In the fifties there were black and white television programs, and there was black and white kink. Who needed colour?
Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your colourless - or colourful - contributions in the next post.
Pain is good.
...
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled with anticipation. One hour, he told himself... I must purge myswlf of today's sins.... Forgiveness was assured. Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in the centre of his room. Looking down, he examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around his thigh...a leather strap, studded with sharp metal barbs... The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desires of the flesh.
Although Silas had already worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savoured the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered...
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside him. The Discipline. the knots were caked with dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then, gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the knots slap against his back. He whipped it over his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.