The sharp, sweet sting of Her love

I lie open to Her, exposed and vulnerable, and, as always, still trying to be the warrior, despite my exposure.

She stands before me, strong stance, commanding eyes, steady grip on the flogger.  The chaotic world is still swirling around me, reaching for me, tugging at the sleeves of my attention, making it’s unending demands.  The first hard lick of the flogger forces those grabby fingers away, narrows the world, until it only holds Her and me and the sling I’m bound to.  Throw by throw, She peels away my other concerns, chases away my demons, creates this space that leaves no room for confusion or chaos.  Her movements are mesmerizing, poetic, dance moves that leave red-flared pain in their wake.  And Order.  With each sharp blow, my mind becomes more ordered, more focused and clear.

Temporarily, a calm eye appears within the storm of my life,  created through canes and floggers, fingernails and clamps.  Pain and focus.  Clarity and purpose.  Command and service.  Sharp color spreading over the bland grey-beige and insistent grabby voices of life.  Within this orderly bubble She creates, I have the freedom to be controlled.  You may wonder, where is the freedom in being told when to come and how to stand, and how high to jump?  It is the freedom from responsibility, if only for a few precious hours.  It starts when my Sir puts Her collar around my neck.  The world begins to narrow, my focus automatically shifting to Her.  She takes on the burden of being in charge, I gratefully leave the burden behind.  The feeling of lightness is immediate.  I feel energized, stronger, younger, anticipating and embracing the challenge of what is to come.

I don’t meditate well.  I need help clearing my mind and coming into the calm center of me.  My Sir brings me clarity and focus.  Pain and order.

*Thud!* Her flogger hits me squarely on the shoulder blade and knocks away some cluster of work related concerns…

*Thud!Sting!* cut edges on the falls catch me like raking fingernails across the backs of my thighs and there go worries about what will happen the next day…

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!* a series of paddle strikes across my ass clears my mind for several minutes, not even sure I could recite my social security number at that point, much less muster any sense of responsibility for paying bills or repairing major appliances…

*Owwwww! Arrrrggggg!!* clover clamps, old friends and enemies, bite into my nipples, chewing their way to the center of my attention… the rest of the world falls away for several, blindingly painful moments….

*TingThwack!TingThwack!* Her cane plays high pitched notes of sharp anguish across my inner thighs and calves, and suddenly,  I’m flying high, unconcerned about any noises I might be making, hips rising without shame, body and soul roaring and surging in time with the skillful baton strokes of my Conductor

I don’t know what it looks like from the outside, within moments of entering the dungeon with Her, I stop caring what other people think about what we’re doing.  It’s all about Her, all about rising to the challenge, all about abandoning my uber-control, giving it to Her.  She makes me feel like a warrior – fierce, strong, loyal, worthy of the time and attention She devotes to me.

In the end, She sits me down, packs up the gear, cleans the apparatus, pets and praises me lavishly. We sit together and come down from the high, still wrapped tightly together with looks and soft words, Her warm, strong hands letting me know that I am still under Her protection.  I am so proud to be Hers, so proud sitting within the swirl of the dungeon, knowing without question that I have the best Sir, that I am the luckiest boy.

So do you still wonder why I do this?  Why I crave these experiences with Her?  You’re kidding right?  Who wouldn’t want to be treated like the greatest warrior ever, given progressively greater challenges to prove your worthiness and then have love and admiration lavished on you by a beautiful, intelligent, powerful woman?  It gets me higher than any drug I’ve tried, and feels 100% times better afterward.  And then there is the relief of being able to shed the responsibility for making sure the world doesn’t fall apart, even for a little while.

My body doesn’t mark for long, not visibly, but it holds the memory of every moment with Her.  I may not be able to meditate very well, but I can mindfully call up those memories and feel the thud and the sting and the caress of Her attention at any moment.  These are my treasures, gifts given from Her generosity and wickedly fertile mind.  And, though the act of gathering these gems is unbelievably good, it is absolute magic to call them forth, time after time, and relive those moments whenever the need arises.  And believe me, in the chaotic, cacophonous, messy swirl of my life, the need arises quite often.

Pain and order.  Service and purpose.  Clarity and focus.  The sharp, sweet sting of Her love will always be my favorite drug.

 

This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.

This entry was posted in bdsm and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The sharp, sweet sting of Her love

  1. Pingback: Even Better « Uncommon Curiosity

  2. Witchy Woman says:

    Dying…just a little bit…

    mmmm is that so? I’d love to hear more about it… K

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *