My girl writes:
"The colors change like the leaves of autumn, my favorite season. It's the end and the beginning, and it's melancholy and exciting at the same time. It made me excited to see the fiery purples and reds, but this deep greenish yellow soothes me. Calms me. It's as if I've survived a wicked storm at sea and ahead is the golden sunrise on the horizon, calmly glistening on the water. When I twist my body and look into the mirror, I remember, and I smile at what I see.
I've never gotten a tattoo, but I feel this may be similar, though not permanent. Most people I know say they got theirs to mark a time in their life that they have moved on from, a reminder of what they've been through. Does it hurt while that needle was grinding away at their flesh for hours? I hear it does. But the pain is necessary, the act of enduring the pain is monumental in itself, even enjoyable at times, and the result is worth it. Though my bruises are temporary, they're far more intimate and meaningful than any markings some random tattoo artist could put on my flesh.
Some of you don't like what you saw, and that's okay by me.
I could describe to you how this act feels to me, the nurturing I felt as my man gently blindfolded me and whispered into my ear; the care I felt in the way he strapped my wrists up and hooked them to the beam above my head; how wet my pussy became during this preparation time; the release of endorphins which exploded upon the first stinging smack, and the way it faded and buzzed beneath my skin; the rush of emotions that flooded my head; how there were moments when I felt I couldn't take any more, yet still didn't want him to stop; how I went to a quiet place in my mind and allowed my body to feel physical pain, and the exercise in control and power which that requires; how scared yet safe I felt and how I allowed myself to be taken to great depths with the one I love, knowing I would come out feeling elated; how alone I felt when I sensed he had left the room, only to feel overwhelming love when he returned with a hot towel to soothe my flesh; how he looked to me, through my sensitive eyes, once the blindfold was removed; the way I collapsed into his arms afterward, feeling free and new; and why all of this is something I need every once in awhile when I get off-kilter, to steady myself, to gain perspective, to feel, to reset. But like someone commented, either you're into it or you're not. I'm not here to convince those who don't understand why it's good for me. It just is. And it's okay if you don't get it.
All you need to know is that it's more about me than about Siege. There was no rage involved. No violence. This wasn't for him. It was me needing something, bad, and he knowing just what it was, and being able to give it to me. It's something I've needed from time to time throughout my life, though past partners were not always able to scratch my itch. I would hint, and they would try, but they just didn't have the frame of mind necessary to deliver. The trust wasn't there on my part, or theirs. Instead it would become silly and giggly. We may as well have had pink fur-lined handcuffs and whipped cream.
No. I need it to be serious. This was. Now I feel peace."
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01 February 2007
On his nerve.com photo blog, the photographer Siege published a three-week series of pictures chronicling the healing of his fiancee KT's severely bruised back after a particularly severe SM session. After being flooded with angry and concerned email, KT guest-posted the following: