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November 25, 2008
| PERSONAL ESSAYS |
It makes sense then that BDSM piqued my interest. I thought it might break my bad habit. Back when I was listening in on the online discussions, I decided to go to a couple of meetings, gatherings of the community. They weren't what I expected. The drawn-out conversations about rules and safe words seemed painfully self-conscious and somehow timid to me, and the pot-luck refreshments alongside the demonstrations of various whips and bondage techniques left me cold. It was a Tupperware party, and it was confusing. I wanted to be rattled, awakened. I wanted some kind of passion that would insist on my feeling it. I wanted what I eventually collided with in that hotel room. Once, on the way to a restaurant with that man, I was egging him on, being playfully truculent and willful — a bad girl. He stopped short, grabbed my wrist, swung me around and slapped me hard. I felt a thousand needles on my cheek. I may have seen stars. But then looking over his shoulder, I saw a woman across the street. She had stopped short too, dead in her tracks, and was staring at us with a look on her face that was not just alarm but real anger, immediate and starting to seethe. I laughed. I made sure she saw me smile, but that didn't change the expression on her face. For the first time, I felt afraid for him, for us. Was she going to call the cops? And if they came, would they believe me? Would they trust me? Or would they just assume I was protecting the man whose handprint was splayed across my face? And if she confronted us, what would I have say?
If I told her my life story, would she understand that I wanted it? I could've told her that once he gave me "permission" to slap him. He asked for it. I could've told her that when I ratcheted back my arm and let my palm fly, my courage failed me. My hand landed weak and soft, like a clumsy and self-conscious caress. And that I couldn't tell if he was as disappointed in it as I was in myself. That I felt selfish, not being able to give him what he gave me, even if he didn't need it. At the most, she might shake her head and walk away, wondering how two people could be so fucked up. I know it's not for everyone. And I admit I lucked out with the stranger in the hotel room. After all, he could easily have been someone who wanted to inflict harm instead of pain. It was a risk, and risks don't come with "safe words." For me the risk was crucial. I needed to accept the consequences without negotiation. I couldn't be allowed to escape. I happened upon someone who not only understood that, but was strong enough to play it through.
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Commentarium (17 Comments)
I thought this was a brilliant and incredibly honest piece of writing. I am sorry for people who are so frightened by the subject matter that they can't see that.
Excellent intellighnt, sensative and creative writing.
Thanks,. G.M
Oh, spare me the facile sanctimony. Sensitive? Creative? Honest? Perhaps if she spent a bit less time trying to glamorize her abuse and self-abuse, she'd find that "honest" place to write from. I'd like to read the piece she writes 15 years from now, when the psychotherapy kicks in and she realizes how she's been used by this cowardly man who gets his rocks off hitting women. That's not "concerned and questioning" in his eyes after he whacks you around, my dear; it's fear. He's terrified you're going to turn around and put his lights out for him, which is the least of what the scumbag deserves.
You think she's still going to want to get smacked around when she's 40? 50? And what will it mean that she wants to stop? That she's all "pained out"? Or will it mean she's a little bit wise and has a self image that isn't as twisted as her spine was?
She pays passing lip service to everyone out there who doesn't see the glory in a woman being hit by a man. "It's not for everyone!" Yeah, neither is a gunshot to the chest, or a supporating facial wound -- or scoliosis, for that matter. It's for people who are unfortunately afflicted or attacked. Key root word: unfortunate.
Ther. A. Py.
wow wow wow. exquisite writing. i've never really experimented with BDSM, but that doesn't stop me from wondering about it & the people who participate in it. this was fascinating, insightful, and a tremendous turn-on to boot. thanks for sharing.
PO doesn't get it, and never will.
Hmm. I've been thinking about this for awhile -- that is, the prospect of engaging in something similar. I am more interested in the event occurring say, preceding orgasm, when I'm already on fire, rather than as a means of getting there. The essay's beautifully constructed, and I appreciate the candor as well as the timing.
Although I never even playfully slapped my two wives on their butts during foreplay and woman on top sex, I have found that several women I have dated enjoy playful s&m. I have engaged in lengthy foreplay for years, including restraining wrists and ankles as we see each other in mirrors placed around the bed for our own private porno, I was too hesitant to get permission to spank. Several women love to imagine their college boyfriend watching me smack their naked ass cheeks as he stands naked in a closet masturbating as I lift their butts up as I tweak their nipples and then rub my penis against them. One women came several times as she writhed around in joy!
our deepest fantasies are not always logical, or even safe. acting on them (and i have) can be both thrilling and sometimes devastating. i could neither recommend people pursue them, or not. with some people you get a sense, even without language, of whether you are safe. but it's tricky and probably not to be taken lightly.
disappointment is so deeply woven into so many aspects of life that it's small wonder we can get off on inflicting and/or receiving pain.
This essay is as refreshing, clear, and positive as BDSM is when done in a spirit of self-knowledge and mutual respect. Thank you, I appreciated it, and think it deserves a form expanded beyond a brief essay.
As a magazine editor who is linking this article, I can say that its been a while since I read something so well written that it was almost entirely pull-quotes. Cudos.
tremendous.
Thank you, that was wonderful.
This essay has a lot of meaning for me. Not because I have any desire to hit or be hit, but because you describe so exquisitely what it meant to you to share that particular intimacy with someone who connected with you so deeply and so well. Extraordinary!
Well quite the story-but I must admit-there may be different strokes for differnt folks but I prefer to treat a woman wih a lot more gentleness and passion-I can see if she would want it its one thing but for me it sounds like abuse....still
I will stick to
www.poetrycastle.org and continue to write as I am...
Dark Knight
some of the most insightful, revealing writing on this topic of discovering a deeply personal fulfillment. candid, delicate pacing, the writer drew me into their world as if it could be my own. i'm glad to have read it and that she wrote it.
I loved this. Congrats on the writing and on the telling-
Oh, Angela ...
How delightfully, endearingly and touchingly honest.
Thank you for that. Please keep on ...