Why do I like being hit?

Someone asked me this today, and it made me think a lot on why I enjoy pain. I hadn’t visited the subject in a while, so it took some processing. Here’s my general thoughts on the matter.

I have sort of a love/hate relationship with pain, and it definitely depends on the purpose/context. Where did it come from? Probably, like my desire for submission, from some combination of things in my past that involved me having to maintain strict control over myself, my emotions, — too deep and not pertinent. The real question here is – Why do I choose to engage in behaviors that involve me receiving pain? A variety of reasons:

  1. Emotional release. I find it difficult to let go and cry sometimes, even when I really need to. Pain can provide an excuse to cry without feeling like I’m being irrational. It’s a catalyst, of sorts. I’ve found stingy pain gets me to this point much more quickly, but isn’t always as satisfying.
  2. Focus. I find it hard sometimes to stop thinking and just feel. Pain makes me think of only it, the person administering it, and what’s happening in the moment between us. That, in turn, allows me to just feel and enjoy things instead of over-thinking them. Additionally, if I’m really stressed or anxious about something, pain is something else I can’t help but focus on instead. (So is submitting in general, with or without pain.)
  3. Challenge. I like pushing myself, and seeing what my body can do.
  4. Fun (ie sexy) endorphins. Pain in certain places, from certain implements, with certain people can get me off in and of itself. Namely, thuddy pain in the ass region with someone I am attracted to, or any type of pain to the nipples with someone I’m attracted to, or rough body play/biting with someone I’m attracted to (notice the trend there?).
  5. Control. Pain is a physical manifestation of power exchange. Every spank can reemphasize that I am submitting to this person, that I am letting them have control over me, that I trust them not to harm me and to stop if need be. It hurts, but I’m letting them do so because it pleases them, which satisfies a deeper mental submissive desire on my end. If they enjoy hurting me, then I’ll get off on it all the more.

I am not an exhibitionist at all. I will go to public events when I know many people going in order to hang out with friends, to take a class, to play with specific equipment, or for the safety element with a newer partner. When I first got involved in the DC scene, I was much more open to casual/pick-up play, so I went out a lot. I learned quickly though that most of my motivations for play stem from deeper desires – D/s, personal expression, sexual – and I’m not very comfortable doing those things with strangers or in public. Because of that, I think 2 and 3 above are the only motivations that ever really came out in the public-playspace type setting. Maybe 4, in rarer instances.

Since that realization, I’ve only played with S&m things a handful of times. (This is also because things like 1 and 5 require much deeper trust and people who are willing to take care of what they break down, which is harder to find and do in shorter instances or with people you’re not in an ongoing relationship with.) All of the above still applies, I’ve just been much choosier in how I engage in those activities.

Advertisements

Book Review: If Only by Cherise Sinclair

If Only by Cherise Sinclair

This is the eighth book in the Master of the Shadowlands series, and it was equally as awesome as the others. Synopsis from Amazon:

After the last fiasco, Sally gives up. She’ll never find a Dom of her own. Instead the computer whizz is job hunting in between bending the law–just a bit–to unearth the bastards who’d enslaved her friends. The clueless cops and Feds obviously need her help.  FBI special agents, Galen and Vance, have waited to play with Sally for a long time. When the mischievous submissive returns to the exclusive Shadowlands BDSM club after an ugly relationship, the experienced co-tops are more than pleased. Realizing she’s suppressing deep-seated emotions, the powerful Doms push her–only to find that her sassiness conceals a scarred and vulnerable heart.  Shaken by the unexpected emotional exposure, Sally flees the demanding Masters and the Shadowlands. And that should be the end of that, since both Galen and Vance have reasons not to seek a long-term relationship, especially with a submissive who doesn’t want what they can give. But when a brutal attack by her ex-Dom sends Sally into their home, the two agents are driven to protect her. To help her. To take her under command. Falling in love isn’t in the plans. But the little imp brings light into their lives, and just as they begin to want more, they discover she’s hacked into an organization that delights in burning people alive. Now more than hearts are on the line, and Sally’s submission could save her life.

I really enjoyed this book. Mystery, romance, BDSM – what’s missing? I related to the main character a good deal as well. For years, she’s played in the scene but no one ever realized she never let people see her emotions. These two Doms step up and force her to face her emotions, wants, and needs, and to vocalize them. I am much better than I used to be about that, but I still have a great deal of difficulty vocalizing my emotions or desires. Similar to the main character, I was raised in situations that trained me to never show weakness. If I expressed my pain, fear, etc., I was made to regret it pretty quickly. As such, trusting others to hear the truth and not punish me (even in a passive agressive way) is really difficult. More than that, it’s my nature now to not share, and it isn’t my consciously choosing not to, I just honestly forget to because I don’t feel like people care enough to know.

