Tell me about the pain Mistress

There are two kinds of pain, the bad pain of being burned or betrayed by a confident, the good pain that purges your system, makes you more alive and leaves you free.  I deal in the good kind.

Sweet delicious eye-opening pain.  Just when you were lulled into your state of endorphin rich pleasure it wakes you up like a big bite of hot sauce. Never accidental, rather a calculated deliverance of just what’s needed to build excitement and arousal. Pain sluts always want more, momma’s boy’s are satisfied with having stuck their toe into the daring waters of erotic torment and surprised when they learn to swim and go back for more.

Corporal punishment is punctuation  pain, marking the body like a fine sheet of bonded paper. Leaving behind crayon hues of pink, blue, red, purple and black that fade to green and yellow. Memories of over the knee school boy experiences remain in the fading shades, savored as they slowly disappear.

CBT pain is the “test my manhood pain”, see if I can take more, give me all you got and watch me re-bound like a football player knocked down  but not out, a boxer who rises off the mat at the count of 10, the competitor who won’t let his fiercest rival know they have the upper hand.

NT pain seeps into the heart center.  Exquisitely rapturous in nature and  prone to induce  whimpering that sky-rockets like an Empire State Building elevator  to  primal crying and howling.  Provoking the touching of what’s been buried and left for dead in the emotional psyche.  Mummified fruit on  the un-resolved issues of  life tree that are buried in the chest.  A poison and explosive treasure trove of pent-up energies waiting for a crack in the veneer to escape.

Come see me when only good pain will answer the call.