My Brushstrokes: Whip Marks Proudly Displayed by My Subjects

This post is quite personal for it is the first set of photos of My "whip art" featuring marks from intense impact play with a few of My dearest and closest subs. Pain--they endured it for Me. Trust--they placed in Me. Power--they gave it to Me.

They were naked, vulnerable, brave, aroused, and at times in tears. Whether or not I was truly worthy of their submission is for them to decide. On their body is the manifestation of My sadism, My relief from being "nice and civilized", and--oddly--My affection for them. By laying down to bear My whip they offer proof that I am indeed alive, that I do indeed house inside of Me all the passion, rage, cruelty, and compassion of an emotional and flawed being. Every thunderous crack of the whip brings Me closer to the center of the present moment. I am in "Dom-space".

How burdensome it is for Me at times to exchange perfunctory niceties everyday, smiling and nodding in the company of strangers and acquaintances. How taxing it can be for Me to ask people about their routined lives when I really want to ask about who they are and for what do they live. How disappointing it is when My lexicon fails to supply the words required to express exactly how I feel. But when I hold a whip and its tail end makes contact with another person's skin, they scream in exquisite agony and look at Me with such desire and awe that I finally feel I am engaging with someone's soul. They are not tied up so they are not forced into receiving pain. They offer themselves willingly, knowing they will suffer but wanting to give Me My joy. This, to Me, is true submission. Complete and willing surrender of body and mind. 

There are a few moments in life when I truly sense that I am seeing someone. An intense whipping is one of those moments. This seeming insanity actually balances out the real chaos in our lives. What else is there to hide? What else is there to say? Nothing! Because My thoughts and My actions are unified for that rare moment. Action has a cleansing effect, or as Oscar Wilde's character Lord Henry said from The Picture of Dorian Gray, " The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. . . . Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself." 

With their full consent, below are photos of My sadistic soul in blood-red. Thank you, My humble subjects, for allowing Me to express this beastly, natural part of Myself.

"The impulses of nature are what give authenticity to life." - Joseph Campbell

The Sadism Inside Me: The Case for Cruelty

Being a disciplinarian, for Me, has always been one of the more fascinating means by which to correct or punish a slave's behavior. As a Mistress I employ various forms of physical and psychological training to re-educate and re-condition My subjects, however it is when a masochist kneels before Me that I feel a raw and nearly uninhibited sense of excitement as a human being. Even with the understanding that any such training is always consensual, the very act of inflicting pain on My slave's body and watching him writhe in agony gives Me a strangely primal sense of satisfaction. In fact, the more a slave cries out upon impact from My instrument of torture, the more I want to continue My path of darkness just so I can hear him scream and beg for mercy. The only thing that tempers My instinct to destroy the individual in front of me is My compassion in understanding his need to feel My control. It is in these moments of sadism that My thinking, reasoning self diminishes, and a beast--an animal--within Me emerges, perhaps telling Me a story about My innate human nature that is older than civilization. 

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