Realistically, I’ve rarely had a partner notice or seem to care that I wasn’t sharing deeper emotions, so that has kind of validated my insecure thoughts about people not caring. Someday, though, I want to be find someone who wants to be in my head. He’ll force me to vocalize and share with him, because without doing so he can’t understand me enough to know how far to push. He’ll notice if I don’t volunteer emotional responses.

Again, I’m not as bad as the character in this book, and I’m better than I used to be. I do have some people I talk to now, whereas I used to not open up to anyone. I like to think I’m looking out for my own needs enough now to discuss them. It’d be nice, though, for a Dom to call me on my tendency to hide deep thoughts.

Aside from that, I loved this quote – she’s in my head!

Favorite Quote:

“Don’t you hate that? When you give them the right to command, and they don’t?” Sally shook her head. “Would you believe one man put nipple clamps on me… and the second I squawked, he took them right off. No Dom cookies for that wussy.” But her Feds… her majorly dominating Feds would earn an entire box of chocolate chip cookies. “Oh man, I think I did a scene with that wimp. Totally forgettable.” Maxie slouched back on the leather couch. “Last month, Master Sam put clamps on me. When I whimpered, his eyes lit up, and he tightened them until I was up on tiptoes.” She gave a happy sigh. “There’s no one like a Master.”

This is why I hate when Tops ask me if I like it. I want someone to react to my fear and pain by tightening/hurting me more, and I want his eyes to light up from the desire he feels at inflicting such pain on me.

Book Review: This is Who I Am (Master of Shadowlands)

This is Who I Am (Masters of the Shadowlands 7) by Cherise Sinclair

This is the seventh of the Master of Shadowlands series, all of which have overlapping characters. Cherise Sinclair is one of my favorite erotica authors, and this is another win for her. I love Sinclair’s writing because of it’s authenticity in terms of relationship dynamics and BDSM. Furthermore, she caveats her books by telling readers to remember that in real life, men can’t read your mind – I appreciate that honesty, and it comes through in the books themselves as well. Character development is key for me, and the characters in this series all make me feel. I cry when they cry, I get turned on when they’re turned on.

This particular book is about an older woman who was kidnapped as part of a human trafficking ring and then rescued. The hero helped free her, but in doing so forced her to feel in front of slavers she’d spent months freezing out. The hero is a sadist, and the protagonist a masochist. Against her own interests, the protagonist repeatedly needs and seeks out the hero/sadist as she is forced to accept her masochism.

Aside from the jerk-off material, suspense plot line (kidnappers aren’t fully arrested), and romantic story, this book rang true to me because of the protagonist’s feelings about herself. I struggle sometimes to accept my masochism (and kink in general, at times), striving instead to be “normal.” Sinclair clearly emphasizes that what is “normal” and what is “right” don’t contradict how you process emotions and what you desire sexually. Sinclair writes about the protagonist’s foggy state of mind – when things get stressful and it’s been a while since a pain session, the world isn’t in focus. Pain helps her release and focus, let go, and feel again – not just feel at all, but feel positive feelings too. — That resonated with me strongly, because pain for me is more than an endorphin rush or surrendering of control, but it helps me feel pleasure in all aspects (not just sexual ones) when before I had disassociated.

I recommend this book to anyone into kink, or anyone interested in a good portrayal of S/m.

“She wanted that ruthless part of him. With him, she wouldn’t have to beg for more, because he’d force her to where the sharp edge between pain and pleasure slipped away, and he’d keep her there, where her soul was bared to him.”

DO:Fusion 2013

It’s taken a while for me to really want to write about this, partially because it wasn’t the most eventful of weekends kink-wise.

The weekend overall was good. I spent a lot of time at the Primal Fires, which was really cool. I enjoyed the drumming, fire spinners/dancers, and massive bonfires. I am not pagan, but I do connect to myself more in that type of situation. I also attended some of the scheduled programming, in that I went to the perv pride parade, the bare! stories event, and the burlesque show. All were enjoyable. I really liked the stories part – I love hearing about other people’s experiences. I joke, but seriously, sometimes I can be a nosy bitch.

