When I Feel the Sting

Of how I've tried to understand this wicked desire
The dark deliciousness that I feel with pain

Is it penitence for some deep riddled guilt
That can only be absolved through excruciation

Am I starved for endorpins, neurotransmitters
So I trick the body into flooding them and feel the high

Or do I torture myself with brutal physicality
Conquering real anguish so I can forget the emotional

All good theories, sound and clinical
But dare I say they are so off the mark

The truth is I love a good spanking
Starting with the anticipation and waiting

Feeling the smack of a sturdy wooden paddle
White hot sting that jumpstarts my heart

Then the tingling warmth that follows
Counting off with the number one

Enduring the subsequent swats in order
Experiencing the elevating suffering they bring

Swept up in the moment, a kinky Zen epiphany
Reveling in truly being alive

Finally giving up the tears that are so hard to shed
Salty streaming relief like waterfalls down my cheeks

But what's the most delightful are the bruises
And the way it hurts so good to sit down, for days

Does that answer the question, satisfy your morbid curiousity
If so, can we finally begin