An interesting conversation was started by thedreamingsub that inspired me to talk on the nature of my sadism…
Oxford defines sadism as, the tendency to derive pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from inflicting pain, suffering, or humiliation on others. This is often expressed in the form of physical pain. Most people think of the sadist as the big bad wolf, wielding whips and knives as his victims hang by chains in his basement. Well, that is the romanticized sadist. Even those who know sadists see them as physical people with a predilection for bruises and blood. This is not an untrue image but it s far from being the only type of sadist there is. While I enjoy causing physical pain and am just as proud as the next man when a play partner tags my name on her bathroom mirror shots of bruised thighs, it is not my main stimulus. I am, above all else, an emotional sadist.
An emotional sadist is just as it sounds, a person who derives sexual pleasure from the emotional pain of his partners. I like to play with the mind more than with the body. I want the mindfuck, the fear play, the consensual non-consent where no is ignored as you both explore places that are in the shadows of even our community. My heart is pounding the hardest when my blackest thoughts are realized. My blackest thoughts are realized when I feel that I have the soul of another person in my hand. I have another person’s soul in my hands when I see my words cutting them in ways that no knife ever could.
When I was in tenth grade, my high school had a special day where the regular curriculum was set aside and alternative classes were taught. One of the classes was on using directed mental imagery. I spent the rest of the day in a world of my own creating. It was filled with mountains and forests, with roads and castles and ninjas and werewolves (I was fifteen, what did you expect). I fell in love with the potential of the human mind. I could create feelings in myself, I could remember textures and smells and recreate sensations with no outside stimulus.
I started to study hypnosis and found a new way to influence not only my own internal world but others as well. I wanted to use it to fuck girls without their knowing it but I refrained out of ethical integrity. It was difficult but I did it. Other games came into play and soon I was playing the role of the psychic. It was a short lived role because it felt inauthentic. I was in another person’s head with the implication that I had some magic power. This ability, this talent I have for what I was later to learn is called cold reading people, seemed manipulative so I put it away.
When I found kink I quickly learned that many of the things I wanted to do were not only accepted but sought after by others. They wanted it. They wanted to be controlled, twisted, fucked with. I pulled my talents off the shelf and began playing with them. At first it was in a topping way. I would toy with minds, fuck with the senses, as a service. I took the name Magister Nodi: Master of Knots because I could tie the mind up without rope. I was Daedalus. I was the maker of labyrinths. The service was great in that I was able to do what I wanted but it was still for others and while I do enjoy the game and I do enjoy the effect, it was for them and not for me. I wanted something more.
I met a girl who, in one of the most horrible moments of my life, said to me, “What if you are an emotional sadist?” It was an interesting thought. What if I was not getting what I wanted from this type of play because I was doing it for the wrong reasons? What if I let go and did it for myself as opposed for others? What a concept! Are there people out there that wanted that? Are there women out there that wanted to not only to be fucked with but wanted to be mentally tortured not because they were complicated creatures but because it was a form of submission for them? I chewed on this for a while. I thought about the possibilities. I could be my darkest, most cruel self consciously and it would not only be ok, but it would be craved. It was like that day in high school when the idea of a world beyond the physical opened up.
Coming to Terms with Your Dark Passenger
I am learning to be ok with this. Society (and the kink community at large) still sees this with disdain at best. Most see emotional sadism as abuse. They see it as manipulation, as toying with the soul in ways that cannot be fixed. The thing is that emotional play is not any more dangerous than other forms of edge play but the wounds and the scars are less visible. They are not more damaging but most people miss the signs. Most people cannot see the effects or know how to tend to the wounds. It is not as simple as washing off the cut, or curling up with a blanket and giving her a cup of hot chocolate.
It is about knowing that emotional masochists need to feel the pain. Taking it away too soon is as damaging as not showing you care. You have to balance the two. Likewise you have to know how much repair you can do and how much has to be done by the person you played with. If you beat a girl unconscious and pick her up and think she can stand you will drop her even harder when you let go. She must be allowed to lie in a puddle on the floor and find her own feet when she is ready. This is difficult for an ethical person because after the darkness has passed all you want to do is hold her and love her. It is an interesting feeling, that moment after. You are lighter, freer than you have ever been before. Suddenly the anger, the angst, the blackness that had been filling the corners of your eyes is gone. I am at that moment filled with love and peace. It is for me as important a feeling as the pain is. It is in that moment that I remember, not my humanity, but the potential for all humanity.