Waxing woes

Waxing. The modern dilemma of walking around looking like you got a bad botox job and clear goop dribbling off your eyebrows and chin.

They make you believe that this is how you’ll walk out…


When in fact this is what you look like


On your face.

I’m currently toting a swollen lip and eyebrows. Cern said I looked like some red oozy thing last night after I got it done. This morning the swelling has evened out more and looks like my upper lip wanted to have botox but failed.

I am not sure I’m going to enjoy this process of finding a new beautician after moving if this is what I have to live with. I may be paying more than double for the same thing in Newtown but at least I don’t walk out looking like my face has been put through a blender.

I’m so glad I didn’t let her near my vagina! Which is now cowering in fear.

I may have to drive an hour to Newtown just to get a wax.

My poor face. And Cern finds this endlessly amusing.

But I still have the upper hand. My pit hair is traumatising him. And I’m not going to wax it. I never quite understood why men get so bent out of shape about hair on a woman in the same place they have hair, yet theirs is ok and ours isn’t.

At least no one at work has doubled up laughing at my poor agitated face. If I didn’t hate ice on my skin so much I’d shove my face in a bowl of it.

I’m so glad this week is over.


Using pain to gain happiness? My personal sadomasochistic view.

I read an article today on I Fucking Love Science (IFLS) about an interesting topic that reached out to me with its headline but failed to deliver in its content. Sorry IFLS, usually lady you wow me this time however you totally went somewhere I didn’t think it was going.

Anyway, the article in question is titled: In Pursuit of Happiness: Why Some Pain Helps Us Feel Pleasure. Feel free to read the article. I’ll be using some excerpts to make my case at least in a kinky way about using pain to make us feel pleasure. Both from a top and bottom view.

We need pain to provide a contrast for pleasure; without pain life becomes dull, boring and downright undesirable. Like a chocoholic in a chocolate shop, we soon forget what it was that made our desires so desirable in the first place.

I think what is being referred to in this is the pain that we go through in life. The losses, the aches, the bumps, the relationship issues… the emotional pain that gives us fullness to our lives. It makes us learn and grow.

But let’s flip that, let’s talk about the other pain that can help you, the physical pain that someone else can cause you through BDSM. I know I’ve mentioned cathartic flogging before and this is but just one spectrum of pain and how to use it to deal with emotional turbulence or to get past some grief or as a way to open up when those of us are so used to being steel traps that don’t let any of our squishy bits show. What does this mean?

Catharsis: a purification or purgation of the emotions that brings about spiritual renewal. (Taken from Webster’s Dictionary)

It means that you can use it to have a cleansing of your soul, or your brain, or your emotional inner workings. Whatever you want to call it it’s been used for years and years and years through various cultures for release of some kind. Apparently some Buddhists even believe it leads to enlightenment.

But what does that mean?

Basically I’ve had this twice only in my whole experience of BDSM in 13 years. How does it work? It works when you ask someone you trust implicitly to take your emotional wellbeing into their hands and give you something of yourself back missing the hurting bits. Daddy once did this to me, not sure if he meant to, but he did. He used a quirt. The hits were relentless. They were continuous. They landed whether I crawled away or not. He took breaks to pull me back down to bending over the bed when I crawled up it to try to get away and would go back to hitting me. I was in tears within the first 5 seconds. I wasn’t tied up. I wasn’t putting my hands up to get him to stop. I only started crawling away when I hit my first pain threshold. It hurt. Like a mofo. And those of you that read my take on my submission know that I have issues mixing my submissive and masochist together. It got to the point where I couldn’t crawl away after a while. I got past the great big heaving sobs as the hits kept landing. My arse went from being on fire to having a super charged line to the rest of my body. The burning sensation spread, my brain took a holiday, I had no thoughts going through my head anymore except getting through the next hit. I felt emotionally wasted. I was a raw open snotting sobbing mess. Emotionally I had no walls left, he broke them all, he pushed me to a place that I hadn’t been in a long time and haven’t been since. A place where you let go of who you are, what you are, your thoughts, your feelings and just feel. You can feel the hits landing, you can feel the fire spreading through your body, the pain ripples as they push out another sob. You feel the air caressing your burning skin as soft as a lovers touch. I guess in a way that’s subspace. But also in a way it’s not. Subspace for me is usually pretty fluffy and not so painful. Cathartic play takes the entire process to another level.

