The line between submission and masochism...

We’ve played a lot with sadism and masochism, but less with dominance and submission.

And don’t get me wrong. Erotic pain is definitely a turn on. I hate calling myself something like a painslut or a masochist, because those terms seem so much bigger than me, but it is what is.

I like being hit during sex. I like having my ass smacked and spanked until it's bruised. I like being hit with a belt and having clothespins clipped to my breasts. I like being fucked on all fours with the pins on because it makes my breasts sway and agitates the pinched flesh. I hate/like Tabasco on my clit because it burns and hurts.* I like ginger because stings and burns (and then leaves you fiercely hot).* I like having my anus flicked, whipped, and smacked. I like having my breasts spanked and smacked and pinched, the nipples pinched.

And I like the bruising afterwards. I like looking at them and feeling sore, remembering what I did to earn those bruises.

And what that makes me, I don’t know. Perverted, without a doubt. But even as much as it hurts and is “pain,” it’s the intensity of the sensation that gets me. Before we started acting these desires out, I knew I wanted them and just lacked the courage to see if my husband was willing or interested…my fantasies played around the most intense experience I could come up with, and my fantasy life knew what I wanted long before I could admit it.

So being hurt during sex? (Hurt, not harmed.) Yes. Okay, that’s me.

And not that regular sex doesn’t still have a place in our sex life…it does. A nice place. A comfortable place. A familiar place with the man I have been with for 12 years and married to for nearly 6, in pretty much the same way for most of the more-than-10 years we’ve been having sex. I sincerely doubt it will ever lose that place. I like sex – good sex, bad sex, sweaty sex, marathon sex, quickie sex – and I do not /dislike/ the sex that has made up most of my actual sexual experience.

But.

My lover spanking me? Smacking different parts of me until I’m quivering, skin pinkened and coloured by bruises? Squeezing my sore ass that he beat the night before, just to make me squirm and remember exactly what we did the previous night?

Hot, and right. It’s what I want, what I have wanted for a long time, and for me, it is so, so much better than regular sex. I feel engaged by it.

And while there are definitely things we haven’t done yet – I suspect that I will like them when we do. Canes are on the way. Floggers on the way. I’d like to try face slapping…if I can work up to telling him about that.

But that being said…as much as I have never, since the first time I can remember fantasizing about while masturbating, have never once fantasized about regular sex, there is a theme bigger than pain in my fantasies…

…and it is control.

Or at least, I always thought of it as control. Before I knew there was a world where dominance and submission were acted out consensually in the bedroom, I fantasized about being controlled.

Often times the control was by force, by being overpowered, ravished. Being made a slave, or a prisoner.

But mostly, that was because it was about being put into a situation where I could not escape, being subject to the whims and pleasures of another – having my existence become solely about their pleasure.

And obviously, “solely” isn’t quite a standard I could live up to, though it makes great fantasy element.

But.

I finally talked to my husband about this aspect of my sexuality. Or at least, introduced the concept. We didn’t go into a lot of detail or talk toooo much, because, well…surprisingly, this was harder to talk about than asking him to hit me. And that wasn’t easy to bring up.

But somehow, telling him I’d like him to take control of me, to be in charge, to make me do things…things I sort of want and sort of don’t want…things that are…some of them humiliating….

Difficult, difficult, difficult.

He wasn’t totally surprised. I mean…I’ve gotten him to start talking dirty to me. To “punish” me. He’s known for a while it turns me on to be “forced” into sex. Wanting to be controlled and humiliated isn’t…shocking, considering.

But even more difficult, going through the motions isn’t good enough for my picky kink. Nope. If we play with this, he has to want it.

Because if he doesn’t want it, I don’t. And I mean…some of the things I want I don’t want. Which is confusing enough. But if he doesn’t want to do something but he would do it for me…there are people that works for and that’s great.

I’m not one of them.   

He had known for a long time I responded well to having my hair pulled during sex. And then for some reason when we were talking one day I found out he only did that for me, not because it did anything for him…and that just, blew it for me. It stopped being hot and just started being annoying.

Because while I don’t want to totally sublimate myself in his desires – that’s great fantasy fodder, but does not a long term healthy relationship make, because I have my own needs that need to be taken care of – pretending I am when it’s really just going with the flow for him isn’t what pushes my buttons.

I appreciate that he’s willing. I do. It’s sweet.

I don’t want sweet.

I want to be wanted so badly that at least in some way his needs matter more, his desires matter more. I want what /he/ wants and in a very real manner it doesn’t matter if I want it or not…if he wants it enough to “force” me into it chances are…I’ll find it erotic.

I want to be ravished because he can’t resist fucking me. I want him to want something from me so badly that he’ll take it if I won’t give it…for him, there is nothing I won’t give, but it has to be something he wants. Because if he only does it because he thinks I want it, then I don’t want it.

I don’t know if that makes sense, but there it is.

We’re easing into it to see if it really is something he wants. We’re starting with something I knew he wanted and I always said no…and to be honest, I hate it. Haha.

