Sensual Sadist

I’m insanely happy these days. It’s not unusual for me to spontaneously combust into a laughter for seemingly no apparent reason. I’m just happy. But, I think three times it is, I’ve gotten into a melancholy funk which lasted just a couple of hours (a huge improvement over last year where they would be more frequent and last up to 24 hours).

Richard’s masochism levels are way down on average compared to what they used to be. Most days he is romantically submissive with me, but his health problems have gotten in the way of his ability to be a pain slut, humiliation horse, floor whore, and all those good things.

We still play but I’m forced into a limited palette most of the time. Often it’s hard to produce the slave trance within him without some good old fashioned yelling, manhandling, and a spot of the old ultraviolence. Since it’s been a very long time since I did any hard domination I’m a little nervy about it. I want to get into it, reassure myself I can do it. I have changed A LOT recently and while I think I’ll be better than ever, part of me is anxious with all this waiting offstage.

Aside from the yelling and being horrid, which is an amazing purging experience for me, I’m aware of the joys of persuasive domination. Asking him to do something revolting in a nice but firmly persuasive tone. This is something else I long for.

When the light play doesn’t seem to be producing topspace and subspace respectively, I sometimes get frustrated. I’m aware of the complications sexual frustration can produce. He feels bad, feels less able to perform, I feel worse, he feels worse, is less able to perform, etc. THIS IS NOT WHAT IS HAPPENING, but it’s a distinct risk nonetheless.

While Richard claims the relative lack of erotic masochism feels like he’s letting me down, I also feel like I’m letting us down when I can’t perform in the more limited environment I have at my disposal. This is when suddenly I will get a mood shift and feel depressed. Thankfully it has only happened three times in the month I’ve been back, which shows how well we are coping.

What upsets me the most is that when I’m frustrated I start to wonder if what I really want is not BDSM, but abuse. I feel like making him suffer with me, or worse than me. Like maybe making him feel guilty, verbally attacking him, or demanding that he submit to a painful (and possibly mindless) onslaught. This is not my outward personality at all, but I feel it distinctly. I wish for him to instinctively want to suffer for me when I’m sad to ‘make it better’.

When I was casually talking to submissive guys before I met Richard, I’d meet guys who would offer themselves to take the brunt of my sadness or frustration if I was down. I used to think it was creepy. Now I think it’s hot. It was a little too close to home and I was the lady, protesting too much. I know pet wants to be there for me in these times, but he has to consent to it, otherwise I would likely not be able to live with myself or do BDSM again.

At these times, I really feel being a sadist is just one fucked up mess. “Love should be enough,” I said to pet last night, as he sat on the floor and hugged my legs submissively to make me feel better. But he is happy to accept that I have selfish desires and am mature enough to discuss them with him. Many people are monsters, out of control, and don’t even know it - or care.

Perhaps it is my ambivalence which keeps me coming back to the fantasy and reality of this kind of relationship. Maybe if I could understand it I wouldn’t bother with it. I do feel that my desires come from some very dark part of me and my past. While there is a whole light side and many of our scenes have been cheerful and mutually joyous, the sad, barren landscape within me, hidden behind some secret door in my mind is also beautiful, tempting, inspiring, revolting, scary, and often quite rightly vetoed by my higher self for being way out of line.