What It's Like

I asked Papu what my first post should be about. He says he's crap at keeping blogs, but that's okay cause I'm the one writing. I didn't want to start at the beginning because I'm not at the beginning anymore. He says to write about how the kink is different than I thought it would be. The kink means our relationship.

Here's what I thought it would be like:

I had lots of visions of play spanking. Like, scenes, really. When you don't live it, you think it's like a sexy little scene in it's own time, with like, a decorum and whatnot. Like: "Lollie. Come here; you've been a bad girl and Daddy is going to spank you now." Spanking, talking, crying, lessons learned, standing in the corner like a naughty little kid. Or like, meaner things where Papu ties me up and leaves me in a dark closet, only to pull me out and thrash me and maybe tease me with his cock or finger me before beating me again.

Lots of spanking though. I imagine it will hurt very much and there will be bruises and welts, maybe broken skin. I dunno. I imagine I will be very afraid of Papu, but maybe at night times, he'll tuck me and tell me I'm his little baby and give me a sippy cup while he reads me a story.

Suffice it to say, my imagination is expansive, dirty and depraved, crosses all my personal boundaries, but most importantly is always hot and is always on my terms.

Not exactly the realities of submission.

This is more like it:

Sometimes, there's a lot of kink, and mostly when we're happier. When Papu is very mad, he is scary. I don't think about if I look pretty or if I am in control because I am not. I am running away and hiding in locked rooms. I say, "Don't touch me" and mean it. I kick and pinch and punch and scratch back. But Papu doesn't get that angry anymore since he smashed the bathroom door.

Sometimes, Papu thinks I'm sassy. He scolds me and warns about it (and mostly I think I'm not even doing anything), but if I don't stop, he pushes me into the bedroom and tells me to bend over the bed. There isn't really a decorum to it, not like in my head. It's just functional. Then he pulls down my jeans, just over my butt and tells me to wait. And sometimes I do, and sometimes I get up (which is probably why he never puts the paddles and hairbrushes and sticks away, cause they're right there in arms reach). Then he spanks me.

Not ever too long, and sometimes I think not long enough. Papu doesn't want to hurt me too bad, I think. Not like that anyway. Or maybe he's just sympathetic when I start yelping and squirming. The one time I thought it was too much was when he used the little red switch. He was mad and it only took two swings to make me scream and say whatever he wanted. I got this knot in my stomach and I thought I would throw up it hurt so much.

Sometimes he spanks me softer at first, to warm me up, but not always. If I can, I try to squirm forward so I am lying down more than bending over. It hurts less. This is some reality. You start finding out little things, like which tools you really need (as opposed to which look good) and how to cheat the spanking a little so you don't scream so loud that the neighbors call the police. Oh, and you worry about the neighbors. And you don't get those gorgeous black and bruises; you get sloppy little red splotches and bumps and welts. And you keep saying, "What's wrong with my butt?" And you start feeling like a square when you think about bloggers who take like 500 with switches and canes, when you're getting like 100 with a bath brush at half-swing.

And most of all, you're not in control of your own pain or pleasure anymore; this is both disappointing and ridiculously hot. I hate having to ask for orgasms. It's humiliating still somehow. I mean, I can piss in front of Papu, can lay still while he pushes his whole fist into my cunt, even listen as he recounts my snoring and night-time babbling, and I don't wanna ask to cum. So more than I like, I don't get to cum. I cheat sometimes. I tell Papu about that most of the time, if late. But I struggle with the idea of absolute control.

And on the other hand, I am so hot for it. The other night when we were fucking, Papu pressed the tip of a knife to my throat and I froze. He sank down on top of me and slammed his cock in and every thrust pushed the knife into the skin of my throat. I could feel it leaving the most shallow cuts, like water, in and out, leaving no trace of its penetration. He told me later that he could feel the change in my pussy; that I was wet for it. I felt like a deer in head lights. Everything became sharper and slower. I wanted to cum but I was too present, if that makes sense.

When he finished, he pulled out and leaned down to my thighs and made two thin slices into the flesh next to my cunt. I know he could see his own cum leaking from my slit. I felt frozen and open and the blade was not smooth, it was cutting me. Not slicing, more like a tiny saw. And then, better than an orgasm; he rubbed them with vinegar. It didn't make a difference really. Maybe the cuts were too small. But then he cleaned me up, first shoving a handful of paper towel under my pussy, pressing it against my cunt lips; then he cleaned the cuts, put on a bandaid. I could barely move. It felt so good to lie there and be fucked, and hurt, and cut and then patched up. I felt dizzy. It made me want more.

Later on I asked for more kink the next day. When we woke up. Papu said yes. But he didn't give it to me when I woke up. It was later in the afternoon. I needed to feel pain, and lately I need it real bad, and I hate waiting for it, but I also love it when I don't get to stop him.

And that's sort of how its different.