A broken toy

It’s amazing how adaptable one can be to scarceness. How in the face of a shortage, norms redefine themselves. How your brain finds ways to explain and accept the new circumstances. How after the initial period of terror and panic, new means for coping with deficiencies are adopted and your life continues as if it has always been this way.

I haven’t had an orgasm in more than 1.5 months. What used to be a reason for dread and anxiety, now is just a fact of life. Half a year ago, when my orgasms were taken away from me for the first time, I’ve spent weeks mulling over it, hoping for it to change, fantasizing about being able to come freely. Now, when they are unreachable for me again, I don’t even think about it. I just live my life as if I haven’t known what an orgasm was. 

I am not sure if this is what He wants me to feel in this situation. I am not sure if He wants me to get used to the power that He has over me. I am not sure if He wants my mind to learn to cope with the suffering that denial used to cause in me. But I am also not sure if He doesn’t. I think that what matters to Him is the fact that He can do this to me and I will accept it without a word. I don’t think that He does these things to me because He wants me to feel a certain way. I think that He does them because He can. 

And this is one of the reasons why I crave to be in His power. Because there is no subserviency in the way He treats me. There is no sign of consideration of how His decisions affect me, no hidden will on His side to please me. My needs are out of the equation in our play. Anything that He does is because He wants to do it. Anything that He wants me to do is a fulfilment of His needs. All that is fulfilling the only need that I truly seem to have. The need to be disregarded and used. 

I sometimes wonder what do I get out of our dynamic and are we not taking this too far? Is it still play or has it become abuse? Am I allowing him to treat me this way because I am afraid to say that this is too much? That I want my freedom back? Or is this exactly what I desire? 

The truth is, that it is exactly what I desire. My fantasies are dark, twisted and elaborate and they have much more to do with what I don’t get than with what I get. I dream about someone having total control over me but for me to have no control over them. I want them to enjoy me whenever they please but at the same time, I want to take up as little space in their lives as possible. I want them to have power over me, but not because I want to feel like I belong to them in a sense of having a feeling of belonging and being taken care of, but because I want to feel powerless and small and unimportant. I want to feel as if my life is in the hands of someone who is completely out of my reach.

I guess that the dynamic from my fantasies is the closest to the one between a God and their believer. God is powerful and almighty and the fate of the believer is completely in His hands. There is no point in questioning God’s will because there is no way that He would change His mind hearing the arguments of the believer. They are from two different worlds and different rules apply to them. The power of God over the believer is absolute and the love and trust of the believer to God are unconditional and unquestioning. God didn’t earn it and He doesn’t reward it. There are no requirements that He needs to fulfil in order for the love to continue. It simply is.  

Of course, this is how it looks in my fantasy world and in reality, I do not play with Gods but with real people. However, the sentiment stays. And having someone disregard my human desires so deeply, having someone execute his power over me with such nonchalance brings me closer to living that fantasy. I find it exciting to be pushed so far and to see where it leads. To get so close to living the dark stories that I dream up in my head. To see how they taste in real life. With the dirt and sweat and all. I want to live it all with the pain and suffering and loneliness and not just the hot kinky sex. Because my fantasies are not just bed scenes. They are parallel universes in which I live my parallel lives. 

This is how I look at it when I lie alone in my bed thinking that I would probably be masturbating right now if only it made sense and would lead me to some release instead of just causing me more frustration. 

My feelings about these things change, however, when other people discover my temporary defect. When I have to reveal to my sexual partners that they won’t be able to make me come tonight. That this privilege has been unavailable to me for a while now and I can’t tell when it is going to change. When I see the shade of disbelief in their eyes. When they ask me with a tone of pity if I enjoy it. When I feel them distancing themselves from me after hearing me say ‘yes’.

I can feel their inability to comprehend how can this be something that I desire. I can feel that they feel sorry for me. I can also feel how they lose their interest in me. How I become less human when they find out that I can't be pleasured the way that I normally can. That they won't have a satisfaction of giving me satisfaction. How that makes me not sexy anymore to them. How they don't want to use me even though they know that being used is exactly what I want. The veil of normalcy falls off me. Now they can see my real face. And they don't understand what they see.

At that moment, I become less certain about my sanity. At that moment, I begin to see myself not through the eyes of my fantasies, but through their eyes. I see a pitiful lonely girl, disgraced and mildly disgusting in how low she will go for Him. How much she is ready to give up. And for what?

Maybe this image is closer to reality than what I see through the lens of my fantasies. Maybe this is what I really am. A broken toy, an unwanted scrap of matter. Ready to give up all the worldly pleasures for just a glimpse of a promise of His heaven. 

Heaven that is so hard to tell apart from hell. 

Rope as a tool for opening up one’s heart

Lately, I haven't been tied that much. For a number of reasons.

Not that much means once every two weeks when it used to be twice every week. That means a fourfold decrease in frequency. A couple of months ago, it would be devastating to me. Right now, it's interesting.
It's interesting because it allows me to observe my reactions to these new circumstances and learn more about myself and my relation to rope bondage. As it turns out, the opportunities to learn and deepen your practice are abundant if your mind is open to it.

