Smart Assed Masochist (The Long Night)

I fear I fell into being a Smart Assed Masochist that night.

Sadly the more deeply I fall into slavish emotional territory the less I seem to be able to remember. I can recall the emotional depth, the passions aroused within myself but not the details. Mostly I think because I'm taken to a more basic, primitive perhaps part of my psyche. (I do hope my ability to recall will improve with time.)

So I don't remember the pain clearly at all. I do remember that at one point when Alexandra was striking me that I put my hands behind my head and just relaxed on the floor. While I have wondered if it was simply that the strong emotions of the night made me so relaxed as to be disrespectful. But really I'm sure it was just my way of saying, "Hey, this doesn't really hurt at all."

It certainly isn't fair to Alexandra to act that way. I honestly do not want to act that way. In losing respect, fear, worship - one or all of those at any given moment - the experience is diminished for me as well as her. I need to work to keep myself from doing that. And perhaps she needs to punish me in some way that stops me. How do you punish a masochist is an old joke.

But not really funny in this instance. She could try to use so much pain I shut up. But that is hardly on her mind in these early days when she wants to wake up without discovering that she seriously harmed me. I do have some ideas but will save them for a later post.

I was surprised by how easily I fall into obedience. I'm almost as surprised by how deep my masochism seems to genuinely be. From childhood on I've had fantasies of harsh pain, mostly heavy whippings and beatings. But wondered if I'd really want to live through them. From my few recent experiences I do seem to be a real pain whore.

This detail of a Gene Bilbrew drawing has stirred me heartrendingly since I first saw it. The whole image shows a generic looking dominatrix standing next to a man she's just whipped. The way he is holding is face in his hands suggests that he's been beaten to his limit, perhaps he's crying.

That level of pain if what I've often dreamed of experiencing. Perhaps it really is what I want, I need.

I've made a vice (as it were) of fantasizing being helplessly bound and worked over with a succession of whips, belts, straps, canes, switches - well you get the idea. My fantasy far surpasses my reality and surely in some instances exceeds it.

This isn't easy for Alexandra who is as much loving and caring, as she can be cruel and controlling.

I'm grateful that she's been to wise to let my neediness drive her further than she is herself ready to go. Maybe one day she'll take me to tears. Or we'll learn that I'm not able to go as far as my nightly dreams have led me to think. But without Alexandra maintaining her own pace she wouldn't be able to make the distinction between hurting me safely and harming me.

Regardless I shouldn't be allowing myself to fall into a state where I dishonor her judgment.