Fyi I have updated my About Me section linked at the top of the page with a somewhat detailed account of my first and only BDSM play session in my 20s before I met my Princess.
My Princess seems to be laughing more nowadays. At me (to my delight). We were in the supermarket yesterday and she told me to get on my knees in front of her. I did a double-take because involving non-consenting others (at a supermarket!) is not cool at all but she continued by saying that I need to retrieve her coffee creamer which was on the bottom shelf and set back in the refrigerator. As I retrieved the container, with my face necessarily very low to the ground so that I could reach far back into the refrigerator unit, I could practically hear my Princess’ kinky thoughts as she moved her open-toe shoe closer to my face. I was tempted, but was not close to actually kissing her toes due to the non-consenting others issue (a very important issue).
It was just a few seconds of fun but as she was giggling, as though she had gotten away with some evil naughty deed, I commented “Imagine being at a BDSM party where we wouldn’t have to stop short like that!” A few hours later, between whacks from the assorted instruments she struck me with while I was restrained spread eagled face down on the bed, she teased that she should have made me kiss her feet in front of everyone. It isn’t easy for me to listen while trying to withstand the pain but I manage to hear most everything she says, as long as it isn’t too complex. Maybe someday, some year, we will be able to exhibit some public displays of humiliation (pdh) at a BDSM party where others may join in with laughter at my expense. Does wanting to make others laugh make me Henny Youngman?? (How is that for an old-time reference?)
Last night my Princess also expressed something else interesting as she was whipping my back with the belt. I had turned my head to watch her enjoyment which is clear from the expression on her face and care she takes in strapping most every place on my body. Damn that stings. As she kept whipping me she said with a tone of wonder “I don’t know how you could enjoy being beaten like this.” I replied with vehemence, trying to twist my body to emphasize my words, “I do not enjoy being beaten! I just want to serve you, Princess, and I just want to be caressed like I’m a slave pet.” As the blows continued, in pain I cried out in futility “I want a sensual Domme!!!”
All of what I said was bunk, of course. Or actually at the moment it was true, the paradox of not wanting to be tortured but loving when my Princess tortures me, but even I had trouble keeping a straight face this time. My Princess had been out of town for a week and even the poor victimized pet inside of me experienced unconfused enjoyment being with my Princess. A bit later she snuggled against my body as I was restrained face up spread eagled, and before I managed to cop a free feel of her behind (due to the angle she was lying next to me) she was giggling. I was in pain and whined “What is so funny? I am in pain!” but that just made her laugh even more. I say to her pretty much the reverse of what she says to me, I say “I don’t know how you can enjoy the pain of your loving husband!”
A couple of nights ago I was brushing my teeth getting ready for bed when my Princess appeared unexpectedly right outside of the open door. Like one of those horror movies I jumped a bit and I could tell that something evil was going to happen. I gave a very half-hearted and insincere effort to close the door but it was too late. She looked next to the sink and found small pointy scissors, and I knew that my goose was cooked. However, there isn’t much she can do with scissors except threaten, since blood play is beyond our limits (soft limits, I think), so I just stood there to take my medicine. She pushed her arm against my back so I was pressed against the sink counter area and couldn’t move much as she carved her name into my back. Owww, but I thought we don’t want blood! I didn’t say that out loud, though. In truth, I would be okay with going past that limit but only with something sterilized, just picking up something sharp and poking me with it would not be safe, I think! When she was done with her carving and my groaning she lifted her knee and pushed me over her knee and the sink as she gave me a brief OTK spanking. Not to tempt fate or anything but I think that my behind can take more than her bare hand can give, the laws of physics dictate equal force and all of that, and I imagine that giving a hand spanking hurts both participants (?). Once an implement gets added to the mix, though, I’m toast.
Anywho, the next day when I showered I could still feel the scratches. And last night before my Princess started using the impact implements on me, she enjoyed seeing the scratches on my back, fingering them and sort of cooing over her handiwork. I felt like an object, my body a canvas for her sadistic enjoyment. When I gave one of my “poor me” style whines she asked me if seeing the scratches in the mirror freaked me out, although there was no blood at all, and I responded that I hadn’t looked. The situation reminded me of how a very experienced sadist who might enjoy leaving all sorts of marks talks with an inexperienced sub to coax him through a painful experience, or how a torturer makes it clear that enjoyment will occur regardless of a victim’s considerations. I loved that dynamic because I want my Princess to have maximum sadistic enjoyment at my expense. To me the psychology of BDSM is more important than the physical aspects, though the physical certainly adds to and is pretty much necessary for the psychology (for me).
On a different topic altogether, I also want to make a comment about now finally there is an openly gay player on a US major professional team sport. I am not LGBT but I have hidden my BDSM-ness and other aspects about myself (including my atheism) because of the intolerance of others. I have almost no respect for those who discriminate against others. I am very intolerant of intolerance. I have sat with strangers who looked around to see if a minority was close and then someone in the group would whisper an awful “joke” about a minority. I have heard many anti-gay and anti-trans “jokes”. I even hear anti-atheist remarks strongly implying that without a belief in a god a person must not have any personal morals. These sorts of comments have always turned my stomach, even when I was around 6 years old. Fortunately, I would only hear these insulting remarks in groups of people I don’t know (and why they think it’s okay to talk smack about people around me is beyond my comprehension), I can’t really say what I’d do if someone I knew made an offensive remark like that. I believe that I would stand up and tell them what I feel, that their insulting remarks suck. I read today that the legendary “old school” football coach Vince Lombardi knew of gay players (plural) on his 1968 team and even commented to the coaches on his team that “And if I hear one of you people make reference to his manhood, you’ll be out of here before your ass hits the ground.”