Red flags are red flags for a reason. I hope your cock shrivels up and falls off. 

Hi, my name is Infinite Arms and I’m a masochist. I mean let’s be honest, you’ve got to be to keep attempting to navigate this shit hoping for a decent outcome. 

I’m a physical masochist - being hit / given physical pain makes me happy (read very wet) but I’m also a massive emotional and psychological masochist. 

The physical bit is easy enough - plenty of people will hit you with hitty things, less people with hit you with fisty things, even less people will cut you, break the occasional rib, but there are people. 

The emotional and psychological masochism is the difficult part I’m finding, but my circumstances are probably a big factor in that. I’m married - we met through kink and we still do kink when life allows. But we both have other facets we indulge outside our relationship. I won’t tell you his, he can do that, but mine is very much focussed on someone being mean to me. 

There are lots of levels of mean, physical pain is just one of them (a very fun one), but my masochism also leans a lot towards more emotional and psychological aspects and this is the bit I struggle to get in the extracurricular stuff. 

So I prefer to play with people who are poly, or not looking for a full time relationship, because I have one of those and he’s wonderful and irreplaceable. I also don’t really like people who are doing it all behind their partners back, because that’s just hard work and it feels pretty crappy to be the one being cheated on so there’s that. 

But - and here’s the unicorse poo part - I do need to have some kind of connection / dynamic / relationship for the emotional psychological stuff to be meaningful. 

ification and degradation and just general worthlessness is one of my biggest kinks. And, maybe it’s just for me, but that doesn’t work if I have no level of connection with the person who’s making me that low. I like (well love to hate) to be told I can’t touch, or orgasm, in between play sessions. Admittedly I’m sometimes utterly shit at that but I’m working on it. And that doesn’t work if there’s not some sort of friendship or mutual appreciation going on. 

In short, I don’t want to marry you, or have any detrimental impact on any relationship you are in. But I cannot promise I won’t be fond of you, because, for me at least, that tends to be a byproduct of having someone be mean to me in the aforementioned ways. 

No real reason for this post other than a handy th

Ooh when did these come back? 

Right, since we're here, I have no interest in locating to the States, or anywhere else really. We can save everyone's time by assuming if you want a live in slave it ain't me. 

We'll also save lots of time if you note that I am a CIS female pansexual, I believe trans women are women and I'd rather you didn't use me to justify your prejudice, and IMHO the 11th doctor is the best (so far, high hopes for 14). 

Oh and I very rarely delete messages so if you send a cut and paste you've sent before I will be able to tell, likewise if we've spoken and you're forgotten. 

Him

I wonder what I look like. The thing with being left alone is you have a lot of time to muse on things like that. There?s a bruise on my knee I notice, I can?t tell in the half light if it?s a new one or not and in the scheme of things it?s pretty insignificant, it?s only just visible under the dirt anyway. Actually, It?s probably better I can?t see what I look like; I don?t imagine it?s a pretty sight. It?s funny; it always sounds so sexy in books, the heroine waif like and beautiful, even after everything. The reality is quite different, but I never did go for the fairytale.

The floor is dirty ? unsurprising, it?s basically earth and building debris. Every house should have an unconverted basement, it?s the perfect place to take your submissive and systematically destroy her. Obviously she?d have to want to be destroyed, and therein lays the crux.

I have almost stopped trying to reconcile my wants in life, far easier to compartmentalize, let the other me deal with it. She?s getting braver too, she asked for everything that happened to me today, asked for it, begged for it, needed it. And now here I am, thoroughly debased and surprisingly peaceful. She dreamed of the chain that now runs from my ankle to the ring in the corner of the room, the dirt that covers every inch of my body, the tracks in that dirt left by sweat, tears and unmistakable arousal. That thought makes me flush, wrap my arms around my knees tighter, the chain shifts noisily and I am lost all over again.

?You were made to be on the floor.? he?d said to me when he?d ordered me naked and then kicked my legs out from under me. Sprawled in front of him with his shoe pressing my face into the ground I?d had little choice but to agree. They were nice shoes, to go with the equally nice suit and tie, so formal and professional, a stark contrast to my naked and bruised body. I adore the feeling of being naked at the feet of a fully clothed man, it adds to the feeling of being ?less than? somehow. Part of me doesn?t want to use the word ?worthless?, but I will, because that?s the word he used, the word he scrawled across my breasts in pen, the word he repeated over and over as his fancy shoes connected with various parts of my body. ?Worthless? was the word that sent me out of myself whilst at the same time I sank into the sensation, begging for every kick I deserved, every fist, every cut of the belt.

?Filthy. Pathetic. Cunt.? Each word accompanied by the belt, each word that should have sent me running for the hills but in which I reveled, because I know he?s right, I am all those things and more. ?Maybe I should put you out of your misery now? and suddenly his hands were round my throat, squeezing until the world started to go grey around the edges and my blood pounded in my head. Before I blacked out completely he relented and I gasped for breath. ?But what good would you be to me then?? he mused. ?I couldn?t do this?.? He caught my chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted my head until I was looking at him through smudgy eyes, almost tenderly, as though he was going to kiss me

And then he spat in my face and laughed.

It?s all a blur after that. I tried to imagine myself invisible as he resumed his assault, I lost all semblance of composure and gave in to the sobs that heaved in my chest and hurt my bruised ribs. He paid me no heed at all, only stopping to position me on all fours to fuck me. He didn?t even get undressed, simply undid his fly and used my unprotesting body until he was satisfied. Sex purely for his benefit, hard and fast and unrelenting, even as I whimpered and pleaded with him, to stop or continue I have no clue at this point. I was sore and the tears were streaming but at the same time every nerve in my body was screaming for release.

?Come for me then you dirty little cunt.? He said, and this final insult is what sent me over the edge. I orgasm with his derision echoing in my head and his hand clamped over my mouth. He left me then, tethered and waiting for him to return later to do it all again.

And so here I am, exactly as I wanted to be, begged to be, need to be.