beating nail bdsm flogger

Beat the devil out

My default state in life is ‘mildly depressed’; I have to fight against tipping into the void. I am also autistic, and require huge sensory input in order to regulate energy and emotions. I have ADD as well, and so my brain is often home to chaos. These ingredients make for a complicated soup of muddled thinking and poor mental health.

44 years of this. No cure. No relief.

Until I found kink.

There is nothing that transforms me like a beating, or electrostim play can. I can arrive at James’s feeling like I am at the bottom of the ocean, take a beating, and come out the other side a shiny new penny.

During a session I go deep into myself. This is subspace, and it is bliss. I can tune into the pain or ignore it. I can hear the cane against my skin and I can hear James speaking to me but I cannot respond.

I have no responsibility in this scenario. I need do nothing but be still, to trust. This alone is sublime, as my life is full of looking after things and people.

James touches my shoulder with the tip of the crop, pauses. Then, the sting of the strike bites hard. One shoulder, then the other, back and forth. He then moves to my arse, hitting up and down, one side and then the other.

I leave my body.

We are in a field in summer, lying under a wide blue sky. I look up at James and he smiles. We are so happy.

I am in a cave and the wind is rushing through the stones. No, not a cave… I am on a beach in the rain and the waves are crashing and receding, push pull, push-pull…

subspace ocean kink

I realise that it’s my own breath I am listening to, sucking in and pushing out, ujjayi breath taking me to these faraway places, dissipating the pain.

Being beaten drives the devil out of me. It dissolves the niggling worries. It shifts huge problems. It is miraculous in its power.

And then there is aftercare. James wraps me in a duvet with a hot water bottle, and feeds me chocolate. He makes me strong, sweet tea. We lie together, quietly talking, until I come back into myself.

This is the cure. This is the quick fix for anxiety, the cure for depression – albeit temporary.

A sound beating – one given with care and attention – takes me to the sea and rinses me clean of fear and worry. It forcibly removes nonsense from my brain, replaces it with a delightful combination of fluffy clouds and concrete thought.

 

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