It started in ropes

Recently, after two weeks without being tied, I finally had a date with one of my regular riggers. I was looking forward to it not only because I was rope-deprived but also because I really like to get tied by him. What I like the most about our tying are the dynamics of objectification that we usually end up in. I also like his sense of aesthetics in rope. I like to be a part of his creations.

Usually, when he ties me, I get into a victim mindset very quickly, where I feel like a poor objectified girl used by him to create what he envisioned, her responses to his actions completely ignored. But this time, I didn't become a victim when he started to bind me. This time, being in his ropes made me feel secure and familiar.

The moment the first rope of the gote started to take away my freedom, strange warmth descended upon me, I felt safe and understood as if coming back home.

Why this change?

It felt unusual for me to feel that good in bondage because I'm used to treating rope as a tool of abuse, a tool for other people to violate me with, to take away my freedom. But this time it was nothing like that. This time it was giving me back my freedom.

I think that the reasons why it was different now are the fact that I haven’t been tied for a while and my growing experience. I don't think that it was my partner who was doing something out of the ordinary, but rather that my attitude has changed.

The scarcity of rope in my life combined with my familiarity with it made me refocus and go deeper right from the start of our scene. Doing that, I discovered freedom, openness and vulnerability waiting for me right there. They didn't have to be forced out of me the way it usually happens. They were right on the surface, ready to be tapped into.

Only retrospectively I realized what had happened that night, though. And only because another, even more curious thing took place the evening after.

It continued outside of ropes

Every evening, I perform a somatic practice devised by Michaela Boehm called Moving what you're feeling. It's a very simple practice in which each day you put on the same song, close your eyes and start to move, allowing your feelings and emotions to guide the movements of your body. I do it as a form of checking up with myself as well as a way to sensitize myself and for emotional release. One song is the minimum length of the practice, but when you feel like it, you can go on longer, exploring broader and deeper what's within.

That evening, I went longer and deeper. I was moving for a couple of minutes, shifting between an upward powerful posture and a lower more submissive one when at some point my wrists crossed themselves behind my back. It happened without much thinking and led to a revelation.

The moment I felt as if my hands were tied behind my back, blissful fuzziness entered my body. It felt like the shield around my heart started melting and I became totally open and receptive. Then my hands have woven themselves into a high hands TK position, and the feeling of openness became even stronger. It felt almost as if the entire front of my chest disappeared and my feelings were spilling out of me untamed.

At the same time, I felt calm and good. The usual violence that accompanies my opening up was not there. I was willing and eager, light in my chest and connected. It felt so good that I ended up kneeling with my hands in a TK position swaying in the middle of the room for quite a while. The openness and safe vulnerability that I felt were so amazing that I didn't want it to stop.

Can rope really be a tool in achieving heart openness?

I believe that what happened to me that night was so intense because I was alone. I allowed myself to be so open because there was nobody to be afraid of, nobody to hurt me in that vulnerable state. At the same time, the position that brought me to that place was the position that I am often in when in ropes.

Therefore, I see the potential for rope to put me in that space of openness and vulnerability. More so, I expect that rope actually does bring me there, that's why getting into a gote-like position evoked such intense reaction. Only usually, this openness is preceeded with a struggle and a fight. But as it turns out, it doesn't have to be so.

I think that because being tied up leaves one so hopeless and powerless, it makes it easier to let go, to stop fighting because you can’t win this fight anyway. It makes one feel so helpless that one begins to feel safe in that position. Like a newly born child, so vulnerable and weak, but at the same time so open. It allows one to shed all the barriers because there is no reason not to. So much power has been taken away from you already that the small step of giving up, even more, is as easy as ever.

Let's not get too spiritual

It’s not like from now on, I want to always end up in the position that I've just described when in ropes. I like my scenes to be different depending on the mood that I am in, the partner that I am interacting with and the circumstances. I don't necessarily want my rope scenes to be moments of deep emotional release. Sometimes, I want sexy abuse. Sometimes, I want to create something beautiful. And sometimes, I just want to get into the physicality of it without the mental aspect altogether.

I don't see rope as a spiritual activity. I want my tying to be hot and beautiful and intense, but not necessarily spiritual. That's not very sexy. At the same time, I do see rope as something very intimate. And there might be a space for the heart opening in that intimacy.

One has to remember, however, that it's not always appropriate to go that deep, both with regard to your partner as well as the circumstances. Reaching these levels of openness and vulnerability at a rope jam with a person who you usually tie with casually would be like getting naked during a date in a coffee shop. Sure, maybe you felt free and unrestrained at this moment and you just wanted to get rid of all the clothing that was unnecessarily shielding you. But maybe the other clients of the place didn’t want to witness that. Maybe your partner just wanted to have a coffee with you. And maybe, after thinking twice, you didn't want all these people around you to see you naked either. You just wanted to be free. There are often moments, though, when it's better to stay restrained.

