I do not cry in front of other people. For years I barely cried at all. In fact my motto was: "Never let them see you cry, crying is a sign of weakness." That stemmed from a time in my life that every weakness was used against me. He told me early on that I would cry for him. I told him I would not. Of course, I was wrong and he was right. Yet I fear that he may come to regret opening those ducts. I never know when my tears will flow or what will trigger the flood. There are times when I know I interrupt our play by crying. It is not intentional, I often try and hold it back. I cannot. It would seem akin to lying to him if I held in my tears (as if I could). If I am crying and he knows I am okay, both physically and emotionally, he keeps it going. He will continue with whatever play (spanking, whipping, pinching, orgasm demanding) he is doing. If he is at all in doubt, or thinks I may have been taken to far, he stops. He holds me, he talks to me, he asks me about the trigger. I rarely can give him an answer, I usually do not know. I'm not sure there is ever one thing. Part of it is being overwhelmed, by emotion, by sensations, by him. Part of it is holding so much in during the course of my daily life. Part of it is being safe and loved and treasured by him. Part of it, I am sure, is being on a hormonal thrill ride this past couple of years.
Often pain will trigger it, not because the pain is so unbearable, but because I am struck with the realization that I could not, would not trust or allow anyone other than him to do [insert whatever he is doing at the time]. When we engage in activities that used to scare me, were part of my past abuse or are things that have been a source of shame for me, I cry. I cry because he is so loving, so respectful, so accepting of all that I am and desire. It is strange to feel this way when he is biting me or whipping my cunt with his belt or pissing on my face, but all of those things are done lovingly and caringly. I know he would never harm me, humiliate me or hate me. In short, he would never abuse me, ever.
Our play is driven by both of our desires. Our desires are driven by each other. We both have come to desire things that we previously did not because the other one did. Or because it is something we can share with each other that will never be given or shared with anyone else. He transforms experiences for me. Things that were scary and shameful in the past are freeing and affirming now. Those really hard things, boundary pushing things, have a spiritual quality. They are like a religious experience for me.
So, I am trying to redefine sexy as puffy eyes, snotty nose and blotchy, wet face. He tells me I am delusional when I tell him he is the sexiest man I have ever known. Yet he thinks my crying self is sexy. It is good to be delusional together.