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.

Adrift

Kink isn’t just part of my sexuality. It often enhances arousal and many aspects turn me on, but it is more than that – it is how I am who I am. I have difficulty expressing myself and allowing myself to feel emotions fully – kink helps me do those things in a healthier way.

When I am bound, I have no choice but to relax. I can’t escape, I can’t move on, I can’t go somewhere else – I have to exist where I am. My mind has to accept that I am where I am, and in that I can focus and my mind can let go.

When someone hurts me, it gives me the socially acceptably opportunity to react. People think I’m easy to read, that my reactions are obvious. And, to some extent, they are – I can’t lie well, my facial reactions to things are visible. I don’t often disclose what’s below the surface. I’m scared to show my real reactions to people. I monitor and control myself all the time, just in case, to keep the peace. I want all those around me to be at optimal happiness, and I’ll do my part to get them there. It’s hard, though, always being on point. Always worrying if I’ll react inappropriately. I joke about being awkward, that’s why – I’m worried I’m reacting inappropriately. When someone hurts me, reacting is appropriate, it’s expected. It’s allowable, even appreciated. I can relax, and I can let go.

Without these things, I’m less. I’m less vibrant, and less balanced. I get more run down. I get more jaded, sad, lonely.

Sometimes I wish I had other ways of coping. Sometimes I think back to times when I did, and I wonder if I was better off. I wonder if I should be focusing on therapy, or on religion. I wonder if I should be pouring my energy into certain self improvement projects to try to get these same emotions. At the end of the day, however, this is now what I’ve become relatively reliant on for staying balanced. Unfortunately, without it, I’m at a loss. I’m adrift and I need someone to toss me a line – literally and figuratively – to rein me back in.

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.

 

 

7/8

Well, I’m on my first “official” business trip, even though it’s just for training. It’s strange, I have a whole hotel room to myself, which I’m not used to at all. It does make me feel grown up, though. I’m excited for this training – I get to shoot guns and learn driving tricks. Now, if I could shake this headache and nausea before having to do a forced skid from going backwards at 45mph, that’d be great.

On a similar note, looks like I’ll be going to the war zone a lot sooner than anticipated. I guess I was still skeptical that I’d have to go at all, but they’re saying early Fall now. After hearing the financial benefits of going longer term, I’m not as concerned as I was before, but it’s still dangerous. I’m not sure how I’ll handle myself in such a stressful environment, but if ever there was a time to go do something dangerous, now is it.

In other related job things, a guy at work asked me out last week. I’m a bit pissed off about it, actually, because really? Who asks someone out after they’ve been there 2 weeks?! It’s frustrating, because now it has the potential to be really awkward for the rest of my time working there. I’d like friends at work, but dating someone at work is risky. If it were a contractor and I was very interested, maybe, but it’d have to be someone pretty damn spectacular for me to go for it. I went online that night and realized the guy is on OkCupid and had viewed my profile, and that definitely could be part of why he asked me. Thing is, just because I’m single doesn’t mean I want to date everyone.

After that, I started considering deleting my OkC profile. I’m a bit overcommitted right now between varying groups of friends, kinky play arrangements, and dating. I don’t have a lot of time for another person in my schedule. If it were a new kinky person, I’d probably make time, but OkC people are not usually kinky people. (And if you read this regularly you know how bad I am at identifying when they are…)

It’s funny though, because one of my vanilla friends met a kinky guy I know, and definitely thought it was an OkC connection. Apparently when asked how we met, kinky guy said “out in DC,” which is normally vanilla guy’s code for an online date. I couldn’t really explain any better, so I think I seemed bizarrely vague to vanilla friend. Oh well. As one friend said recently, telling people about my kink is kind of addictive. Once you’re out to one friend, it’s easier to come out to others, sometimes when you might be better off witholding that information. It was an interesting 4th of July though, mixing a kinky person into my vanilla group. It was nice, actually, because it wasn’t an issue at all. I only know a few kinky folks who would fit in with my ‘nilla friends, and it’s so much simpler when they do.

In a last note on dating, I think I’ve determined that at this point, kink is a necessity in my relationships. I’m enjoying myself too much for it not to be. I’d scale it back for the right person, but I like attending classes and workshops, and seeing my kinky friends, going to parties, etc. It’s fun. It lets me explore. As a result, next time I see vanilla date dude, I’m going to need to clarify some shit. Hopefully that will go smoothly.

I’ve also been thinking a lot more about polyamory lately. I really just don’t know how I feel about it. On many levels, I’m fine with people loving as they want, and all that jazz. On other levels, I want to be the priority, the primary. I want to be special and different – yes, more important – than the other people my partner may play with. I wish I was a less possessive person, but honestly, after my childhood that had long periods of emotional neglect, I’m admittedly more insecure. I can trust someone not to physically harm me relatively quickly, but to trust someone enough to believe they aren’t going to take advantage of/betray my trust, well, that takes a lot more effort.

