I Used to Be

Thinking about submission is always a weird thing for me.  I think about where I’ve been and where I want to be.  I think about what I’ve learned and what I still need to learn about myself, the universe and the person I will ultimately serve.  One of the things that has tripped me up over and over again is envy.  I’m sure you are wondering what I might be envious of considering that I seem pretty even keeled as of late and am back to enjoying my best single submissive life.  There a few things that stand out.  The first is those people that found their person at the right time and in the right circumstances and they are still happily together.  I’d like to have that at some point but I’m not burning things in effigy and praying to moon goddesses to get it.  It’s just an acknowledgement that I’ve figured out the tragic bad timing relationships.  Would enjoy an alternative story line for a change.  The second and what sparked this writing was bruises.

A million years ago, one of the things that caught my eye about kink were the bruises and marks that were left behind after a scene.  I found it fascinating that adults could willingly undergo enough “abuse” at the hands of a partner to leave visible signs and that they would happily share evidence of that “abuse” with other people.  I would envision what I would look like after a session with a sadistic partner and it would make me wetter than a hot shower.  I will admit to being attracted to men who liked to inflict pain because I just knew they would give me those badges of submissive/masochistic honor I so greatly desired.  I thought those injuries would prove my devotion to my partner.  And I really wanted to be able to have a secret under my very conservative clothing all day when I was at work.  The problem then as it is now, is I am good and chocolate and my skin really doesn’t bruise.  Maybe when they have to hunt for a vein to do some blood work but other than that, nothing is really ever clearly evident on me.  That made me dread I’d never have those badges of honor I so desperately wanted.  And then I met Emperor and he was convinced he could bruise anyone.  To his credit, he succeeded.  It took a long time and I was unaware of how floaty I could get when being hurt as this was my first real foray into spankings.  It also didn’t happen immediately.  It was a day or two later that I noticed some purple discoloration on my ass.  I was so tickled y’all.  I let him know right away and he was whatever the Dominant equivalent of tickled is.  Those bruises lasted about a week and honestly I don’t remember having any others for any real length of time.

To be fair, there’s a point when people want to fuck me thus bruises become less important than my flesh being marked up.  But that pang of envy would invade my spirit each time I saw some bruised and battered body.  That was especially true because those sadistic men I’m attracted love those images a lot so I see them through my interactions with the men I want.  It would make me feel insufficient because I couldn’t give them those marks.  I could be willing and pliant and take all of their force but my skin would be just as blank when they finished as when they started.  I may wince when I sat down or limp to the bathroom because the cuffs were tighter than we though but not a splotch or scratch or even slight indicator that they had unleashed their frustrations on my prone body.  It felt like I was failing them and I couldn’t fix it.  I like being a chocolate drop.  And I could take more pain but it wouldn’t change anything.  I had to stop and remember that trying to compare my body and my reactions to anyone else was not going to do anything but drive me crazy.  One of the benefits of melanin is that our skin works differently that other folks.  It’s not thicker nor do I endure these sessions pain free, but it absorbs the pain.  I may have melanated sisters that bruise up but I’m not one of them.  After I finished sitting with that and realizing my body couldn’t do that one thing but it was capable, happily so of being fisted, deep throating things that probably shouldn’t in there and pulling off a triple penetration like I was just rolling out of the bed in the morning then I made peace with the lack of bruising.

Don’t get me wrong.  I still would love to give them that tribute in particular but I cannot.  I’ll give them my degradation.  I’ll give them my dehumanization.  I’ll give them my perpetual nudity in their presence.  I’ll give them my body to use and abuse how they please.  And that gift seems more than enough.  I mean it has been thus far.  And I can keep expanding on that gift depending on the recipient.

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