Kinky image - 30 days of kink

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I need a different mindset

I need a different mindset. A lot of what I write here is about me. That has several reasons:  I can't presume to know what the people I interact with think, feel or want. And I don't want to invade their privacy by describing here what they do and what they think, say or feel. But it is also because I am very busy thinking about myself.
When I displease one of my Masters (My state changed recently, MrReg has decided to share me with someone, but that is the topic of another blog. Maybe), I am upset because he is upset with me. Or angry with me. Or annoyed with me. Or displeased with me. Not because I displeased him. Or upset him. Or made him angry with me. Or because I annoyed him.

 

 Realization

Today I was running. When I run I think a lot. About work. About my relationships. What is said to me. What it means. The other day I was told I was being selfish. I realized that after not talking to him all day, I was thinking about him. Not about how I felt about him, but how he might be feeling and I was genuinely upset because I disappointed him in a time like this. Not because I disappointed him, but because he was disappointed and displeased. The fact that I was the person who did that makes it worse, because I am supposed to be dedicated to him. To serve him. And to want to please him. Not please him because it makes me feel good. But please him because it makes him feel good.

I need a different mindset. And I am working on it.

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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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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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What I remember

Memories have always fascinated me.  
 

Missing memories

When I was little girl I suffered from a concussion. I was on my way to school in winter, and was sliding on little hills and playing around. At a certain point I fell and hit my head on the frozen ground. My sister walked me to school and the janitor brought me home in his car. My mom called the doctor. I don't have any recollection of this at all. But I have vivid images in my head when I write this down. Like memories. Even though I know they aren't. They feel like real memories.

Same event, different memories

When I was an adolescent, my parents divorced. My mom, my dad, my sisters, my brother, me, everyone has different memories of it, even about the order of events.  Similarly, After Mr Reg and me visit friends or a new place, he will talk about things he saw there. I remember conversations I had, things people have said to each other and the presence of certain people. We know we were at the same place at the same time, but we remember different things and remember the same things differently.

Reappearing memories

I wrote about my first kinky sexual experiences in a previous post. The thing that doesn't seize to amaze me is that the memories of my kinky sex life disappeared completely. Mr Reg and me started in a vanilla relation, and I slowly forgot the kinky things my former boyfriend used to do. Not deliberately, but somehow it happened anyway. When Mr Reg and me started to be kinky in the bed room, it did not come back to me. Only after meeting someone else, who asked me about my fantasies and previous experiences, these memories came back to me. Not all at once, but slowly. And I realized I had more experience than I knew. It felt like I reinvented myself, but a healthier happier version than before.

New memories

I have a very active mind. However, I am very bad at remembering names, or even faces. I am not a visually oriented person. If you take me to a city, I won't remember 90% of the places we visit. Not that I don't enjoy it, I just don't remember. But I do remember parts of the conversation we have during that trip. And the feeling it gave me being with you. If we have sex, I might forget what your body looks like exactly. But I will remember what you whispered in my ear. And how it felt to be with you. What we talked about. When I think of you, I think of your presence, your energy. I think of the things you have said to me. I think of what you feel like. And then, but only then... I might think of what you look like.

Obviously, I like to look at gorgeous bodies just as much as the next girl. But what I remember, that is a completely different story and very personal..... memories have always fascinated me.



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Am I promiscuous? You tell me!

Promiscuous

1. having many transient sexual relationships
2. demonstrating an unselective approach; indiscriminate or casual

Am I promiscuous? Let's see...

No I am not

I used to be, before I met Mr Reg. I wrote about that in a previous post. I am not promiscuous anymore: I don't have many transient sexual relationships. I do have more than one sexual partner, but in general they are not transient, they last over a period of time. And I don't have many, just a couple. And I most certainly don't demonstrate an unselective approach.  I don't want to have sex with just anybody. There needs to be something that attracts me. There are things I like, and things I don't like. These things can be physical, mental, psychological or behavioral. And I prefer situations where there is a click and we meet more often than just once.

Yes I am

If you look at it from another perspective, I am very promiscuous. Compared to most married women, I have many sexual relationships. Because the norm in our society is one. And these relationships can be considered transient if you compare it to a 15+ years marriage. You might say they are casual: I don't expect anything in return: I am not looking for something specific, or a commitment. I don't have an intense relationship with my other sexual partners, compared to the relationship I have with my husband. And in some situations I am indiscriminate: if Mr Reg wants me to have sex with someone, I have sex with that person. No questions asked. And in my (one time) experience with a gangbang, I demonstrated extremely unselective and casual behavior: I was not very interested in the people that were participating (fucking me). I simply enjoyed the experience and the feeling of being used.

You tell me

I have been married for 17 years now.  Our marriage has evolved from a vanilla relationship to a M/s relationship. I don't think I could be more dedicated to anyone than I am to Mr Reg. I love meeting new people. I do have other sexual partners. They are not committed to the relationship, and neither am I. I do value them, as I described before. I hope they last for as long as it works out for all people involved. They all enrich my life in their own way and I appreciate that. I enjoy every aspect of it. It makes me happy. Thinking about it makes me smile.

So........ you tell me: am I promiscuous?




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The play area of the cabin was located where the dining area used to be. It was small, but very well equipped: a sling, a spanking bench and plenty of hooks to tie me up. After exploring the cabin, I was told to undress. A couple of hours later, our friend arrived.

They threw me over the spanking bench. My hands were tied to the legs of the bench, then my feet got the same treatment. I could not move and my ass was exposed to them. They took turns beating me. Sometimes with their bare hands, sometimes with a whip or cane. It was hard to submit to it, because the two men used different rhythms and force. I tried to relax my muscles and concentrated on their voices. They were talking to each other sometimes and to me at other times; after a particularly harsh blow or something that startled me. Sometimes they would caress me, instead of beating me. The feeling of their big hands on my hot buttocks felt great. They checked every now and again to see how aroused I was by sliding a finger in my pussy. It was hard to tell whose finger it was, only if they commented I knew who was touching me.

They put me in the sling and blindfolded me. Taking the beating on my breasts and pussy proved to be very difficult. I tried to avoid the blows and became very restless. Being exposed like this made me feel extremely vulnerable. They told me to lie still and stop moaning. I tried but failed. They untied me and Mr Reg went looking for some needles. He handed them over to our friend. The thought of the needles sent a surge of panic through my body. I was standing close to him and whimpered "No, please, No". I stepped away, with my blindfold still on. He answered threateningly "What are you saying? Are you saying no to me?!?" I immediately stepped back into his reach "No Sir I am sorry". He grabbed my hair and told me to hold still while he stuck the needle in my breast. I submitted, I was no longer fighting it. I was completely relaxed and floated away.

It turns me on. Whenever I think about his reaction to my plea. Immediately, like a button being pushed. Writing about it, has the same effect ...

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