I did promise some more details about Fusion in an earlier post, so I can delve a bit more in depth here. One of the things I did that was new for me was make out with a girl. I love kissing, but I’ve kissed more bad kissers than good ones (note: eating my face is not hot). This woman in particular was a great kisser, and it was definitely different than with a guy – softer, and somehow easier to be agressive. Another experience for me was masturbating around other people. I got myself off in a group setting – two other women were masturbating, another was watching, and two men were watching/participating in various fashions. It was late, dark, a little chilly and damp. It was also really hot. I’ve never watched porn, really, but watching people in real life is sexy. It’s been nice to branch out a bit and be more open to playing sexually in public. The next day, I did a heavy S/m scene in the dungeon in just my panties, which was a new level of exposure for me as well. (I also hit subspace harder than I think I ever have, which was kind of awesome. I came from this guy punching my ass…yes, in some conditions, I’m most definitely a pain slut.)

Since Fusion, I’ve been able to play a bit more with rope which has been fun. I did a scene that was a lot rougher and included rope, which was uber-hot. I hit subspace from that as well, which is always a bit strange. I get in this headspace where I really would do anything or take anything, I think, if it pleased the person I was playing with. Everything becomes pleasurable and I can’t even think. And then I climax, and proceed to shake for about an hour or two with aftershocks.

To sum this up on yet another unrelated note, I think I may write another erotic story soon. I had some inspiration about the potential for a drive-in movie or road trip. Basically,  I have an idea for how to be bound in a particular way inside a car, and then combine that with some good ol’ orgasm denial and teasing with some minor exhibitionism. On the one hand, I feel like my short erotic stories all have the same themes and thus are boring, but if I add more character depth I end up writing way too much. I need to find some form of balance.

6/25

I’ll do a full update on life and a bunch of other stuff, but in the meantime…It was a great weekend!

Storm almost killjoyed the whole thing, but made it into camp on Saturday morning. Took many rope classes, played with electricity, rope, and pain at varying times, and had an overall fantabulous time. Main highlights – I made out with a girl, made myself climax with a few others doing the same thing (what’s the girl name for a circle jerk?), danced sluttily, and got beaten so hard I came (multiple times…pain slut, much? Methinks yes.).

I learned a lot about myself, but the one thing I remembered most today: it is nearly impossible for me to voluntarily keep my legs still when I’m experiencing intense pain or pleasure. My thighs are incredibly sore from being punished for my inability to keep them from contorting. I may not always scream, but I do contort. <– I think this is part of why bondage appeals. The unavoidable struggle when I’m turned on just reinforces my helplessness and gets me off more. I did like the verbal command/predicament though…the hint at deeper domination was really hot.

Otherwise, on to a busy week of catching up with people and getting my shit together. Oh, and figuring out WTF to do with vanilla guy. I have a good time hanging out with him…which blows. Because really, do I preemptively break it off, not say something and see what happens (knowing shit will hit the fan at some point), or just try to bring it up and see his thoughts? None of these options are good or easy! Damnit! After a weekend like Fusion, it’s just reinforced how much fun being kinky and open with it is.  I was more open than I ever have been with my sexuality, and I enjoyed that freedom.

Rope, bondage, experimentation, humor, and roughness/pain/domination are all core elements of my sexuality and what turns me on. I don’t know that I could be fully satisfied without it. That said, I haven’t really been in a vanilla relationship since being out in the kinky scene, so it could be possible. I just really don’t want to lead this person on, but I’m interested and very hesitant both at the same time and I don’t know how to communicate that hesitancy without outing myself. Ick. It’s much easier to date kinky men, and it makes me want to horridly blow this guy off with no explanation and run away from the situation altogether to find a kinky person instead, but I just couldn’t do that to someone. I don’t think it’s fair not to explain the real reasoning, and I’m not sure how much of that desire is a deeper fear of commitment making me self-sabotage. God, romance and crap is difficult.

Another Evolutionary Change

I’m not bisexual. The thought of eating a girl out is not hot, but frightening and a little off-putting. When presented with boobs, I get timid and weird. I’ve thought about women and sex before, but it was never a hot thing to me. I do find the female form very attractive, but I’m not as sexually attracted to it, if that makes sense.

Thing is, when I was about 10 I had a forced female encounter with someone close to me. For a long time, even the thought of doing things with females brought up that memory, which I didn’t want to do. I’m still not sure how present the memory would be in current activities.

All that aside, I like women. I like submitting to their sadism. As hot as a sadistic man is, I like sadistic women as well – I like the genuine glee and giggle that tends to accompany it. I like snuggling with women, which lends itself well to aftercare. I don’t mind being touched by a woman. I don’t believe I’d mind making out with a woman. It’s just when it comes to me touching her that I’m still uncomfortable. So, this makes it easy to play with a woman just for a scene with limited sexual interaction, but more than that is up in the air.

Since it really isn’t fair to not return the favor, I’m not sure what, if anything, I’ll ever do along this vein. That said, I find the idea of being co-topped by a male and female, whether a couple or friends or whatever, really hot. In Pittsburgh last year the thought occurred to me and was a kind of hot fantasy, and now it’s back. I think the key here is that I have to really like the people involved, there has to be a certain level of snark and playfulness, and then my comfort allows me to go there in my head. Again, though, given my hesitancy at sexually interacting with women and my uncertainty about how far I could go in terms of me administering pleasure, I’m not sure I’ll ever try to pursue this. But, I do find it hot.