And that got me to thinking about all the toys W has ........ and how my likes and dislikes have changed and evolved.
I was remembering the days of wooden paddles that used to break over my ass and how proud I was that I could take that kind of pain........ how I used to hate whips and floggers. How I loved needles stuck into my body..... How I loved clamps and clothes pegs and various other items of torture attached to my private pink bits. As time passed (and illnesses hit) I found myself happier with a whip than a hard unforgiving paddle. I found myself hiding my private pink bits for fear W might want to perform some torture on it....... I just really wanted a nice whipping.... a floaty feeling .. and thank you very much I am done. Gone are the long one hour sessions - sometimes followed by another hour long session - all in one evening. Whip me ......... snuggle me... and let's move on. That seems to be the way life has morphed. Maybe back in those days I felt I had something to prove - to W ...... to myself (push those limits) ...... and to anyone watching. But not now.
I also noticed about 8 months ago I guess - that I didn't drip from the thought of a session with W........ hell I barely got damp even from a whipping. I moaned I was broken. I
Now I discover I have this "thing" growing in my uterus and I wonder if this is the reason. I wonder if the doctor can make it all gone if my desires will return. I wonder if I will ever be the masochist I once was........ or is that only to be a memory.
And I wonder if it is really all that important......... to be the masochist I once was. I wonder if W will be a little disappointed - though I doubt He would ever say anything. I wonder if we can forge a new way of doing this BDSM thing we do............I wonder what life will become when I manage to cross the stepping stones.