Other milder things – I hosted an ion for board games that got a great turnout. I also did a bunch of sparklers, roasted some marshmallows, and hung out with great friends, all of which was amazing.

I had a sort of strange/disconcerting experience with play. I only played once over the weekend, with someone I’ve played with before. Some caveats: I hadn’t played since March (so 3 months), and I’ve never played fully to the point of sobbing. I’ve teared up a couple of times. I cried real tears twice, both from a singletail after just a few minutes, not from hard pushing or lengthy beatings, never from impact play. I’d also eaten only about 30 minutes prior to our scene.

I didn’t intend initially for this to be a rough scene, so I didn’t line up any friends for extra cuddles. I didn’t want to put anyone out either, especially since everyone seemed to have plans and things going on. As my prior posts indicate, I’d been in a weird space leading up to the event, and after discussing it, the Top said he’d be down pushing me to tears. I really needed to release some emotion, so I was up for it. We had a very intense (for me, at least) scene, where he was doing very heavy impact play – think paddles, spanking, punching, and crowbar. I broke down into sobs, all was well.

I’ve never needed much aftercare with him before, so we didn’t do much, and then off we went to walk around and hang out. I began feeling more and more out of it, dropping from the play. I tried to meet up with a friend to lend her support, and the pain kicked in hardcore as the adrenaline wore off. I tried to get back to our campsite, and stumbled up a hill. I somehow made it to the DXS campsite, where some friends helped up my bloodsugar and walk me back to my campsite. I got very ill en route, and passed out pretty quickly.

Lessons learned – don’t eat so near to a scene, and discuss lengthier aftercare up front.

Reality of this, though, is that I don’t want to impose on my friends for aftercare. It makes me feel pitiful, and discarded by the person I played with. I want aftercare with the person inflicting the pain. The only exception to this is when that person is part of a couple and I’m friends with them both, in which case either person works for aftercare. Otherwise, if someone can make me so vulnerable and expect so much trust, then I deserve the same in return. If they can break it, they can fix it. If someone doesn’t want to share that intimacy, I don’t want to share play.

There are people who can do that casually, as in outside of a relationship. Unfortunately, that’s hard to find. Frequently, either myself or the other person gets emotionally attached outside of the kink, and one of us doesn’t reciprocate.

So, for now, I’m being much more hesitant about play. Rope is fine, since it’s a bit more tame. A light flogging, sure, why not. Anything remotely pushing limits – I need something more. Hopefully, I’ll find a way to make that happen sooner rather than later.

#DO:WF

Wow, what a crazy weekend, and holy shit how things have changed in a year.  I’m probably going to post a few separate things to process everything going through my head, but for now, I’m going to go with a daily recap. First off, for more information on Dark Odyssey and associated events, click here or visit this group on fetlife.

Friday

I started the weekend right by taking off Friday from work. I’m very glad I did, as it gave me time to get ready, pack, go to target, and check-in/register early during the day. I was originally planning on rooming with three friends, but then last minute ended up adding a fifth person to our room. We also had two others use our room to store bags and change. It got a bit crowded, but worked out all right. I’m glad I stayed in the host hotel again, as it makes everything a little more relaxing and the whole experience sort of becomes a mini-vacation.

I went to one class on Friday, “Electricity 101 with Mister Sean.” Recurring theme of the weekend – stun guns and cattle prods scare the shit out of me. It’s the noise combined with the literal shock of it. I logically know it won’t be all that painful, but I can’t help the innate fear. (Similar to needles and knives – no matter how much I enjoy it, I’m still scared). I tried a new toy in class, a folsom tens unit. It’s a lot stronger than other toys. I’m not a fan of the jumpy muscle feeling, but I admit that with electrodes from this unit on the inner thighs it’d probably make a great orgasm.

I did a lot of socializing on Friday, from dinner at B.Smiths (fabulous!) with friends, to the burlesque review, to late night chattering. I also perused the vending, but held off on buying things to ponder it. I had one scene Friday night involving rope and some sadism, a few of my favorite things. My nipples were tormented for a good portion of our lengthy scene, and they are still bruised…I got out of the shower on Sunday and one was bleeding. I’m always a little disturbed by how fragile my nipple are. I guess I should be thankful that they’re that sensitive?

