I had a friend ask me recently what it was about marks that I like so much. He couldn’t understand the appeal. I was thinking about it, and I’m sure a lot of people who read my blog wonder too. What is it about marks that makes me so wet and horny? Well, here it is, in a nutshell.
For starters, I’m 50% Irish, and 50% Italian. As it turns out, I got the Irish part of the genes when it comes to skin and hair. I burn easily, I freckle in the summer, and I have generally very pale and sensitive skin.
As many of you know, I adore impact play, and I think it is the one thing I could never do without. Because of that wonderful Irish skin, I pinken much more quickly than most even with just a few blows. Still, being pink is usually gone in an hour or two after the blows stop, depending on how long and how hard I am being hit.
What happens is, as time goes on, I need more and more pain to really get off and have amazing O’s. More and more pain lead to longer and harder beatings, and longer and harder beatings lead to marks. The most basic reason why I enjoy marks is because they are almost born of necessity. I am just almost always bound to have marks because of the type of play we do. My first “severe” bruises were shocking to me. I didn’t see them until after the fact, but I remember being scared of them and keeping my bruises hidden under clothing for the most part. I don’t do that now, but that was my initial reaction.
Still, if you do impact play at the level me and Master do, with my Irish skin, you’re going to get marks. They are just part and parcel. At first, I had to just learn to get used to them. (If you can’t change it, learn to love it!)
After I got comfortable with having marks (of varying shades and ages), I began to almost look forward to them as a momento of the play I had. The play itself isn’t for marks, per se, but it is very hot to me to be changing into my bikini the next day (for example) and there’s a bruise popping ever-so-slightly out of my bra, reminding me of the fun we’ve had.
There is also something incredibly sexy that turns me on when I have a dull ache in my bruises the next day. Suddenly, I put a bra on, and my tits are sore. Or, I lean on my thighs, and I feel the welts come to life again. Only once (but I’d love for it to happen again!) I felt my ass every time I sat on it the next day. My ass is not prone to marking or bruises, so that was incredibly hot to me.
For a while, I felt like marks were OK anywhere that was usually covered by clothing. The truth is though that having my neck bitten (we’re talking teeth here, not suction) is one of the hottest fucking things ever, and sends me into another world immediately. Biting with teeth leaves marks too. I didn’t want to give that up. I’d sooner give up orgasms.
Now, I’m at the point where marks are fine but Master would prefer we kept me free of marks anywhere a medical professional could see. True, they can’t report it as I’m a legally consenting adult, but there’s no reason to have them treat me poorly because of marks. I concur. It’s not like the once or twice I go to the doctor’s for a check up or a dental cleaning is that big of a deal, anyway. We can abstain from marks for two or three days, yes? And Master always makes it up to me anyway.
Looking in the mirror later on when I’m alone also reminds me of something very clear and obvious (but reminders always help). They remind me that I am my Master’s. His toy, his beast. Each mark that I get is not without his approval (even marks that are given to me by others). In truth, marks remind me of my servitude, not only to Master but to those he lends me to as well.
Some marks humiliate me, some marks turn me on, some marks happen by accident. They are all little bits of joy to me though. Little reminders. I have always said that I never feel truly dressed without my bells on. Well, I also never feel truly dressed without a bruise.
To put it all simply, as a member of that famous Fight Club once said:
Sometimes, I just want to destroy something beautiful.