Friday, May 24, 2013
Is make-up sex hotter for submissives?
I don't know. The trouble is that despite my superficial doubts, I did know (in my soul, or something) that he loved me for the right reasons, and I knew that I loved him for the right reasons, and that the BDSM flowed from that, and that the love wasn't some illusory downstream effect of the BDSM. So the thought-experiment doesn't even make sense. Even if he'd gone along with my script and given me the spanking of my life--let's say, just for fun, that he'd brought out a riding crop, or a dogwhip, or something (see Emily and the Paradise-Step of Prophettown if you're looking for that kind of thing), and he'd got carried away and opened some horrendous bleeding laceration, and we'd spent the end of the night in the emergency room trying to explain why my ass was covered with bloody welts--we would have ended up at the altar, though perhaps with a few things less completely resolved. . . .
For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.