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wednesdays-child-is-missing

"Thankyou sir ... can I please have another" ... 🔥 ... need this 💯🍑🍅

toiich

Noce blanche (1989), dir. Jean-Claude Brisseau

wornbriefly

When I Say I Like Pain, I Don’t Mean I Like It Easy

Some people hear “I like pain” and think that means I like being lightly spanked and told I’m a good girl.

Don’t get me wrong — I like being a good girl. But that’s not what I mean.

When I say I like pain, I don’t mean I like it soft. I don’t mean I like it ornamental. I don’t mean I want to be gently bruised just enough to say we did something edgy before cuddling for two hours.

I mean I want to feel it.

I mean I want to breathe through it. Bite through it. I want the kind of pain that makes me forget everything else — because nothing else in my life slows my brain down the way a hand around my throat or a belt across my thighs can.

I don’t want it for show. I don’t want it to impress anyone. And I don’t want it to be performative for you. I want it to mean something to me.

I like pain that makes me let go. Pain that makes me cry — not because it’s too much, but because it’s exactly enough. Pain that makes me trust you in a way I can’t explain without sounding unwell.

So yeah. When I say I like pain, I don’t mean I want to be handled like a prop or patted like a pillow. I mean I want to be undone.