Today I’m carrying my first ever bruised arse into work. And you know what? It brings a smile to my face. I can still feel the warmth, the slight tenderness against my office chair and it just reminds me of the most epic night out of all time. It’s a good feeling and one with a good story to match (watch this space).
It’s also a timely bruised arse, one that sits in an odd juxtaposition to the bruise on my face. That one is not so much one of pride, it comes with a much more mixed bag of feelings. While I’m doing my best at disguising it from the world (which would no doubt suspect my sweet caring husband), I can’t really disguise that from myself. It is a potent reminder of what I’m starting to understand as the difference between playing rough and playing with S&M for pleasure. No doubt there is more to be said about that. For now however, while I’m hoping for many more tender-arsed Monday mornings, I will try and avoid much more of the other kind of bruising.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment