S&M vs. or plus D/s . . . ?

When Alexandra and I started talking one of the things I wanted to work out in my mind was: whether I wanted pain or surrender more. Put in a position where I had to decide would I choose masochism or submission.

During the on and off times when I’d fantasized there was plenty of pain. There was never any choice. As I became aware of fetish culture the childish images of being a victim evolved into ones where I willingly entered a very extreme but explicitly BDSM relationship.

While I went from being stranded, trapped or kidnapped to contractual servitude the images remained heavy of torture. And - once the power exchange was made - devoid of an option out.

Since this was all happening in Richard’s Imaginary Torture Land the subtleties hardly matter. Masturbation is about one thing only: getting what you want.

As Alexandra and I began to talk of D/s, discerning what I wanted and needed seemed needful. Distinguishing between wants and needs isn’t always easy.

Sometimes I wasn’t sure of her own mind. Often she’d say she was primarily a sadist. But clearly she wanted genuine submission.

For some people the demarcation between S&M and D/s is easy. A pure masochist may laugh at you if demanded to use an honorific. Some slavish men want as little physical pain as possible.

To return to my early conversations with Alexandra, it was clear that she did want authentic surrender of self. In those conversations I began to really glimpse that my images of myself drained of will, as property did offer more fulfillment than a one-handed orgasm.

Being a pain whore, that she might also beat me was almost as equally lovely. (The care with which she would inflict her cruelty I didn’t anticipate. Not lack of faith in her, lack of imagination in me.)

Early in boyhood I’d eroticized whippings before I was conscious of any of my sexuality. Leather cutting into my buttocks aroused me.

With billions of people alive there are only a few people with genuinely rare sexuality. The rare androgynophilliac for instance. Until Alexandra my masochism had no place in my relationships. That was fine. It is an option, not a necessity.

When Alexandra returns I think we’ll explore more deeply my yielding self.

And ascertain more clearly my capacity for pain. Some of it in cool assessment of my tolerance and limits. And I need to finally learn if pressing at those boundaries actually will intoxicate me as concentratedly as I’ve often felt. Pure physical masochism.

The emotional masochism as well: abasement, humiliation. Riskier at the edge perhaps than a bruise or a wound. But a unique space where suffering and surrendering fuse.

Thankfully I haven’t found myself needing to worry about my need to be her worshipful pet and her whipping post. She’ll take and use me in many different ways.