What Do I Get Out Of This?

So I was asked “What do you get out of this?” in a text conversation recently – “this” being BDSM. It seemed too wide-ranging a topic for a text message, and it’s something I have thought a lot about, before, during and since my relationship and subsequent break-up with V, and then also during my short-lived dynamic with SirQ. Hell it’s something I’ve thought about from the beginning of my explorations into BDSM, because to be able to answer that is to know What I Want, which seems to be the perennial question. If I know what I get out of it, and thus what I want, then I can find, or craft, the perfect relationship(s), right?

Yeah, maybe not. There’s really no such thing as “perfect,” and frankly, things would probably be pretty boring if they were. It’s the journey that matters, after all, not so much the destination. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t value in pondering on the question, in seeking out answers for myself.

Author’s note: I started this post WAY back when, weeks ago while my daughter and I were on vacation together., so some of the time references reflect that.

I wanted to blog on the topic at the beginning of the week, because it kind of fit in with that week’s Kink of the Week (Punishment) and MPB’s Five Questions (Impact Play) but, alas, time got away from me as I spent vacation time with my daughter exploring the Pacific Northwest, and both prompts are now over. I am still there in fact – we just settled into our last AirBnB here on a farm in Damascus (just outside Portland, Oregon) – but I finally have some down time to write, so, regardless of prompts, I’m going to set myself to answering the burning question: What do I get out of this?

There are many so different aspects of WIITWD (What It Is That We Do) that appeal to me, all in different ways. Here are a few.

Impact / Pain Play
So, yeah, there is definitely a headspace that goes along with impact and pain play: feeling small, feeling overpowered, feeling overwhelmed. I like the feeling of being beaten down, into a small, helpless ball, a puddle at my Top’s feet, with absolutely nothing in my mind but him (or her.) There are times I crave that, to be in that abject physical space, to be panting and gulping and shaking, dreading the next strike, and so relieved when it doesn’t come…only to be disappointed that it hasn’t come in the next instant. I want it, I don’t want it, I crave it, I’m afraid of it. I want to be reduced to that puddle of goo that can’t form a thought – even as I fear it and fight it. I want to be pushed into that space, driven there by someone more powerful than me. Someone in control that isn’t me – to have no choice but to endure.

But there are also the times that not feeling overwhelmed is the object – when I want to know that the person inflicting pain on me is so in-tune with me that they know exactly where my edge is, how far and how long to push, until I reach the exact state of almost-but-not-quite overwhelm, and pull me back from the brink and into their arms to feel safe and cared for once again. It’s a question, it’s a test – do they really know me? Do they really know when I am not going to act in my own best interests, and push myself to take more more more? Because it is also a challenge I set myself. Can I take it? Will I take it?

Then there is that other headspace, the one that is about submission, that is all about him (or her) and what they want. Will they do exactly what they desire? Do they desire it? Is this just to please me, or do they truly get off on it? Because that is so damn important to me – that it’s not just because I want it. And that ties back to the previous – because if I know they want it – and if I am feeling truly submissive to them – the more I want to please them – the more I will take, the more I want to take. The more I will push myself to take. So they have to know me – I have to trust them to know me – enough to give into that space, to let the control go.

The not-being-in-control part is huge, too. Not having a say, not having to say, not being the initiator or driver. Just being, because whoever is on the other side of the whip wants to control me, the situation, to make a thing happen – whether it’s giving me pleasure, pain, embarrassment, pride, making me obey or reveling in my obedience and willing submission. I can let my mind quiet, because I don’t have a choice. He or she and I are all there is in those moments.

And then, of course, it’s also about the endorphins. Flying, subspace, the intensity of emotional and chemical soup that we float around in during a pain or impact scene. It’s there that I find release, an exhalation, a breath, and room to breathe. A place to find quiet, to float.

And last but certainly not least, it’s about connection. The intense connection that only comes in those moments between the moments – so sharp and so clear it’s like melting into one another, sharing blood and bone and thought and desire. I crave this more than anything else, and in the end, that’s what it’s all about.

