He eyes the blank canvas; choosing a color he begins. Light shading, blending, bringing it to life. The rhythm of his strokes, the detail, the exactness. Concentration, every breath heard, every movement absorbed into him, his mind, his heart. He sees his canvas relax, watches every body part goes limp. He hears her moan. The connection: he feels it in his very soul.
Coloring is relaxing; a warmth I feel as I bring things to life with color…I love to color. It is how I bring things to life.
Color itself is very important in my world. Baby Girl creates controls this world. I use color in my day to enhance or create moods. Passive pink is very seductive and turns up my volume. It seems calm, trusting, soothing, pretty, and carefree. Powerful enough to lower blood pressure unless combined with the color of glitter which is a stimulant.
Pain does not lack color. Pain is energy. When Daddy strikes me with his cane I choose the color I feel or desire. I imagine it hitting my body and flowing through and out. Daddy calls it energy.
Daddy Sadist sees his little girl: my body soft and tender, delicate- his canvas. He paints on me his own self through various forms of pain and sensual pleasure. He creates and uncovers a work of art that is characterized by him. The more he feels through me the more I belong to him. Color is emotion and emotion is color.
Think about the three types of empathy we use in connection:
1) cognitive: (perspective being able to see things for another’s point of view.
2) personal distress: (emotional contagion) watching a scary movie you empathize with the hero/ friend is hurting and you feel it (a big one for me)
3) empathetic concern: recognizing another’s emotional state, feel and show concern.
My sadist Daddy is very empathetic too. He also has the ability to share my feelings in a unique way through mirror neurons. These react to my emotions and mirrors them so he feels my pain as his. My emotions give him strength.
As a little I have a great capacity for empathy so much that I often shut it down. Feeling safe allows me to open and my “little volume” turns up. I can then feel and show emotion. My little state feeds my Daddy Sadist.
My openness is my beauty
surrendering even my mind
inviting him into the depth of me: where my fears are hidden.
Offering my essence, needing him to claim me
He knows my desire to be owned by him, he is Masterful at cultivating my desire to accept and beg for his torment.
This torment is not dark and cold. It is warm and colorful. The sadist in love, drinking in my sweet essence. We dine, we dance. My vulnerabilities arouse him. It is about mental desires. Daddy and I have a strong emotional aspect to our sex- to our play. Our life is all about emotions and feeling them. My Sadist is a painter and I am his canvas.