I’m difficult to bruise.
I’ve enjoyed being spanked for the last 5 or 6 years, but it’s very difficult to show bruises on my bottom. It could be related to my age, my skin color, how padded my bottom is, or that few men have the patience to get under my skin and dedicate the time to making me bruise.
There’s always this level of jealousy I have of girls with fair skin on tumblr. They end up with these perfect bruises. They start to take on all of these colors. Purple, green, black, brown, and even yellow. On their thighs and on their butts are a rainbow of colors that I just envy.
Michael bruised me.
Last week, at an event, he took the time necessary to give me bruises. The beating took my mind places. It was painful because while I’m a huge spankophile, I’m not sure I’m a true masochist. There was a moment in it where I was feeling out of control, it was so painful, I wasn’t sure I could continue, and Michael would just say two words to me.
“Breathe, kitten.”
There’s something about his voice above me, even as he’s hurting me, that makes me relax a little into the sensations. I melted into the bench below me and tried to ride out the pain. It progressed from sharp pain that hovered over my skin to a deep pain that sank into the muscles. Deeper with each fall of the stainless rod, the last thing he used on my butt.
Can something like this be triumphant after? The way my bottom looked then, already bruised and so sore sitting was hard, made me feel light. The next day was even better, watching the deep bruises that looked gray in the light against my skin, and the shades of black and red was/is marvelous.
A week later and I’m still showing bruises. Black bruises that aren’t as sore, but that Michael has made a point of keeping fresh.
He just spanked one cheek with a paddle and I’m sporting a renewed red spot on my left cheek.
To have him take the time to hurt me, to bruise me, to give me something I’ve always wanted makes me love him more.