Impact and pain play can be a part of D/s, but doesn’t have to be. I prefer it to be a part of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be…

Or does it? Can I subsist on domination that doesn’t have a physical element to it?

Hmm…no, I don’t think so. I think I need the physical, in some form. Maybe not daily, or even weekly…but it has to be there in some way. But…that’s another discussion for another time.

Right now I’m talking about what I get from D/s. I will define that as the act of giving up control to another person – not in a physical sense, as in an impact scene, for instance, but as in various aspects of my life. Obedience, submission, doing what I am told simply because I am told to do so. The hot kinky stuff: asking for permission to orgasm, being told to reveal fantasies, being made to edge or wear a buttplug or video myself… The more mundane things: what to wear, how to speak, what to eat, when to sleep, how much to exercise. I need both in a D/s dynamic. I want to be the kinky sex toy, but I also want to have a real-world dynamic. Structure and rules make me feel safe and confident in a relationship, especially when I know that these things matter to the other person as well. And especially in a relationship in which we aren’t physically in the same space every day or night, it helps me to feel connected to them.

Rules & Punishment
I don’t term these as play, because, to me, they aren’t. And they are (in some ways) outside of D/s. I mean, not really, but they have their own space because (I think) you could have D/s without rules, punishment & corrections.

I don’t need a lot of rules in my “real” life. I do pretty much as please, when I please, and with whom I please (I mean, aside from showing up to work and to fulfill my obligations to my family). I live with Adam, but I don’t ask permission to do anything (though I am respectful of his time and needs.) We’ve been together long enough, and I have been independent long enough, that it’s not really a question anymore. But in a D/s relationship, I need to know there are rules. I need to know what they are, that there are boundaries, and I need to know that I have followed the rules and instructions – or that I have not. I need expectations to live up to. And I need consequences if I have not. Punishment – preferably corporal – fulfills that need. I feel renewed, refreshed, forgiven and relieved when it is over. I have paid for my error, and we can move on.

I’ve played a lot at the edges of humiliation/degradation play before, though my preference is in the lighter side of those kinds of play : sexual embarrassment and shame as opposed to degradation. Of course, that all depends on how you define those things, though, doesn’t it? Is it degrading to be pissed on? To be called degrading names, to be given away or forced to perform sex acts? These things are hot to me: making me display myself or ordering me to perform sexually, calling me a slut or a cunt or whore, treating me as a sex object, as “holes” to be used or filled. In this kind of play, words are as exciting as the acts, and what I get out of it is pretty basic: it fuels my arousal. It doesn’t often go deeper than that. Now that I’ve said that, though, I have to admit to one kind of “degradation” play that is both a physical turn-on and does something deeper in my brain: piss play. Being pissed on, or in. It makes me feel small and…something like humiliated, but at the same time deeply owned and marked. The only thing I specifically requested of W that I only do with him was drink his pee. Of all the things we did together, that was the only one I didn’t want to do with anyone else. In thinking about it, I think that this kind of play – and how I perceive it – is very much contingent upon the relationship.

Pet Play
Those of you that have read me for a long time will remember my pony persona, Onyx, who was W’s, and my wild pony, Topaz, who was her own wild self, but who came out to play with Adam. And with V there was kitty, though I never truly embraced a kitty persona of my own. It was more like…bringing to life one of the catgirls he fantasized about – for him, not me. But being pony was a special place for me. I didn’t have to be me anymore…Onyx was a parade pony, a show pony, proud and a little skittish, flighty and high-strung. And I could just melt into her, and know that W would take care of her and adored her. It was a lovely space to be in. Topaz, on the other hand (or hoof), was wild and unruly. She fought being tamed and that wildness – that fighting back – was an integral part of the kind of play Adam and W did with her, and it let me not be obedient, it let me step outside my submissive self and into that other space.

There are so many more nuances to WIITWD, but that kind of sums of the big ones. Maybe I will revisit later, if other kinds of play become a topic of their own.

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