When you think of playing on the edge sexually, what do you think of? For as many different lifestyle relationships, you will find just as many different answers. Some derive pleasure from pain, pleasure from humiliation, and others derive pleasure from just their role in a certain activity or relationship. These things constitute legitimate boundary pushing, on the edge play, even if it isn’t a more “traditional” sense or definition of the word.

For me, playing on the edge can cover a multitude of activities. At one point in my life anal sex was playing on the edge. Shortly after it became standard practice and being spanked was playing on the edge- my own personal edge. The lines blurred and in my desire to be as submissive to my Sir as possible, I actually wanted to push the envelope.

One of the most erotic experiences in our two year relationship is a night that we spent cutting and making love. We bought the razor blades and I sterilized them accordingly. As I watched him slide the blade across his skin all I could think of was pressing my mouth to his fresh wound. So I did just that.

Immediately I climaxed and hit subspace in record time. Nothing could ever possibly top that moment- or so I thought. As he positioned himself above me and held the razor blade to my skin I couldn’t help but tremble and shake. I was not a pain slut nor did I ever have a desire to be one. Yet this, this I wanted with everything that I was. With a nod and a deep sigh I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall deeper into subspace, deeper into my submission to the man who wielded the razor blade.

It was a sharp pain, but it went quickly. I didn’t scream or jump as I thought I might. I barely flinched. As he leaned down and sucked the blood from my skin I realized that I had never in my life felt more complete. Our life sources had been tasted and exchanged in the most deliciously erotic manner. As he slipped inside of me and our physical bodies joined in pleasure I remember thinking that my boundaries were completely gone, never to be seen again.

Almost two years later, I know better. The man I call my Master has now prodded, probed, and pushed in every way possible. He knows the scent of my arousal before I do. He knows the size of my clothes and the way my body responds to everything from cancer to toe sucking. So many things that I never thought possible, never dreamed of, and he has figured each of them out.

Now my ideas of playing on the edge involve things less mainstream. Things like “water sports” and “scat” have become part of my informal training. Shocking, isn’t it? For a girl who thought she never had a single limit, I now know that as submissive as my nature was, I was only submissive to a degree.

Nothing reminds me of my place more than the times when we explore the edge together. When I’m stripped naked and clutching at the toilet as I bear down, aching to release my bowels simply because he has told me what pleasure it brings him. Or the times when I spread the lips of my slippery cunt and piss all over his throbbing cock. The piss and shit do nothing for me. The fact that he has asked it of me, that he knows how quickly the mild humiliation puts me into subspace, that’s what makes me want to do it again and again.

It’s not always about his piss or my defecation. Often times it’s about simply making love in the bathroom because it’s quiet and has a locked door, it’s much more convenient for a quick fuck than always going upstairs. Yet even when it’s just a quick fuck, I’m reminded of all of our activities. Even remembering the times when I have licked him from front to back, thinking of the times when I have awakened him by sucking on his delicious cock- all of those things are taboo or playing on the edge to somebody.

Do the things we do in the privacy of our own home make me a bad person? Do they make me a horrible parent or some societal freak? I think not. I think they make me a woman in love with a man. A submissive who is comfortable and well reminded of her place in not only her Masters life and home, but in his heart as well.

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