When the Sadist Awakes

It happened while we where talking, him and I.

I could literally feel it happen. It was quite … intense.

 

It was the guy from the other post, and it was the third time we met. We had talked about kink, domination and the like before, enough to figure out that we were compatible enough to meet again. This time we were talking about something I wanted to try, and if he was willing to try it or not. He was willing, he did not hesitate, not about that. But at a point in the conversation he looked away and was very much not eager to look at me. He paused, and did not continue. Just stared at the ground. It took him several tries to get the words out.

 

That was when it happened.

The sadist in me awoke for the first time in months.

Ever since I put her to sleep when my relationship ended last autumn.

 

I find being a sadist slightly scary. I have to trust the other person, the person I hurt, so much. I have to trust them with my peace of mind, my sanity, my very life. If they do not communicate properly, if they do not say stop when they need me to stop, if I make a mistake (which do unfortunately happen), if they change their mind and decides that what I did was a violation after the fact … I am well and truly screwed, on so many levels. Of course, I do everything in my power to keep the bottom safe. I have always done so, and I always will. But the trust it takes to give someone pain … it is not easy to come by. So I was grateful when the sadist went to sleep without a fight.

 

It was not so with the dominant in me. Far from it. That part never went to sleep, never retreated. It just … waited. Patiently. In the darkest corner of my mind. (Cue malicious laughter.) I think my dominant traits are easier to live with, so to speak. So while the dominant part of me thought living without a submissive was uncommonly hard, it did not make my life very difficult.

 

Because the dominant part never retreated, it was that itch I was out to scratch when I started looking for someone to play with. I wanted someone to order around. Someone who liked taking orders as much as I liked giving them. Someone who did not think BDSM = sex. Someone who would be happy with a simple D/s relationship. And because I was just looking for a D/s relationship, gender was not an issue.

 

Which again led to the conversation with the guy that looked away form me, clearly embarrassed.

 

The sadist roused and sniffed the air like a freaking hound. She could smell the embarrassment, and feel it in the air, as well as see it. While I, seconds before, had been ready to feel sympathy towards him and his humiliation, I now had none. I just stared at him while my old, sadistic smile almost split my face in half. I watched him like a hawk for more signs of humiliation, drank up his body cues and watched the hands that could not find a good place to lie still.

 

It felt so good.

I revelled in it.

 

The conversation started up haltingly, but my smile did not disappear right away. It came to the point where I had to ask whether or not I had informed him about that fact that I am a sadist. (I had.) I must have looked somewhat ridiculous with that grin.

 

Some minutes later, the grin disappeared.

The memory of the incident and the feelings it aroused, did not.

Now the sadist is wide-awake and she does not want to shut up, much less go back to sleep.

 

I do not yet have the level of trust with this guy, that I both need and want. But the sadist does not give a damn. She invents one scenario after an other, full of both pain and humiliation. And she makes me imagine how good it will feel to do and say those things, to make him do those things, and watch him blush, and whimper, and stammer, and groan, and look away, and … and … yesss …

It has become quite bothersome.

 

I have things to do. Things that now is a lot harder to do because my imagination is on fire and my sadist is starved and so, so hungry. There is no holding her back, at least she does not think so.

 

To top it of, her chosen victim is not exactly ready for the taking. Even if he should be willing to do it; I am not.

 

I think that is the hardest part of it. That it is likely that I am the biggest obstacle for my own satisfaction. But I do not know him well enough, and do not trust him enough, to really believe that he is able to give me the communication and honesty that is necessary to make it safe to release the sadist, even a little.

 

Maybe in a while. When we have talked a bit more. When we have played a bit with D/s. Then maybe we could start small and see where it takes us. If he wants to. If I dare.

 

In the meanwhile … does anyone know how to gag a pain-hungry sadist? I have work to do.

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Playing the Numbers on Fetlife

On Fetlife there is a term «playing the numbers». For the most part, it describes someone (usually a male) who sends a lot of identical PMs to a lot of other people (mostly female). It’s often possible to identify a so-called copy-paste on a glance. They are mostly about the sender himself, often with some kind of fantasy described (and if you are really lucky, it will be described in minute detail) and they tell you loud and clear why they contacted you; for sex and play. The way I understand it is that these males send out a lot of PMs in the hope that if they just send them to enough females, someone will give them the time of the day. They are playing the numbers.

 

The problem for these males are; they are not the only ones playing the numbers. The recipient, the female, are also playing the numbers. I know I am. I do not get the ton of PMs other dominant (and submissive) women get, and I’m guessing it’s because some of the men who want to send me a message reads that sentence where I state that I am a lesbian, and moves on. Some of the messages I get is still copy-paste where the sender hasn’t read my profile at all (except the fact that I’m a female dominant) and send me some elaborate fantasy, or a “Hi, how are you doing?”. The latter is nice enough, but what am I supposed to do with it? I do not want to talk unless given a reason, and the “hi” messages feels a lot like poking.

