Blood.

I love seeing my own blood. Not because it's the life being drained out of me, but because it's a tiny fraction of the life that's still in me. Bleeding and still being alive gives me a crazy little thrill of how strong I am, of what my body can withstand without even getting dizzy.

Blood is proof. Feeling a knife is one thing, that's subjective, but if blood comes out, that means that I was really cut, that my pain is real. If I don't have marks I don't have a way to prove to myself that I was touched with anything more than bunnyfur, and a mark that breaks my skin, that's the most serious mark of all. I can't be completely a poser if I'm bleeding.

Blood is drama. Interest in BDSM is partly rooted in the love of drama that elevates sex into something more mysterious and powerful than ordinary life, and what's more dramatic than flowing blood?

Blood is beautiful. To me at least. Even a little smear of it is a thrill, a flowing line of it a frightening rush, a single drop a single of so much power and terror. It's so red.

Blood is me. It's my life flowing through my veins, and it's my life to do what I want with--to throw away if I see fit, to give to those who deserve it, to spend on sex and fun as well as "worthy" pursuits.

I'm not completely crazy. I don't want to bleed a lot, I don't want to risk even a scar, much less real injury. But that single shining red drop of it. That's sexy.