Content Warning: Sexual Violence (Consensual)
The current prompt on Quote Quest asks us to consider the following:
“Don’t Worry About The Darkness In My Soul. It Ignites Me Like An Embered Coal.”– Anon
I consider myself extremely fortunate that I have never suffered from a significant mental illness such as depression, anxiety or bi-polar disorder. I do, however, encounter these conditions and the people who suffer from, live with (and on occasions cannot live with) these conditions daily in my work. That isn’t to say that I never feel down, or disheartened. I have written a number of posts recently about the need for support from Master C; how much I rely on Him to recentre and rebalance me when pressures threaten to become overwhelming.
There is, however, something quite dark within me. I have written about it before. I have needs that need a certain edge to satisfy them. Partially, I think this is what has always driven me to sexual activities that are somewhat riskier; I need that fight or flight reaction that comes with the heightened sensitivity of increased risk/danger.
The past year has seen this darker side surface more often. Understandable perhaps, given the increased suffering I see due to Covid and the restrictions it places on lives, and the effect that dealing with other peoples’ live has on me; the extra pressures, the stresses and the increased feeling of helplessness in the face of something I cannot control.
All these things tap into my darkest desires, feeding my need for Master C to treat me with increasing roughness. I need to feel His hands tighten around my neck, starving me of breath as He forces His cock deep into my throat. I need the extra lashes of His belt, or strokes of the cane on my arse to unleash my tears and ultimately the healing flood of endorphins. I long to have Him grab a handful of my hair and pull my head back sharply, his other hand around my throat as He takes me hard from behind; fucking my cunt or arse with a force and brutal urgency that almost makes a lie out of the love Master C has for me.
I don’t just want this, I actually need it, I need to feel my oxygen staved lungs scream for breath. I need to feel the searing pain in my buttocks from whatever tool/implement He has used to turn them an angry, fiery crimson. I need to feel the harsh burn of the rope on my skin, bound around my wrists, my ankles, my arms, my legs, my neck. I need the agony of returning circulation to my extremities when He unties me. I need Him to slap me, to call me every abusive term He can as He fucks me with a brutal intensity. I need Him to bruise me. I need Him to use me.
I need the cathartic release that only Master C can deliver by taking me to the absolute extremes of my limits; and that only He can deliver simply because He knows how much I need it.
I know that these sessions are never easy for Master C. I know that they drain Him as much as, ultimately, they restore me. I know that He will require almost as much aftercare from me after one of these sessions as I require from Him. If you were to ask, Him, He would admit that this is one of the aspects of our relationship that He finds hardest; Master C is not really sadistic by nature, whereas I am very much masochistic. In the aftermath of a session like this, we heal each other. In a slightly perverse way, these sessions are where we recommit, unconditionally to each other.
My inner darkness can scare me, but Master C always manages to exorcise it, and to release me from its grip, until the next time it takes hold.
I don’t think it can be fully banished. I believe, even when dormant, it shapes so many of my wants, needs, desires and passions. It is a part of me that needs, occasionally, to be controlled, but it is what makes me the person I am. Master C understands this; He understands me. That, in a nutshell, is why I give Him my submission.