny. This has two reasons: First of all, it is very up close and personal; especially if you compare it to be being spanked from behind on the back or the ass. When Mr Reg slaps me in my face, he is close physically and looking me in the eye. Using his hand. Second, being slapped in the face scares me. If he slaps me too hard, he leaves a mark. If he slaps me too hard, he might hurt my brain. If he slaps me while something is in my mouth (like his cock), he might hurt my jaw or teeth.  Face slapping is dangerous; as Frugal Domme puts it in this post: you can't do it safely you can do it safer.

Being slapped in the face makes me feel submissive, vulnerable and horny. Mr Reg slaps me in the face for different reasons: sometimes to grab my attention, sometimes to punish me during play. Some people find it insulting, but it never has that effect on me. It feels more like a reprimand or a claim. As soon as I feel the slap, I can feel my body relax and my mind submit to him. I like the burning feeling on my cheek, but I dislike the feeling of my brain hitting my skull or my teeth against his hand.

Being slapped in the face makes me feel submissive, vulnerable and horny. Because of the danger, it excites me. Because it is so personal, it makes me very aware of Mr Reg and the mood he is in. I am completely focused on him. Waiting for his next move. Wanting to comply or accept whatever comes next.



Kink of the Week