Still, I find this newly discovered potential of rope to open up my heart truly fascinating. And the depth that seems to be reachable through its means extraordinary. I can see all the reasons why it is possible. I can see how the restraint paradoxically makes it easier to let your guard down. You've been captured, you've lost, there is no reason to fight anymore, no reason to try to keep up appearances. Just let go and allow yourself to open up. You are being vulnerable already.

And even though I don't think that I'll look for such depth in ropes often, the sheer possibility of getting there is thrilling. The emotional catharsis that I suspected to be possible through rope now proved to be reachable. I just need to allow myself to go there when the opportunity arises. And I think that I will, now that I know how it feels.

There seems to be a common misconception about what it means to be objectified

People know that I am into objectification so they sometimes approach me to talk about it. After going through a number of these talks, I saw one common idea repeated over and over again. 

That to be objectified means to behave like an object.

For example, I am often asked: 

Is it really possible to be turned into an object without feelings, needs and desires? And if yes, what is so fun about it?

Or:

I don’t see any appeal in objectification. I like to respond and interact with my partner. I like to feel and desire. I wouldn’t want to become an inanimate thing. I like to be used and I want to experience it.

Or, in the rope context:

I don’t want to be objectified in rope. I want to be able to feel and express myself.

Like one would be excluding the other.

I’ve heard the above and similar statements so many times that I’ve finally decided to address them in writing.

Objectification is a really elusive concept and even though I have written quite a lot on the topic, I still don’t feel like I’ve properly expressed what it is about for me. I often write from the position of an object. Describing what an object would experience (or rather not experience) in a given situation. That an object wouldn’t need, that it wouldn’t desire. It does not mean that I strive to not need or desire. Rather, it explains why, when I am being objectified, I do not. Because when I am being treated like an object, at some point, I kind of become one. Not because I want to, but because my partner puts me in that position. It's not that I free myself from my needs and desires. They do it by treating me like I don’t have them. 

To me being objectified does not mean to behave like an object but to be treated like one. Objectification play for me has nothing to do with striving to act (or rather not act) like an object and everything to do with my partner behaving like I am one. And that is a crucial difference. The feeling of objectification does not come from me but from my partner’s treatment of me. 

It is a matter of origin. My starting position in objectification play is not that of an object. I do not do anything in particular to become it. It happens because my emotional responses are attuned to the actions of my partner. They treat me like an object, so I start feeling like one. They treat me like I do not have feelings, wishes or desires, like I do not feel pain or panic, so I stop feeling them. If nobody is responding when I am communicating my emotional states, if it seems like what I feel is an unimportant illusion, at some point my brain becomes aligned with the way that I am being treated and I stop feeling. 

I don’t think that it is like that for everyone who enjoys objectification. I can imagine that it can have infinitely many facets, depending on who gets involved in it. I can imagine that there are people who want to be a perfect object for their owners. Whose goal is to become as close to an inanimate thing as possible. Who strive to shed off their humanity as much as possible. For them, the origin of their objectification comes from the inside. Exactly as it is in the case of submission for me. 

If I feel submissive towards someone, they do not have to do anything to put me in that state. My submission does not come from their dominant acts, but from within myself. And I will keep on striving to prove my submission to them no matter what they do. I will keep on trying to be their perfect plaything.
But not with objectification. There, they put me in the mindset of an object only if they behave like I am one. 

Another difference between objectification play and play centred around my submission is that when I am submissive, my needs and desires are very important, even if they are being ignored by my partner. They are ignored but acknowledged. And that acknowledgement brings them into existence in the space between us. When I am being objectified, my needs are not ignored, they are simply not there. At least not in the eyes of my partner, but when I play, it is as good as them not existing, as what is in their eyes is what defines my reality.

So to answer the questions that I posed above. For me, it is possible to be turned into an object without feelings, needs and desires if someone treats me like I don’t have them. What I enjoy in that state is the feeling of freedom from my ego. The emptiness of my usually busy mind. The absence of desires, at least for a little while.

Being objectified or taking part in an objectification play does not mean that I stifle my reactions in any way. I do not put an effort into behaving like an object. That is not the point. I can behave like a human all I want, I am just not treated like one.

Being in that position does something to me. And that something is exactly what I am into when I say that I am into objectification. 

Savouring jealousy

It's such a complex feeling and such a delicious one to unpack. Jealousy is something that I have been intrigued by from the moment that I realized that it is possible to incorporate it into play. It plays on human most basic fears of loneliness, abandonment and not being enough. And that offers tremendous possibilities for emotional suffering.

I am not a jealous type of person in general. I am usually rather secure in most of my relationships and I am not easily fearful about losing a partner. Also because I think that it is something out of my control either way so I rather try to focus on what they are giving me instead of thinking how I might lose it. There is one type of situation that does ignite jealousy in me very strongly, though. And that is when it is mixed with envy.

