I’ve been speculating of late on the various things I am, both flattering and less so.

I can be selfish.  I want what I want.  I think I should get to have the say in how things go, I think I make good decisions, and that my decisions almost always have positive outcomes, therefore, I should get to be in charge.

I can be bitchy.  Watch me arch an eyebrow sometime, or roll my eyes at someone’s foolishness.  I can be a bitch.

I can be inflexible.  I think of myself as stiff-necked at times.  Probably were I going to change a single thing about myself it might be that.  It’s hard for me to go with the flow, to let things happen around me.  I should be in charge, I should make it all come out fine.

I can be a sadist, too, though that is, I think, very much an on-again, off-again part of my personality.  It’s there, but it’s pretty far down and really only comes out to play in some situation, in some company.

My short definition of a sadist is someone who enjoys causing pain, and usually enjoys it in a sexual kind of way.  More like you feel when you watch really hot porn rather than when you eat great chocolate cake.

Interestingly, though, I very much like the way the sadist’s presence makes me feel, which I think is interesting.

The sadist makes me feel powerful and confident.  I know that I am good at it.  You like pain, I can provide pain.  I can provide pain in safe and ethical ways.  I feel, in some ways, like a surgeon must.  You can do what few can, and you can look past the trappings, past the pain, maybe past the blood, to the true nature of the procedure.

I suspect, too, that a surgeon isn’t a very good surgeon if self-doubt intrudes.  It’s kind of part of the package to feel infallible, I think, even as you recognize that a mistake can have significant consequences.

Some of the best experiences I have had in scenes have been when the sadist made an appearance.  That means that there was a masochist keeping me company.

About MsConstanceExplains

Ms Constance has been actively involved in the BDSM/Leather community since the mid-1990’s. She is the Founder of the Louisville Munch as well as its hostess for ten years, from 1997 to 2007, and was christened as “Louisville’s First Lady” by her community. As a member of various BDSM/Leather organizations, she has been nominated for Pantheon Woman of the Year as well as regional awards, and has been nominated with her slave, drew, for Pantheon Couple of the Year. She serves as Special Events Director for the Great Lakes Leather Alliance. She produces the Bluegrass Leather Pride Contest, sending contestants to Great Lakes Leather Weekend, and was Presenters Committee Chair for Leather Leadership Conference 2010 Great Lakes/Ontario. She has produced and judged Leather events and contests, been instrumental in the organization and creation of various groups and clubs, advised and encouraged other communities and endeavors, and produced a performance by a BDSM comedian. Groups around the country use her writings in information and introductory packets, and she is an occasional columnist as well. She and slave drew hold the titles of Great Lakes Master and slave 2003.

Posted on July 11, 2012, in Dominance, Kink and BDSM. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. My vanilla life is terribly overprogrammed just now…but I read this and smiled…I do confess to being a masochist…pain is freeing, and fulfilling…fully in the moment, for me pain is more than just offering my body as a canvas for my Master to “paint His hurting” on…but something that feeds me in equal measure. I don’t just like it for Him, but crave it for me.

    Nice to see what it feels like from the other side! I’ve tried to get Him to describe it to me, and it somewhat flusters Him, until He replies “I just like it, nilla. It’s about power. And because I can.”

    And that’s reason enough for us…but I do like hearing it from another perspective. Thanks for sharing!


  2. It’s funny, I can remember the exact moment when the sadist in me popped up her head to demanded acknowledgement.

    I had a submissive, one of my first, who was a big guy, cute, but not the most mature gentleman I ever took on. He towered over me, a full foot taller than I, and because of that he sometimes forgot who was in control.

    He had a smart mouth and a quick tongue, and that didn’t work out too well for him. So he would say or do something to which I objected, and had to have his attitude adjusted.

    He didn’t like knives. I did.

    I can remember the exact moment he was sitting in front of me, not bound, simply bearing it, as I traced patterns on his back with the blade. I didn’t press that hard, there was no real bleeding, but it was slow and sharp scratches. He was NOT enjoying it, I could see his face in a mirror, the expression one of bearing pain, not enjoying it.

    And I didn’t care.

    At all.

    Not even a little.

    It was unsettling, on one level, but very enlightening on another.

    It also made an impression on him, and that was the point, too.

  1. Pingback: Sadist « Vanillamom's Blog

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