A friend recently asked me about kink and impact play and bruises.
“What is it that you like about that if I may ask? I wonder what goes through a guy’s mind?”
As often happens when I am asked questions like this my mind immediately jumped to several answers that kind of got my point across, but with reflection I thought that maybe I could expand on those answers and inflict them on the 6.75 readers this blog has. So here we go..
It is that I am giving her what she wants and needs because it is what I want and need.
Now after reading this again I realized that it could be taken as mean that she want and needs it simply because I want it. That isn’t quite right. In a bigger picture sense it can sometimes be true that my desire for marking her can fit with her need to submit and accept the marks to please me, and that has its own pleasure. However my next response might bring things into clearer focus.
That her submission isn’t just accepting that but reveling in that.
For me this can be even better, the act of submission that is her showing me how much she needs and desires this. Lifting her bottom to meet each stroke. moaning in pleasure spiked with pain each time she is struck. Knowing that we fit in this very specific way.
That we both find joy and pleasure in each other.
Fun right? We do all remember that this isn’t work? We do this because we enjoy it, it turns us on, it is fun. Even when to most it wouldn’t seem like fun it really should be. There should be smiling and laughing and joy and pleasure between the pain and the tears and the humiliation. But maybe that is just me.
That I can see her need to submit in her eyes, and her body language.
That whole level of non verbal communication that goes on, a look, a movement a gesture that show as plain as spoken words that heightens the whole experience for both of us.
The pride in her marks and her pride in being owned by me, and my pride in owning and marking her.
Looking at the marks in the mirror, pressing them to feel the ache, taking pictures to remember them and the sadness as they start to fade. The joy of being owned, possessed used as she was meant to be. My pleasure in all those things as well. Giving her marks and play that take her out of herself and into a space where everything else vanished but the very moment that is happening right now. My pride in knowing that she will use her safeword if she needs to and the control that she has ceded to me. Tracing the pink, hot bruised flesh with my finger tips and nails. The shudder of pleasure that almost hurts as I do that.
And taking her in my arms to hold her and kiss her and tell her what a very good girl she has been. Sheer bliss, well to us at least.
That is what I mean.