Right now, I can’t orgasm without his permission. One week trial basis.

That sounds easier said than done.

But I am the woman who on a day off when he worked and babygirl’s grandma took her for a day, I masturbated because I had the time and inclination…16 times. (I counted. In my defense, that was my first alone time in two years other than falling asleep…but still. 16!)

I really, really hate this.

But he really, really likes it, because I hate it. And that means I kind of like it too.

It’s complicated. :P



*The difference between Tabasco and Ginger is pretty extreme. Neither are pleasant, both turn me on. Tabasco is pain - Ginger stings. Different sensations. I prefer Ginger, it leaves a pleasant feeling afterwards which Tabasco doesn't, but Tabasco fits better depending on the mood and is easier to keep around...

Longing to be beaten?

When I woke up yesterday, I was so sore I couldn’t put my jeans on. Even pulling on a loose skirt brought echoes of pain on and I know I made some kind of face as I did. I was so, so sore – and every time I moved, I felt it, and felt a little thrill that went right down to my sex. I can’t really explain or describe it, but each time I moved and it hurt I remembered the sex and I … liked that.

When he got home from work, he liked that too. He told me he liked being able to gently pat my ass and have me flinch. But I knew last night he was probably going to fall asleep while putting the baby to bed – he was tired and I’d been keeping him up late.

And yet, all evening long he’d been groping my butt as he passed by me during our evening chores (cooking, laundry, etc) and damn, but my butt still hurt. Every time he groped it hurt, and he liked it – he liked seeing me wince. I could feel how hard he was as he pressed his body against me and even though it hurt – he wasn’t a gentle groper in normal circumstance and he admitted he was being much rougher than usual – I was turned on. I wanted him so badly and though it’s hard to actually say, I wanted him to hit me, to hurt me.

As I cooked, he spanked me a couple times and I’ll admit I got a little pissy. The baby was awake and was playing in the playroom next to the kitchen – and she doesn’t need to see any of this. Adult matters can stay adult, thank you very much. Fortunately, he got that message pretty quickly and I think he felt a little guilty about getting carried away & crossing that line because he spent a while playing with her and colouring and junk. He switched to whispering threats in my ear of how we couldn’t play tonight, but he was tempted to do “maintenance beating”  - he said he liked me this sore. It reminded me of something in the Beauty trilogy that I can’t quite remember, I may have to go back and re-read them, but the essence from the book was that being that sore made a slave more malleable, easier to control.  I don’t know if I was “easier to control” but certainly being that sore made it easier for him to get a reaction from me!

Among his threats was of beating me with the wooden spoon we have in the kitchen. That scared me. I’d seen pictures of what those spoons could do and how easy it was to raise welts and bruises with them – I’d tested it on my inner thigh that morning with almost no force and raised a nice red spot immediately. It wasn’t hard to imagine what even a little bit of force could do, and with a lot….

Oh yes, I was scared. I kind of dismissed him, trying not to let him see how much it unnerved me – but he knew. He had to have, because he kept bringing it up and kept talking about spanking me just to keep me sore, with no sex. (I didn’t really know what I thought of that – it’s so sexual to me that spanking without sex seems so unfair! The idea of the spanking, of beating me just to keep my ass sore is a turn on but….no sex? I kind of felt like what’s the point? But maybe that’s the point…I think I’m confusing myself.)

But when he put her to bed last night and unsurprisingly fell asleep (he gets up so earlier for work), I have to admit I was disappointed.

I kept going through the spanking blog I had found (it’s been around a while – I still have tons of it I haven’t read). I turned some of his words over in my mind, alternately scaring myself and turning myself on. We had been looking into buying some sex toys and of course something that drew his attention was the anal hook.

And let me just say, when I started looking at spanking porn and that thing showed up I had to stop and stare. The last time I seriously looked at bdsm porn was a long time ago, clearly before those were in vogue.

And holy crap. Wow. Whoa. What? Wow.

It shouldn’t surprise me that it caught his attention – it may have even been my fault, we were toy shopping and I probably could have scrolled past it, but I had to comment that it was wicked looking, so of course he had to look.

It wasn’t a case of complaining to get something, like trying to incite a spanking. At least, I don’t think it was. If it was it wasn’t conscious.

But he told me he eventually wanted to get one, and that was on my mind. Different toys, different gags and whips we’d looked at, were on my mind. “Maintenance beating” was on my mind.

And god damn it, I have no idea why, but I wanted that stupid spoon. I wished he hadn’t fallen asleep, at least long enough to come out and beat my ass with that spoon.

I could almost imagine it, slamming onto my ass cheeks. I could almost feel it.

And yet I couldn’t believe it. Maybe I thought I could get him to fuck me too, or at least get me off? I don’t know, but damn it. I wanted the spoon. I wanted him to spank me and I wanted to hurt. I wanted to wake up sore and have that reminder even when he was at work.

Damn it.

And I'm sorry to say, but I was comfortably able to both sit and pull on my jeans today. Oh well.