How I became a Sadist… or How I got into BDSM
“I want you to beat Me.”
“What did you say?” I asked My boyfriend, confused on what I thought I heard.
“I want you to beat Me,” he said earnestly, looking at Me with his kind eyes.
As I felt My body starting to reel back, I compose Myself, straightening Myself on the couch we were both slouching comfortably on during movie night. One of My strengths, to appear unfettered in stressful or surprising situations was kicking in.
“Why do you want Me to beat you?” I ask calmly, careful to not give anything away.
“Because I trust you.” he replied.
Then the questions started pouring into My mind.
Can you trust someone so much you want them to beat you?
Can you love someone so much you want them to beat you?
Can you love someone so much you want to beat them?
All simplistic ( and perhaps philosophic ) questions, but the first start of My deep exploration into BDSM.
No one had ever asked Me to beat them prior. Now, for clarity, he didn’t want Me to “beat” him per se, he wanted Me to flog him. Some of you kinksters know this, a flogger is a tool typically used in equestrian training, but has been adopted by the BDSM community ( as things often do ) as a tool for kink, specifically beating someone with it.
I did plenty of research on how to do it safely.
Avoid the spine.
Avoid the kidneys.
Start slow. Warm up. Build up.
Practice, practice, practice.
( There is more to this, please go do your own detailed research. )
I recall first playing with him, getting him to kneel down on the ground, putting a collar on him. Looking him deep into his eyes and giving him explicit instructions of dropping his hands down from the kitchen door frame should he reach his personal limit. I was new and didn’t think I could read his body language well in the throws of batting down on him.
At that that time, I do not know why I placed a collar on him, it felt very much like the right thing to do. A quiet call, of ‘this feels right’. Looking into his eyes, I saw a quiet shift. Something we both didn’t quite understand stirring.
And then I started. I My heart was beating fast, I could almost hear it in My ears. My first few hits was like a baby tyrannosaurus rex batting an invisible bee buzzing near his back, light, irregular, inaccurate. And later a rhythm happened, almost musical, thumping away like a stead march, more sure of itself, growing louder and louder to the point of almost deafening, in an echoey room. The thumping, My own heart beating was so loud. I saw his fingers grip down on the door frame tighter, turning white over his knuckles.
Heart beating and leather on skin thumping away. Thump, thump, thump, thump… And then I heard it, laughter. I thought, wow – who on earth is laughing at this hour so loudly? Thumping, louder, laughing, even louder. Is it My neighbor? Wait, why would My boyfriend be laughing? He doesn’t look like he is laughing. And then it dawned on Me, he wasn’t laughing.
In complete exhilaration and unbridled sheer joy, it was Me. I was laughing.