Saturday

Saturday morning started early with some coffee and Lady Aisha’s class on alternative beatings. I really enjoyed this class because it emphasized some basic themes of negotiation and how/where to hit. I had volunteered to be a demo bottom, although there really wasn’t much need for it. Some of my friends used a few of the implements on my ass, and I gave a few whacks to a friend with a paddle. I then went to the “Better Blowjobs” class. I learned a bit about human anatomy, but I was a tad disappointed that there wasn’t a demo. I also learned that petroleum/lip gloss melts condoms. After lunch, I went to a discussion circle about topping. It’s interesting to think about topping and learn about that perspective since I normally bottom. I have a list of insights that I’m going to ponder at some point.

I watched a chick flick with friends (napping…we suck at it), had some dinner, than went to the drag queen a capella show (which was AWESOME). I also bought a leather strap and acrylic paddle from vending (leather by Danny, website here), which I’m super pumped about.  Saturday was a bit stressful because a bunch of friends bought day passes, and I felt pulled in a bunch of directions. I started the play part of the evening by getting beat up on by someone new, a friend of a friend who is newer to the scene. He used his cane and my two new toys, and it was really fun. I love the acrylic paddle because it can deliver thud and sting, and it’s easy for people to be a bit heavy-handed with it. Plus it’s pretty! All that aside, this was a second play instance where the person hurting me had a shit-eating grin, and that just makes me all happy inside. I love being hurt by people who are clearly having fun doing it.

After that, I had a very intense scene with someone else I’d never played with before. I probably needed more build up during that scene, but I think that was the highest number of times I’ve had to yellow before. I was tearing up/on the verge of sobbing, and I hadn’t expected that. Recurring theme of the weekend 2 – beating my calves is going to be a soft limit from now on, as are single-tails.

I socialized a bit more and came down from that scene, then I decided to go see what some friends were up to. I gathered my courage and went to a “sexy funtime party.” Last year, I went to this party and was a bit freaked out and awkward the whole time.  A lot has changed since then. Context here, is that normally I’m pretty sexually reserved. I don’t usually do a lot of sexual play outside of lengthy friendship/relationships. That said, I was really amped up this weekend, and honestly, I wanted to get down and dirty. There was some internal debate about whether or not people would judge me if I got slutty, but by Saturday night I’d gotten to the “fuck you if you judge me” stage and figured why the hell not. (To clarify, when I talk about slutty for me, it’s anything more than making out with someone when I don’t know them very, very well.) I went to the party, drank a bit, flirted, got beat on by a good friend, and did some sexy things with a few other friends. I’m not usually one for public sexual activity either, so I was a little embarrassed that a few people I didn’t know too well saw me doing some things…but all the same, lots of fun :).

Sunday

Since I was up until 5am at that party, Sunday morning was not my friend. I did drag my ass out of bed to go to an 11:30 rope class. I’m glad I did, too, because I learned a few new ties that I can use and enjoy. I also got super rope spaced out from a simple elbow bondage tie…what can I say, I really like restrictive rope bondage. After lunch, I crashed and ended up passing out for several hours. I was disappointed in myself for missing a few classes, but I also needed to get sleep or I knew I wouldn’t make it through the night. There was dinner, then the gender blender show.

My first scene Sunday was a casual thing to test out my switchy side. I’d had one scene where I cotopped a guy, but it was mainly sensual teasing with a wartenburg wheel, and it was different because my partner in crime was his longtime partner. This time, a really good friend and I beat up on another friend. We were all cracking up hysterically the entire time, which was really entertaining. I need to learn a bit more about where to not hit, but I quite enjoyed getting a bit sadistic. (Third recurring theme: I’m a bit of a sadist.)

I then went to get hurt by a female top I know. It was really intense, and involved lots of screaming on my end. I was shaking for at least 30 minutes afterwards, but really enjoyed it. I followed that up with socializing, then violet wand play with a couple I know from Rapture. I really enjoy the violet wand – the shocks surprise me, which makes me giggle, and the pain is all sensual for me. I really want to try out some conductive rope at some point.

Weekend Thoughts

I need to have a little less stress next time. That means 1) less people in the room, or only people I know uber well, 2) more sleep, or scheduled naptime 3) more liquids! and 4) firmer “no”s and less vague commitments.

I’m switchy. I don’t have any desire to be “Dominant” and be on the top-side of power exchange in a D/s context, but I like teasing and hurting people that enjoy it, and I don’t mind occasionally having people at my mercy. So, ideally, I’d be in a relationship with a guy where I was primarily his sub, but then maybe occasionally I could have my way with him or  together/separately we could top another mutual friend. I don’t know, but the evolution continues.

