Happy Humiliation

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So, I’m kind of winging this one as the last week has been cray cray.

We moved from Tignes to Dijon, and then hustled our butts to Paris! We’ll be staying here for ten days, and celebrating my birthday (May 10th!). Lots of exciting things to come (no pun intended) in the near future for Master J and me. Now that we’re down from the mountain, the party is really getting started. And how did we begin?

If you’ve avidly been reading my posts, you’ll know I’m a submissive who leans more towards humiliation than pain. Pain is something I can genuinely enjoy if the situation is right…in other words, I have to be severely turned on! Like tie-me-up-or-I’ll-fuck-everything-in-sight turned on. I will admit, I sometimes envy those women who reach the edge as their asses are turning blue. Unfortunately, I have rarely gotten there without hissing the dreaded safeword at my Master J.

After much discussion with him, and pushing down my pride to finally admit that, no, I’m not into the physical suffering as much as I’d like to be, or so much as the degradation. And fine, I’ll try to accept that part of me, regardless of the countless times I’ve desperately tried to overcome the sting of his hand or whip against my bare ass.

Totally distraught by this new self-discovery, I truly felt I lost a piece of my submissive identity. But rather than wallowing in any kind of grief, Master J saw opportunity…

There was so much more for us to explore in the realm of humiliation! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent long moments on all fours, crawling around, obeying Master J’s commands. All while collared and pulled on by a leash. I’ve been bound and gagged, abused verbally, denied orgasm, even caged…

Yet, there was no stopping there. If I can say one thing about my Master, it’s he is a man of ambition, and I’d just given him a challenge he was ready to accept fully. If humiliation is what I like, then humiliation is what I’d get…

One recent night I came in the door. Master J grabbed my face and throat, slammed the door while simultaneously slamming me against the wall. “Are you ready, little slut?” Were his first words. My legs were already tingling. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, my moans vibrated between us.

“Your clothes are in the bathroom. Change and then meet me at the dinner table. Okay, Slave?”

“Yes,” I answered, breathless.

“Yes, who?” He demanded. My face still in his grip.

“Yes, Master.”

In the bathroom I found a mini black skirt, my rose-patterned nylons, and a black tank top. No bra. No panties. Oh…and my beloved red collar, and a chain leash. I put it all on and attached the leash. When I emerged, I was timid and uncertain what I’d be walking into. My heart was still pounding from the previous, unexpected confrontation.

His back was to me. He sat at the table. He was dressed beautifully in black. The way my Master knows I dream of him. I sat down. He took hold of the leash, pulled it towards him, drawing me near. Then kissed me. This time gently. The contrast was startling.

“Eat.” It was blunt. No room for questions. Before me was a beautiful Japanese platter. He bought my favourite food. Sashimi. Maki. Sushi. I [happily] obliged.

I ate. We sipped wine. And before I knew it, my Master had me on my knees again. I worshipped him at his feet. I put my mouth where he commanded, and I repeated the dirty words he required of me.

Sexually we revisited staples from our humiliation toolkit, plus added the layer of non-sexual control that came with the dress code and the eating. And although it was a magical night, I knew we had yet reached our limit – my limit. There’s still so much to come.

Saying goodbye to the mountain life is only opening doors for us. And even if I had to say goodbye to my favourite nylons that night, the humiliation high – and accepting that this is my kind of kink – was well worth it.

Until next time,

Fuck-well, friends!

Where on the spectrum are you between humiliation and pain? Do you like one or the other, both, neither? What kind of humiliation/pain?

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