We do love our Sadists, don’t we?

We love what they can do for us, love the way they make us feel, love the beast within them that crawls out and threatens to destroy us.

Of course, we also love the control they have over that beast. I don’t think any of us want a psychotic monster with no control.

Yet we love the illusion that they could destroy us. That they might want to destroy us.

Or maybe it’s just me. :)

I’m not looking for some erotic waltz. I’m not looking for him to make sure I’m enjoying what he’s doing. A huge part of my enjoyment comes in the loathing it, the pure pain of it, the intensity that breaks me down, the fear and breathlessness, the knowing he does not care if I “like” it. I will take it and I will revel in it because my beast is as hungry as his.

The oft quoted Marquis de Sade said; “If the objects who serve us feel ecstasy, they are much more often concerned with themselves than with us, and our own enjoyment is consequently impaired. The idea of seeing another person experience the same pleasure reduces one to a kind of equality which spoils the unutterable charms that come from despotism.”

I understand this.

It doesn’t exactly fit in with the politically correct and responsible ideals most involved in BDSM spout.

But I get it.

A Sadist…

Doesn’t enjoy giving pleasure. A Sadist enjoys giving pain. When dealing out that pain to a masochist, the Sadist knows that “The degradation which characterizes the state into which you plunge him by punishing him pleases, amuses, and delights him. Deep down he enjoys having gone so far as to deserve being treated in such a way.” (The Marquis again) But he’s not doing what he’s doing to give pleasure to anyone but himself.

The pleasure of the masochist is secondary.

I dunno. I think I’ve gotten off track here.

I guess my mind is rolling the idea of Sadism for mutual pleasure around, tasting it, and finding it lacking.

My pleasure comes from him hurting me, yes.

But it’s not…

I dunno.

Most of the pleasure comes from knowing that he doesn’t give a shit if I’m enjoying it or not. My pleasure comes from taking it, from being reduced to that which will submit, surrender and revel in the being used for his own pleasure. It comes from the intense emotions those things create, from my own inner beast being brought out and beaten into a humbled pussy cat.

When we scene and things hurt…

I feel rage. The rage of someone being physically hurt and unable to fight it or stop it.

I feel powerless and out of control yet I feed off his power at the same time, absorbing his pleasure thru my pores, with every breath, every burst of laughter that hits my ears, with every tear and drop of blood.

Even when he only beats upon my emotions there is the mutual feeding of our darkest wants and needs.

Argh!

I’m babbling and babbling and not making any sense.

Maybe I can’t wrap my head around the “erotic sadist” thing because it’s just not like that for me, for us. It never has been.

We don’t do what we do as foreplay for sex.

We may or may not fuck when we’re done.

It is satisfying in and of itself, not a means to a boner and a good lay.

The fact that it arouses me hurts almost as much as the physical pain. He’ll use that to hurt me more. Sometimes we will culminate in crazy, animal sex or his use of my exhausted and broken down body. But that’s never the goal, it’s never the reason we start.

It’s sexual, at times, but it’s not a wholly sexual thing for either of us.

It is all about power.

And it is all about the fact that he likes to HURT people.

And I need to be hurt.

Sometimes when he hurts me I hate him. But I always thank him when he’s done.

I know I’m not making any sense.

Maybe you’d have to see us play to understand, feel the energy yourself. I don’t know.

Time to stop because I really don’t even remember what I started out trying to say. Lol.

I think I was going to go into the mental aspects of Sadism and pain – since that’s been a hot topic on MDS lately – but in trying to untangle the mind briars I seem to have gotten a bit lost.

~peace