Some people find that confronting. I guess if I saw that at a play party I’d find it confronting. But people play in different ways, no one knows their dynamic.

What I think is really important to remember is that most scenes are negotiated. The d-type and the s-type usually have talked beforehand about what they expect from the scene. What they want from the scene and if it’s in a public play party and they are playing hard, would have approached the DM (dungeon monitor) and explained what is going to happen so that if anyone is concerned and approaches the DM about their play, instead of stopping the scene the DM can explain that their play has in fact been agreed to by both parties and they are aware of it. Which is why I believe it’s really important to approach the event organisers or DM’s if you are at an event and feel a bit weird about some of the play happening instead of approaching the people in the scene itself. Don’t ruin their moment because you aren’t comfortable with it.

So end of common sense talk and back into the using pain as a means to pleasure.

There is good reason to believe pain may be effective in achieving this same goal (of pleasure). Why? Because pain captures our attention.

Imagine dropping a large book on your toe mid conversation. Would you finish the conversation or attend to your toe? Pain drags us into the moment and after pain we are more alert and attuned to our sensory environment – less caught up in our thoughts about yesterday or tomorrow. IFLS article.

What I’ve just described is something that if I let my masochist out, she yearns for it. She begs to be back there, to let go. But I’ve kept a tight rein on that side of myself for a long time for good reason. I think there’s a trap waiting there for the uninitiated.

You see, I’ve known people who use their pain play as a way of dealing with life. They have to be high on endorphins to function. They have to have a play session weekly, or twice weekly to be able to go to work and be a person who contributes to society. It would be easy, oh so easy, to let my masochist out to deal with life that way. To have the pain make things easier to deal with. To let my brain’s chemical imbalance rule my life.

But I can’t. I won’t. I enjoy pain. As Cern will tell you, I run away most times, yet I’ll come back into position when the pain peak relents. Yet unlike Daddy, he lets me crawl away to catch my breath – and that’s not a bad thing at all. It just shows that various types of pain play can be different.

A note, however, that is you do want to engage in this type of play, to really truly make sure that you’re doing it with the right person because you’ll need a few days of hand holding and TLC before you’re “normal” again. Which isn’t normal for most types of play. Usually I walk away and get pretty irky if people want to force aftercare into my lap. However when you’ve been stripped emotionally raw, you don’t turn away the cuddles and pats. The showering of affection and words of how well you did. Cathartic play isn’t just about the stripping away of one’s self-awareness, it’s not like pealing an onion and then walking away. As a d-type your job isn’t over once you put the flogger or implement of torture down. You have to put back together what you tore apart. Or at least make sure that the s-type has the support they need to be put back together again as they come back to their senses.

Like most scenes, this comes in the form of checking in with your s-type. Yet in a cathartic scene checking in resulted in my just sobbing harder. It was relief that it was over, that I made it, that I was still hurting and that even though I was wrapped up in a blanket that I was still feeling the hits as if they were landing.  Just make sure that your s-type has the support. Whether that’s from you or their friends, their lovers, or whoever. And if not, then offer them a cuddle and the option of taking that support from you.

In the cathartic flogging article they mention that both parties need to surrender to the experience. Not submit, but surrender. It’s not the d-types responsibility to “take” you somewhere. It’s not the s-types responsibility to entice the d-type. It’s about letting go all of the expectations and just both feeling the swing, hit. Swing, hit. Swing, hit. Many people say that they usually start by hugging their s-type before play to match their breathing. Once matched and relaxed they step away and begin. I think in a way, it outlines how things will go. It’s not about getting to subspace, it’s not about giving someone a journey, it’s not about anything else but your matching breathing and the swing… hit. As the d-type they have to not let their mind wonder at all, unlike the person getting flogged they don’t have the repeated hits bringing them back to the present. So they need to not be distracted by emotions, or their own reaction to what’s happening to the s-type. Whatever you are feeling you need to be able to acknowledge but not let it later your focus. Don’t stop or change the rhythm of your hits, just keep going. Surrender.

Let me just end with a quote from Officer Wes’s article on cathartic flogging:

There’s a wonderful parable that illustrates the subtlety quite nicely. It seems that when a guest at the monastery volunteered to do the dishes after dinner, the Master said “Are you sure you know how to wash dishes?” The guest protested that he had done the dishes all his life. Said the Master, “Ah, I have no doubt of your ability to make the dishes clean. I only doubt your ability to wash them.”

Joy exists only in the moment. The divine exists only in the moment. Mindful attention allows us to remain in the moment. If you are able to flog in the moment, you will experience joy and quite possibly a direct connection to the divine.

I love that the article differentiates between “heart work” and “head work” and to avoid catharsis to play out some fantasy role-playing. I don’t agree with the fantasy role-playing but I think he hit the nail on the head when he described a cathartic play scene as heart work. Because it’s not just about the heads anymore, it’s about the heart.

An excellent example of how pain may enhance pleasure is the experience commonly referred to as “the runners high”. After intense physical exertion, runners experience a sense of euphoria that has been linked to the production of opioids, a neurochemical that is also released in response to pain. IFLS article.

There’s also a masochists high. And a sadists high. Both similar yet different beasts as they use different methods to get to the same point.

And that’s just one small itty bitty slither of the BDSM spectrum when it comes to play. Especially to pain play. There’s many ways in which we all use pain to gain pleasure. My way is a just a wee bit different to the non-kinky varieties way. And it might be way more fun … ok so I’m biased, don’t hold it against me.

But I think, like most things in life, pain to pleasure is about letting yourself feel and be in the moment so you can let go and experience something different. Whether that be pain from pushing yourself in sport or from something kinky.



Hello little masochist. A little bit of pain on a Wednesday night…

Wednesday night was an interesting night for me.

In a myriad of ways.

We had a gathering, at the Sydney Rope Dojo space for a friend who is going back to America yet again.

Said friend and I had a date a while ago to get together and have a bit of a pain session. However after meeting Cern and the fact that I haven’t been able to stop bleeding has meant that I’ve had to put it off with him, which was a bit disappointing for us both.

On the bright side though he did approach me at said party and said that he wanted to use the dragon tail on my breasts.

What’s a dragon tail? Hmm. This is what it is… It’s pretty much a strip of cut & rolled leather. That bites so nicely when flicked just right.

And me being me, jumped at the chance and nodded my head enthusiastically at him. Yes, please!

So after a while I wondered to the back room and he saw me and wondered over with his leather toy of choice. I grinned and bent over, tipping my head back exposing my boobs. I grabbed a tit in each hand and held them up so that he had a platform to aim at.

The first few times he hit home. I swore. The next 10 hits landed in a variety of areas, from my nipples which caused a reaction of ouch!!! that stung so badly, especially after having my nipples chewed on all week, they were already tender so when I copped a flick to the nipple my eyes watered. I may have done a wee bit of my ouchy dance and taken a few more hits to my nipples before I ran away to take a breather. Those nipple hits were killing me.

I ran back sheepishly. This is why people tie me down. I run away when the pain gets too great and will come back to position eventually. Some find this endearing. Other’s just want to beat the hell out of me without having to chase me down. However he smirked as I walked back into the room and again assumed position. This time I pulled my breasts out of my shirt and bra and used my fingers to cover my nipples so that any hits landed on them instead of my nipples.

Before long he cracked a good one on my finger and I nearly cried. And then said maybe I’ll move over into the light a bit instead of staying in the darkest area of the room. His aim improved drastically once we moved into the light and I didn’t dance, run or jiggle at all but stayed put and enjoyed every single hit that landed. Some had me sucking in my breath quickly, others had me moaning as I exhaled. Oh pain, how I’d missed you.

Before long my breasts were starting to look a bit red and weepy and we stopped. It wasn’t the longest scene in the history of play that I’d ever done however it did open the door to my remembering how much I do love the sweet pain of it all.

I think what I love more is that with the pain comes an act of suffering that most don’t understand. The art of actually not being tied down, or chained up and still holding position. Mentally it’s so hard because every nerve cell in my body is screaming at me to run from the pain. Yet the mental challenge is staying. He told me to stay, so I stayed.


I know I’ve written about the art of suffering before, or maybe I’ve touched upon it for how it relates back to my submission. But I think that’s another post in and of its own.

