“I am never impressed by sheer brutality in BDSM. I AM impressed when someone can evoke a DESIRE for sheer brutality in BDSM.” ~Mollena
This occurred to me as I was reading page upon page of profiles on a couple of kink oriented sites where dominants were talking about how hardcore they were. Strict dominant this, Â and bend you to my will that and posturing and preening as though all of the badassery in the world were enough to make them desirable partners in the tango cum chess-match cum hand-to-hand combat cum lovemaking that is BDSM.
When I encounter the concept of “breaking” in a slave, I realize that paradigm still doesn’t work for me. I can’t be “broken” and remain useful. Brutality isn’t the lead-in for successful power-exchange. I believe there to many reasons for this.
One reason is that most people who are planning on launching such brutal attacks are, at the core, wishing to remain in consensual headspace. Whether you adhere to SSC or RACK, the fact is that, eventually, you’ll stop. That is the point. Â SO! Assuming that you can keep dominating until the bottom submits in a shaky premise, at best. As a responsible dominant, you are obligated to refrain from damaging the physical and / or emotional health of the bottom.Â The paradox of “breaking” comes into focus thusly: if the bottom, sub or slave is willing to really relinquish that control and let yo do “whatever you want,” are you really going to push to structural failure?
The visual of a palm tree bending in gale force winds comes to mind. All of that frontal assault and energy and the tree survives the fury.
What amazes me, again and again, no matter how long I am involved in BDSM is That Moment. That Moment where I consciously let someoneÂ hurt me, and desire it, too. Even to the point of truly drinking in the darkest of energies.
I was in scene once with a friend I’d known for a while and played with quite frequently. Tied, face down as I was,Â I couldn’t see his face too well when he held me down even more firmly to the bed and started biting my neck. Right at that sensitive crease where the shoulder slips to throat.
At first it was sexy, pleasurable, but then…less so. Then just painful. And soon after that it started to hurt in a way that tore away the fleeting wisps of subspace and scared me enough to motivate me to twist my head around in the grip of his teeth and gaze above and behind me to where I could see part of his face. I wasÂ somewhat paralyzed from pain and the beginnings of real fear clawed at my throatÂ when I made eye contact with him and realized I couldn’t. Not really. Not “me-to-him” contact.
He was in some other frame of mind. And even as I finally whispered something to him the only effect was to further darken and empty his affect and he bit down.
I was holding my breath and was not sure how this would end and then all at once I was…absolutely fine with him ripping open my shoulder if that was what he wanted. His breathing was calm and his bite was inexorable and I wanted to know what it would be like to be torn into like that.
Rational? No. But it was one of the first times I was experiencing the depth of my submissiveness in this way. The absolute sensation of wanting something I ought not want because it was the will of someone else. It was a combination, of course, of fear and pain that pushed me there.
But it laid a groundwork for me and made me question what it takes to get me to fully surrender.
After years of play and partners and trials and tribulations I realized that is it simple.
It is the simple expression of desire of someone towards whom I feel submissive.
I’ve played with people who assume that, because they’ve seen me play, they can go to town and beat the crapÂ out of me. And that doesn’t really fly, becauseÂ I can certainly make it known I am not enjoying that, and the scenes drain away fairly quickly.
I am not impressed by you punishing my body. That means little to me, emotionally. I am not, at heart, a masochist. My masochism is only reachable by someone who manages to make me understand that what they need, more than anything in that moment, is to get off on hurting me.
Make me want it.
If you have the capacity to look me in the eye with that smileÂ slow measured breath in my ear hard cock pressed against me hand on my throat and pull from the depth of me the words echoing from within me mirrored in your own desire in your own words ‘”I want to hurt you…” and I’m yours.
Have it because you’ve convinced me that you MUST have it.Â That no-one else will do, and that you know, beyond the shadow of my doubts, that I need thisÂ too.
THEN we begin the play.