Pain to my calves hurts like a motherfucker and is a new soft limit. Single tails are a new soft limit because they cause instant tears. Fear gets me going – someone scared the hell out of me with a stun gun, but the look in his eyes and the vulnerability turned me on something fierce.

More sexy fun things!

New Erotic writing: Masochistic Desires

In theme with current fantasies, I wrote a new story. Here’s a snippet:

After years of playing and enjoying the BDSM community in my city, I’ve finally found a Dom who shares my kinks. I’m a submissive masochist, you see. While many enjoy rough play, even within the kinky world my desires run along the edge. I don’t want someone to just take me hard, but I also want the wicked gleam that promises evil things are coming my way. I want to revel in the darkness, to scream, to struggle, and eventually to surrender. I want to let the pain blossom inside me, curling through me and setting my nerves aflame. I want to feel the ache and bruises afterwards. I want my Dom to exploit my vulnerability and needs for his basest desires, with a side of tender love and savage fucking.

This rather…unique…combination hasn’t been easy to find. A few months ago, I met someone at a happy hour that immediately caught my eye. He almost immediately picked up on how to fluster me; I think I blushed during our entire conversation. His eyes lit up with mischievous glee for the entirety of our talk, and I went home dreaming about his big hands spanking me as that glint deepened into something far darker. We flirted, talked, and shared secrets and joked for a few weeks before finally going out solo. Our first date was completely vanilla, but at the end, he pinned me against my apartment door roughly, sucking and biting hard on my lower lip. It was then that I realized he might share a love for the harsher side of kink.

A few weeks later, I was certain he was sadistic, although I hadn’t gotten to experience to what extent. We had gone to fetish flea markets, classes, and happy hours. Sexually, we’d been taking it slow. We’d played lightly in public, sensually experimenting with his favorite flogger. We had sex, and again it was more vanilla than kinky, but the few bites and pinches had my desire spiraling out of control. After our second night together, we were lying in bed sipping wine and feeling much more open. I finally confessed how much I wanted him to hurt me, although I couldn’t bear to look at him while I forced the words out. I didn’t want to scare him away like so many others. I didn’t want him to just tease me or spank me — I wanted to suffer. I wanted him to make me cry, beg, and plead from unsatisfied desire (denial is a special kind of torture that my inner masochist adores). I wanted him to make me scream and sob in pain…and I wanted him to get off on it, take me to the edge, and then push me one step farther.

His silence was gut wrenching. He pulled me up for a passionate kiss, his desire taking me off guard. My body responded helplessly, and after another quick bout of hot sex, he looked me in the eye and whispered heatedly that he accepted the challenge.

On a Sunday night a week or two later, my Dom and I set up a date for the upcoming weekend. I wouldn’t be seeing him until the party on Saturday because our schedules conflict all week long. He let me know that he had rules for me for the week, if I agreed to obey them. He instructed me to tease myself. I was to choose one of the following to do each day: 1) tease my nipples for 15 minutes, 2) masturbate to the edge of orgasm without going over 3 times, or 3) tease my clit and g-spot with a vibrator for 10 minutes without climaxing. I could call and beg if it became too much and he would re-evaluate the situation. I have to check in each morning to let him know which option I chose and its eventual outcome. Friday and Saturday leading up to our date there would be no touching at all.

By the time our date night arrives, I’m incredibly needy. Earlier in the week, I had broken down over the phone, begging and in tears, but my Dom had talked me down. His husky voice telling me how much my suffering pleased him turned me on further, but dulled the pain of ruined orgasm to a persistent ache. During work on Friday, I could barely concentrate on my spreadsheets. My mind kept wandering to the following night’s promised torment, and I went through two pairs of panties. A coworker even asked if I was all right since I was so flushed from arousal. When Saturday finally arrived, we met at the party to set up with our friends, and the sexual tension could be cut with a knife.

Throughout set-up and the beginning of the party, my Dom teases me with casual caresses and kisses. He has me watch some friends do a sexy scene with wax and knives while imprisoning my hands behind my back and forcing my ankles apart with his legs. I can feel his hard cock pressing into my backside, and it ratchets my desire higher. I can feel my arousal soak my panties, and a surge of need empowers me. I struggle in his arms to turn around, looking up at him with my passion clear in my eyes. After a lingering look, I force myself to lower my eyes and I mumble a plea to him. I can feel his smirk, and he grips my chin to meet my gaze again. He knows how much more difficult it is for me to vocalize my desires when he’s looking at me, and I feel my cheeks redden even further. He raises an eyebrow, and I finally stutter out a plea for him to let me worship his cock with my mouth. His eyes darken, and he simply nods. I feel the excitement course through me, and slightly giddy, I grab his hand and pull him after me until we’re by a chair in the kitchen. It isn’t exactly the most private or classy place, but I don’t care. I look up to check with him and he seems aroused and amused, so I don’t worry about it too much.

