A crowded elevator smells different to a midget.
Dear Master,
It is time for a change in perspective. You asked me to talk about pain, and my feelings on the matter. I will be frank -- part of the reason it has taken me so long to respond is that I honestly don't know how I feel or why I feel the way I do. For someone who is often praised as being very self-aware, I am at a total loss, and it is infuriating. I cannot tell you why I like the pain I do, and as a result, I can no longer even tell you why I dislike the pain that I do!
I suppose I still do not consider myself a Sado-Masochist, regardless of what you may tell me. To break the term down into its two components, Sadism and Masochism, I consider myself unaffiliated with either one.
A Masochist enjoys pain and suffering, and goes out of one's way to inflict it upon one's self. In a mundane setting, a Masochist is a self-sabotaging individual that may only feel content when everything is going wrong, when they are the victim. They may enjoy the struggle, they may enjoy the pity, or they may simply enjoy the horrible events that transpire. These individuals are rarely self-aware enough to be honest about what they do, and when all of their sordid, self-fulfilling prophesies come true, sit back and congratulate themselves for being so on top of things.
Sadism, as defined by Merriam Webster, is the delight in cruelty. I do not condemn Sadists -- a taste for pain is no different than a taste for pleasure, and the desire to cause pleasure is no better than the desire to inflict pain -- but I do not feel myself to be amongst them. From the men and women that torture small animals, to the wrathful Satanists that cruelly punish those that are truly deserving, I have never been able to enjoy another's suffering. I have never been able to stomach scenes of pain in film and literature, and while I have read about the torture devices of old with a morbid fascination, I would often times lose consciousness from the horror, the pain I had imagined, and the carnage that was inevitable when using the described instruments. To this day, I cannot calmly observe the marks that some of the girls at the Dungeon parade around like trophies.
Having said all this, I enjoy giving pleasure, and if one gains pleasure from my causing them pain, perhaps I would enjoy it. Perhaps my aversion to S&M is caused by my weak stomach, not my empathetic nature. After all, I do seem to be drawn to the life of a Dominatrix [I use the term to refer exclusively to female professional doms], and I can imagine myself enjoying beating a client.
Now, to move on to the greatest source of confusion -- when you dig your fingers into my pressure points, I seem to enjoy it.
For years, I have partaken in violent sports such as martial arts and wrestling. My mother, an outdoor aficionado, once told me, "something does not need to be fun, to be fun." She used this logic to justify our long and strenuous backpacking trips, miles of walking with a heavy pack, until our legs ached with every step and my head spun. I would be sore for days later. Unlike my mother, however, I seemed to enjoy the muscle pain. I would take delight in the ache that I experienced from too much exercise, and felt jealous when my mother would be more sore than I. Later, when I began to visit my chiropractor, I asked for the most intense massages they could give me, and when I was later hired, was known for giving hard massages. I did not realize how much more lightly people preferred to have their massages done than I.
When I was younger, I had a close friend that was even more active in martial arts than I was. He and I fought like cats, and while I hated sparring him, as he would never pull his punches, I loved wrestling him. I would come back bruised, and display my marks like trophies. For days later, I would press my fingers against my bruises, and savor the pain. When he would pin me down to the ground, holding my legs in place and watching me struggle helplessly against him, I would be in heaven. Angry heaven, but nonetheless. At the time I thought I only enjoyed the struggle, but maybe I enjoyed the pain to a degree, too. I don't know. Perhaps, that is why I would not mind hurting people -- I have little aversion to violence of the action sort, fighting and whatnot.
Merriam Webster defines a masochist as one who receives pleasure from having pain inflicted upon them by a loved one. I have mentioned, to you, how I adore the affection I see in your eyes when you hurt me. I originally typed the word "concern," as well, but that is inaccurate -- there is no worry in your eyes, no fear or any other negative emotion, only love. The sensation of having your hand wrapped protectively around my face, your eyes holding mine, while I scream and writhe in pain... it is perhaps the most intimate experience of my life, to date. I have already expressed the delight I take in helplessness, in loss of control, and there is little that robs me of control as absolutely as that experience does. I cannot escape the pain, it is too intense to block out, deep in my tissue, I cannot turn my head, I cannot even look away from you. I am as naked as when I orgasm, as absolutely honest and... there, with you. In Firefly [War Stories], Book quotes Xiang Yu of the Qin Dynasty, who states that one may "live with a man forty years, share his house, his meals, speak on every subject. Then tie him up and hold him over the volcano's edge, and on that day, you will finally meet the man." Perhaps it is this sentiment that I am beginning to understand. When you hurt me, you weaken me, and as a result, allow for deeper intimacy. Having said that, I don't know how I feel about that, and it still seems to be a bit counter-instinctual to fall in love with someone who takes delight in hurting me. However, I cannot deny that I feel closer to you than I probably would otherwise, given the amount of time we have known each other. This baffles me.
