thinking [marked] thursday

I like the bruises…
On my inner thighs.
Circles of bruises, marking what’s His.

On my bottom.
Solid or speckled bruises, various shades of black, blue, and purple, reminding me with every movement that I am loved.

On my legs.
Small, light, indented bruises, the lasting evidence of a day apart, helping to soothe my soul.

And I never thought I’d say it, but I also love the cuts…

On my back.
The tiniest of lacerations, stinging in the shower, letting me relive the moments again and again.

On my ass.
Single drops of blood, pinpoint nicks against the whitest of skin, blatant evidence of limits erased.

On my arms.
Conspicuous scratches, whispering our secrets to those that would see.

I like all of the impact…
I like the hurt. I like the sting and the thud and the heat. I like the spreading and the melting. I like taking more than I think I can. I like when it stops being pain and sends me higher. I like the escape. I like the floating. I like the release. I like the lasting marks. I like that Sir does this to me. I like that He likes it. Mostly, I just like to feel it.

Sir, thank you for letting me feel all of it.

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Happy Thursday.
~shygirl

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Bruiser

I am a bruiser.

I’m do not mean that I am a fighter, but perhaps long ago I was.  I mean…I bruise, somewhat easily.

On any given day, I have bruises that I could not tell you where they came from.  I’m a little bit clumsy in my normal life – door frames are forever jumping out at me and the floor… well, the floor is my biggest nemesis.

I don’t want to talk about those bruises.  I want to talk about my other bruises – the ones I get when Sir and I play.  Many times, they don’t hurt; sometimes, I cannot pinpoint the moment they occurred.  A firm grip, a hard spanking, a love bite – all of these things can, and have, left me with bruises.  No, I don’t have a disorder. Yes, my iron levels are good – I am just made to bruise.

Here’s a little secret:  I like them.  My bruises make me happy.  They are a blatant reminder of my submission, my pleasure, Sir’s pleasure. They lift me up when Sir is at work and my life is nothing but vanilla.  I wear them with adoration and pride.

At first, I think, Sir wasn’t comfortable with marking me. He apologized! I asked Him to not feel bad and explained in detail how much  I like the bruises.  That was an odd conversation, and I’m not sure He totally understands why I feel that way, but for the most part, I think He is over feeling bad about them.  I hope so.

The bruises are usually faint – a light shade of purple – nothing out of the ordinary for me.  Except for that one time, a real punishment spanking… one of my butt cheeks ended up black and blue in spots.  Those bruises really hurt!  And those bruises were my favorite.  I thanked my Husband repeatedly for them and relished the bite of pain every time I sat down.  yum.

As I write this now, I have four bruises on the inside of each thigh – knee to kitty, perfectly spaced, each leg a mirror of the other.  They are from His mouth – when I look at them, I can still feel him biting and sucking.  Maybe they are my favorite.

Just goes to show what a LONG way we have come over the past year – we are definitely a part of the D/s-M “club” for the rest of our lives… my bruises tell the tale.