I'm glad I just settled in with a hot tea and some very late lunch, because I have a feeling I'm about to get wordy here. Not that I have I weath of experience in the Lifestyle and have any or all of the answers to give, but simply because this post begs more than just a passing glance.

Quote Originally Posted by thrall View Post
The pain of separation from the pain……

What is it about pain that you love?

Is it the emotional pain…..the kind that leaves you emotionally rung out and spent?

Is it the psychical pain……where the body is tortured past endurance?


Both are valid points of pain. Both will leave you drained and exhausted. Both will twist you to blissful numbness.

Is the separation form the pain just as great just as excruciating?? Is the need to give and receive pain…..just as painful when the need is unfulfilled?

for n
Pain, for me, is destruction and reconstruction. The emotional pain is at the core, the physical pain the manifestation of that. I love both aspects.

Life is cluttered and chaotic at it's best. Our minds are beautiful multi-taskers, however, and we navigate through by keeping our mental eye on multiple aspects of the day to day. For most of us, this functionality is second nature and barely a blip on the radar of our cognitive thinking. All of this day to day activity builds up over time -- each person and experience tracks through our mental space and things get cluttered, there's less room for us in there. As our eyes are focused on the building list of things to do and to think and to feel pulling us in multiple directions, we loose the ability to connect as strongly to ourselves and to the very few other people that are legitimately important. We loose focus.

Pain deconstrusts and reconstructs, It empties the space inside and gives us a clean place to focus ourselves, to feel something singular and strong, to feel purpose -- not simply to be bombarded by multiple diluted and inconsequential emotions. When Master and I begin a session together, I can see everything in the room, I can hear the noises outside, I'm aware of the temperature. My thoughts are a dull roar of white noise. He starts by talking to me, telling me what He's going to do to me, what I'm expected to do for Him. I hold onto His voice, let it start to take me apart. He'll often tie me, and as He does my focus is drawn to the feel of His hands on me, the bonds themselves, and the discomfort certain positions and ties put me in. A light slap to the face, a sharp word, or the sharp crack of His crop across my ass narrows my focus in further. The inconsequential thoughts are knocked to the side as my emotional reinforcements rush to adjust to His voice, teasing and humiliating, and to His touch, shocking and building in intensity. "You're mine, Pet" He whispers, "here for my pleasure," and my urge to please and to belong to the man that has taken control of me morphs the pain into a throbbing pleasure. I no longer feel I am taking my pain as a punishment, but that I am giving it as my gift. As He sees I am working the pain into pleasure, He spanks or whips a little harder, the sensations building in intensity and consuming more and more of me. He touches me in a pleasureable way, blurring the division between what I know should feel good and what I am actually experiencing. Everything else in my being is being razed by the now overwhelming burn of sensation and emotion. I want to be broken, emptied, wiped clean by the power of this pain. The physical sensation carries my emotions with it. When this is intense enough, the pain legitimate enough, there is a point where I feel nothing but that... A total fufillment followed by a crash into perfect and clean emptiness.

It's a hard thing to come down from, but after He has held me close to Him for awhile I begin to feel like how I know I wanted to -- the pain was a fire that burned away the old tangles of emotional growth, and has left behind rich ashes to grow from anew. This fire is His gift to me, my submission and pain mine to Him.

This is why I love it...