Emotions, pain, endless roundabout thoughts are now what I use every day. No more smoking weed and drinking alcohol to help me not think. Just open palms, itchy skin, wrinkles, and thinning hair. I spent all those years hollow and closed in. I was so afraid of everything. I am still afraid of everything, but now I know it. Now I feel the fear, the running away from hard things, the not wanting to stick up for myself, the way I push people away as soon as it feels too hard, I now see everything I do. I see it with such visibility it almost makes me sick. My stomach turns and feels empty from the lack of food I put it in at times because I’m too anxious to eat. So I fill it with caffeine and protein powder to make the gargling stop. What is it I need now? What am I searching for?
Pain. I now feel like I’m addicted to pain. Both physical and emotional. I hadn’t felt pain while I was using substances, so now that I’m feeling it’s like I can’t get enough of it. Okay, maybe I’m also a little “addicted” to sex. Constantly looking for a new and better partner and trying new and adventurous things. I was trying to find that perfect mix of person to satisfy my hunger till finally, I matched with a guy on Tinder that was physically just my type. He also looked fun and goofy. I had a really good feeling about him so I moved the conversation right along to basically asking where he lived and if he wanted to get together that Friday.
After a brief meet and greet, it turns out I found someone who combined two of my favorite things: sex and pain. What I like most about this guy is that he looks like a totally innocent, unassuming guy that fucks like an abusive asshole in the bedroom. I think I just hit the jackpot. This was my first experience with BDSM. BDSM is an acronym for Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadomasochism. In BDSM, the aim isn't to harm but to use pain to increase sensation, and therefore sexual pleasure. Some also use the word “kinky”. “Someone who is kinky is having consensual enthusiastically desired sex,” explains Susan Wright founder of the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF). Now that I’ve experienced the ultimate euphoria that is BDSM it’s hard imagining going back to “vanilla sex”.
So yeah, I am now walking on fire covered in an ice cloak smoking a cigarette. That’s the visual that comes to mind when I look in the mirror at the person staring back at me after my first BDSM experience.
I try counting the bruises on my back and butt. There are more than a hundred. I can’t stop staring at them in the mirror. I take close to 20 pictures of my backside and when I’m sitting relaxing on the couch I can’t help but look at the pictures over and over again. I feel proud. I feel normal. I feel mesmerized by the experience. I try to figure out what caused each bruise; what toy, what whip, what belt, or was it the vampire gloves? I still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins the next day. Each strike sent shock waves through my body, increasing blood flow to all the different muscles. That adrenaline rush was almost identical to rolling on ecstasy. Euphoria, pain, pleasure, lust, restrained, and punished all wrapped up in one sensational night. “It’s best to do high impact play maybe once every two weeks”, he says. I look at him with my usual gummy smile and say, “Okay. We’ll see about that.”
I arrive at his apartment around 3 pm. As soon as I walk in I’m met with a hug and peck on the lips. Such a brief and tender moment. That was just that, a moment. I look to my right and I see an exercise pad on the ground underneath a rope hanging from the ceiling. I feel a rush of excitement wash over me. “Take a look around the place and see what looks good to you”, he says. I walk into the kitchen and there are a couple of paddles, a couple of whips, and some canes. For those who don’t know, canes are thin pieces of material with a grip. These particular canes were made out of bamboo and one plastic. I only know this because just a few days before I was in this same apartment laying on his bed getting struck with a cane for my first time. They look so non-threatening but they sting like bloody hell. Anyway, I knew from that first time trying them that they were my favorite toy on that table. I walk back into the living room and there are a couple of hammer pinwheels and what will soon become my other favorite toy, the vampire gloves. They are leather gloves with spikes sticking out of them. They look absolutely terrifying.
I walk around his one-bedroom apartment and there are toys everywhere. Nothing about any of this is sending off alarm bells or “run out the door’s” or “what the fuck did I get myself into’s.” All I felt was wonder and adventure. My body ached with excitement. This is a whole new world I’ve never played around in. We discuss safe words, limitations, expectations, concerns, and what are hard “no’s”. My one hard “no” was having something stuffed into my mouth. I had a gentlemen stuff my underwear into my mouth once, on my request, and I felt like I was suffocating.
Now that the easy part was over, it was time to dive in headfirst.
