It stirs again.
Normally my little bug, my darkness, my whatever-you-call-it, it's calmly contained deep down inside. Or as far deep as I can keep it. Most of the time, I am content with my little battle with myself. Most men cannot reach and wield that power properly, and yes, I do think of it as power. How do you ever explain that feeling? How can I, at least, seeing as I don't know what anyone else feels.
Most of the time, I can contain myself. But all it takes is running into a fucking sadist to spin my shit up. It's like lightning. It's like boiling. I feel the chaos tickling the edges of my skin, my head and very especially my heart. It's like a multiplied addiction weighing on my chest, incapable of being satisfied. It's like being hopelessly in love, with your lover halfway across the world.
I met a new sadist. D. D has a reputation for being a monster, and while I haven't decided to disagree, I think he's less guilty than some would have him be. First of all, I know from first hand experience the power I have with men. Particularly men who lean towards a sadistic streak. Tempting that part of a man is dangerous and alluring. Most of the time it's not a healthy manner of going about getting your fix but yet here I sit, desiring to set him on fire and see if I get burned. And usually I do, and the point is never to be burned, but to ignite together.
Safe, Sane and Consensual.
I feel like I want to talk right to him, here, but it's not about that, it's not even about him. It's about me. And a lot of other things. First and foremost the issue of people catering to these afflictions without the proper knowledge and understanding of the physiological, emotional, mental part of it all. It's not just fun and games. It doesn't leave you in the bedroom.
I am of the understanding and belief that any sexual encounter leaves an imprint of the other person in your soul. The stronger the sexual experience, the stronger the imprint. And there's nothing stronger than a sadomasochistic experience. Embracing pain and pleasure together heightens everything. It's cleansing. It's complicated... And some people just can't live without it.
There are too many people who move about their sadism or masochism a bit blindly, unaware of the affects it not only has on themselves, but to their counterparts and playmates. Baiting a Top and having it work is the folly of both characters. It's a game, and a nasty one. One that doesn't have to exist. That's the game of amateurs and desperates.
The reality is that anyone plagued by these afflictions (because it is painful to bear) is wielding deep and fucked up desires, and the key is to hone them into something healthy and loving, built on trust and communication.
Without it, we're just animals. And I like to think the perfect sexuality is the one that's ultimately spiritual. Call me crazy.