This week’s Kink of the Week (KOTW) is Marked- One of my blogging goals this year is to participate in Kink of The Week and explore in my writing different ideas and concepts I maybe haven’t really looked at, thought about, or discussed in the past. I think it will be a fun way to stretch and grow as a sexy blogger!
We had only just met, but between the wine and the conversation we knew there was a serious attraction and we would act on it quickly. The friend who had introduced us that evening, over wine and cheese at her place, left us at the bar a few hours later, with an evil grin and a knowing wave, “See you two later!”
Her departure galvanized our resolve to move to someplace more private and see what would happen. As we rode the tram to my house, he was stealthily running his fingers over the skin on the inside of my thighs, pulling on my skirt to reach higher and higher. Instead of stopping him, I moved my legs slightly to allow him more access to the soft silky skin higher up.
When we reached my apartment, he immediately suggested a bath to wash off the summer heat. He drew the water and I grabbed another bottle of wine and the glasses and met him in the hot water. But instead of the soft gentle explorations you would expect from the tub, there was wild passion and water splashing everywhere.
Our first kisses turned into biting, pushing, pinching, hair pulling, and excitement. Much of the water from the tub ended up on the floor and by the time we finished the bottle of wine, the memories are a bit blurry.
We woke up in the morning, sprawled across the bed, each of us on our separate side. But as I stirred, he woke up, rolled over, and pulled me close. We fell back asleep snuggled tightly together and didn’t wake again for a few hours. After that night we formed a lovely relationship that was a satisfying combination of sexual exploration and friendship. But we never had another night as wild as that and he never again marked me the way he did that evening.
A few days later, I was out for lunch with my partner Roland. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and our relationship was still in the beginning stages. I took off my sweater and hung it over the chair, turned back to him and the look on his face was one of horror. I looked around trying to figure out what was wrong, and finally looked back at him and asked, “What?”
He pointed to my upper arm and chest, and the copious but beautiful dark purple bruises that were there. OOPS! All the bite marks and pinches that my new friend had passionately administered were strewn haphazardly across my upper body. At first, I tried to make a joke about it, but then realize Roland was truly worried someone was hurting me, so I explained what had happened. I had been marked in the heat of passion. His relief was palpable as he reached his hand across to the table to grab my own.
“I am glad you’re ok, and I’m even gladder you like being marked,” he said with a grin. My relationship with Roland involved more than a few bite marks, lovingly photographed and sent over the next few days as evidence.
Benjamin and I started our sexual relationship exploring D/s, both of us for more or less the first time. He had a way of creating scenarios in our texting that brought our time together to a lovely cohesive conclusion, exploring limits, boundaries, and passion like I had never experienced before. As often as not, when he left, I had gorgeous bruises starting to peek through in sensitive parts of my body. My breasts and ass marked with sweet purple and blue, showing where he had been. I loved photographing and sending images to him to affirm his possession of my body, turn us both on again, and hold us over until the next time. Seeing how he has marked me continues to be a turn-on for him when it happens.
DJDM and I love to take photos during our more passionate and exploratory sexy moments. He loves to take pictures of my bright red ass after he’s administered a particularly stingy spanking. I love to look back and remember in the feel of his hand or the belt and hear again the sounds we made as they happened. I think my ass looks beautiful with his bright red handprint declaring his power over me. More than once, looking at those photos of how he marked me, has been the genesis of new and even sexier adventures.
I love bruises and red handprints. But when I see bruises that are deep red and blood-filled? That feels TOO far for me. I love deep purples and blues or the bright red of a hand or evidence of the belt slapping my ass… but broken skin? Blood? I cringe and shy away from going that far. I can appreciate how this evidence of a rough, hard, sexy encounter can turn people on because my own makes turn me on so much, but when I see photos like this, I personally cringe.
I’m not sure if it’s because I worry that we’ll take it too far, that I could be permanently damaged? Or maybe it’s an aesthetic thing? Honestly, I’d venture to guess it’s a fear of the control I’d have to give up to allow myself to experience that level of marking and potential pain. It feels like evidence of a deeper submission than I am ready to allow myself.
Whatever it is, for now, I am content with the beautiful markings I have experienced so far and hope to continue to receive, photograph, and share them with my sexual partners.