I am always careful when I play not to mark my submissive. I respect that while I may be free to go as I please, my sluts have others to whom explaining a bruise or cut would be difficult if not extremely jeopardizing.
Yet there's something about a mark that I find exhilarating. Where others shy from the idea of tattoos because of the chance you might change your mind, regret it, I love that idea. It's a permanent reminder of who you were at that moment in time.
I have no desire to permanently scar my sluts. But the red trails down their backs from my fingernails, for that, there is no substitution. I cannot explain why I am this way. Perhaps I have come to believe that our skin is our calling card to the world. What we experience literally lives on us. For this reason, I will be proud of my first wrinkle when it happens.
When I first discovered this world of power play and pain, I was a switch. The first time I played hard enough with my lover at that time for my tastes, I was left with a deep purple bruise on my ass in the shape of the belt that was used on me. I admired it in the mirror every chance I got and part of me mourned when it faded.
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