No. Just no.
I am not a fan of love bites.
No matter how much I love marks, love bites are not the kind of marks I want on my body?
Writing that, I asked myself: Why not?
Answer? Because I am ashamed of them. It’s something to be ashamed of. I’m ashamed of myself when I have one.
This all goes back to my teenage years when having love bites was something of a status but also something that should not be seen by adults because then they will know what you have done.
I still vividly remember the one and only time I had a love bite. Damn, seriously, I remember the mark and the aftermath but I have absolutely no idea who gave it to me. I just remember that I had this large hickey in my neck and I was terrified that my parents would see it. There was no feeling of pride or love as I looked at it in the mirror. Only shame. Only what-the-fuck-have-I-done. Back then we lived in Namibia (who the hell was the boy?) and temperatures there were always rather mild, but that day I wore a turtleneck sweater and claimed I was cold. My parents knew better and within moments my neck was exposed and there it was: a dark red, purplish love bite. They didn’t get angry. They laughed at me. I don’t think for one moment that they wanted to humiliate me, but shame washed through me and I swore I never ever wanted a love bite ever again. They are just not for me!
That feeling of shame where it comes to love bites is rooted in my system, and I don’t think that it will ever change. I have overcome many things I was ashamed of before, such as my desire to be ‘used’ by men, but how I feel about love bites will never change. Some years ago, someone (not Master T, because he knows my feelings about this) started kissing and sucking my neck and I immediately stopped him, terrified he would leave a mark. It felt weird stopping him in the middle of what should have been a moment of passion, but just the idea of how much I would hate the mark the moment it was there, made me stop him.
Yes, you can leave marks on my body with a flogger, a paddle, a cane or your hand, or even a Wartenburg wheel or a knife, but never with your kiss. That’s just not my thing.
© Rebel’s Notes