For now, the draw was for me was willingly staying put, even when this evil man was doing horrible things to my breasts and not running away. Plus after a while the burning pain started to radiate through my entire body and the sharp bites from the edge of the dragon’s tail didn’t make me flinch anymore… instead I moaned and wanted to lean into the hits. To offer more, expose more, give more…

However in a roomful of people I only offer so much. That type of exposure I tend to do in private, especially in a pain play situation. So I held off, I pulled back and after giving him a happy grin and nod, he held off too.

15 minutes of play. Red bleeding, weeping breasts of pain and delicious agony.

I have a scab on my cleavage from where the wounds are starting to heal. I can’t stop touching and running my hands over my welts and blood blisters. I haven’t had such pretty marks in a very very long time and I’m delighting in them.

Cern seemed to find this all very interesting and maybe even bizarre. I don’t think he’s fucked many masochists. For someone who says he isn’t into pain, he’s coming around to enjoying watching me suffer for him though. He says it’s because of how much I enjoy what he does to me, so for him it’s about pleasuring me and not about causing me pain. The causing me pain is a side effect of watching me enjoy said pain. Which is an interesting way of looking at it to be honest.

For me, my sadism is partly about making sure that my bottom is suffering for me but sometimes it’s not about them and it’s about me wanting to hurt them how I want to hurt them and them taking it, breathing through it, sweating through it, crying through it and still meeting my eyes after the pain recedes to show me that they are with me, they are ok, they want more…

Isn’t it funny how different people process things differently? My sadistic side to his… I find it endlessly fascinating.

And he’s found spots on my arse that hurt. Like really really fucking hurt. My sitting down now requires great concentration from me because my arse bones are right in the two spots that he squeezes like he’s squeezing lemons. No bruising but he pinches the muscle to the point that I’m squealing and nearly crying from the pain of it all. Little does he know that if he told me to stop moving I’d hold still so he didn’t have to fight me while I tried to run away. But I’m not giving him that nugget yet… although if he reads this I’m done for.

I also got offered to have a friend of mine hurt me when I wanted it, which is nice because I was starting to run low on sadists and he would be perfect. Especially since he gets that it’s not a sexual thing for me, but purely the pain power exchange. So I’ve been seriously considering his offer.

Plus I have a date with Daddy in a few weeks, although that one is causing me some trepidation. However I think I just need to talk to him about the few anxiety causing issues I have and we should be set to go. We haven’t played in well over 4 years, so this reunion is going to be a whopper. In some ways I can’t wait. I know he can’t, he keeps sending me texts saying how much he misses my tears that I cry for him and that he can’t wait to shove my face into a pillow while he hurts me so that I get smothered in my own tears. The man knows how to work me up, that’s for sure. So the whole meeting has me on edge. Nerves because it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this and anxiety because he’s changing the boundaries that we’ve played in for the last 10 years.

You know that saying? When it rains it pours? I’m feeling a bit like that at the moment.

WARNING: Clicking the more link here will bring up some pictures of my ouchies from Wednesday night and earlier from Cern. If you don’t like seeing welted tits, don’t look.

Boobs of deliciousness under here, click it, you know you want to!


The delicious art of a good spanking

I realise lately that I’ve done a lot of introspective posts about my feelings and thoughts, so I thought I’d mix it up a bit and write about some of my favourite activities…


My first ever spanking session went for just over an hour and a bit, about 12 years ago now.

So my friends tell me. I can’t remember most of the pain, all I remember is how it smarted, I remember thinking that I possibly couldn’t take any more as I was pushing through another pain barrier and the intensity started up all over again, it made me wiggle and giggle, it made me squirm and finally it made me fly. The lady who gave me said spanking is still one of my very good friends and her hands will always be some that I remember with delight.

So let’s go into the exquisite art of spanking. Because there is you know, it’s not just walloping for wallopings sake.

There’s a spanking sweet spot for me, just like the caning sweet spot. Except the caning sweet spot is in that sweet sweet fold of skin where your butt cheeks meet the top of your thighs and when you bend over and get caned right there it also catches your labia and you feel that burn through your body as your breath catches and you ride the waves of intense white-hot pain. But this isn’t my post about caning.

Let’s get back to the spankening fun times.

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