Why I dream of a sadist.

I like pushing sadistic buttons, playing with that live edge. The element of danger is so enticing.

I’m a masochist, not because I particularly like pain, but because I like holding space for sadists. The pain is secondary to the rush of unleashing someone's cruelty, letting that tiger out of the cage. That's the part I think about. The way a person’s jaw tightens and sets when they tap into that side of themselves, it makes me weak.

The meaning of that space, and the shape it takes depends on the sadist, of course. But over and over I realize the act itself isn’t what I kink on, it’s knowing I’m giving this person something they want. I’m offering myself as a playground for a deeply intimate and powerful side of themselves.

Before I was aware of kink, I was troubled by this desire. “Why does it turn me on when he wipes his dirty hand across my face, what the fuck is wrong with me?” “Ugh I hate that I want to fuck that guy harder now that he was dismissive of me!” “I came so hard, because he fucked me like he didn’t care, why did that turn me on what the fuck?” I look at these pre-kink experiences as self harm. I was seeking out this degrading feeling in ways that actually made me feel like shit, because men were treating me like that anyway, and these moments felt like a way of capitalizing on that.

Fast forward to learning about healthy and safe bdsm, to having a partner who understood my sexual interest in degradation and assured me we could explore them safely while making sure I still felt respected in the relationship. I started embracing masochism as a satisfying outlet for my creativity, and my human capacity.

Nothing turned me on like being vulnerable to a carnal, growling sadistic streak. I remember the early awakening of these feelings while fantasizing about monsters as a child. Scary giant monsters who were mostly nice to me, but sometimes mean. That’s still what I fantasize about, really.

My favourite sexual memories are of making space for a sadistic type to let go of their self-control a little. We reign in so many impulses, giving someone permission to act on them, to explore their inner monster, it’s a rush. It takes vulnerability and trust to do it safely, to know that it will be okay. Submissives aren’t the only ones who have to let down guards and be vulnerable.

I miss this dynamic in my sex life, and in my intimacy. The playful prodding, the playing with fire, enticing the demon to come out and play. My masochism is a gift, my submission is a gift, and in the right hands it can be a symbiotic cycle of meeting each other’s deepest needs. I dream of having that space again.