the right side of pain

I find myself in the bathtub, water cooling off, wishing there were someone I could talk to. Longing for a somebody to share the deeper aspects of my life with. I have Sir, yes I do, and He is my favorite and there is nothing I cannot tell Him. But I mean… A friend, a commiserator, a person in the lifestyle. Then I remembered – I have a blog where no one knows my day to day. A place where no one can judge me because yeah, they don’t know me, but bigger than that… The people aren’t there to tear me down. They can relate or they cannot. They can offer insight or they can offer solidarity. We aren’t in competition, and I cannot lose. But on the best of days, I can gain so much! 

I missed this. I have missed writing like this, anonymous but somehow my truest self. I stepped back because… Life went sideways. The last day of May, life as I knew it imploded. The months since have been hard. Soul-crushingly hard, but I am actually really thankful. It took all these months to realize that the struggle with our daughter has been the shittiest experience, but also a huge blessing. 

It’s hard to say that. It shouldn’t take the threat of a child’s suicide for a mother to recognize the ways in which she’s failed. But that’s a thing that happened and I am forever changed. 

However… That is the WRONG fucking side of pain. Wrong for her, wrong for me,  wrong for our family, wrong for Sir, wrong for D/s, wrong for life. That is the destructive, sinking, WRONG side of pain.

But there is a RIGHT side of pain. Once you pass that hurdle, you turn a corner, you face the ugly truths, and you come out better… That’s the right side.

Like when… 

Your Sir is raining down blows from the cane, warming you up, steadily increasing the force. 

Maybe you are wiggling, the room is getting too hot to take. Your mind cannot get away from all that shit in your head. You might tell Him you can’t take anymore, that really, seriously you are done. But you don’t safeword. No, not quite to that point, but you might be thinking about it. 

All the while your Sir continues bringing that cane down, telling you what a good girl you are and reminding you that you ARE already taking it. 

And then it happens… That one word, that one strike…  That moment that everything gives over. Your mind blanks on anything but the present, your breathing slows, you take in a shaky breath, and you are there. 

You are in the moment, you are nothing and everything, and you are confident that there is nothing you can’t take. You don’t fight or protest, you still and absorb it all. Each time the cane hits, it is love and desire; the most perfect symphony in all the world. It is overwhelming and it is freeing and you will probably orgasm because it is all just so good. You, Sir, struggle, defeat, victory, orgasm. And when that coveted pain brings you to a higher level of being?? That is magical.

That is the right side of pain. 
Happy weekend everyone. 

~shygirl

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thinking [i like it] thursday

I live to be over Your knee.

Restrained within Your limbs.

Naked, vulnerable,  bottom in the air.

Your hand warms my flesh.

Kind caresses, gentle tickles.

Sweet, but we both know why I’m here. 

Your big hand lifts up, higher.

I wait for the impact, needy, impatient.

When I’ve given up, Your hand crashes down. 

I jump, I cry out, I wiggle on your lap.

You are steadfast and strong.

The onslaught begins.

Rarely a pattern, I think You’re afraid I’ll get lost. 

But tonight, I might get lost anyway. 

Left cheek, right cheek, center.

Center, left cheek, left cheek.

It’s so startling, but soon enough I calm.

I sink into it, tears threatening to fall.

Far too quickly, it’s over.

I want to be Your good girl, but I want more.

I think I need it.

Before I misbehave, You speak.

Bend over the bed.

I comply eagerl, listening to your retreating footsteps.

You return before I finish that thought.

Smackthud! The floggers hits hard.

Between my shoulder blades, causing me to flinch. 

Down my back, across my ass, the backs of my thighs.

And back up again. A beautiful, painful pattern this time.

Tears flow freely from my soul.

I’m not crying due to pain, but because of love.

Long ago, I explained this to You.

I never want you to worry – or to stop.

You tire of the flogger and pick up something else. 

Cracksting! The whip.

I was floating a little, but I’m back on the ground now.

This bites. In such a good way. 

I love the marks, the blood just at the surface. 

My back, my ass, my legs are on fire. 

I think I can’t take anymore, but I’m so glad I do.

Shortly, the whip joins the discarded flogger.

You pick up something else.

Thudboombloom! Ah! The metal loop.

The contrast between this and the whip is divine.

I don’t want it to stop, ever.

I want to float away, but You want me here.

I struggle to stay planted. I become still.

I am quiet. Living a full life within each strike.

It’s never long enough and tonight is no exception. 

You stop the torrent of blows.

But before I can protest,  politely of course…

You slam all the way into me.

We are one and I would do anything for You. 

You are my air, my water, my life.

A pump or two and I am gone.

Yours, and nothing else.
~shygirl