Sincerely,
Anastasia
It is time for a change in perspective. You asked me to talk about pain, and my feelings on the matter. I will be frank -- part of the reason it has taken me so long to respond is that I honestly don't know how I feel or why I feel the way I do. For someone who is often praised as being very self-aware, I am at a total loss, and it is infuriating. I cannot tell you why I like the pain I do, and as a result, I can no longer even tell you why I dislike the pain that I do!
I suppose I still do not consider myself a Sado-Masochist, regardless of what you may tell me. To break the term down into its two components, Sadism and Masochism, I consider myself unaffiliated with either one.
A Masochist enjoys pain and suffering, and goes out of one's way to inflict it upon one's self. In a mundane setting, a Masochist is a self-sabotaging individual that may only feel content when everything is going wrong, when they are the victim. They may enjoy the struggle, they may enjoy the pity, or they may simply enjoy the horrible events that transpire. These individuals are rarely self-aware enough to be honest about what they do, and when all of their sordid, self-fulfilling prophesies come true, sit back and congratulate themselves for being so on top of things.
Sadism, as defined by Merriam Webster, is the delight in cruelty. I do not condemn Sadists -- a taste for pain is no different than a taste for pleasure, and the desire to cause pleasure is no better than the desire to inflict pain -- but I do not feel myself to be amongst them. From the men and women that torture small animals, to the wrathful Satanists that cruelly punish those that are truly deserving, I have never been able to enjoy another's suffering. I have never been able to stomach scenes of pain in film and literature, and while I have read about the torture devices of old with a morbid fascination, I would often times lose consciousness from the horror, the pain I had imagined, and the carnage that was inevitable when using the described instruments. To this day, I cannot calmly observe the marks that some of the girls at the Dungeon parade around like trophies.
Having said all this, I enjoy giving pleasure, and if one gains pleasure from my causing them pain, perhaps I would enjoy it. Perhaps my aversion to S&M is caused by my weak stomach, not my empathetic nature. After all, I do seem to be drawn to the life of a Dominatrix [I use the term to refer exclusively to female professional doms], and I can imagine myself enjoying beating a client.
Now, to move on to the greatest source of confusion -- when you dig your fingers into my pressure points, I seem to enjoy it.
For years, I have partaken in violent sports such as martial arts and wrestling. My mother, an outdoor aficionado, once told me, "something does not need to be fun, to be fun." She used this logic to justify our long and strenuous backpacking trips, miles of walking with a heavy pack, until our legs ached with every step and my head spun. I would be sore for days later. Unlike my mother, however, I seemed to enjoy the muscle pain. I would take delight in the ache that I experienced from too much exercise, and felt jealous when my mother would be more sore than I. Later, when I began to visit my chiropractor, I asked for the most intense massages they could give me, and when I was later hired, was known for giving hard massages. I did not realize how much more lightly people preferred to have their massages done than I.
When I was younger, I had a close friend that was even more active in martial arts than I was. He and I fought like cats, and while I hated sparring him, as he would never pull his punches, I loved wrestling him. I would come back bruised, and display my marks like trophies. For days later, I would press my fingers against my bruises, and savor the pain. When he would pin me down to the ground, holding my legs in place and watching me struggle helplessly against him, I would be in heaven. Angry heaven, but nonetheless. At the time I thought I only enjoyed the struggle, but maybe I enjoyed the pain to a degree, too. I don't know. Perhaps, that is why I would not mind hurting people -- I have little aversion to violence of the action sort, fighting and whatnot.
Merriam Webster defines a masochist as one who receives pleasure from having pain inflicted upon them by a loved one. I have mentioned, to you, how I adore the affection I see in your eyes when you hurt me. I originally typed the word "concern," as well, but that is inaccurate -- there is no worry in your eyes, no fear or any other negative emotion, only love. The sensation of having your hand wrapped protectively around my face, your eyes holding mine, while I scream and writhe in pain... it is perhaps the most intimate experience of my life, to date. I have already expressed the delight I take in helplessness, in loss of control, and there is little that robs me of control as absolutely as that experience does. I cannot escape the pain, it is too intense to block out, deep in my tissue, I cannot turn my head, I cannot even look away from you. I am as naked as when I orgasm, as absolutely honest and... there, with you. In Firefly [War Stories], Book quotes Xiang Yu of the Qin Dynasty, who states that one may "live with a man forty years, share his house, his meals, speak on every subject. Then tie him up and hold him over the volcano's edge, and on that day, you will finally meet the man." Perhaps it is this sentiment that I am beginning to understand. When you hurt me, you weaken me, and as a result, allow for deeper intimacy. Having said that, I don't know how I feel about that, and it still seems to be a bit counter-instinctual to fall in love with someone who takes delight in hurting me. However, I cannot deny that I feel closer to you than I probably would otherwise, given the amount of time we have known each other. This baffles me.
Sincerely,
Anastasia