Why is it fascinating and stimulating to engage in power exchange? We are breaking the rules. As queers, feminists, kinky persons, and sexual outlaws, we have always broken the rules. We go outside designated sexual norms as we search for connection, community, and fulfillment in our sexual lives and identities. Our sexual selves were not handed to us—we had to create them. We disassemble traditional power structures put in place by social norms only to reassemble them to use as our own sex toys.
Submissives are often strong and powerful women and men who wish to set aside or give their power to another person. Submissives are willing to make themselves vulnerable and open to experiences. We serve and give something back to both our community and to the one(s) we serve. Our service and education can result in both personal growth and community development. We submit to better the lives of others and, in doing so, our submission enriches our own lives.
In a fantasy world, Sir and I would exist 24/7 in an erotically charged nonstop BDSM scene. But this is reality—and thank goodness it is! It would be boring and not nearly as special to me if submission were a constant. It is difficult to fully appreciate the calm without a healthy amount of chaos. Besides, Sir and I lead very hectic lives, and between work and our newborn baby girl, it’s not possible for us to constantly maintain that dynamic of our relationship on a 24/7 basis. Instead we plan scenes or play dates. Or we find ways to work our D/s dynamic into our everyday lives. I welcome those moments like a breath of fresh air between diaper changes, breast-feedings, sexuality workshops, and business meetings. After six years together, my partner and I have found what works for us. And this is what works for us. We are able to be loving partners to each other, passionate lovers, cuddle buddies, and coparents to our daughter, all as we engage in a Dominant/submissive scene.
Sometimes it’s just for a moment, something as simple as Sir pulling my hair and bringing me to my knees before he leans down, kisses me on the crown of my head, and whispers, “I love you, slut.” Or me saying, “I love you, Sir” before we head out to work. Sometimes that is all the time we have. But it only takes a moment. It’s a subtle shift of power, an opening of my being, slipping into that quiet stillness of perfection and tranquillity. It’s a state of Zen submission.
The space I go to when I’m in a position of submission is a meditative state. When painting or writing, I find myself going into a similar state. I have to step out of the way to give in to the creative energy. It’s a state of pure connection, complete focus, and the clarity discovered in letting go. I find it by riding waves of energy that flow through me with each impact from a heavy flogger or sting of a singletail. I find it in the precision and mindfulness with which I complete a task for my Sir. To sink into subspace, I allow my day, my life, my identity outside that moment, outside that scene, to slip into the background, and I offer myself as a vessel for the energy exchange between me and my Dominant.
CHAPTER 15
ENHANCING MASOCHISM: HOW TO EXPAND LIMITS AND INCREASE DESIRE
PATRICK CALIFIA
It was the third SM play party I had ever attended. Since I was one of the organizers, it was up to me (and my cohost) to get things started, even though I was barely more experienced at group sex than most of the guests. That lovely lady (let’s call her Fanny) was gracious enough to let me drag her into the center of the room and tie her up on all fours. She was a slender redhead with Celtic knots tattooed on her shoulders. The brightly entwined lines morphed into plants and fantastical animals as the design spilled onto her upper arms. She had long, very curly red hair, so she looked like a Raphaelesque angel you had divested of its robe and got ass-up and begging for cock. Like magic, as soon as we took off some of our clothes, everybody else formed couples and triads and got out their toys.
Fanny really, really, really wanted me to put my biggest strap-on in her ass. I did preliminary play with my fingers, an ass plug, and my second-biggest dildo. I massaged her, talked dirty to her, slipped lube into her butt, and played with her nipples. But her ass would only open so far. We had reached a plateau.
My pervy little angel was whispering something. Given the volume of the music and other players, the only thing I could hear was “Please, Sir.” I leaned forward, but I couldn’t get close enough to her head to decipher the whole message while I was manipulating a slender vibrator in her butt.
“Speak up!” I finally roared, letting a little of my frustration show in my voice.
“Get my belt!” she shouted, matching my volume. Apparently she was feeling a bit more frustrated than I was.
A passerby was kind enough to find her jeans and tug her simple leather belt out of the loops. I put down the vibes and plugs and dildos and picked up the supple length of that ordinary article of clothing. Suddenly it seemed vested with power and fear, an implement that might help us cross the line into a new realm of experience. I doubled it up and smacked her with it, drawing a broad red stripe across her pale, shapely ass, increasing the force until she was shuddering and dragging on the ropes. She had told me that she liked pain, but I didn’t really get it until I saw her clawing at the leather tabletop, having what looked and sounded like an orgasm.
After that, we had no trouble getting my fat, 10-inch cock into her ass. She was as relaxed as could be. And if she did begin to tense up, all I had to do was trail the belt down her buttocks, pressing gently on her welts, to make her sigh and melt into me. It was a grand fuck, one of my first experiences with combining pain and pleasure, doing a scene that looked vanilla but most certainly was not.
Would this technique work with anybody? No. You have to start with at least some of the hardwiring for masochism. If you do have that hardwiring, should you be expected to stand up and get bull-whipped for an hour, with no warm-up, to entertain a crowd at a leather community fund-raiser for breast cancer? Only if you are an exceptionally heavy player and such an exhibitionist that nothing matters but the spectators. But can you perhaps learn to take a bit more, and then a bit more, to please a lover and yourself? Yes.
SOME DEFINITIONS
In this article I use the term masochism to refer to the desire and the ability to become aroused and perhaps even climax while experiencing sensations that other people avoid. Although I talk about pain and discomfort, it should be understood that once a masochist is aroused and in a state of surrender to these intense sensations, they are not experiencing the kind of pain that someone who is ill or traumatized feels when they are shocked by how torturous it can be to have a body. I also want to note that there are masochists who seek out pain even if it does not arouse them; willingly tolerating hurt can have a number of positive results, which will be clear a little further on.
Unfortunately, the stigma of the label masochism has been perpetuated by sex-negative doctors, psychologists, and other mental health “professionals” whose vocabularies lack precision. So-called experts get away with claiming that masochism is unhealthy because they use the term loosely to describe other types of human behavior as well. Patients who stay in violent relationships, allow themselves to be exploited by employers or family members, can’t take control over their own lives, or harm themselves physically and emotionally are referred to as exhibiting masochism. Most of these people haven’t got a kinky bone in their bodies. Yet people who enjoy being spanked, whipped, pinched, bitten, etc. because it gives them an erotic rush and makes them feel closer to their partners are also called masochists.