“Hi.” *poke* “Hi, notice me.” *poke, poke* “See me, notice me, talk to me!” *poke, poke, poke*

The other thing about the “hi” messages is that if I should answer it with a “hi” in return, the odds are that they will answer me with a proposition for sex and play. No other conversation needed. I have done that enough times to have learned my lesson. I do not answer the “hi” messages.

 

So, out of every ten messages I receive, maybe one is interesting enough to answer. And if I answer, one out of five want to have an actual conversation. The only reason that I answer as much as one in ten – because even that one message is not necessarily something really great and engaging – is that I have learned that it is the second message that counts. It may be a proposition for sex and play or it may be the start of a conversation. I won’t know before I try, but I won’t try for just any message.

 

Even those I have a conversation with often turns out to want … yes, indeed, sex and play. I’m not surprised any more. I expect it. Truth to be told; it’s okay. It’s Fetlife. Even if it’s not supposed to be a hook up site, a lot of people use it that way. You just can’t get around it. After months of being single I use it that way myself.

 

I miss playing. I miss being able to give orders and to have them followed. I miss the intimacy in a scene. I have decided to give a male servant a go, or male slave or maid or a what-have-you. Then I can at least give someone orders, someone who enjoy taking orders as much as I like giving them. So … I play the numbers on Fetlife.

 

The numbers, so far, are not good. Of the five I have had longer conversations with and agreed to meet, I have met exactly one. One in five. One in five that wanted to meet me, to the point where we made arrangement for a first meeting in public. Fortunately, that one man wants to meet me again, and I liked him and want to meet him again too, so that’s a start.

 

But playing numbers are not much fun.

The Three C’s

As a newbie in BDSM I have done quite a bit of reading and thinking and discussing. Both about doing kinky stuff and about having a D/s relationship. It did not take long before I saw some words repeat themselves, and I dubbed them the three C’s. The three C’s is probably on the top five list on how to make a D/s relationship work – or any relationship for that matter. For me, those words are the top three on that list. Better yet, they are all on the top of the list, together.

Consent. Compatibility. Communication.

Consent.

Consent is vital for any relationship. From consensual non-consent or blanket consent to enthusiastic consent and everything in between – consent is what distinguish a healthy power exchange relationship from abuse. I read and hear about consent everywhere, and for a reason. It is not easy to be new and not completely get how important consent is and how many shades consent comes in. In the beginning, consensual non-consent sounded awfully like abuse to me. Now I know a bit more and the term does not sound as frightening.

Personally, I like enthusiastic consent the most. It is not necessary all the time, but often enough to hold my doubts and worry in check. A lot of the time, I get her consent by asking her to do something and she does it, and by her sounds and other reactions when I do something to her. It is not as if I find something new and just do it without talking about it or give her a warning first. Informed consent is important. Here is where the two other C’s comes in.

Compatibility.

To find someone that you are compatible with is not easy, but if you find someone who floats on the same waves as you do, the wait is worth it. I am not only talking about kinks. For a relationship to work compatibility is necessary both in a vanilla setting and in a kinky one. It will not be easy to have a relationship when one partner only wants to party in their free time and the other only wants to go on hikes. If there is no middle ground, there is not much for a relationship to grow on. The way I see it, compatibility in a vanilla setting is as important, if not more, than having compatible kinks. (If you want to have a vanilla relationship too, that is, and not just a D/s relationship.)

As for compatible kinks, who cares what rest of the world thinks of your kinks when you have a partner that enjoys them as much as you do? To find someone that you have many kinks in common with can be a hardship for some. I have read about people who just cannot seem to find someone who is into the same things as them. And I have read about many people who have found the one that fulfill their own kinks to perfection, even if they did not think it possible at first.

I think it is important to remember that people are first and foremost not kink delivery systems, but people. Chances are you will not find someone who like all the things you like as much as you like them and nothing else. Do not write a list about all the things that a prospective partner have to be and like; you might miss out on a lot of great people if you do. Then there is the fact that some people might learn to like and love new kinks, because their partner like this kink or that kink so much. They might grow into it, given the chance and the time to get used to it. Then again, they might not. It is probably not smart to begin a relationship on the assumption that the new partner will learn to love a kink that you cannot live without. Talk about it, a lot, and be clear when you communicate. This is where the last C comes in.

Communication.

