Pain makes me wet. It is a fact. And it is a fact I avoid. I'm not sure why this is a harder issue for me to accept than the submission thing, but I think perhaps it is because when someone says "do something" and I don't want to, I say "no." It is hard to abuse the submission thing. But when someone hits me and it feels wrong, but I'm already in a submissive space, I endure, and the cost of that endurance is very high. I feel worthless and abused.
I'm very clearly only a masochist is tightly defined ways. I'll never eroticize a blister or a sprain. It is easiest to embrace pain and surrender in liminal moments. Once I define a sensation as "pain" I say "ow." If it is the borders on the edges of pain, but not quite yet there, I soften.
I think my ex's mixture of pain with sternness really undercut my acceptance of pain. When we were living together, it was all about disapproval. About him demanding of me my surrender as his right. I never felt like it was 'fair' I was a submissive because I got so little out of it, and he took so much. Always pushing farther and harder and rarely giving the elements I craved.
With my ex, I could only handle more when either we were playing a scene (which we rarely, rarely did--he didn't like the 'drama' portions), or on very rare occasions when I had free reign and could be bratty. The fact of being bratty meant that I knew he didn't disapprove of me--he disapproved of a character I was playing, making it much easier to handle.
I've actually been known to crave it on several occasions, even once with my ex. When I first moved back to Seattle, before I had fully accepted that, at least on some level, I swim in darker waters, I ended up with a man from a local activists group, who claimed I 'smelled kinky.' (And the man with the good sniffer got me into the kinky waters for a few years.) Anyway, after dropping about 10,000 hints that all his friends were kinky, but of course, he wasn't into that, I finally said "are you really as vanilla as you're claiming to be?" and, of course, he wasn't.
The first time he spanked me, I said I didn't want any permanent marks. But his fingerprints remained on my psyche. Wondrous. Gentle, tender yet firm and demanding. And then he'd intermingle it with ice and clothespins, and to this day, those vie with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.
The only time I ever got there with with my ex happened this fall when we were lovers, but denying it. He, for the first time, stopped because he didn't want to push me too far and I wanted to scream "More!" He had his hand on my back and tenderly rubbed my back while he spanked me hard. But he had a tenderness then that was unusual for him. I think it shocked both of us--a glimpse of how we might have been in an alternative coupling. Loving and lovely. And we tried to recreate that moment, but we never did. It felt like I was melting and yearning and relaxing into his arms. I didn't even realize it would register as 'pain' if I were in a different mindset.
It is almost like the process of surrender moves the world from the crisp, sharp edges of HDTV to the soft melding of a Renoir painting. I can feel the muscles in my face soften. I imagine if you looked at me, my features would be muddy. Then, when it works well, pain comes in and inscribes the bright lines of a Jackson Pollack onto a Monet landscape. But when it doesn't work well, instead of opening new landscapes it just shuts me down and I'm back to play sudoku in my head, trying to endure and feeling worthless and unlovable.
My ex, who dated self-identified "slaves," said I was the most submissive woman he'd ever dated, and I was far, far more masochistic than I ever admitted to myself. I don't know how stable that observation is. But I wish I could clearly mark the switch, or at least know what triggers it more precisely.
John seems to know his way around my triggers very well. A couple of times, I've been able to melt my defenses a smidgen, meeting his gaze and graze. It feels like, if things worked out, I might be able to learn to relish it, instead of feeling like 'this isn't fair."
I'm very clearly only a masochist is tightly defined ways. I'll never eroticize a blister or a sprain. It is easiest to embrace pain and surrender in liminal moments. Once I define a sensation as "pain" I say "ow." If it is the borders on the edges of pain, but not quite yet there, I soften.
I think my ex's mixture of pain with sternness really undercut my acceptance of pain. When we were living together, it was all about disapproval. About him demanding of me my surrender as his right. I never felt like it was 'fair' I was a submissive because I got so little out of it, and he took so much. Always pushing farther and harder and rarely giving the elements I craved.
With my ex, I could only handle more when either we were playing a scene (which we rarely, rarely did--he didn't like the 'drama' portions), or on very rare occasions when I had free reign and could be bratty. The fact of being bratty meant that I knew he didn't disapprove of me--he disapproved of a character I was playing, making it much easier to handle.
I've actually been known to crave it on several occasions, even once with my ex. When I first moved back to Seattle, before I had fully accepted that, at least on some level, I swim in darker waters, I ended up with a man from a local activists group, who claimed I 'smelled kinky.' (And the man with the good sniffer got me into the kinky waters for a few years.) Anyway, after dropping about 10,000 hints that all his friends were kinky, but of course, he wasn't into that, I finally said "are you really as vanilla as you're claiming to be?" and, of course, he wasn't.
The first time he spanked me, I said I didn't want any permanent marks. But his fingerprints remained on my psyche. Wondrous. Gentle, tender yet firm and demanding. And then he'd intermingle it with ice and clothespins, and to this day, those vie with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.
The only time I ever got there with with my ex happened this fall when we were lovers, but denying it. He, for the first time, stopped because he didn't want to push me too far and I wanted to scream "More!" He had his hand on my back and tenderly rubbed my back while he spanked me hard. But he had a tenderness then that was unusual for him. I think it shocked both of us--a glimpse of how we might have been in an alternative coupling. Loving and lovely. And we tried to recreate that moment, but we never did. It felt like I was melting and yearning and relaxing into his arms. I didn't even realize it would register as 'pain' if I were in a different mindset.
It is almost like the process of surrender moves the world from the crisp, sharp edges of HDTV to the soft melding of a Renoir painting. I can feel the muscles in my face soften. I imagine if you looked at me, my features would be muddy. Then, when it works well, pain comes in and inscribes the bright lines of a Jackson Pollack onto a Monet landscape. But when it doesn't work well, instead of opening new landscapes it just shuts me down and I'm back to play sudoku in my head, trying to endure and feeling worthless and unlovable.
My ex, who dated self-identified "slaves," said I was the most submissive woman he'd ever dated, and I was far, far more masochistic than I ever admitted to myself. I don't know how stable that observation is. But I wish I could clearly mark the switch, or at least know what triggers it more precisely.
John seems to know his way around my triggers very well. A couple of times, I've been able to melt my defenses a smidgen, meeting his gaze and graze. It feels like, if things worked out, I might be able to learn to relish it, instead of feeling like 'this isn't fair."
2 comments:
Beautifully expressed.
I guess I would fall on the polar opposite. I enjoy causing the girls I've dated some physical, erotic pain, and have hard time wraping my head around it. I wonder if a woman can be conditioned to enjoy pain if it gets associated with erotic pleasure enough times.
Thanks Anonymous. I bet a woman can be conditioned, but slowly. But every woman I know loves having her hair pulled. We all love Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. So I think if sex is intense and pleasurable, a little bit of roughness is probably OK for most (but not all) girls. It is funny--I've always thought it would be easier for a guy/Dom than a gal/sub. But maybe I'm just suffering from grass is always greener syndrome.
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