All pain is not equal
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking… DUH! Of course the pain of stubbing your toe in the middle of the night on your way to the bathroom is different from a hefty bottom slap from a trusted play partner. That’s not what I meant, though.
Even within the kink realm, pain is always in flux, as is tolerance. Pain from a strike in one area can deliver a blissful burst of endorphins, whereas a strike just a few inches away can make the mind explode with agony and panic, even if you know it’s coming.
Wanna make it even more complicated? Throw in the “one person’s pain is another’s pleasure,” and you have very tangled webs through which to navigate.
Y’all know by now I’m pretty much a bottom girl/upper thigh girl; I don’t welcome pain elsewhere. However, in the last year or so, I discovered that I love to hate the occasional “thigh turkey” — the single slap to the front/inner thigh that blossoms into a hand print. And in Vegas, as evidenced by photos, I took a bit of thigh punishment, hand only, leaving marks that lasted for over a week. Steve, of course, was fascinated by those pictures. (uh oh…)
I hadn’t seen him last week, so it was wonderful having him back yesterday, catching up with everything. We had our usual intensely delicious OTK hand spanking, during which he so admired my new underwear that he wanted to get a picture of it:
Moving to the bedroom, I was still full of sass. I don’t know why, but it seems that every time he tries to raise my window shade, he has a hard time with it. After he’d fumbled with it for several seconds, I said, “It’s a shade, not particle physics.” Yeah, that went over well.
He declared it “leather and wood” day, pulling out several implements of each variety. During the leather phase, he kept expressing his appreciation for the cows who provided such fine toys. “I love cows,” he mused, which made me retort, “You should be careful where you say that — in certain parts of the country that could be misconstrued. Do you love sheep, too?”
Aaaaand then we moved to the wood — specifically, that @#$%ing licking stick that I hate so much. He brandished it at me, making sure I saw it, and said, “THIS is for your mouth.” To which I answered, “You want me to suck on it?” I never know when to stop, it seems.
But daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn — I had zero tolerance for that thing yesterday! I don’t know what happened, but I could barely take it. I couldn’t lie still, I twisted and squirmed and pleaded for him to stopstopstoppleaseplease. Granted, that thing hurts like hell, but usually, I can absorb it. Yesterday, I couldn’t. Fortunately, he then moved on to the wooden paddle and the spoon (fortunately????), and I handled them a little bit better, but not much.
“You’re off your game today!” he teased, lightening up a little. I was. It happens sometimes.
Then it was time for a little experiment. He had me roll onto my back, and as I faced him, he gently stroked my thighs and said, “We’re going to enhance this area a little.” Enhance?? Oh, crap.
He gave me four brisk slaps with his palm, two on each thigh, well spaced out. I jerked on the bed and fisted the spread, but I was able to let them sink in, feeling the sting and warmth spread.
Then he tried the implements. Lightly. It was the first time I’d ever let anyone do that, and if it was going to be anyone, it would be Steve. But I knew, instantly, that this wasn’t for me. The pain was bad. I don’t mean good/bad, love-to-hate-it bad. I mean just plain fucking BAD.
And I gasped, “Yellow.”
That was a first, too. He heeded it immediately, of course. I didn’t want him to stop, but I did need it to be even lighter. So he picked up the spoon, which was the lightest of the implements, and gave me a few gentle taps. But by then, I was done with this, and he could tell. He put everything down and gathered me up into his arms. I then blurted, “I didn’t like that!!” and burst into tears.
“We won’t do that again, ever ever ever,” he murmured to me. “Thank you for trusting me.” I did. I do. I had been curious, but now I know… except for the occasional “turkey,” thigh fronts are out. At least for implements. There was nothing sensual or erotic or in the least bit pleasing about that pain, for me. It was teeth-drilling pain. I suppose if I were into pure punishment scenes, that would be what’s called for. But that’s not how I roll.
After I’d calmed down, I told him it was OK to take a few pictures. Always the exhibitionist…
Don’t worry… the bottom got plenty of attention too.
We will be switching to Monday for the next two weeks. Next week, because he has a work commitment on Tuesday. And the following Monday is my birthday… he says he wants to see me/play with me on the exact date. 🙂 Christ, another birthday. Didn’t I just have one??
Tomorrow, lunch and post-party recollections with Alex and SpankCake!