"Warm up time," he says to me as I get in position to start this session.
With each minute that passes, the tension is building – the body is getting warm then I can feel the cadence change when he decides the warm-up is done.
As each minute passes and the pain rises and subsides then rises again – and my breathing is increases with the moisture on my body – my thoughts fluctuate between "I can take this" to "fuck this shit" then to "I need this".
These thoughts cycle through my mind until finally ….
"Congratulations – your 30 minutes is up!" is what the display says.
I slow the pace down until I’m no longer moving.
Then I get off the fucking machine and curse at it some more as I also curse at myself for how much each session has fucking sucked. And how the fuck did I let myself get so out of shape.
I have a new sadist in my life – I have yet to name him – but I’m pretty sure it’s a him.
I think this is a necessary kink vs a kink I get off on. I know, if history is an indicator, that I will shift into feeling like it’s a good kink not a necessary one. But I’m far from there right now.
Until then, I’ll be swearing at my Service Top as I work my way to that point.