This picture was one I took to show him the marks that he left on me. We joked about this being the trifecta! He used a belt, a crop and the paddle he made. I love that you can tell the crop marks and they stand out the most. He knew it was my favorite. The marks lasted for over a week and even then they were still hazy yellow and light green. I love this picture for many reasons.
First and foremost, the marks and bruises. I love the way they have no pattern, yet he was so methodical in his implementation. The next thing would be that with all my insecurities, even then, I took a picture of my ass, the body part I avoid looking at the most. The next thing, and maybe one day I realize the best thing about this picture is that I can look at it and smile, remembering the day, and feeling the good of it before I get sad remembering the loss of it.
Going through photos of the past has been difficult. Emotionally, it is hard to go through them and realize the old memories that are still so new in my heart and mind. I never realized how many pictures I had of Sir and me together. One of the reasons that my daughter and I did the little photo shoot is because I told her it was hard to go through the pictures I had because they all were taken by Sir. The point of these 28 days (for me) is to find the more sensual part of myself, appreciate my curves, and my body more. It has been a roller coaster for me. I expected that it would be. I was prepared, but I don’t think anything could prepare me the way I needed to be for some of the walks down memory lane.
Perspective is everything. While browsing through these photos there has been pain. Stabbing pain in the heart that these are all memories of the past and not to be experienced again. Pictures of his cock that I will never see again. Pictures of us together. Videos of us making love. Hearing his voice tell me I am his Toy. I am his. The pain hits hard and I mourn how beautiful and sexy he made me feel. I then look at other photos taken since he left me and see the sadness I feel. Maybe I am the only one that can see it. If so, I suppose that is good that the pain I see and feel is unknown to others.
My tolerance to pain is high, as long as it is physical pain. My tolerance for emotional pain is nowhere near as high. Some say it just takes time, time heals all, time will tell, time will help you see it is for the best. In some ways, I believe that. In some ways, I doubt I will ever not miss him, what he gave me, how he helped me become who I am now, everything about his friendship and our relationship.
Some days are better than others.
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