In Understanding My Masochism

Recently, over the last day, I posted a question on FetLife in my Sadists and Masochists group:

This is something I said quite a while ago, but I yet believe it to be true:

'Masochism is not just about receiving pain. But, rather, instead, it is about understanding the nature of the whimpering, desperate female tearfully begging for it.'

(Please insert male or female as applies)

Do you agree, or disagree with this statement, and why?

What might you add to this statement?

I'm curious as to your responses.

I received quite a few responses. Most, negative, but I thought this would be an interesting post to add in here to my blog, and as a result, as well, my response after letting quite a few people get in their opinions. This is what I said:

I've read most of the responses here. Some were quite well written, others not so much. But in each it seemed an opinion was formed, and passed on, and that's exactly what I was looking to see.

It seems that as a result, the majority disagree. So, let me tell you why I agree with the statement I made a long time ago, and what was meant by it.

In almost every experience at the hands of a sadist, I can mark off the progression into the scene. At first, I will be a bit hesitant; not certain how it will unfold. The sadist will take control of the situation, using the implements he desires, and how he desires to use them. The first response I often have to pain, is a defiant, challenging attitude - I want to see how much he can inflict, and conversely, I want to see how much pain I can take. As the pain increases, it becomes an exchange between the two of us; he pushes me, I push him, he pushes me, I push myself. Back and forth and so on, and so forth. During this exchange, I don't hold back. I am not an easy female to either handle, or control. I will resist. I will fight back. I will push the sadist mentally and physically as hard as I push myself.

Power, is my ultimate goal as a masochist. Power over the situation, the pain, and as a result, myself. There comes a point in some of those exact situations after we have progressed to this little dance between the two of us, where the pain is so intense, so perfectly, deliciously intimate, that every shred of power and control I thought I had slips from my hands into his. I am no longer the one in control; he is. I then know, and admit that I never really was in control to begin with. Instead, it was very much an illusion of sorts; I only hold the power I have, to get to the point where I can effectively let go of it.

It is that precise point, of which I refer to in my original quote. When I have stopped resisting, struggling, and fighting back. When my pride, arrogance, and dignity are stripped from me and what is left, is a pitiful, tearful female begging and pleading for more pain because I am no longer trying to convince either of us that I have the control. I have been in that place within myself a few times. I have felt and known the exact moment when I gave over to the sadist, that precious and tightly held restraint which I was certain, was mine and would remain so. It is in those moments where I would say anything, do anything, be anything for more pain and he knows it. And remarkably, interestingly, it is at that point where the sadist stops.

It is that state of being that I want to eventually understand.


Feel free to comment as you will.

Tonja, and Cats.

Recently.. alright, this morning, I was looking back over a few of my writings on FetLife. One of the more recent ones, made me laugh as I reread what had been written.

So, here. I am going to share it with all of you. And yes, it is a true story of what happened to me one night:::

Alright, I admit, I was feeling all hot and bothered and drippy after watching some of the latest videos on here.

Anyhow, I got all nice and cozied up on my couch with a favourite toy. fuck, yes, I was grinding my dirty cunt up against it like it was the last orgasm I might ever get. It was pumping in and out of me, and literally, I was juicing. I thrusted myself up and down, riding the edge right before a damn powerful orgasm...

...when the cat jumped up onto the couch and vomited on my feet.

I've never felt so violated.