When we talked about how we got started with this d/s dynamic we now share in our sex life, I was saying to Wonderboy, how I was surprised that he’d be not only a dominant but also a little sadistic. He’s so gentle and he used to get so worried, if I expressed discomfort in any way. That would almost certainly put an end to all things sexy. I’ve noticed a tendency, that when I really start complaining and yelling ouch… he usually comes. It’s dawning on me that maybe he felt so ambiguous, because in a way he enjoyed it, but he shouldn’t have, because I was dealing with real discomfort or even pain. At that point I couldn’t handle wanting any pain, so he couldn’t very well happily smack me and pound me, if I expressed anxiety.
But his answer was most surprising of all. He said, Well, what’s new. All the stuff I did to you, choking you, hitting you… Wouldn’t been a little hint.
Now I’m adding to the list in my head. Fucking me so hard with my feet in the air it hits my cervix, pushing my under him so I lose my breath and his collar bone grinds my face, fucking me from positions that hurt, fucking my ass, pounding it even, fucking my throat… I mean, it was all there! But I just didn’t think it was about inflicting pain. I think I wouldn’t have tolerated that in the beginning, if I had realised.
I thought it was about dominating, binding, degrading, disciplining. Why were all those things easier to understand and accept than pain? Why was sadism so far from my thoughts?
The things weren’t in fact so easy to accept, but I do now, finally. Because no matter how much I wanted to please Wonderboy and have great sex with him, even more I needed to accept myself. I needed to find a way to connect my fantasies, my secret desires – and my sex life. I realised that this wasn’t something he was springing on me, guiding me through or – I hesitate to say – training me. We were figuring, how we fit together. We were figuring what things we like in real life. It’s so different from fantasies.
Pain and degradation feels a lot different from, how you imagine it. Things feel different depending on the day of the month, the hour of the day. There is no sure thing, when it comes to sex, and certainly no sure things, when it comes to practicing d/s in our sex life.
I kind of shy away saying practice and d/s even though I’ve now come to accept that is what we’re doing, and very happily so. Maybe it’s partly because I don’t feel it as a separate thing, like the legendary Bitchy Jones would rant. It’s separate here in Past the Hurt, where I try to analyse it, explain whys and hows of it, but it’s not separate in my life.
D/s is just a part of my sexual behaviour. A very important part, but a part anyway. It’s not like I could get off repeatedly only by playing scenes of d/s dynamic. It’s not like it’s a substitute for sex. It is not purely sex, it’s one of sex’s beautiful variations.
I don’t really know what to compare it to. I’m betting many vanilla people love rough sex, many of them even pull hair, fuck hard, bind the other with hands. What, really, separates us? Why am I part of this marginal group, and they can have the normal tag printed all over their sex life and get it represented in media as beautiful, loving and right? I used to think I got the normal tag too.
Because I used to have a sex life mostly without d/s. I say mostly, because even though I was almost completely unaware of the kinky hues, there were some. I spent sex in my own fantasy world, picturing all the things I needed to get off, because they weren’t part of the corporeality I was in. I had sex mostly with my eyes closed. That is what hurt Wonderboy in the beginning. He was present, fucking me, trying to connect with me… and I was somewhere fantasizing about something else.
My take is that experiencing pain and enjoying it in a sexual way is mostly just sensation play. It’s a little more and a little different than the ordinary sexual touches. But it also has this power to make a dynamic real. I don’t exactly get off on pain itself. I like a sturdy bare hand spanking. I love when I’m bitten from certain places. I love it when my hair is pulled – in a certain way. But if something really hurts, it only gets me turned on in two cases.
A) He is extatic. I’m over the moon about anything that makes his knees buckle. Seriously. Any moans or sighs or rowrs go straight to my cunt. So, it might actually seem I do like the pain. But If he’s only doing it for me, because he thinks I like it. Meah.
B) I feel very strongly that he does it despite what I want, and he can enforce this feeling by talking to me in such manner. I don’t mind the all you’ve been a bad girl act, but the main thing for me is that he just doesn’t care, if it hurts me or not. This also is tied to him just doing what he wants with no regard to me. He owns me. I want him to own me. He can do whatever he wants to me. He has to do whatever he wants to me!
My sexting today was also a powerful demonstration of that. It’s extremely hot for me to give him my consent beforehand as a demand like that. When I think about him coming home, just taking me to the bedroom and fucking me no matter what my state of arousal… Oh. God.
It probably will hurt (a bit). I probably won’t come (well, could be), because I’m so tied up with emotion. The important thing is that I embrace that it’s not about me. In the moment it’s not, even though it totally is. This is a tricky sexuality. He’ll make me come, if I don’t while he’s play raping me, and it will be so sweet to think what he just did and how he came. Oh oh oh.
The pain is only a thing that enforces his domination over me. It’s a way to show me my place. My body and soul understand and respond to that. I also respond to just talking down, sinister words and threats. He can play with me like that. But for rough play, this is what needs to happen. I’ve come from anal sex just by its pure sensual feel just like I come from vaginal sex. But I’ve also come from anal sex, because he was hurting me with it. He wanted it to hurt.
Most of the plays we like feature some kind of disregard of my discomfort. This is a facet of our (my) sex life, that I’ve just come to accept. And now I’m trying to understand, how I can enjoy myself with this certain need in mind. We’re playing with it. Sometimes I get very, very fragile and a bit sad and in need of declarations of love and devotion. Sometimes just deliriously happy.
Even though this certain facet of my sexuality is part of my sexuality and a need like touching the clitoris to get to an orgasm is, it can still be too much some days. I’ll still come from it, though, and cuddling is the antidote for the subdrop. And then there are only the memories I’ll use over and over again as sexual fantasies. Not a bad outcome after all.