Because of my high level of ambition and a constant hunger for more, I tend to want a lot of things and there have always been people around me who had more of something that I wanted than me. Sometimes it's not so much about them having more, but simply about having something that I don’t have, not at all or not at that moment. Those are the people who I am envious of. I can even be envious of my Dominant for being dominant even though I don't have a drop of dominance in me. It's not about wanting it for myself as a person who I am right now but about not being able to have it. Ever. And at the same time finding it something admirable or desirable. 

And because my envy is so often about the absolutes, things that I can't change, mixed with jealousy it can be formidable to play with. Especially, because being jealous ignites my deepest anxieties. And what can cause one more pain than having their anxieties dragged out in the open and prodded?

I learned recently to savour my jealousy. It usually appears in relation to other partners of my partners when they are female and fundamentally different from me. Not just any different, but they need to be a kind of woman that I am uselessly attracted to because of her alluring femininity. That kind of woman that is very beautiful but in a cold and distant way, aware of her beauty and knowing how to use it as a powerful tool to get what she wants. In general, she usually gets what she wants in her life without much struggle. Often because of an aura of slight helplessness that surrounds her, which makes you feel like she needs you in some way, but at the same time, constantly keeping you at a distance, making you want to provide for her, making you feel like you might have something that she needs and if you give it to her, she might, for a moment, become yours. 

This is the type of woman that I am very envious of. Of course, the above image is a huge generalization and a big part of it is my own imagination about these women and not the reality. It doesn’t matter, though. What matters is how they make me feel.

They come in many different flavours but there is one thing that unites them, my reaction to them. It's my reaction that tells me that she, as well, belongs to their breed. It's my inability to turn my eyes from her, the moment she appeared in my sight. My strong desire to talk to her and make her laugh, to entertain her. I want her to be mine, even though I know that it's impossible and, also, I wouldn't know what to do with her once she is. Because I want to have her, but at the same time all I really want is for someone else to have me. 

And if this is the way she makes me feel, I can only imagine how my partner feels about her. How is it even possible that they still want to have anything to do with me if they can have her? She is so superior to me that there is no point of even trying to compare myself to her. 

But I do. I find a perverse pleasure in observing her (or them together) and finding all the ways in which she is better. All the ways in which I don't measure up. All the desirable ways in which they treat her and they don't treat me. It's very cruel to do it to myself, but it's my personal gift, self-inflicted suffering. 

When I think about it, I feel ashamed of doing it. I feel like I shouldn't feed on my jealousy like that. I shouldn't torture myself using those two people who are not even aware of what I am doing. It's a very twisted kind of voyeurism and mental masturbation. But it's so delightfully painful that it's hard to stop. 

I would like to believe that I am able to control it. That I am not going to make any permanent damage to my relationships because of that. That if I keep it to myself, nobody will get hurt. I don't know if it's true. What I do know is that I love observing myself around those women and can't really help it. I love how small and pathetic they make me feel. How their presence makes me retreat and accept that my partner will probably not want to touch me ever again. And understand it. I love how low and hopeless it makes me. How desperate and undeserving. How acutely aware of all the things that I will never be able to provide to them and she is. How resignation and acceptance of the inevitability of being rejected creeps up on me when I see them together. 

Of course, I know, rationally speaking, that it doesn't work like that. I know that people are different and they like each other for different reasons and there is no notion of someone being objectively better than me. I also know that I have many qualities that people might find attractive. That it's not so black and white. That if they say that they like and value me then I should trust they do. And usually, I do. Just not at that moment. Because at that moment I'm busy drowning myself in self-deprecation, humiliation and loneliness. 

At that moment, I know only one thing that I have that she doesn't that might be the reason why my partners haven’t abandoned me yet. I know that she will never go as low as I do for them. She will never lose her dignity for them, as I do so easily. They will never feel as justified in their cruelty towards her as they are in their cruelty towards me. They will never turn her into something that is as far from a human as I can be sometimes. She won't entertain them with her misery and pitifulness. 

I know that that is the reason why they keep me with them. So that they can be at their worst with me and at their best with her. They need to degrade me so that they can cherish her. And knowing that only makes me wish to be someone else even more. Someone beautiful and respected. Someone feared and admired. Someone valued and taken into account and not just used. 

I will never be that person, though, because, in reality, it's not who I want to be. I could be her only if I wasn't myself. But I want misery and suffering too much. I long to feel degraded. I long to feel rejected. I long to be hurt. And if my partner is not there to provide it to me, if they are busy with someone who actually is worthy of their attention, then I'm always there for myself. I’m always there to rub some salt into my wounds and then sit back and enjoy the pain, sipping slowly from the bitter-sweet cup that they passed on to me.

Mindsets in which I love to receive pain

I think that I am a weird masochist. If I can be called one at all (to hell with the labels anyway).

I haven’t always been like that. In general, what I like a function of what my partners enjoy. Recently, however, I began to realize that I do also have my own taste for certain things.

