Freedom

I’ve always known I was different. In movies where someone sinister was getting up close and personal with a woman, I found it fascinating. I’d play stories in my head where that was me. Forced kisses and face slapping were far more interesting than love making or anything of that ilk. I didn’t want to read or watch romance; I wanted horror, thriller, movies about overcoming challenges.

I always thought something was wrong with me. When I discovered BDSM I knew that was a place to start, but I had no idea what direction to go. A part of me craved submitting willingly; another part wanted to challenge and be forced to submit. All of me wanted pain.

I am fascinated with the healing marks on my body, the welts and bruises and sometimes cuts that appear and prove what happened was real.

I struggled with that. I was told over and over that the reason I was like this was past abuse. that it was wrong, that it was a symptom of sickness inside of me. A part of me believed that.

At least until I began having paingasms (orgasms from pain). And I realized it was the easiest way for a partner to get me off. It was cathartic and beautiful and would leave me languid for days. And when I had the right balance of pain and sex in balance, I too was in balance with all the various parts of myself. There was peace in my mind, stillness in my heart. For the first time in my life, I was free.

Wicked Wednesday… a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Writing can be hot

I’m already not doing great on the updates. However, I have written over 100k story-wise in less than a month. It’s been a whirlwind and I’m quite proud of myself, having often started and not finished long pieces before.

The problem is, I sometimes make myself too horny with my own writing. I’ll write a torture/rape-y scene and be all hot and bothered. Then I have to cool down. It’s been great for my inspiration, not gonna lie. However, I’m not writing a -new- piece and it’s gonna take some build-up to get to the fun stuff with this one. I’m dragging my heels, missing my smut.

An excerpt:

She shouldn’t be doing this; she was afraid of him. Tom was a monster masquerading as a man. A striking, awful monster. But she couldn’t bring herself to care as he finished unbuttoning her shirt and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, sliding both articles off. She waited for his hands to return but when they didn’t, she peered up at him through her lashes. The weight in his eyes made her shudder.

“Aren’t you going to…?”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, but he didn’t move. “I’m not a gentle lover, pet. You understand that?”

Her heart was pounding in her throat. He wouldn’t damage her; he’d made it clear he wanted her kept at a certain wellness. And his hands had felt so good. She nodded slowly, licking her lips. A low, confident laugh rumbled through him. He still hadn’t touched her and looked askance at him once more. “Show your willingness then.”

An attempt to come back…

Since last posting, I’ve:

Broken my tail bone (March)

Graduated College (May)

Had a car quit while driving (also May)

Started working as a professional submissive (June)

Had a roommate move in (March)

Turned thirty (March)

Anyway, I’ve decided I may as well start blogging about my experiences more. It’s crazy to think it’s been more than a year.

Have a picture.

Sinful Sunday