I have read a lot of post and articles that has claimed another version of the three C’s. Communication, communication and communication. In a D/s relationship, communication does not fix everything any more than in a vanilla relationship, but it is a beginning. There will not be possible to clarify or fix anything if you do not communicate.

In addition, open communication is even more important when one partner have all the authority in a relationship and a green card for giving pain when one wants to. I would think it is good to have a submissive who is a secure enough communicator that she may tell the dominant that she feels like she is coming down with the flu, before the dominant decides to give the submissive an ice cold shower. Informed consent goes both ways. I would feel horrible if I inadvertently made my girlfriend sick, (I would certainly not consent to do so) or harmed her in any way when it could have been avoided by open communication.

I can honestly say that I have never been in a relationship where I have communicated this much. I am not a great communicator. I like to talk to my girlfriend, my friends and my family, but I am not good at talking about heavier stuff. It gets stuck in my head, sometimes in my throat, and I cannot get the words out. If the other part is as bad as I am at communication, little communication will find place. I do not like the fact, but it is a fact.

Fortunately, my girlfriend is much better at communication than I am and makes it possible for me to communicate without having too much trouble. It does not make all conversations easy, but it makes it possible even when it is hard.

Sadistic Guilt Trip

Most days I’m okay with my sadistic desires. I’m more than okay – I enjoy the happiness and pleasure I feel when I’m being sadistic. Sometimes I laugh gleefully when I smack or whip my masochistic girlfriend and sometimes I can feel my breath catch while I watch her take the pain I give her. Her reaction to the pain plays havoc with my own feelings and reactions and it is all part of the fun.

But not all days are most days. From time to time I experience doubt and guilt because of my sadistic tendencies; or needs – which is what they feel like at times. I know that I’m not fully reconciled with my sadistic side. I have come a long way, but aren’t completely there. Or I’m not there all the time; now and again I take a step or two backwards and I let the doubt in.

Not on purpose, mind you.

Last time it happened was after I had played with my girlfriend. I had felt particularly hungry for her pain this time and I had gotten my fill. We were both happy and satisfied. We didn’t do anything new or big or dangerous of any kind, that wasn’t the problematic part. What was different this time was the fact that I had been made very, very aware how much pure pleasure I get out of giving her pain. I have long been aware of the fact that I like it, but not to this degree. At some point during this playtime it scared me a bit, but at that stage I savored it too much to stop.

Afterwards it was time to pay up. It started small, almost like an irritation in the back of my thoughts. The more I thought about it, the more it prickled, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about it. In the end it was like someone shouting at me:

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You can’t like that! You can’t get pleasure from that; you are a sick, sick bastard!”

The main reason this angry, hateful voice didn’t – and probably never will – do any lasting damage to my peace of mind and self-esteem was the very vivid and very pleasant memories of the play time I just had had with my girlfriend. She enjoyed receiving pain as much as I enjoyed giving it, which makes her as sick – or as healthy – as me, and that I can live with. Curling up with her and talking to her soothed my doubts and the angry and shocked voice in my head slowly retreated. When I told her I had gotten scared by my own feelings of satisfaction and delight, she hurried to reassure me that I was safe with her. I hadn’t done anything to her that she hadn’t liked and she wouldn’t let me do it either. There was nothing wrong and nothing to be afraid of. I was safe with her.

And the door closed behind the doubt and guilt.

I’m not sick or otherwise wrong for being sadistic. My girlfriend is not sick or otherwise wrong for being masochistic.

My sadism fits her masochism like a hand in a glove and there is nothing wrong with either of us, or with anyone else that partake in consensual BDSM. I’m fully aware of this, but sometimes my thoughts and feelings take a turn to the worse and I have to be reminded – and remind myself – of this, once again.

Most days I enjoy being a sadist and getting my satisfaction from my girlfriend’s moans of pain and pleasure. Most days I can pinch, bite, slap and claw at her and then cuddle up with her without a second thought – just a mind and body full of bliss. Most days being a sadist only makes things more interesting.

And some days I need to remind myself what a respectful, caring and kind human being I am. Sadist or no, it doesn’t change that fact.

Lack of nerves

The past month I have been at a kinky gathering or a munch almost every week. In the beginning of my escapades in the kinky world I was more nervous than anything else. Stubbornness alone made sure that I got out the door at home and to the munch. It wasn’t really something I looked forward to; I was far too busy being nervous. It was just something I had to do for myself and hope that it would get better with time.

It did get better. A lot better. Now I look forward to the gatherings, to see my new friends again, to begin new friendships, to talk about books, movies and kink with new people. To joke and laugh with people, and to smile and grin when watching someone get a beating or being put in their place. I might feel mildly uncomfortable sometimes, after all, there are a lot of people I haven’t talked to and sometimes someone can act a bit … out of place. Nothing really rude, just weird, and not in a good way. But it doesn’t happen very often and I guess it’s hard to get away from with so many different people at one place.