My first kinky experience was quite painful and violent and the fact that I enjoyed it left me deeply disturbed and confused (a ‘decent’ girl should not enjoy being spanked and fucked until her ass turns completely blue and she can’t sit for a week). Then, my first dominant boyfriend was all about humiliation and degradation and we didn’t explore physical pain much. I didn’t feel the need to, either. Enough was going on already. After that, I entered the kink scene and that was the first time when someone pointed out to me that I am masochistic. And it was true, I enjoyed physical pain enormously at that point in time. It was a way of easy release and achieving the intensity that I craved for without investing much emotionally.

That fountain dried up for me though when I started discovering how much pleasure emotional suffering gives me. When I realized the depth, complexity, intensity and ease with which the emotional pain can be given to me by some people, my interest in physical pain deteriorated significantly. I even felt like I am not masochistic anymore. A bruised butt or other parts of my body lost their appeal to me. A bruised soul was what I was looking for.

Recently, I began to appreciate physical pain again, only not in the way that I used to. I am not so much interested in the pure sensual experience of pain anymore, but what its combination with emotional suffering can bring. The circumstances that I enjoy when being hurt are the ones that take away any possible physical pleasure that I could be experiencing from it. They take away the context of pain being a different tool of giving pleasure to a masochist and interchange it with actually being physically and mentally hurt.

Being an object

Receiving pain when you are objectified has a special flavour to it because you can be sure that it is not about you. There are coldness and carelessness to it. You're hurting, but it's not relevant. You could as well not be. Your pain doesn't matter. You're just a toy and you're used for someone's amusement, but your pain is not part of the amusement. It is just your body that is being used for someone else's purposes as if you were a puppet. And if it hurts then too bad for you. Do puppets even feel anyways?

Somehow I love this state because it makes me let go of my own experiences. Let go of myself. Yes, I am being hurt and yes I am in pain, but there is no way to prevent it, as the person who is hurting me doesn't even seem to see what I am experiencing. So better stop fighting against it and just accept it.

I love the mental challenge that accepting it requires of me. Since I don't have the usual supporting power of doing it for my partner to help me go through it, I really have to use all my resources to carry on. Being able to cope with pain like that is a very powerful experience.

A punishment

Punishment is another situation in which pain is not pleasurable to me. The same strokes of the whip can feel very different when they're purely sadistic entertainment and when they are a source of punishment.
When I'm being punished, my head automatically tries to help the person who is punishing me by putting me in a mindset of atonement, making everything more painful and reminding me with every stroke that what I am currently experiencing is an expression of someone's disappointment. And being a disappointment is one of the worst crimes in my eyes.

Since I always want to please, being punished is a painful experience in itself for me. Adding pain to it only intensifies it. That's because at that moment all I dream of is being forgiven and embraced and told that everything is fine and they're not going to leave me behind because of what I did. Receiving pain, when you're waiting to be told that everything is going to be ok, can be quite devastating.

Being not cared about

Pain can also be an expression of someone not caring about me. And I love to feel not being cared about. There are little things hurt more than that.

Being objectified can also be a sign of not caring, but that's not what I'm talking about here. Here, I want my partners to see and recognize what I feel, but not care about it. For example, when they beat me way harder than I might find enjoyable, just because they feel like it, knowing that they are causing me a lot of pain and showing me that their entertainment is more important than my suffering. Again, it's a sign that what they're doing to me is not about me, which is exactly what I want.

Outside of kink the fact that someone gives another pain is often a sign of them not caring about the other person unless it is a necessary evil for your own good. Within the realm of kink, this reasoning is twisted as giving pain to a masochist can actually be a sign of love, of recognizing and catering to someone's needs. But since for me, the last thing that I want from my partners is for my needs to be recognized and catered for (at least in play), I often bring myself to the 'real world' mindset, where I don't want to experience pain and the fact that they are still giving it to me is a sign of not caring, of doing what they want without considering how I feel about it. At least, I want to believe that this is the case.

Being a recipient of anger

Being hurt by someone who appears to be angry is yet another flavour that I love. It makes one feel so panicky and abused. There is some carelessness there, but it's mixed with fear and violence. They might be careless, but not because they don't care whether they hurt you or how you feel. Here they actually actively want to hurt you. Their carelessness comes from a deliberate loss of control (or at least it looks like it).

I love how terrified it makes me feel to think that not only am I out of control but my torturer as well. It gives me a feeling of being in the power of an uncontrolled natural force, unstoppable and deadly. It awakens lots of primal fears and makes me freeze with terror.

An additional aspect is added to it if the person who is angry and violent with me is someone who I care about. Someone who I wish would be kind and loving but instead is using me as their punching bag. It makes me feel lost, confused, and hurt, and wishing it all to stop. It gives me a feeling of betrayal because I thought that I knew them but I find out that they are not who I thought they were (especially when it's something unexpected and played really well).

Humiliation

Physical pain can also be a great tool for humiliation. In general, if you are equal to someone, they will not cross the boundary of physically hurting you (in normal circumstances I mean, not in kink). If someone feels entitled to hurt you and you let them do that, it might be a sign of lowering your status. Especially if it is done in a humiliating way.

