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Need, Of A Masochist

Author: Tonja

Filed in: submission, masochism, desire, needs, need, acceptance



This is a concept I have, only really in the 2 years, been trying to define and understand as it applies to me individually.

As a masochist, newer than some, and perhaps much more inexperienced than most would believe, I struggled in the beginning with even admitting to having such a need. It was almost shameful, for who in their right mind, would find such pleasurable satisfaction from receiving something simple like a flogging, or whipping? Yet, I did. Too, I found interest in almost any sort of implement that was designed with that purpose in mind; and even some that were not. On odd occasions, I would find myself glancing at an object, and imagining in my mind how it might be used to administer pain, and finding a moment or two for that very indulgence. Some instruments which I experimented with worked, and found their way into my little private drawer, others did not and were soon discarded.

Sexually, my fantasies were filled with acts of depravity and pain. I would furiously masturbate to many of them, and then afterwards question my own sanity. I was a female who did not enjoy pain, or, at the very least, was not willing to admit it. Gone, were the memories of what it felt like to scratch, cut, and feel the blood burbling forth from my skin; gone, were the moments of complete and utter pleasure as the rush of intense heat ran the length of my body and infused my mind with erotic desires; gone, were the moments afterwards, when I realized I was well-sated. You must understand, I was taught that all such sort of things were wrong, and needed a cure. I was a young adult back then, and there was little to no tolerance, or understanding, for one such as I.

So it was, that when my mentor first showed me that there was such a masochistic need within me, I fought. I believe, in my own way, not only did I try to fight that very realization, but too, I tried to push him as far away as possible. The thoughts I was having, the desire his words were provoking in me, frightened and sickened me. Yet, even with that, there was a stirring of comprehension within my own core. What exactly was normal and healthy anyhow? Was I not the same female that accepted and spoke of each person, regardless of gender and culture, society or environment, having unique and diverse interests that were no less normal and healthy than another's? Though it may be that the pursuit of certain expressions were less accepted than others for whatever reason, it was of no less of importance for that person seeking a way to actively enjoy them.

I started to realize that within me, is a thirst and hunger which cannot be sated by simple sexual interaction. In fact, sex was starting to bore me. There needed to be an added element of pain and pleasure, balanced and controlled by the hand of a man capable of keeping it so. My mentor became this man for me. I gave to him, the control to encourage and produce responses from me, that were already simply simmering below the surface, only blocked by doubt and disbelief. Through our interactions, he explored and directed my mind and body into accepting that which I could not, and bringing free the heated, sensual animal of a female who thrives on a twisted yet delicious mingling of severe pain and pleasure.

The need began to grow and develop. Often times, I would beg him for more pain, each time finding that sweet release even better for it. Yes, there is something so incredibly seducing about raw, erotic pain; something which makes even the most dry cunt start to sop and leak like an overflowing fountain.

I desired to find more opportunities to enjoy expressing this need at the hands of men. So it was, that I began locally engaging in social and private interactions with sadists. It was in fact, remarkably easy to display that need as well, being as it was so fresh and recently loosed. It was an attraction for any sadist simply speaking to me, for as it has been described since, there is something within this masochist which calls deeply to those holding the counterpart.

As much as I began to hold back the submissive response within me, for the lack of understanding it fully, as I have discovered to my own frustration it yet binds me deeper and more forcefully to who and what I am, as a female. Though it may be with each man, I shall not feel it, for certain, it resides within me. How can one fight nature? I cannot. I can no more fight my nature as a female, than I could further ignore the pleasure of being commanded by, and performing for, a strong, intelligent, sadistic dominant.

Need, is now openly displayed by me, whether recognized or understood by those witnessing it. I have rather strong and intense cravings to which I submit. Perhaps more so, ones that I have yet to submit to. I bear a certain responsibility in this, however. As a masochist, I am yet accountable for remaining aware of the risks I take; too, of using judgment and discernment in choosing those men to whom, during the course of our involvement, I will inevitably surrender control to. My own need, cannot in itself, be allowed to overrun or control my reality. I must and will remain aware of who and what I am, and the dangers to which I have accepted.

Need, does not supersede or negate the necessity for good, sound reason

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