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August 1, 2009

Smell of the leather .....

I think I was a masochist in another lifetime.
Honest, I do.
I took The Boy and my niece, Princess B to the MALL yesterday.
Yes, I descended into the 8th dimension of HELL.
I'm not sure what prompted me to do so ..... ????
Oh yeah, Princess B wanted to hustle up some sponsorship cash for her entry into the Miss Teen Buffalo Pageant.
Yes, my gorgeous girl was invited and then selected from 250 young ladies to compete.
YAY!

So I take her to the mall so she can present herself to a few merchants and see what
she can come up with.
I'm one of those that would rather just GIVE the money rather than have her trying to solicit.
I don't know, I just feel funny about it, like I was pimping her out.
Is it me?

Anywho, so after we schlep from one store to another, we decide to take a break and head
into Spencers Gifts for a few laughs.
Mind you, this is perhaps one of my all time favorite places to go.
They have all kinds of stupid, inane and totally inappropriate shit!
*sigh*
heaven ....
Totally NOT Politacally Correct!

So, we're walking around looking at plastic dog shit, fake tits, Jimmy Hendrix Lamps, Beer bongs, etc when we come across the "naughty" section of the store.
You know, the one with the seriously trashy lingerie, cock molds, flavored lubes, sex games and my personal favorite, the dong bong.
Oh and they had whips too.
Yes, whips.
They mostly had cat-o-nine, long handled and short.
But, they did have a few crops as well.
The boy picks up a short handled cat-o-nine and proceeds to whip his arm.
He yelps from the pain and I tell him to drop his purse, hike up his skirt and take it like a man.
It couldn't have hurt THAT bad.
Sheesh!
Well wouldn't you know .... Mr. SmartAss spawn of mine decided I needed to feel for
myself how much it didn't hurt.
The little fucker (I can call him that, I carried him and gave him life goddamnit!)
whipped me!
On the arm.
It kinda stung a little, but certainly not enough to make me whimper or cry out.
The Boy was stunned.
He looked at me like I was some kind freak.

I have a high tolerance for pain what can I say?!

Back to my whipped arm .....
Not a big deal right?
Wrong.
I look at my arm and I have a whole series of angry looking red welts that are swelling up
higher and getting darker with each passing second.
FUCK
See kids, I mark up EASY.
Look at me too hard and I'll have a bruise.
In fact, my new love found out just how easy I mark up.
Oh, and for the sake of making life (mine & yours) easier, from this point on he shall be known as Jack.

It's a damn good thing my gynecologist appointment has been taken care of.
The doctor might have a few questions as to why I have bruises and bite marks all over my thighs.
And ass.
And breasts.
And arms.
And neck.
And pretty much any other part of me.
Jack likes to "nibble."

I don't mind the biting and suck marks.
In fact, I kinda enjoy them.
Ok .... I love them.
I really do.
I like the visual reminder of what we shared.
He branded himself onto me. Temporarily.
I see them and think, "Yeah, I'm Jack's woman!".
I realize that at my age, suck marks and such are NOT fashionable to have,
Butt .....
I love that he does it it me.
I know that probably sounds odd.
Ok, I know it sounds rather infantile AND odd.
But, we all like what we like, and I like my marks.

Where was I going with all this again?
I forget.
I'm too busy reminiscing now ......
*sigh*
Matters not I guess.
I'll just sit here with a new set of marks on me that were not made by Jack (Grrr),
and with a sly grin.
See, those little cat-o-nines and riding crops don't much bother me .....
I own both.


....... sting of the whip.

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