Threads When you’re dealing with fantasies, it makes sense that you’re going to
Threads When you’re dealing with fantasies, it makes sense that you’re going to want a little proof. Marks, scratches, pinches and bruises, each one a testament that yes, that really happened, and no, you’re not losing yourself in some warped reality of whips and chains, masochism and cathartic release. It feels like a grounding, a way to keep your feet where they belong and not lose yourself too much to the heights of it all. More than that, it’s a way of threading kink throughout your vanilla, and visa-versa. It’s rife for metaphor, really. Because the bruises heal when you’re away from me, the scratches fade, and the marks recede. Vanilla life replenishes you before I bring you back down again. Or maybe it’s the other way around, a way of topping you back up with blows and nails, all the little things that mar your skin in the prettiest ways. Vanilla life takes them away, and I put them back. For me, they’re a reminder that you exist as a submissive beyond these four walls, that intermittent scenes aren’t the only place you occupy, and that you persist even as you adopt the vestments of your vanilla life. That just because you’re wearing that hoody and glasses, that there isn’t some grand disconnect between the two. It’s not the same shift between sleeping and waking, even if both of them deal with the darker fantasies that flit around the edges of your conscious mind. This is more organic, less of a stark contrast, where one feeds into the other, and back again. The marks just provide a throughline, they’re the ball of yarn in the Minotaur’s maze, a way to find our way back, whichever way we’re going. -- source link
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