I can’t deny it.
Being marked is a kink of mine.
There is nothing as satisfying after intense play, as standing in front of the mirror and seeing the coloring of my skin. They remind me of the pain I have felt, of the intense emotions, of the intimate connection.
They make me happy.
If someone would’ve hit me in a rage of anger, or hit me too hard in a ‘playful’ state, and that would leave a mark, it would enrage me. I would be angry and I would absolutely hate the mark.
The difference between the first and the second?
Those marks given to me during play are marks I want, marks I crave, marks I love seeing on my body. The others? No.
Marked by others
I have been marked by others in the past, and the first that springs to mind is a weekend of dominance and submission. It was a weekend with another couple (who sadly disappeared from our lives without explanation) and from he moment we entered that house, the kink started. I can’t remember how many times I had a spanking, how many times I felt the flogger, the cane, a paddle… but I do remember the beautiful marks I had, and how happy I was that they stayed for the better part of two weeks. Every night Master T took pictures of them, because I wanted it documented, and wanted to see which color the marks turned, and when they disappeared. God, they were so beautiful!
I have also been marked by The Talker, but in no way as extensive as I was marked during that weekend of kink, and other playdates with the same couple.
Marked by Master T
Of course I have also been marked by Master T several times since we made our D/s commitment. He is the one I prefer to mark me, because it is his marks I want to wear.
One mark is of a different nature than the ones that I got during play, and that is my tattoo, which still is, despite our D/s being in a kind of hiatus, of very deep meaning to both of us. It’s symbol of my love and submission, of giving all control to him, and I wear it with pride.
There’s our very first night in a hotel, where his hand and a flogger turned my bottom red, and there’s another night in a hotel where he used the cane and a dragon tail, and some marks stayed for a couple of days. But, he also gave me marks at home, even though there were kids in the house.
The most recent markings Master T has given me came quite unexptedly in September 2019, when he had a week or two where his dominant nature seemed to have the upper hand over the constant pain he feels. He marked my bottom on two separate occasions and one of those even made me laugh.
Those were the last marks he gave me, and since then I haven’t felt any pain again, except to my nipples, but that kind of pain doesn’t leave marks.
Sometimes I wonder why I love marks so much, and why I crave them when I don’t have them. On the one hand it has something to do with submitting myself to pain, and being able to go through the pain, and come out on the other side feeling whole. On the other hand I think it’s all about the feeling of belonging. When I wear his mark, I feel like I belong, like I am his.
But, don’t I feel like that without marks?
Of course I do. I know I am his, I belong to him, I belong with him. I always do, and I always will. There is just something about wearing his mark, caused by the pain I have endured, that intensifies the feeling of belonging.
And, if someone else administered the pain and marked me, it still feels like I belong to Master T, because without his consent, no one will ever be able to mark me.
© Rebel’s Notes