To me for example, being spanked with a bare hand or beaten with a belt is somewhat humiliating, as it makes me feel like an insubordinate child. In such a case, the humiliation is often bigger than the pain. Especially if other people are watching it. Having my nipples twisted is also often an act of humiliation to me. It makes me feel so vulnerable and exposed. Another obvious painful form of humiliation is face slapping.

I love the combination of pain and humiliation because the pain somewhat intensifies the humiliation (and to me usually is absorbed by it). It always makes me think about the fact that I am so subdued to the person doing it that I'll allow them to do anything to me. I'll go as low as they want me to. Pain makes me realize that and at the same time makes me feel more helpless in it.

Denial of loving touch

This is a circumstance that I love to go to in my head. Even a slight sign of denial (conscious one and not because of carelessness) of touch or softness makes my mind tremble from a feeling of lack. I start to desperately want what I can't get. Longing for the thing that they're denying me more and more, showing them how much I want it. And giving them more opportunities to deny it even more painfully.

And when someone makes you hungry for their kindness and care and love and then feed you with pain… It hurts. On so many levels. When you long for their touch and the only touch you get is mixed with pain. It makes you so confused and helpless and trapped. You become their prisoner. You begin to long for the pain that they are giving you because it's the only way that you can be close to them. And despite the hurt, you want to be close to them. It is so tragically romantic that I can't get enough of it.

Bein in someone else’s control

Finally, I love when someone is using pain to show me how much I am under their control. Not as a tool of gaining control (in general when I play with people I am under their control already), but rather of executing it. Of showing me how much they can do to me and that I am not going to stop them.

I am not a fighting kind of person, you don't need to use force to overpower me. If I'm there playing with you, I'm already yours. The fact that even though that is the case, you will still hurt me just because you can, makes me truly feel the power that you have over me. It makes me realize that you know exactly how much I have given up and that you are going to use it.

It's both exciting and terrifying. On the one hand, you're fulfilling my desires. Being entirely under the control of someone else is one of the states that I long for. On the other hand though, knowing how much I'm letting my guard down and seeing someone who might actually use it to the limit is scary. Can I really take as much as I think I can?

Being hurt by someone who has complete power over me is so thrilling, again, because the pain that they are giving me is not about me. They are hurting me because that's the experience that they want to give me. And I know that because it's for them, I will suck it up and go way further than I find pleasurable. I won't say stop when it gets hard to take. I will let them bring me just on the brink of breaking. And that's the place where I love to be.

So I guess that what I actually want is to be hurt in a way that my partners want to hurt me and not on my terms. I don't want them to use the pain for my pleasure. I want them to really use it to hurt me. I can also recognize how much physical pain can enhance and alter emotional suffering. How it can add to the intensity and bring me to a state of terror or nervous breakdown that is hard to achieve otherwise.

So please, do hurt me. Use the pain against me. Just don't make me feel for a moment that what you are doing is about me.

On the pleasure of feeling shame

Disclaimer: I'm writing from a position of a woman because that's the experience that I have. Of course, shame is not only a female experience and I'm not trying to say that is, but that's my personal angle of looking at it.

Shame is a problematic emotion. In principle, it is a negative and not desirable one, of course. Especially for women, shame about our sexuality is deeply ingrained in us culturally, partly as a means of control. If you can control someone's sexuality, you can very easily gain control over other aspects of their lives, as you thwart their self-expression and don't allow them to look for the answers by themselves (yes, I do kind of say that everything, in the end, is about sex).

Since currently, we are in the age of women gaining back the power, being shameless sexually is often seen as a form of a fight against the patriarchy. And in a way it is. By not conforming to social norms, not feeling shame when society tells you to, you show your independence and freedom to live according to your own rules.

But feeling shame doesn't always have to be something negative. Especially in kink. As with many other negative emotions that people normally don't want to experience, kink gives us tools and context to experiment with them without (theoretically) the normal repercussions that would come with it. Context of kink gives you a controlled environment in which you can explore the places to which you normally wouldn't want to go. And that's exactly what I find so appealing about it.

The way I often feel about shame is that it kind of alleviates guilt in me. It allows me to do things that I normally wouldn't do because I would feel that they are not decent (even though I know that deep inside I would enjoy them). But when I'm doing them while feeling ashamed, I feel like part of the blame is gone, because (at least) I am feeling ashamed. Especially when I am ashamed of something that I was 'forced' to do (while secretly enjoying it), like being exposed in rope, for example. I can enjoy the pleasure of being seen and (maybe even) desired, without taking the responsibility for being so openly sexual, keeping a little bit of decency.

Of course, as an independent emancipated young woman of the XXIst century, I could say that I should get rid of these old school ideas of sexuality being something shameful. That I should own my needs and desires and stop hiding away behind a wall of shame. But should I really?

