New Holes

For years Sade would casually mention how she’d like my nipples pierced and for me to get a prince albert. She wouldn’t order it and we wouldn’t spend a lot of time talking about it, she’d just mention it, I’d get a slightly squeamish look on my face while at the same time get a little turned on by the idea of her marking me and adding two more bondage points to my body.

I should say that my nipples are insanely sensitive to begin with. So much so that extended time with strong nipple clamps can bring me to my knees pretty easily. In our day-to-day interactions Sade will reach out and pinch my nipples causing me to wince pretty quickly. Extra sensitive nipples means a quick erection when sucked or licked but a quick quivering mess when tortured too hard too fast. That’s why the idea of getting them pierced made me wince, I’ve heard piercings can make them even more sensitive and that kinda worried me a bit.

The issue kept coming up and it came up again while I was interviewing her for the 100th episode of The Masocast last weekend.

So, this past week it was brought up again, I saw the glimmer in her eyes and the evil grin on her face and that was that.

Friday after work we walked into the shop, she wanted her left nipple pierced and I was getting both.

It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The worst part was the constant pain for the rest of the night. It just wouldn’t stop but thankfully it’s much better now

While it will take a while to heal, she’s been enjoying looking at them and I’ve caught her eyes looking at them while we have sex and know it was well worth the pain.

With her, it’s always worth the pain.

My Relationship With Pain

I was on all fours on the bed, she was standing behind me.

After a few minutes she told me she wanted me to thank her when she hit me in a way that I really loved.

I started thanking her after every blow.

She laughed a little and told me she only wanted me to thank her after she hit me in a way that I reeeeeeeally loved.

I somehow managed to speak through the endorphins, saying that I didn’t know when I really loved it.

I’m still confused by my answer.

It’s hard to explain since I really love all of it.  Whatever she’s doing, I really love it.   I love enduring through the pain.  I love taking it for her, I love Yes I love the sting, the thud and the ache but there’s an overall feeling about it I love as well.   Something that covers the entire experience.

I’ve never been able to understand whenever I hear someone saying how they love a very specific kind of pain.  When someone says they love a cane on their thighs but not their ass or a flogger on their back but not their chest.  It’s all the same to me.

I know I’m not like many masochists out there, I rarely get physically turned on while I’m experiencing pain.  Emotionally, I’m extremely turned on.  In the grand scheme of things, pain is still very new to me.   I’ve been tying myself up since I was very very young.   I’ve only been experiencing pain in association with sex for a couple of years.

Sure there are different degrees and I react differently to those degrees, but I’ve never been able to say that I love a cane over a flogger or one part of my body hurt more than the other.   It’s not about that.

It’s about the sounds she makes when my body is pushed until it shakes, about how her hands feel running over my warm skin and how it feels when she kisses me hard in the middle of it.

I love all of it.  I crave all of it.

Wether she ties my (actually they belong to her) cock and balls in an uncomfortable position or pulling down on my nipples or tying me in a stress position, I’m in heaven.

I just love being hers.   I love taking it for her, I love the intimacy of it, the power, the control, the pain all of it and more.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you!

How BDSM Helps Me Overcome Fear

A couple of weeks ago I was almost mugged.


Long story short, two guys pointed a gun at me and started making demands.  When I refused, the one without the gun started yelling “Shoot him, kill him, fucking shoot him, he’s a snitch!”

I still remember how he said the word “snitch”.  He said it as though I lacked the moral fiber.  As though telling the police about it made me a bad person and therefore I was just asking to be shot.  Yeah, I’m the bad guy here.

I wish I could say I tackled them and wrestled the gun away.  That I had held them at bay while the police arrived but I didn’t.   I was actually caught between fight or flight, I couldn’t decide what to do.  Eventually they realized they wouldn’t be getting anything from me and rode off.

Of course I called the police and the NYPD and I spent the next hour looking for them.   That part was pretty exciting actually.

I was on adrenaline for the next few hours.  I had shrugged it off and was even joking about it that night among friends.

The next morning was a different story.   I woke up in a panic.   I was afraid.   The scene kept running in my mind over and over again.  It would play out in different ways.  Sometimes they’d shoot me, other times I’d fight back, other times I’d run.   I couldn’t control it.

What if they had shot me?  What if Sade was with me?  What if they attack her next?

I found myself laying in the shower, sick to my stomach, vomiting, holding back tears and feeling dizzy.

Sade had me contact a friend of mine who’s a kink friendly therapist and we talked for a bit.   I was relieved to know that this was a normal reaction.

Eventually it subsided and I was fine until I tried to sleep the next night.  I could’t sleep.  I was overwhelmed with guilt.  I know it sounds silly but I felt guilty because I didn’t stop them.  What if they hurt someone in the future?   I felt it was my fault that I had the opportunity to stop them but I didn’t.    Maybe I read too many Spider-man comics as a kid.

I didn’t get any sleep that night.  I managed to doze off for a bit after 7:30AM.

Slowly the nightmares got better, I could start blocking it out of my mind but I was still afraid every time I walked in our neighborhood.  I was suspicious of everyone.

Everyone was a threat in my mind.  Everyone had a gun.  Everyone was dangerous.

Then, something started to help.

Sade would hurt me.

It wasn’t the hardest she’s ever beaten me.  But it was more than enough to put me into subspace pretty deeply, to make me feel more control and more pain than normal.

The mornings after she would hurt me, I would walk through the streets feeling stronger, less suspicious, less afraid….stronger.

The intimacy of the pain and loving touch helped me feel safer.

Now I’m walking home less worried about getting jumped on the street and more eager to get jumped at home.