Beauty is Pain
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?
Public Play, Part Two
September 16th, 2009
I helped a couple friends create scenes this weekend, and participated slightly in other informal scenes. Mostly I wandered around watching, being the voyeur. The first night I did not play at all. I just blinked at people reaching out to grab the ring on my collar. Whatever happened to respecting protocol?
Night Two. I had two scenes.
Lover asked what I wanted, and for once in my life, this weekend, I knew what I wanted and I asked for it. I wanted Rope. I wanted No Escape. I wanted as much rope as he could possibly use. We even dropped by my apartment and picked up all my new rope. There was a wooden frame laced with thick bungee cord into a spider web. He used all 150 feet of my new hemp to wrap me up. A chest harness, a corset, thighs wrapped, calves wrapped, arms wrapped. Then he used his own rope to secure every wrap of hemp to the web, as well as his rope cuffs to finish securing my hands, and a few extra ropes to lace my ankles to the eyelets on the frame. He pinched my nipples as he secured me, and then, with borrowed knife, he traced what flesh he had left exposed. He made me orgasm at knife point, over and over. Hard, soft, thrashing and still. The knife went away and he went back to pinching my nipples, taking his sweet torment while he made me orgasm for his pleasure. Then down to taste me, finish me with his tongue. He untied me slowly, pausing to steal orgasms ever now and then. Took me down, wrapped me up in his jacket and held me until we were both back to ourselves.
Master/Husband asked what I wanted, I told him I wanted sharp things. I wanted the Whartenberg Wheel, I wanted the two-pronged claw. He added a knife. He laid me out on the bed, and dragged the sharp metal along my skin. I yipped and screamed and moaned and gasped. Sensations wonderful, sharp, and delicious covering my body. He delighted in my sounds, repeating motions that created his favorite sounds. Drawing red designs in my flesh, but not cutting, never cutting, though oh did it feel like he was. Delighting in the twitching, tickling that drove me crazy, and the moan of satisfaction at the sharp stabbing that ended it. Until I could take no more, and raised my arms to him, and he entered them wrapping our arms around each other and just holding tight, sharing our love for each other.
And those were the good parts. But both scenes had parts that I will remember separately from the wonderfulness that I enjoyed with my partners. Both scenes had the intrusions that are the reason I shy away from public play. The beginning of the first scene was repeatedly intruded upon by our other lovers, poking and pinching me as though they were included in the scene by default, without asking. The second scene, others were invited to listen and comment on the noises I was making, and He held other conversations apart from our scene. Minor distractions and intrusion, but annoying to me, when I want to have a scene where I can lose myself in the scene and Be with my partner. Perhaps that is asking too much in public?