So I enjoy looking forward to the gatherings, almost counting down the days, starting at the evening of the last gathering. One reason for my lack of nerves, nerves that were very much there not so long ago, might be the fact that I now meet up with my new newbie friend before the gatherings, and we travel the last bit together. This way, neither of us has to go there alone and sit alone until we find someone to talk to. It’s easier and funnier. I have yet to experience that we run out of things to talk about. Another reason for my lack of nerves might be that I become more and more curios the more I read, learn and see, and I want to learn and see more, and do things myself. I get more and more curious about doing every week. It’s a really hard thought to get out of my head these days. I have got kink on the brain!

This weekend I’m going to a kinky birthday party and I really, really look forward to it. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun! Oh, there will be new people there, and I believe the crowd will be smaller than on the kinky gatherings I’m usually at … and yes, I’m a bit nervous, but I’m a lot more excited! And I know that I already have talked to some of the people who will be there. It will be fine.

Besides, the birthday party isn’t all that I have to look forward to this weekend.

I also have got a date!

No, I’m not thrilled, not at all. No, I don’t look forward to it, not even a bit, of course not. (< Notice the ton of sarcasm I used here. < Notice the fact that I have never done something like this before.) I’m absolute calm and gathered. I’m not jumping up and down while clapping my hands. I wouldn’t do that, ever. (Geez, there’s that sarcasm again.)

Now I’m losing the thread completely, best to put an end to this post.

What is my “type”?

While it sometimes happens that I think a random woman on the street is beautiful, I don’t have a physical “type” that interests me more than others. Or, if I do, I have not found it yet. I think it’s fascinating how some of my friends seem to have a physical “type” they like better than other types. It might be that someone with long, brown hair, square jaw and muscle appeals more than other features. Or it might be a more general look, like someone with Asian features or Nordic, Hispanic or Italian features. Of course, the fact that someone likes to watch people that look so and so, doesn’t mean that they always fall in love with someone that looks like that.

Physical looks are, after all, only the first impression, and while the first impression matters, it’s unlikely to do any good if the person is a jerk.

When my friends and I talk about types and they list features that makes them turn their heads or personality traits that makes them pay closer attention, and then ask about my type, I can’t give them an answer. We have used hours to try and find my type, without success. Sure, I like that girls have some hair on their heads and I like it if their clothing style are girlish more than boyish, but neither is a must have. When it comes to hair, eye and skin color I have no preferences that I know of. It’s not like I can’t see a woman and like what I see, I most certainly can, but there is no straight answer to exactly why I like her looks. And if you put her exact opposite next to her, I might like her just as much.

While I don’t have a physical type, that I have discovered, I do have a list with preferences. I would like it if we have some, or a lot, of the same interests. We must be able to talk, and talk and talk and laugh a lot together. I would prefer it if we were quite close in age, give or take about three years. And there must be chemistry, lots of good chemistry, and a spark. The spark isn’t necessary to begin with; if the right chemistry is there, the spark might just come in its own time.

Of course, now that I’m carefully dipping my toes in the BDSM world, I would like it very much if we were compatible in that area too. Not that I’m entirely aware of what that would mean, for my part, but I’m beginning to get a notion of it.

So far none of those I have fallen in love with have been even the slightest bit alike, physically. They have been on completely different ends of the spectrum, both in features and colors. I think that the personality catches my attention first and if other things are right, the fact that I like how she looks kind of sneaks up on me until I one day realize she is beautiful, stylish and so very cute. There is no other way to describe it.

My type is the one I fall in love with.

Flirting

Flirting is a great mystery to me. I neither understand it nor see it. Not only do I not see if someone is flirting with me, I don’t even know when I’m doing something others would consider flirting. When it comes to flirting, I’m completely blind.

Some of it might be inexperience, but some of it is also the fact that I have a hard time believing that anyone would flirt with me. (Low self-esteem, much?) When I’m in a situation where I think there might be a possibility that someone is flirting, I consider it carefully and then end up with a: “Nah, surely not. Why would she?” It’s better to believe that no one is flirting and be wrong, than to believe that someone is flirting, and be wrong.

It’s not a conscious thought either; it’s just the way it is. “No one is flirting, don’t get your hopes up, move along now.”

Of course, it’s a bit worse when I don’t realize that I’m flirting myself. I might talk to someone I like, and later stop and consider if I was flirting or not, without really figuring it out.

(You should know when you do these things, right?)

I have a feeling flirting should be fun, but unless I know what’s actually going on, it’s more bewildering than anything else.