Confession: and not my own
petunia in pain's picture

So, while waiting for my new apartment to become available, I have to live with a family member that knows I'm into bdsm.

I have some pretty impressive green brown bruises and cat scratches all over my arms from boxes, falling kitchen appliances and angry feline, such is apart of moving. I have told her before, visible bruises were never apart of our deal, I have a job y'know?

I'll give it to her, she waited less than 1.5 hours after my 2 day drive to ask to see the bruises I received at my session with my friend before I moved.

So as I dropped my jeans and showed her the bright purple stripes across my inner thighs, some wider than my thumb some elegant slices of color... she said "that's all?".

I had relief and disappointment in my heart. I forced my face into relief. "What did you think", I said? She said, "you don't have scars on your back, that's it"?

Hmm. I guess, I didn't explain my relationship with my friend, nor what makes me aroused, not that I wanted to get into too much detail.

She then asked, what was used? I told her a cane about 3/8". She seemed soooo disappointed (relief for me).

My disappointment came as I realized she had no idea what I went through to get those seemingly "minor" bruises. That with each strike, my ears, eyes shut off as my skin and electricity of my vagina were turned on full volume; then the slow warmth of my body absorbing the strike. It was bliss.

I did not tell her that description, but it makes me wonder. We've all had accidents that we thought would turn to a bright brilliant bruise and they didn't, and we've all had bruises appear as if aliens attacked us in our sleep with no explanation, but my treasured purple friends on my thighs were earned.

Whether a vanilla, and a skeptical one at that, appreciates my session and it's results is hard to say. At least I know that I cherish that burn, fade; a reminder every time I use the restroom and pull my pants down, rest my elbows on my thighs, or my cat wants a place to rest and paw at my legs; that was a great session, I accepted and earned the strikes and bruises happily! Smile

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Mister.E.'s picture

Re: Confession: and not my own

Sometimes the badges are more visceral. Sometimes, purely mental. Nut either way, they are reminders of time well spent.

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