pain – Page 4 – Contemplating the divine

Repent at leisure

My repentence, her leisure.

I often suffer from pain during my SO’s sexual activity. Usually in the same room, but not always. Her reaching orgasm sometimes brings relief from the pain – temporarily at any rate – I’m glad to say.

Visiting a domme can be a very spiritual experience.

Oh well. No real harm done

The lovely Divine Mistress Heather, who in real life I am sure always makes sure her slaves get exactly the voltage they need: neither more nor (most certainly) less.

See? She’s not a vicious, unfeeling sadist at all. She’s a considerate, empathetic sadist. They’re the worst.

The one on the back’s quite long. I was told it describes in detail the ways I am blessed.

Boys will be toys

Maybe I’m just hungry… I expect she’d say that’s because she’s feeding me too often.

Lots of men find it quite hard to turn a woman on, sexually, but if you’re ever lucky enough to meet a real hard-core sadist, you’ll probably find that just doing whatever comes naturally pushes all her buttons in just the right way.

And she’s having sex for both of you now, so it’s quite a lot of work.

Nasty words can leave an unpleasant taste in the mouth.

Bob’s shortlisted for an Oscar, I understand, now. If he wins, I wonder if he’ll put the credit where it is due in his acceptance speech? Behind every successful man, they say…

Painful conversations

Lots of men don’t realise that ‘mere’ words can cause pain. There are words that I have spoken on occasion that have led to quite astonishing amounts of pain, sometimes almost immediately.

See: this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about. One minute you think you’re having a pleasant conversation, and…, I dunno, maybe there was something that upset her or something, but when you wake up you’re naked and gagged, upside down in a canvas sack bumping along a country road to goodness knows where… I guess it’s a Mars/Venus thing.

When they next see Trevor, I expect they can ask him how the special effects wizards manage to make the torture and murder look so realistic.

Thank goodness all that’s behind me.

Poor thing. I expect he has no idea how much pain she’s been going through, the heartless bastard.

Yeah ‘trodden’. It is a ridiculous language, actually. Perhaps Gal could give me a few Hebrew lessons. I’m sure I’d be a very conscientious student.

Fear and loving

They go together so well. More common than you might think.

In the – very unlikely – event that it does start giving you punishment-level shocks, there’s a helpline you can call that’s open every single day between 10 and 4, and usually only has a very short waiting time. So… nothing to worry about.

That’s the thing about a good thrashing with a cane: it’s so straightforward. You know where you stand (corner, usually).

And there’s some lubricant in case any chafing symptoms emerge, for whatever reason.

Don’t worry: she’s planning to consummate the marriage. Just not with you.

I’ve always thought the mens lib movement would be much more effective if they just recognised reality and put a woman in charge. But they like to try to do things by themselves, bless them.

Soft power

Of course, an average can be brought down quite a lot by just one bad review. Especially if that’s from the only date you’ve ever been on.

Mmm…. looks like you just became a premium product! Something to be proud of.

She wasn’t a huge success as a nurse, to be honest, especially when she did a stint learning how to administer pain relief, which turned out just not to be her thing.

Obviously
successfully navigated that tricky moment towards the end of the date,
when she eases her shoes off, settles back and you have to decide
whether it’s appropriate to ask whether you can masturbate while
kneeling in front of her and sniffing her feet.

I expect he’s forgotten all about that time you ate his dogfood too. I mean, that was Mistress’s fault really, but he wasn’t to know that.

Ladies who leash

Seven days in already, so counting down the days from 21 that’s only 14 to go? Or 83 if it’s 90. Whatever.

Oh, I think – with all due respect – Madame Sarka is being unduly harsh on English, here. But then, she’s really good at being unduly harsh.

Actually, the taste depends a lot more on what it had to eat a few hours earlier.

Sometimes she fills the bag with ice, so as he’s sweating in the heat there, he gets some lovely cool drips of water. Usually, though, she doesn’t.

I’m not worried. Just terrified.