This is our truth, tell us yours
A post for
In a distant galaxy, far, far away I once mused on whether BDSM was meant to hurt. I was fascinated by it, and had determined to explore it, however one thing stopped me, surely pain could not be pleasurable? It was a conundrum that only experience could solve. I knew what it was to be restrained, held, in “normal” sex. (whatever that is) I knew the thrill of a hand around my neck as I climaxed, but pain, well that hurts! My lack of experience was a topic of conversation between my fellow traveller and myself. As he pointed out it was all very well to beg to meet but what happened if the first time he raised the belt I ran away?
Of course, dear reader, you know I did not run. I discovered a side of myself that had lain dormant and unexplored. In discovering I was a masochist I also discovered the hunger. It is hard to explain the desire to be hurt, to be beaten by your Dominant. We don’t do punishment, or even funishment, that terrible word when grown ups play lets pretend. If I am beaten it is a choice for both of us, a willing yes from me to a command from Him.
It still hurts though, and in that pain I discover the power to override those usual fight or flight responses. The hunger for the pain keeps me still, or as still as I can be. Recently I was bent over for the cane, His hand resting lightly on my back, the cane and crop making contact. Each stroke seared across my flesh, part of me wanted to scream, but more of me wanted the pain, and those strange rare orgasms that come only from pain. I could feel tears welling up, and used every ounce of control to stem them. I did this because I had been told beforehand of His intention, to beat me until I cried. The hunger did not want the beating to stop.
An amusing side note here, He knew exactly what I was doing, I thought I was being so smart, but I was as transparent as a newbie sub let loose in her first dungeon.
I read once of collectors of rare orchids, who travel to the farthest corners of the earth to collect specimens. These plants then have to be treated with such care and delicacy if they are to grow once transplanted. Yet they spend millions on their obsession, hungry to possess the rarest flower. I think they might understand masochism, and the hunger for pain.