I’m now naked, on my knees, while he’s wrapping my wrists with red rope. It’s called rope tying. The ties are often variants of Japanese bondage shibari and kinbaku. Shibari means “a tie” and Kinbaku is a decorative tie; the goal is to create a beautiful rope pattern around the body. My arms are now stretched up towards the hook on the ceiling and I’m now his sex slave. He asks if I want to be gagged. “Fuck it, why not?” He ties a handkerchief around my mouth. He slowly starts to get my blood circulating by slapping my butt and pinching my breasts. He had lined up all the toys he wanted to use on the coffee table. One by one he goes down the line of whips and paddles. They don’t hurt at all. They make very loud noises but produce very little physical pain. I could feel myself wanting more. “More pain please”, I thought to myself. I trusted that he knew what he was doing. I figured he was working his way up the torture scale and testing to see what my pain threshold was.
My body is starting to feel warm. The wrist restraints are starting to tighten and I’m feeling very vulnerable. There was no way I’d be able to wiggle my way out. I was stuck there, tied up and gagged. This was one of the most erotic imagines I have of myself. This scenario turns me on in such a different way than I have ever felt before.
He picks up the flogger and starts running it down my back. The flogger had many leather tails attached to a handle. The tails flutter along my back and butt. Then smack. I feel a slight sting. Ouch. Followed by the sting comes a wave of energy and heat. I bite down on the handkerchief still in my mouth. He asks if that was okay. I nod yes. Now I’ve given him the green light to do what he wants. Slowly and methodically he starts the rhythmic flogging flow. With each strike, there is another one followed immediately behind. One after the next, faster and faster they start to come. It starts out painful but as the strikes hit one after the other the pain starts to dull and I’m only left with pleasure and my jaw clenching. My mind begins to drift off into a dream-like state. It’s dark but I see all sorts of patterns and lights flashing. It’s almost like I’m on ecstasy and I’m rolling super hard listening to my favorite song. Faster and faster, harder and harder, I never want it to end. I want to stay here forever. He stops and starts rubbing a fur mitt all over my back. It felt so soft, so nurturing. The contrast between the two sensations was glorious.
The play session went on for hours. The sun disappeared and with the night came new sensations and new possibilities. I felt like I was in a different world. All of my beliefs about sex and pain flew out the door. I did not have to fake pleasure. I did not have to fake discomfort or pretend to be confident or sexy or anything. I smiled. I breathed. I screamed. With each scream the more powerful I felt. Even though I was the one taking the pain, I felt so in control. Control of my breath, my body, and my mind. For once I was in control of what was being done to me sexually. This may sound confusing to you, it’s a little confusing to me too, but I spent all of my teens and young adult years just laying there letting my partners do what they wanted to my body. I was unable and even unwilling to voice what I wanted in all of the sex I had before. Now I get to play, plan out scenes, ask for what I want, and explore what feels good and what doesn’t. I have partners that now ask me for consent. They check in with me to see how I’m feeling when I’m being struck with whips and canes. I get to lose myself to the imagination, become whoever I want and I get to be fully present in the moment. This is freedom. This is pure. This is sex. This is living. This is what I’ve been missing.
I will say the couple of days that followed this experience were tough. A lot of painful memories came up and I felt really uncomfortable in my skin. I remembered the rapes, the abusive relationship, and the pain I felt after each of these experiences. They were brought to the surface with each strike, each grab, each spank, and each slap. What this made me realize is these experiences are a part of me. They aren’t going anywhere. Ultimately what I’ve discovered is that the traumas I’ve experienced have shaped my kinks and desires. Instead of feeling guilty for liking vampire gloves wrapped around my neck while being unable to defend myself, I’ve embraced it and I’m never looking back. For me, giving up complete control to someone with the knowledge that this person also knows and respects my limitations and boundaries gives me the ultimate power and control over my experience. The consensual non-consensual play has provided me a safe space to explore and heal from my past.
I found the perfect mix of therapy, sobriety, and BDSM; it’s my new favorite cocktail. I sip it, I enjoy it and I marvel in its exquisite taste. It’s unlike anything I’ve ingested before. I find moments of purpose and gratitude sprinkled on the top. Bliss fills the cup and I’m only left with beautiful marks on my body and my trauma seeping through my pores. I wear this all with pride, knowing that I’ve come to a place of acceptance and understanding not only for myself but for all of humanity. We are all fucked up. We are all sexual beings. We all have trauma and we all have bruises. I encourage you to explore yourself. Break free of the monotony and embrace the uncomfortable because this is what we need the most. This is where we truly grow, heal, and find ourselves. The end prize is love and acceptance. I know that’s all I want and yearn for. That is why I share this. This is why I’m here. I’m here to scream, to wiggle, to be primal, to explore and learn. Every day I learn how to love myself better and better; bigger and bigger; louder and louder.
And yes I’d love another round of pain, please.
