No. The answer is no, I am not going to stop using evergreen song titles from the old days as kinky fetish titles. 🙂
The topic this time is dacryphilia. In short, I have a thing for tears. I don’t get aroused when I see someone random crying per se, it’s slightly more complicated than that. I cry easily. At movies, at dog rescue videos, at books. I broke down like a child, legit sobbing when Gwen Stacy fell in “The Amazing Spider-Man 2”. I don’t mind being seen crying, I am not too insecure for that. I’ve always said that I’m like an open book, I’m by no means a private person. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t built walls around myself. Everyone needs them for protection. Mine are all well-hidden. The thing is, I don’t like those walls. I long for them to be torn down, but I have no idea how.
BDSM, the D/s dynamic and sessions, they are often powerful experiences for me. Not only sexual fulfillments unlike any other, they are also windows of time, pocket of air underwater, for me to truly breathe and be completely myself. Without the fear of being judged. I enjoy being stripped bare, physically and mentally. I love being naked and vulnerable, but still feel completely safe and cherished. But walls that I’ve spent most of my life building wouldn’t come down that easily, no matter how much I want them to. Simply put, I long to be broken down.
Tears for me is like having one more wall torn down, and I wanted badly to be able to experience what it feels like to be on the other side. I haven’t got the slightest clue as to how to archive that. I have a high pain threshold, so I have strong doubts that pain alone from for example impact play would do the trick. Also, I hardly ever feel humiliated from the methods usually used in BDSM for humiliation (I would love to talk about this topic more some other time). So to say that I was surprised is an understatement, when I started crying during caning at yesterday’s session.
Yesterday was all about punishment, with bad bratty behavior I earned twenty strikes with the spanking instrument from hell, the canes. I knew I fucked up, I knew I deserved it, I knew they were going to hurt a lot. Somehow I was less afraid of the canes, because when I know it’s my own fault, I want to be punished. I needed them to hurt. And hurt they did. More than any spanking before. I have explained before what kind of pain the canes provide, that there’s a sharp edge to that brand of pain. Well, apparently, when wielded with enough force, that sharp edge can actually feel like a combination of what I imagine a lion’s whip plus a stab of a knife would feel like. I probably would have woken up the Devil himself with my screams if my Dom didn’t have me bite down on the other cane while using the other one. It was the first time I have trouble to stay in my spanking pose. I gripped the back of my sofa so hard that my fingers were numb after the spanking.
Half way through the punishment, my vision started to blur. First I genuinely thought I was going to pass out, but then I realized, amazed, it was tears that were blurring my vision. I started to heave and sniffle a little bit. Then I felt it. A tear running down my face. I was ecstatic and stunned. I would have laughed out loud if the caning didn’t hurt so bad. It is really hard to truly describe how it felt. It was not tears from joy or sadness. It was not tears of frustration or anger. Although pain played a part this time, it was not tears from the pain alone. It was an intoxicating mixture of remorse, determination, pride and relief. I truly felt really bad for disappointing my Dom with bad behavior and I was determined to endure my punishment for that. Not even for a second did I doubt myself for not being able to take it, no matter how much it was hurting, I was going to take it. And for that I was more than a little proud of myself. Relief might just be the strongest feeling in the mix, I was unbelievably relieved that in going through the punishment, I could take away my Dom’s disappointment. After the caning, I felt ten times lighter than I’ve ever felt before. When I was on my knees at His feet, listening to Him telling me how well I took my punishment, how proud of myself I should be and what a good girl I was, I was incredibly at peace. I felt comfortable, submissive and that I was His. Simply put, I was happy.