A friend's writing inspired my blog today.
Yesterday, driving home from lunch with my Master, I brought up a topic that is not easy for me to discuss.
Fear. It's not easy because in a way I'm afraid to admit to fear of being hurt. I'm afraid that if I admit to finding something scary he won't do it. And that is completely stupid and backwards thinking. It has no basis in reality because from all the evidence, the fear, the trembling anticipation, is his favorite part. Or perhaps I just don't like to admit how well it works on me.
Sometimes, when I know he plans to hurt me, I am afraid. He makes me wait, alone in our room, naked, kneeling, perhaps holding the implement to be used on me, getting wet at the thought of it. The anticipations builds. We both know that if he changed his mind I'd be horribly disappointed. I likened the fear to the thrills of a roller coaster ride when you know it is about to plunge you down really fast and you're going to scream. But it is more than that, so much more, because I crave this kind of pain. I wake up thinking about it and I go to bed feeling it, if I'm lucky.
The nipple is still sore today. "Something to remember me by", he says. I'm going on a little trip this weekend, all by myself. I'm trying to put a positive light on it, but I don't want to leave home, don't want to be away from him at all.