Out of Sync

People do BDSM for a lot of reasons.  People do S&m play for a lot of reasons.  The most common one, it seems, for the bottoms is the endorphin rush they get from receiving pain.  The sub space.

I’ve said it before but it’s on my mind again so I’ll repeat it.

I do not have a clue what sub space is.  I’ve never been there.  I’ve never felt it.  I don’t really believe it exists.  A gazillion people can tell me how it feels and that they’ve felt it and maybe they have but, for me, it’s the Easter Bunny.

Not really real.

I do not process pain like most people, maybe.  I am too in control of my mind and body, maybe.

I don’t know.

All I know is even what I do get out of pain play is getting harder and harder to reach, harder and harder to attain, harder and harder to even catch a glimpse of.

I understand endorphins and adrenaline rushes.  I’ve gotten high as a kite from having multiple piercings done in a single sitting.  It’s, for me, the same as a heavy work out or the after effects of a fist fight or even figuring out a huge mental challenge.  That is not the place I’m looking to go when I stand under the whip.  It’s far too powerful a place.

What I get out of pain is something much different than that.  It’s about the absolute loss of power and control, the absolute surrender of my body and mind, the breaking down of my body to the point of not being able to endure any more, to the point of complete powerlessness, of exhaustion, of yielding, of defeat.

Yes. Defeat.  I want to be defeated in mind, body, spirit.  I want everything I hold tight within the walls of my skin, all the emotion, the stress, the pain, the joy, the anger,  the boredom, the love, the control over myself…  I want it all to be beaten out of me, let go, like the marks on my flesh are a release valve that allows me to let everything just GO, to empty myself and feel reborn.

I’m finding, the longer I do this, the harder it gets to get to that place.

It takes very specific things to do it, specific kinds of pain.  Stingy pain and surface pain just makes me mad, then makes me cry, then makes me sob, then I’m done.  It’s too fast, it’s not deep enough.  He can whack me with hands and canes and whips hard and fast and break me down to the point where I’m done within 20 minutes. But I’m not where I need to be, I’m just stunned and unable to process any more sensation or pain.

Thuddy pain just makes me laugh.  Or stand there bored.  Sometimes, Taylor is hitting me so hard and so deep with the floggers that he’s sweating from head to toe.  He’s running across the room at me, putting all he has into it and I’m just like…  ”ow?”  He gets worn out well before I’m anywhere even close to where I want or need to be, where he wants or needs to take me.  I can stand under the punch of a thuddy flogger for two hours and not shed a tear, not feel any shift at all in my emotions.

What works best is a combo of these two types of pain, drawn out for a fairly long time, mixed with words and displays of power that reinforce, in my mind, my own powerlessness.

We’re struggling, a lot, to figure out how to get it right these days.

After so long, I’ve taken so much that the only ways to ramp it up a notch are not…  safe.  Are probably beyond not safe and border on harmful.

We struggle, too, with our own differences in what we want and need.  Taylor is a get where you want to go fast kind of guy.  Draw stuff out too long and he’s bored and thinking about something else.  Me, if you go too fast, I just shut down.  When we were new, it was easy.  My tolerance was much lower and I broke down more easily. Now it takes so much more that we’re both kind of bored before we ever get there.  We’re kind of out of step, out of sync.

I’m babbling and not really making any sense and have gone, I think, off track from where I started and where I intended to go.

All I know is I’m sitting here, bruised all to fuck – back, butt – with welts and marks galore and the thrill feels gone.

Part of it, I know, is our community here.  I’ve said it before but most of our major playing is done in public because we don’t have the space for it at home.  And, in public, here…  it’s hard to really do what we want to do cuz no one quite gets it and it feels awkward and “too much”.  Everyone here is sort of slap and tickle or stand and model or bedroom kink  or…  I dunno.  Not much in the way of power exchange relationships so all the play around us has a total different energy.

People are all spacey and smiley when they’re done playing or giggling and comparing bruises.  My fantasies and needs run more toward a torture scene than “The Secretary”.

I dunno.

I need a vacation.  We need some time alone, with space and privacy.

And, yeah, this totally went off in the wrong direction.  Now I’ve depressed myself!  Not really, since I know we’ll figure it out, get back in tune with each other, get where we need to go and be fine…  just waiting for it is hard, sometimes.

Time for a bath.