Whipping and Sex

I’ve been reading deep in the archives at Lessons Learned, which is the name of Lisa’s journal that I linked to yesterday. Here she talks about the link so many BDSM people don’t talk openly about, between the pain play and the sex:

After a brief stint on my knees, Master told me that I need a serious beating. Not as punishment, but that it keeps my head in the right space. The simple little stuff that’s he being doing to me has been fun, but he says I need to get pushed hard early and often in order to stay feeling subby.

I wish that wasn’t the case. But there is a different dynamic between us surrounding the days when we play that hard. When I know it’s coming, I can’t get it off my mind. And after, I’m a mush puddle for days. I just wish I didn’t need the “during” to feel that way.

I think he likes the whole effect. He likes keeping me on my toes before, and he’ll talk about how hard he’s going to whip me, how he’ll make me scream and cry, what he’ll use to make me scream, how he’ll enjoy it.

And he certainly gets off on the actual deed. It’s never based on a premise of punishment or in anger, but it is intense. He’s gets a firmness of voice and motion as he prepares for the scene. The laying out of the whips is scary all by itself. It’s rare to get much of a build-up, when he’s pushing me to the limits deliberately. When I get to the point of crying and screaming, there are no “breaks”, no chances to calm myself down again. It’s like getting on a roller coaster with no control over the hills and valleys once you’re strapped in.

And after, he always fucks me. He always makes me come over and over. He tells me that’s deliberate. He likes to make the connection in my head between heavy whippings and awesome orgasms. It’s a whole other level of losing control, because after I’ve been treated so harshly, I’m not eager for his touch for a few minutes. I cringe away from him, and he always works us through it, until I’m arching into him and completely uninhibited. Sometimes it’s hard to get me over that hump — I hold onto what little control I have, and fight not to come. I don’t want to give him that last piece, but it never lasts.

These types of scenes are always done in private. I don’t think other people would understand how hard he pushes me, why it’s good for us. My protests are real and loud. I beg and scream and cry for him to stop. He says that makes him even harder.

I know I had something semi-profound to say about that, but I, er, got distracted and forgot what it was.

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