Some may find this weird or strange – at times I feel that way myself. For much of my life the only outlet for my masochistic kink was self punishment. I started early, very early and progressed through a clothes brush, a riding crop, a switch cut from a willow tree and lengths of electric flex. It was always a sexual release ending in orgasm. Over the years, pain became a friend, offering stimulation, eroticism and release.
In a recent and particularly harsh, kidnap themed BDSM session pain stopped being a friend. All sexual excitement drained out of the scene and pain threated to overwhelm me and pull me under. Its a bit of a challenging read but it will help explain the picture below.
The day after the session, backside still bruised and sore, I returned to my oldest kink, hitting myself repeatedly with a heavy leather belt. The pain of it bought me to an explosive and satisfying orgasm, restoring a relationship that has been important to me for decades, but which I feared had been lost.
(I posed this image for Sinful Sunday 10 days after the kidnap session and the original marks have mostly gone.)
More, though hopefully less self-inflicted sin here: