I once described my massage therapist (she’s actually a massage terrorist, if you want *my* opinion) as a ‘…blonde, Icelandic, dominatrix schoolmarm.’ Only without the whip and ruler. If you see what I mean.
Every time we start a session (which should probably be called a scene, considering the pain involved), I think to myself, “Self…” (It’s best to address myself in the third person, I think.) “…You can do this. It’s not so bad. It’s actually gotten progressively better since we started. (This has been going on for eight months now. Long story. Bottom line: lower back issues.) And it’s only an hour-long beating. Things could be worse…”
And so the pep talk goes. I psych myself up, put my big girl panties on (even though I’ll be taking them off again ~ I get my massages bare arsed naked ;)), and enter Mistress LMP’s…erm…lair.
Today I didn’t even squirm in my seat when she asked *the* question.
“How’s your back feeling?” she asked, all gentle concern (Ha! I don’t believe it for a minute. She is evil, I tell you! EVIL!) and professional courtesy.
“I’ve just had two weeks off, so I’m fairly relaxed,” I replied. “I’m not really feeling any pain.”
“Hmmm…” was her only response.
I knew immediately that I was in trouble. No pain? That was the WRONG thing to say!
She pushed (breathe, breathe, keep breathing), prodded (relax, relax), and otherwise pounded (that’s my tickle spot and you’re making it HURT) my back muscles into submission (ouchOuchOUCH) for an hour. And she did so with a smile on her face. At one point I even detected a maniacal gleam in her eye when she heard me inhale sharply due to her ministrations.
Did I say there was no pain?
I was WRONG! Very, very wrong.
Groooooaaan…
So I’m feeling pain now, my friends. Definitely feeling it now.
I’ll feel fantastic in a couple days. I always do. But right now…
I’m exhausted.
Bruised.
Sore.
And not in that seeing-pretty-colors-because I-just-got-spanked-into-bliss kind of way.
Nope. (Shaking head sadly)
Maybe tomorrow night. 😉
Sigh…
I never considered myself a masochist, but now I’m beginning to wonder. Either I truly believe in the ‘no pain, no gain’ philosophy of healing or I’m officially a pain slut. I’d like to believe it’s the former, but if it’s the latter I need to find a proper Sir and/or sub (wiggling eyebrows) to administer after-care…
Meanwhile, I have another appointment with Mistress Massage Terrorist in three weeks.
I do a LOT of pressure point massage on Leigh. Her day job manifests in knots in her shoulders, traps, etc. We have discovered that she does enjoy this good pain. Not to the point of arousal, but she takes it!
There are most definitely benefits to deep tissue massage. And there’s a reason getting the kinks (heh) out is called ‘working out’ the tenseness. It is, indeed, a workout.
I have ended up going mostly to male massage therapists because they always respect my level of comfort and low tolerance for pain. I also go for the whole 90 minute session because that’s where their talents can really shine. I would rather be there longer where my problems are slowly worked out than having a shorter, more intense massage.
I try and do the same thing when I give massages, which is pretty frequently. I work up to finding their limits and staying under them.
I don’t find much pleasure or benefit in suffering. I haven’t ever felt better after being tortured by a massage therapist. The damage in my muscles lasts for days.
Kwe-Kwe, Kanienke!
As much as I love men’s hands (and forearms…I definitely have a ‘thing’ about men’s forearms…*shiver*), I don’t know how much actual therapy would be achieved with a pair on me. Especially since focusing on my lower back includes working my buttocks and thighs. Somehow I think having manly hands that close to my naughty bits would be dangerous.
However…
When it comes to sensual massage under a man’s hands? Ooooooh, yeeessss…
😉
Wow, I’ll have to share some forearm shots sometime. 😉
I especially love, when giving a massage, giving all the gluteals a good long relaxing rub, and even getting all that connecting tissue the massage therapists miss, but that are such a wonderful relief to have touched.
You are braver than I 🙂
I’ll have to refute that claim based on the fact that (according to your blog) you took your offspring to Disneyworld. Compared to that intrepid deed, I am Cowardly Lion.
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