I unbutton his jeans and happily realize he’s gone commando. I saucily push him down into the seat, and while he still seems amused he raises his eyebrows again, letting me know retribution awaits later. Knowing this is my only chance to have him at my mercy, I revel in my small moment of power. I make eye contact and kneel in front of him. I move one hand to caress his balls while the other strokes him gently, my thumb teasing the sensitive head of his hard cock. He lets me play for a moment, as I fondle him into full hardness. I kiss the tip, swirling my tongue around and capturing the small bead of pre-cum. I smile at him as I pull back and lick my lips. His eyes darken even more and he gruffly orders my hands behind my back. I obey, focusing more on worshipping his cock with my lips and tongue. I lay one small, wet kiss after another down his dick before licking up the underside. On my return, I engulf his cock in my mouth, sucking firmly and swirling my tongue again. I sense his patience waning, and — keeping my eyes locked with his — begin moving up and down. I can take him pretty far before I start to gag, and I work through my reflexes to let my warm, wet mouth suck him in deep.

To finish it, go here: http://www.literotica.com/s/masochistic-desires. If you read it, please vote! Feedback always appreciated.

Book Review: “Hurt Me So Good”

Something about being home just makes me need pain…it’s really a wonder I didn’t turn to full-on self-harm early on in my childhood. Seriously. Lately, though, with the stress of work, and pretty much everything, I really need the cathartic release of pain. I also am craving the pleasure of it.

I re-read an erotic novel last night that sort of highlighted my struggles with masochism: “Hurt Me So Good” by Joely Sue Burkhart. The quick summary/snapshot, courtesy of Amazon:

Victor Connagher is no stranger to the Dallas BDSM scene. As CEO of a risqué cable channel that caters to adventurous adults, he ensures the lifestyle is portrayed in a positive light. He even supports a local bondage club. Yet behind the cool, confident mask, Victor lives in fear. Once, and only once, he lost control of his inner Dom—and it cost him his fiancée. Now, no one knows how hard he works to keep his darker appetite for pain buried. No matter how much his saucy, confident associate producer makes his fingers itch to once again take up his riding crop. Shiloh Holmes is a sub, but she’s no doormat. She’s always suspected Victor has the skills to feed her insatiable need for pain, and now she’s found the perfect way to crack his formidable control. Develop a new reality show, America’s Next Top sub…and dare him to compete. Week after week, as Shiloh fearlessly challenges the real Victor to come out of hiding, he realizes his past mistake was only a blow to his pride. If he loses Shiloh, he could lose his heart.

It’s a great novel, and I strongly recommend it. It’s hot, it’s interesting, and it gets to the heart of a lot of issues. At one point, the protagonist is describing an instance when she tried to convince a vanilla lover to experiment with her. For clarity, the protagonist is a heavy masochist. The book read:

I wanted him to hurt me. At first, he was horrified. He thought I hadn’t been enjoying our sex life at all. I told him no, it was fine. I just needed…more. … It hurt him, in a bad way that I absolutely hated. I couldn’t ask him to do that. I like pain, yes, but I want to enjoy it, and know that the man giving me that pain enjoys it too. If he’s not getting off on it, then I won’t either. My boyfriend hated it. He hated hurting me. I knew he was going to end up hating me too.

He delves into her need to suffer for him, and he struggles a lot with his sadism and a fear of losing control. She describes her love of pain so perfectly too:

I want you to hurt me like that again. I need it. When you take me to that dark, sharp place of pain, then that’s where I find myself. I’m free there, freed by the pain and the pleasure it brings.

I feel the same way. I don’t want to be hurt unless the person is getting off on it. I NEED my partner to get off on hurting me in order to relax.

I am craving pain like a crack-addict in withdrawal right now. I want the wicked gleam that promises evil things are coming my way. I want to revel in the darkness, to scream, struggle, and eventually surrender. I want to let the pain blossom inside me, curling through me and setting my nerves aflame. I want to feel the ache and bruises afterwards. I really want the tender caresses and brutal savage fucking too… Blerg.