Life as a Pain Slut

It may be difficult for some of those who read this to understand that all pain is not equal. I would never presume to judge another's tolerance for, acceptance of, or yearning after physical pain, so I expect no less from others with regard to mine. The pain I seek, which Sir metes out carefully and thoughtfully, serves a dual function. On its highest level, it illuminates the degree of dedication, lust, and deep love I have for the fullest expression of my service and submission to Sir. On its most visceral level, it ignites a degree of sexual excitement and satisfaction that nothing else in my life provides. Each of these aspects of my pain depends upon the other, yet each is independent of the other. Pain strips away all pretensions and civility. It winnows me down to the essence of who I am as a submissive and as a physical being. It demonstrates my submission to Sir in a way nothing else approaches, for it truly is putting my most elemental self - my physical body - at Sir's service. And it gives back to me in a way that nothing else does, because the bruises on my ass, thighs, breasts, and the rest of my body excite me by reminding me of the feeling of accepting and bringing the pain into my body. The bruises also increase my pride by signifying to me the dedication and deliberation that mark my service to Sir.

Although Sir has granted me the great honor of wearing Sir's collar, and addressing Sir as "Master-Sir" now, the weight and heft of that collar merely adds to the feeling I have of belonging solely and completely to Master-Sir. That feeling is the hallmark of submission for me - it signifies that I have relinquished ego, self, and willfulness to the Master-Sir I have the honor and privilege to serve. That knowledge is underscored when I can stroke a bruise on my thigh and watch it slowly change colors before fading completely away. The desire I have for a physical manifestation of the emotional, sexual, and submissive connection I have with Master-Sir is satisfied when I see my pierced nipples. A glance at my nipples, or even just a stroke over the barbells that are yet another mark of Master-Sir's claiming of my body, send a frisson of remembered excitement and submission to Master-Sir. I flashback to the feeling of having Master-Sir pierce my nipples and place the barbells in them. Although the most permanent alteration Master-Sir has given my physical body, the nipple piercings are not the only things that elicit this type of response in me. Even a bruise caused by Master-Sir sucking and biting my neck until he brought me to orgasm causes me to stand a little taller, walk a bit prouder, and know even more fully the extent to which I am happy and fulfilled by service to Master-Sir.

I hate even the idea of abuse - no living being should be subjected to abuse of any kind. When one of the dogs I have adopted through a rescue group ducks his head as I reach out to stroke him, it breaks my heart. I have never hit or abused any of my pets yet past abuse elicits a response from remembered pain. Having seen this, it occurs to me that my response to the pain Master-Sir delivers is the best illustration of why that pain is not abuse. When Master-Sir lays on the strokes of his belt, his cat-o-nine-tails, or his paddle I hold position and wait with a dripping wet cunt for the next strokes. When Master-Sir reaches out to pet me, my head comes up, demonstrating my absolute trust in Master-Sir's care and consideration of my physical safety and my emotional wellbeing.

When my eyes well with tears and my nose runs in physical reaction to the pain Master-Sir inflicts, some part of me rejoices because I not only receive the gift of pain, but I have an opportunity to humble myself further by begging Master-Sir to allow me to wipe my eyes or blow my nose, subordinating even my most basic physical needs to Master-Sir's instruction and care. Everything I think, everything I desire, everything I wish to accomplish must be dedicated to Master-Sir's service, or it is worthless. Every impulse must be seen through the prism of Master-Sir's intention and preferences, or it distorts the service and submission Master-Sir allows me to offer. One such impulse, one such basic drive, is my search for and acceptance of pain.

Recently, Master-Sir expanded the territory in which I search for pain to include wax play. After having me relax so completely that my upper body had collapsed onto a table at which I was seated, Master-Sir dripped melted wax from a candle onto my naked back, arms, and neck. The impact of Master-Sir's hypnotic instruction that I experience no sensations of any kind was so pervasive that I remained quiet and still in place whilst Master-Sir decorated my upper body with rivulets of red wax that dried in place (and were scraped off later in the evening by Master-Sir). I cannot claim that my withstanding the pain of this experience speaks to my need for pain, for none was felt. However, it also demonstrates the degree of trust and confidence I have in the Dominant I serve - Master-Sir may bring me pain, but Master-Sir will never hurt me deliberately or permanently. My remaining still for the application of hot wax is nothing to crow about, since I had been directed to do so by the one I serve. But my willingness to offer up my whole self -- conscious and sub-conscious -- to serve as Master-Sir directed speaks volumes with regard to the belief I have that my service is only a positive force in my life, and that my goal is always to improve and refine my service to better please Master-Sir.

Strokes administered by Master-Sir never are abusive. Those strokes are an exchange of gifts - from Master-Sir to me, and from me back to Master-Sir. Master-Sir gives me strokes out of Master-Sir's understanding of my need for pain. They are Master-Sir's expression of Master-Sir's knowledge of my submissive self. They are an avenue down which I walk with a happy heart, an erect carriage, pride in service, and a deep love for Master-Sir that nothing else provides. They are part of who I am and wish always to be - a proud, happy, and evolving pain slut, serving Master-Sir in this as in all things.