The pain catches me by surprise.
Small surges of pain from familiar places.
Pain as memory.
Memory of pain.
I gather it in. I hold it close in a fervent embrace. It comes like a surprise kiss as I shift in my chair, but rather than fleeing, I walk towards it with open arms. I move again, deliberately this time, inviting the pain back. My hand tiptoes to the round, moaning flesh of my bruised buttock where it changes identity from ass to thigh.
I invoke the pain.
And my pussy sings as it weeps tears of desire.
Written for my sadistic Master
and posted with permission.