Love letter to ball busting

[Nocturne]

To me, pain is one of the purest expressions of love. The trust to cause titillation but no harm. The mutual bond when you hold the power over someone's most sensitive sensations. Of course I can't simply forget that, let that go and let it disappear into the past. All of that confidence in one-another to engage in what might as well become mutual combat, knowing the other's reactions, knowing what keeps them safe. I miss the intimacy of having affection come through as suffering, whether that be the physical pain of ball busting or whether that be the tease of the lack thereof. Either way, begging will ensue, for pain or for mercy. And denial can be ever so fun. But if I had the chance now, to be in the right mind space, the right moment of complete trust, to deliver such ache, to see such reactions, I would snatch it without a second thought. To be given the gift of the most intense variety of pain, willingly, enthusiastically, is something I would love to have again, some day. 

[Nocturne]

I have yet more to express, inspired by the thoughts that I expressed about those activities when they were still something I engaged in.

The feeling of holding power is what fuels my desire to keep going, watching one submit, seeing their reactions. If there's anything more intimate than the pain that is shared, it's the moment when the pain swells and lessens as I hold them, the recovery serving as nothing but a preparation for the next hit, until it's time for aftercare. The juxtaposition between violence and comfort, tackling both in the same session, back and forth between the two. The trust for the violence to only happen when wanted, safely,  finally being able to feel truly excited about intimacy. Being challenged so you can prove yourself right, watching them realise and adore you even more. Pain is so much more of an interesting sensation to explore, to me, than pleasure. 

These beautiful evenings have been some of the most emotionally intense things I have felt, especially in terms of positive feelings. I miss it, for none of the intimacy I've had has felt as beautiful to me as this exchange of love and pain. So at least I need to write it down, let go the idea of revisiting that place, move on, but still feel the beauty of it. I am used to moving on from things after I find out they are ugly, that the trust I gave was unwarranted, so it's a different journey to move on from something that to me still feels poetic and beautiful.