If the (mostly Slavic) culture that I grew up in equipped me with all these notions about what is decent and what not for a woman, allowing me to experience amazing states of misery, why not use it to my advantage? Maybe it is old school to be an innocent damsel in distress when it comes to sex, but how romantic! And have I mentioned that romance is what I live for? So why should I consciously deprive myself of the experiences that I desire in the name of proving something to someone?

I guess that what I am trying to say is that we shouldn't make shame a shameful feeling. Which I feel like it kind of is recently, especially for women in the western European culture (I can't say about other cultures as I haven't been exposed to them long enough). I think that consciously choosing to experience shame, even though it is not something admired in our society is a sign of bravery and not of conforming to stereotypes.

And there is a beauty in shame. In this confusion about breaking the rules, which feels both enjoyable and wrong at the same time. In eating the forbidden fruit. In uncovering something that should stay covered. And also in submitting to the norms of the crowd and feeling the power of the group pressure over you, crushing you under the feeling of inappropriateness. There is a pleasure to be found in allowing yourself to stop fighting against other people trying to dictate your choices and for once let their views take control, while at the same time doing something against what they deem appropriate. It's this perverse feeling of being a 'fallen woman' who lost her status but desperately wants it back.

Rules and norms give one structures and scenarios opening endless possibilities for play. Especially the old school notions are a great tool for that because these archetypes are so deeply ingrained in us that it is very easy to tap into them. Being ashamed of one’s desires, group shaming, shame about being exposed and about one's actions are all situations that we've been surrounded by throughout our lives, even if haven't actively participated in them. I love to play with those notions and use them to my advantage. To let myself live the stories of women who were here before me. To experience their pain and their pleasures.

I wouldn't want to let it go in order to prove how independent and developed I am as a woman. And I don't think that I should have to do that. Sex and play is not a political statement. It's a way of connecting to myself and to my partners in a very pure form. It's a means for exploration of my body and mind. Exploring traditional notions is a very interesting thing to do, even if only as a way of facing them truly and letting them go. Playing with them gives one power over them. It allows one to see them for what they are, states of mind that one gets in and out of, initially unconsciously, but as one grows more aware of them, more and more consciously.

I guess that if I really wanted to, I could stop being so easily ashamed. Only that I don't. Instead, I prefer to take what my upbringing gave me and twist it to the limits. Put my shame in a pressure cooker and see what comes out of it. It is such a fascinating feeling and it brings so much joy to me and my partners. Let's enjoy it while we can. But on our terms.

I have a thing for rejection

The moments when he points my head away from him, denying me his sight, when he reaches out to touch my face but in the last moment he slaps me instead. The moments when he pushes my body away with his foot like it's something disgusting that doesn't deserve to be touched with hands...

... are the moments that I am waiting for.

I so long to be rejected... In fact, almost everything I do in play is asking “Please, push me away.” I make myself so vulnerable, so eager, so subjugated, so needy that it is almost inevitable that I will be rejected. Who would want a despicable half-human like that? Who would give such a creature what it wants, when it clearly has no power to claim it? Why should one be kind to it, when one can be mean with no repercussions? I try to make it as easy as possible for others to stop seeing me as a human, in hope that it will make their threshold for cruelty lower.

I have just written, “Why should I give it what it wants?” meaning, "Why should I give it a kind touch?" while a minute earlier I mentioned that what I actually want is rejection. Confusing, huh? Am I playing my dominants? Am I trying to trick them into thinking that I want kindness, while what I really want is to be rejected? Am I topping from the bottom? Am I?!

On some level I do, I think. But it is not deliberate and not fully conscious. In the moment of play, I experience a personality split of sorts. There is a soft part of me that really only wants to be touched gently and simply loved. This needy part is not staged. I really feel that way at the moment it takes over.

There is another part of me, though. This one lets the vulnerable one appear on the surface during play while it's hiding beneath. This is the part of me that longs for rejection. This is me that feeds on the emotional pain of the needy one. This is the cruel me. And in order for the cruel one to be satisfied, the needy one needs to be truly hurt. And it is truly hurt when it’s being rejected.

Because kindness and a soft touch really are all that the needy one wants. It wants the pain to be over, it wants to feel loved. There is no deceit in the needy one. It is like a child. Any emotion that it feels is immediately expressed. It is so vulnerable that the only thing that it can do is to express its needs and hope that the person that it expresses it towards will meet them.

Of course, this is not what the cruel one hopes for. And it is the cruel one who screens the partners that the needy one is going to interact with. She chooses for the ones that she hopes are as cruel as she is. She also interacts with them before the scene, hinting at all the terrible things that she would like to be done to her. And then she hides in the corner to watch.

Recently, I’ve seen someone at a party engaging in a humiliating act, and he was smiling and visibly enjoying it. I don’t think that I ever look like that when I am being humiliated. And it is because the conscious side of me that is experiencing it, is not taking any pleasure in it happening. It will do what you tell it to because it needs you. And it loves you. You are its only hope for receiving what it needs, for feeling loved and nourished. So it will go as low as it gets to get it. Because there is no other way. Because it is too weak to get it by itself. It needs it to be granted to her.

