Tag: Sanguinarianism

A Cut Above The Rest

May 21, 2017

Trigger Warning…  Self Harm & Cutting

​I got a new punishment yesterday.  It was the first time Daddy spanked me as a punishment.  I’m a masochist and usually don’t receive punishments having to do with physical pain.  It certainly didn’t feel good but it was a great release of tension and emotional pain.  I think that was His point.  He said if I committed the offense again the number of spankings would be doubled.  I couldn’t handle much more than 5 of His hardest spankings…

I usually enjoy them, His spankings, that is…but this was…different.  I didn’t hate it but I’m not going to go looking for it.  And He was much more tender than He usually is during punishment.  Idk, it was weird.  Still processing, I suppose…
Here’s a little back story…

I cut two nights ago.  I got thrown several big & unexpected curveballs about this car I’m trying to buy and a job opportunity that’s dependant upon said car.  He knew I was upset but I guess I didn’t adequately explain my level of…despair, I guess.  He sent me to bed early and when I woke at midnight, He was asleep.  I got really panicky and tried to wake Him.  I suppose I could’ve tried harder… 

When He wouldn’t wake up, I started hyperventilating…and I cut.  I haven’t cut (to self harm) in almost a year.  After I could breath again, I put on some music and sat outside for a few hours.  I finally went back to bed at 3.  I told Him about the night yesterday morning & He said I should’ve tried harder to wake Him but He understands why I didn’t.  He also apologized for not seeing how bad off I was.  That last time I cut, a year or so ago, He said if I did it again, I’d receive one hard and unpleasant spanking per cut, in rapid succession.  I got 5 in the kitchen while the boys were outside.  He had to…but He feels bad.  I could guarantee He’d discuss this further that evening…and He did.

After the boys fell asleep on the couch last night, Daddy led me into our bedroom.  He got out our scalpel and calmly reminded me that this is HIS body and if any cuttings are to be made, they are HIS to make.  He looked me in the eyes as He wiped the lower half of my body down with antiseptic.  I began to tremble.  He asked if I would remember that.  I said yes.  He said, “Yes, you sure will” & proceeded to cut and carve all over my hips and ass.  

No safe words were going to save me from this lesson so I didn’t even bother.  I’m so fucking sore today I can barely move without pain.  When He was done, He said “No more of this or next time will be so much worse.  Please try me if you don’t believe me”.  It was like making your child smoke a whole pack of cigarettes at once when you catch them smoking.  I will not forget this lesson.
The only thing that made it not awful was His decision to feed after the punishment and lesson parts were over.  There’s nothing in the world as bonding as allowing your Mate to feed from your blood.  He made love to me afterwards.  Clawing and grabbing at your fresh wounds, making them bleed all over again, He silently reassuring me that everything was fine again…and how deeply I am loved & adored.

When it was all over, He finally allowed me to get off the bed.  I slowly got to my feet and Daddy pulled me close to Him for a hug.  I rested my head on His chest and just let it all go.  All the pain, fear, worry and despair that I had kept from Him, they all came right to the surface but didn’t spill over…until He pulled away just a bit so He could hold out His Pinky to me.  I remember wondering why He was shaking.  

He wasn’t.  

I was.

In our home, the Pinky Swear is the highest code of honor.  A promise made with a Pinky cannot be broken without losing a great deal of trust afterwards.  He looked at me and said, “No more of this, baby.  Please”.  I started crying and shaking like I haven’t in years.  I slowly reached out my Pinky towards His and tentatively wrapped my tiny finger around His larger one.  

I guess I’m finished with cutting as a form of self harm for good…I hope.

~Beautifully Broken~

A Sanguinarian, Blade Play and Blood Play Scene

July 31, 2016

Daddy and I are a part of the Sanguinarian lifestyle, which means we participate in the acts of feeding and donating blood during scenes and sex.  Daddy always feeds, I always donate.  He is called a ‘Sang’ and I am called a ‘swan’.  I always cut myself to get the blood He so badly craves.  He has yet to lift a blade against me.  We are both okay with that.  We both know each other’s limits as far as blade play and blood play.

Last night, He lit the candles and dimmed the lights in our bedroom.  I gathered the blade, the disinfectant, the bandages and the bandages and laid them out before us on the shelf.  He sat down on the bed as I stood before Him, holding the blade.  He took the blade from my hand, looked up at me and asked if I was ready.  I looked at Him quizically and asked, “Are You?”.  His hesitation to answer my question told me that no, indeed He was not..and that was perfectly okay.  Negotiating a scene, especially an emotionally and/or sexually charged scene, should never take place during a scene, but rather before, when everyone is still level headed and reasonable.

I took the blade from my Lover’s hand and made a thin scratch on my forearm.  He took my hand, lifted my arm to His lips and licked the thin stream of blood from the wound.  He began grabbing and squeezing the scratch, pressing a bit more blood to the surface and savored the coppery taste.  When He had drank all the small scratch would yield, He released my arm and I picked up the blade again.  I made two slightly deeper cuts on my upper thigh and Daddy waited with His breath drawn in for the shallow cuts to begin to show red.  The blood began to pool in little droplets at the surface as He closed His eyes and lowered His mouth to the wounds.  Growling in His throat, He licked and sucked at my blood, hungry and excited for more.

The endorphins had just began to kick in for me, the pain of the shallow cuts exacerbated by His suckling and needing at the wounds.  Subspace was close…the pain was pulling me slowly into a hazy, darkened fog…my body began to shake and spasm involuntarily.  Daddy growled again and pulled my thigh to Him,  hard and rough…the way He enjoys feeding the most.

When He had taken all the blood the shallow cuts would allow, He released my thigh and directed me to start cleaning the cuts and scratches.  He was breathing deeply…but He was not yet satisfyed.  He had just told me to clean my wounds, signaling that part of the scene was finished.  I felt like I had failed Him.  I knew He was dissatisfied with the level out output, yet He had ended the scene.

“Let me cut deeper for You,” I asked, my eyes rimmed with tears.

“I never said you had to cut so shallow,” He responded.

I took up the blade for the third time.  I made three deep cuts on my thigh, one next to the other, just below the other two He had just bleed dry.  These cuts were deep.  Not deep enough to require stitches (which is a hard limit at the present time) but deep enough for the blood droplets to pool at the surface of the wounds and drip down my leg, running together and increasing the bloodflow.  He looked at my blood, the rivulets trickling down my thigh, and He grabbed my leg, hard, and began to feed.

Subspace was now fully engulfing me, drawing me slowly into its darkened shadows.  My body was trembling and my head was fuzzy as He licked and sucked at my burning thigh.  He was finally satisfying His burning desires for blood and pain.  My blood.  My pain.  All for Him.  Only for Him.

And now, here I sit, the morning after, typing this passage as a momemto.   My wounds cleaned and still stinging, remembering the passion with which we practiced our scene and the lovemaking that followed.  Cherishing the ease with which He wiped away my fears of inadequacy last night, as easily as He wipes the tears from my eyes…and the blood from my thighs.

~Beautifully Broken~

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