HappyComeLucky

Eyes pleading with need. The sturdy belt brought to you ready. What will happen next?

Recently I read a story with a similar scene to this. Except in the story, the pleading was for mercy. With me, the pleading would be for a beating.

I am sure that you know this already, but I am a masochist. I am fascinated by my own delight in pain. I know others who have explained their enjoyment of being beaten as being about submission, or enduring it, or enjoying the bruises. I know many who have a preference for certain types of pain, be it thuddy,  stingy, or sharp. I enjoy hearing or reading about the relationship  that others have with pain and comparing it to my own.

One of the best things about getting older is the way that I have been relaxed into being me. I used to over think wanting to be hurt far too much. Originally, I rejected that aspect of me completely as I feared that it was a sneaky way of indulging in some sort of self harm. I had to be completely confident that it had nothing to do with that before I could explore.

My over thinking continued in my early explorations. Trying to think my way through being ready, what I should do and whether I would be ‘good enough’ for the person dealing out the beating. That level of thinking meant that I was often tense and was often too busy thinking about other things to clear my mind. That meant that I could not fully relax into it and that made it harder for it to go really well.

One of the wonderful things about playing with different people is learning so much more about myself. I no longer worry about whether I will be good enough. Now, I happily ask or beg for beatings and relax with anticipation  and delight into the blows. I have the confidence in myself and my body and I trust the people I play with to respond if I ask for more or ask for a breather.

One thing that I don’t always remember to do, is to warn the people beating me that I enjoy it so much that I am very likely to end up joyfully cackling with each blow. Apparently it can be quite a surprising experience.

The other thing that happens is that I get turned on. Pain makes me aroused and also intensifies my orgasms. Pain can be the thing that pushes me over the edge. Pain can be the way that my favourite sadist can make me come in a public place as I ride the pain and the endorphins.

I love pain and I miss being beaten. One of the amazing experiences of 2020 was a caning that managed to be the perfect tempo and intensity. During that caning, I rode on more and more waves of endorphins and every part of my body responded. I was surprised to realise that more than just being aroused, I could feel everything building in me. Fortunately, the person beating me understood that the noises I was making were good ones and to keep going. He carried on and at the point when my response to each blow was still resonating through my body when the next one landed, I rode the crest and with a few more impacts I came. Sometimes, I wonder if I dreamt it but luckily, I only have to talk to the person who caned me and the other person who was watching and we have that fantastic shared memory.

Maybe one day, I’ll write a post collating some of the other ways that I have come through pain.

My name is Honey and I am a greedy, masochist slut.