So when you reject me and humiliate me, it is not that I pretend that I don’t want it, while I secretly do. The part that is being rejected really doesn’t want it. It truly is suffering and its heart is truly being broken. There is no pleasure experienced by it.

Who is taking pleasure is the cruel one and it is a kind of ex-post pleasure. During the scene she is just watching and only after that she devours all the pain and suffering that the needy one experienced, tasting and appreciating the craft of the dom who carried out the act.

This is why I think that it takes real cruelty to hurt me. At least to hurt me to the level that I want to be hurt. Because I won’t show you that I am enjoying it at any moment. Because I won’t be enjoying it. Because during the scene my entire body will scream, “Please stop and just hold me. Please, love me.”

But what you need to do is to ignore it and go on. And in order to do that you need to enjoy breaking this little heart. You need to enjoy using my vulnerability against me. You need to want to truly hurt. And you should.

Because trust me, the cruel one will thank you hundredfold for it.

And the needy one will heal. It always does.

There is so much sadness in me, it’s almost spilling over the brim

It’s interesting what you can find when you stop doing for a moment and start feeling yourself instead. I’m trying to do it more lately, and one of the things that I’ve found is an enormous sadness. Not depressive, my-life-sucks kind of sadness. I think that I have a pretty good life. More like a calm and appreciative sadness.

I guess that I am strange (who isn’t though?), but I really enjoy being sad and being with that feeling. Whenever I can choose, I'll always choose a sad movie, a sad book, sad music. I love the complexity of negative emotions. There is just so much more to be felt there. When you're happy, you're just happy. It's very simple. Nothing to think about and analyse there. Feeling down is an entirely different story. There are so many shades of pain. So many thoughts and feelings to be experienced.

Maybe I am wrong though. Maybe it's just that I became so familiar with the negative emotions that I can see all the different shades of them, while happiness is so rare and overwhelming for me, that I can’t appreciate its richness. It’s like when you taste something new and you just get hit by the unfamiliar flavour, not able to taste all the nuances. Only once you get familiar with it, you start to taste all the subtle tones and differences. Maybe that’s it, I don’t know. But I don’t think it really matters.

What matters is that I like sadness. It feels familiar and soothing. And in the end, it’s just a feeling. All feelings come and go, some of them are pleasant and others are not. It just so happens that what for me is pleasant, for most of the people is not. Matter of taste.

Since I remember, I’ve been like that. I have never hidden from negative emotions. Whenever something difficult was happening in my life, I would dive headfirst into it and into feeling what it does to me. I guess that I am the opposite of a person who suppresses their emotions. I kind of amplify them and go all in. Of course, it also means that I experience joy very strongly. But it so happens that it’s not something that takes place very often. Or maybe I just don’t focus on it.

I think that it has a lot to do with my tendencies to push myself. I basically live on the border of my comfort zone the entire time, constantly diving outside and exploring what is there. And usually, when you dig deep in your psyche, there are more wounds to be found there than soft spots. I think that there are no people who didn’t experience some emotional pain that scarred them in a way. There are just different ways of dealing with it. My way is to bathe in the wound.

I am not doing it in a picking-on-scabs kind of way though. I am just sitting with it and taking it in, feeling all the emotions that arise and letting them wash through me. Because they are important and beautiful and they also have a place in life. And who said that happy feelings are better than sad? Why is laughter considered better than crying?

I guess that my point is that sadness and negative emotions, in general, are more natural to me than happiness and I don’t think that there is anything wrong with it. More than that, I think that it brought a lot of amazing things into my life, like tango, kink and most importantly rope. Because what drew me to all of them is the melancholy, the darkness, the despair and the suffering that is at their core. Of course, they don’t have to be practised this way. I know many people who find happiness and fun and joy in their play, who dance to embrace and connect with the other person, to share intimacy with them. I also know people who do rope in a fun and relaxed way, to enjoy the sensual experience and the closeness with the other person. I am not one of those people.

That is not to say that I don’t find joy and happiness in my practice. I do. But I only find it and appreciate it when it’s mixed with pain and suffering. And that is also what I am looking for. I am not doing rope or dancing or kink because I want to feel good and have fun. I am doing it because I want to feel hurt. I want the heartache. I want to be immersed in melancholy and sadness. I am putting myself bare out there so that my partners can really touch me. I am fully open and vulnerable because I am not afraid to be hurt. I am not afraid of pain, of rejection, of loneliness. In fact, I am looking for it.

Of course, it’s not like I am searching for my heart to be truly broken. I don’t want to be truly hurt. That is why I love kink so much because it allows me to experience all these negative feelings in an isolated and emotionally safe (more or less) way. But I am not paralyzed by the fact that I might be hurt. And that gives me strength. It gives me the strength to know that I can be with the good and the bad. And it feels good to be comfortable with these yearnings that are so deep in me. To recognize them and appreciate them. To see myself whole.

Because sadness does suit me very well. I am a natural in suffering. And I am pretty when I cry.