I have a question…
How many subbly folk didn’t know they have masochistic tendencies until being played with?
Or perhaps a better question…
How many subbly folk only enjoy pain when they’re enduring it for someone else?
I started thinking about this on Saturday evening following my punishment for being a ‘bad kitten’. I’d been given the nakedness and boots directive earlier in the day and for some reason or another, it took about 6 hours for me to actually get naked and booted.
I had originally been given dispensation to delay the naked and bootedness until after I’d had my coffee and muffin, but when questioned by Master about why it had taken me hours and I replied,
‘Well, 6 hours after is still after. You didn’t say I had to do it straight after!‘
I was doomed. Needless to say, Master wasn’t impressed….obviously…and he responded with his oft repeated phrase,
‘You’re cute, but not that cute.’
So his instrument of punishment was nothing more than his fingers, but damn those fuckers can hurt. He boob-crippled me – which I think is almost as painful as a nipple-crippling – over and over again until I had apologized, cried in pain and was suitably back in my place…on the floor…again.
Now I have to be honest, there is a very small part of me that likes being hurt and not simply for the fact that I’m being used. Something inside me finds it exquisitely….umm, I don’t know how to explain it…satisfying? After the pain has gone, of course. Generally after some Master-inflicted ouchiness, I’m chirpy and in the mood for something yummy to eat.
The pain itself sucks and the tears he forces out of me are real. I’m not crying because I’m hoping that will make him stop (although I often am wishing that), I’m crying because it hurts. I’ve got no control over those tears and they flow of their own accord. But after the pain has gone, it feels good to have endured it.
Reading one of the blogs on my blogslog, I came across someone describing how they became a slave. She stated she never knew she was a masochist until she met her Master and he ‘brought it out’ in her. But see, I have to question that. How can you not know if you’re a masochist? Surely you would have had some inkling in the forty years of your life prior to meeting a man with a whip, that you enjoyed pain. If you enjoy pain for pain’s sake (which is how I define a masochist) wouldn’t you have been doing things to yourself or at least fantasizing about it before then?
I would suggest that she’s not a masochist – a slave? yes. A masochist? no. I think a masochist is a rare breed of person – they don’t enjoy enduring pain for someone else, they actually enjoy the pain themselves. I’m not a masochist (duh!) so every painful/uncomfortable/humiliating thing I go through is made endurableby the fact that it’s being directed by Master and that’s precisely why I can do it. Left to my own devices, I’d chicken out of piercings, tattoos and beatings. I’d never offer myself up to be someones instrument of torture (although maybe I actually did indirectly by becoming a slave.)
In those periods of time when I’ve been an unowned soul, I’ve never felt the need to spank myself or hurt myself in any way. There’s just no point, because there’s no-one to do it for. I don’t feel an itch for pain like I do for a release. My life could happily be spent pain-free and in fact, I’d go out of my way to ensure a pain-free existence, but that need to be directed, controlled is something else. Perhaps I need the pain to remind me that in fact I am owned, because I would never do it to myself.
And in those quiet times when I think back to the things I’ve done and I say to myself,
‘How the fuck did I ever do that?’
they are obviously the times when I’m unconscious of the collar around my neck, forgetting that I didn’t do anything.
Not realising that Master did it.
And all I did was endure.