May 27th, 2012
The other day, I was asked “Do all true masochists orgasm from pain?”
After snickerting at the word “true” for a moment, I answered masochists enjoy intense sensation. Each in their own way.
Later, I felt this deserved a bit more thought and discussion.
Dictionary.com: Masochism is “gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc.”
Midori has forever changed the phrasing in my head to be “intense sensation” instead of “pain.” She’s right. Pain is too broad. My elbow hurts right now, I’m not getting gratification from it. But intentional intense sensations, I do. I like that deprivation and degradation are included in the dictionary definition. Emotional masochism is just as powerful.
Orgasms are not the end result of intense sensation for me, they are simply one way for me to direct the energy created. A way I enjoy, certainly, but when I’m with a partner, only when allowed, or so directed. Yes, sometimes it turns me on so much I want an orgasmic release. Yes, sometimes it is so intense I want to orgasm to channel or focus the energy somewhere. But certainly not every time, certainly not for all intense sensation.
And that’s just me. I’m sure there are folk out there that it does exactly that for. That all intention intense sensation causes them to orgasm, or to want to orgasm. I’m sure there are folk out there that humiliation causes orgasm for, too. Or sensory deprivation; I enjoy it but it’s far from orgasmic for me.
April 7th, 2011
I’m having a bad day. Work was fine, the cat didn’t attack me, the weather was gorgeous, no one got hurt or is deathly ill in my immediate life(though, for my good friends who do have that in their lives, I’m incredibly sorry and wish I could be there for them more than I currently am). I didn’t break the car or lose my phone or have drama explode. Nothing changed today. But I’m having a bad day.
It happens time to time. My body fights me. My immune system attacks (mostly) my joints. I have pain and swelling in various bits and pieces depending on the day, week, month, year. I used to take a lot of drugs. A couple years ago, about the time I started this blog, I was getting worse and my doc upped my injections. I snapped, I was tired of the drugs. Tired of the chemicals, tired of getting worse. I changed my diet. Massively. It didn’t cure me, like I hoped it would. But it controls it about as well as the drugs did.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I blame the flares on not sticking as strictly to the diet as I should. On not eating raw enough. On not eating alkaline enough. But then I also have two books with opposing opinions on what is and what is not alkalizing. On stress. On empathetic pain, sometimes. I take a naproxen every now and then. If I have a really bad flare, I take a couple prednisone. Rationalizing that one or two pills a week is better than four a day and two shots a week.
I haven’t been to my rheumatologist in a over a year at this point due to money and insurance concerns and the fact I’ve stopped taking the drugs. I’ve still got spare pain killers left from the refills I did a year and a half ago. Probably, they say they should be thrown out by now, but that’s not the point.
I’m having a bad day. My wrist hurts, my elbow is buggered, my ankle’s achey, and my shoulders are cranky. None of it’s debilitating, but it was all worse this morning before I took a naproxen. I knelt tonight, made it to 28 minutes before I got up, and was in tears a short while later. Not tears of physical pain. Physical pain hardly ever makes me cry by itself.
I’m a masochist. A pain slut. I enjoy pain, I get off on it. No, Midori would say, I get off on intense sensation. No one enjoys stubbing their toe accidentally. It’s the pain I can’t control that made today bad. It’s the frustration that got me up from kneeling before 30 minutes because I wanted to stop the pain I could stop, because I couldn’t stop the other pains. And honestly, some days, that’s what keeps me there the whole 30 minutes, because I’ve chosen to be there.
It’s why I’m a masochist. I enjoy control, I get off on power exchange. I get off on giving someone else the power to cause me pain. I get off on allowing myself to feel pain because I choose it. I get off on the adrenaline and the endorphins, too. But on a bad day, I want to get off by choosing pain instead of pain choosing me.
December 9th, 2010
A lot on my mind this week, so I may end up with several posts, just going to start typing and see where I end up.
I had a couple random ideas last week. The first being around forced feminization. Wikipedia defines it as: when a man is forced to put on women’s clothes and instructed how to behave and talk Yes, I am a girl, yes, I previously owned skirts and dresses. But I only wore them for Very special occasions – weddings for the most part, once I got out of school, and the Renaissance Festivals. Currently, at his request, and because it is too cold for shorts in December, I wear skirts four days a week, not always the entire day, but two of those days, it is generally two different skirts or dresses.
I regularly have people bring me skirts and dresses to increase my “girlish” wardrobe. I am often teasingly scolded for my lack of stockings. At play parties, I am often told I need more appropriate footwear. One of the groups I’m involved with in town has caused me to buy more lingerie in two years than I have ever owned in my entire life. Last time my mother visited, I even let her take me shopping to buy multiple skirts, and bought a couple on my own at a thrift store, and I don’t even buy clothes for myself normally. As noted last week, skirts and other girl clothes are big items on my wish list this year.
I think Wikipedia would consider all this to be consensual feminization, but every now and then I pause and wonder. Wow, when did I become such a girl? And then I feel better about myself when I get an invitation to shopping event involving make-up, manicures, perfume and other such things, and I remember that I am not that much of a girlie girl. Nothing wrong with all those things, they are just not me. I’ll stick with dressing more like a girl, because it not only makes the men happy, but it also helps me feel good about myself and my body.
Second random thought was about masochism and sadism. Back to Wikipedia: Sadism is pleasure in infliction of pain or humiliation upon another person, while masochism is pleasure in receiving the pain. I went to a class taught by Midori earlier this year, where she discussed the term pain, and her preference for “intense stimulation” instead because pain can encompass so many things that are not pleasurable. But that is neither here nor there, my thoughts were running along the lines of what am I really? I identify as a pain slut, so masochist is obvious.
But I also top violet wand scenes, delight in watching him giving others intense sensations and find entertainment in my own intense sensations causing distress in others. Does this make me a sadist? The latter two are not me inflicting pain or sensation, just enjoying the results of someone else doing so. When I top electric scenes, I am not doing so to cause pain. I enjoy making people squirm and squeak, but usually I’m trying to ticklish spot. I do not go for the screaming and the expressions of pain. It is intense stimulation, I agree, but I’m doing it to teach and share my experiences and enjoyable stimulation. I do not get joy out of Causing pain and am hesitant to even try, though I can be enlisted as restraints, tickler or biter.
So, perhaps, I’m a voyeuristic sadist, enjoying watching the pain of others and occasionally being a tool to assist in the causing of the pain. I think part of that also comes from knowing how much I enjoy the sensation they are receiving. So it is a sympathetic or empathetic enjoyment, as well as enjoying the interactions for themselves and the people involved.
I think I will stop there for the moment. I have another topic to write about, but it is much bigger and more personal. So I’ll post this as it’s own post, and work on the next one separately. What are your thoughts on fashion, pain and enjoyment?