HappyComeLucky

I’m always bold enough. Brazen enough. Some would say, too brazen but I always show up and I will always give things a go.

My biggest fear is letting people down and I know that there are a whole spectrum of ways that I can do that. Because of that, I am always vigilant of all the ways that I am not good enough.

I am ridiculous lucky that people choose to play with me. Some people even choose to let me top them. I love it. I love it in ways that are too hard to put into words BUT I am not very skilled at it.

Firstly, although not diagnosed as dyspraxic, I have hand eye coordination difficulties – although at school, I was better at hitting things that throwing them (maybe there is something there). I’m definitely more of the ugly duckling than a graceful swan. None of this helps to build an mood and a scene.

Luckily, as an utterly kinky, filthy, pain slut, I know people who are rather fabulous. There is one person who I know can craft the most intense scenes and leave me grinning for days afterwards. Incidentally, I trust him to break me. If I want to learn, I want to learn from someone like him.

One thing I do know is that while I’m soaking up every impact and floating like the greediest pain slut in the world, I don’t take in details about how he is hitting me for me to learn. So, I added the delicious addition of a kinky pain slut who also gets off on being used and objectified.

I’m not going to lie. It was hard. I was embarrassingly out of my depth. He creates moods that take over and make me just want to please him. That magic worked on our toy for the afternoon too. For me, it pushed me further into knowing that I was almost a joke and that the difference between where I was and good enough was a chasm. I half expected to be told to get dressed and go, leaving them to it.

What do I do when things are embarrassingly difficult? I giggle or joke. I got a harsh thwack of a reprimand each time. It took a lot for me to pull my focus and not just default to “beat me please”. Honestly, their patience is outstanding.

There are some toys that I am scared of using. There are some toys that I am happy to use. And, of course, there are some toys that I will beg to have used on me but would like to hide so noone can ever ask me to use them on them.

The belt is one of those toys. I know how much it hurts and makes it hard to continue if it lands on the side. I am in awe of people who can use it consistently and deliciously. I was honestly close to safewording when I was told that I would be beating her with a belt. I had to dig really deep not to panic. The fear that I could lose both these friends if I totally fucked up (this may not be the reality but fear isn’t rational.

I focused. I studied how he did it and tried to work out how my tiny 5ft frame would be able to mirror that action. My first attempts were those of a wimp, a nervous mess, and they fell badly which made me want to apologise for about a year.

He didn’t let me stop and she didn’t run away from providing her gorgeous arse as a target. I tried again. And again.

The thing about the belt is that there is no hiding messy impacts – because when it does hit right it makes a noise that crack that shouts out to the world. The moment that I heard that sound, and the sound that she made and “Yes, that’s it” from him, it was as though something had been unlocked.

After a few more, something changed. I was no longer holding that belt and taking aim with the apology ready and the long established knowledge that I might be lucky and it might not be bad. I was poised, my breathing calmed, my eyes fixed where that belt was going to land, and I knew exactly what sound I was going to force from her. I knew he was watching and I knew he would be able to genuinely nod and say that was definitely good enough.

After writing all about using the belt, I’m sharing a picture of my own very caned arse. This is how I am the day afterwards the session. It ended with him deliciously and harshly taking me to pieces with a cane – because you can’t risk building up a Honey Domme and then not putting her back in her place afterwards (also, can you imagine me not craving a beating after all the deliciousness that happened in that dungeon).