Two vintage male models posing as sailor boys in bondage.
Originally posted 2016-01-24 20:57:20.
About four years ago I outlined what struck me then, as a genuinely brutal whipping that was an archetypal masochistic fantasy of mine. The particulars are irrelevant.
Recently someone left a comment to rather forcibly let me know that he didn’t think the scenario was brutal. My correspondent evidently endures hours of scream worthy corporal punishment.
Hooray for him.
Our bodies and minds aren’t identically constructed. The physiological ability to handle physical pain and the masochistic gift to process it erotically are individual to each of us.
Sure I know many sadists really like masochists who can really take it rough. But the best sadists understand the subjectivity of S&M and that it isn’t an Olympic sport. They can appreciate that for some people thirty minutes with a flogger is the most they can take.
Treating masochism as a competitive event is risky since it can motivate a bottom to try to endure more than he or she should. It can be another form of rape.
‘Manly’ masochists should relish their own capacity but otherwise just shut up.
Switching from SaneMasochist to SlavishRichard certainly upped the profile views. I knew it would.
A woman here in North Catolina wrote to me. She wanted to know if I had any additional photographs of myself (I don’t nor a camera with which to take any.)
I apologized and observed that I’d read her profile and didn’t feel that I was the kind of man that she was looking for. Her profile stated that she didn’t want anyone overweight. The rest of it was the usual bitching about the submissive guys who contacted her. To be bald about it she was fat and quite ugly.
She wrote to say that I could visit her and we’d see how it went. I replied expressing my regret that I was unable to leave Durham at this time but that perhaps that would change. No response.
I don’t think I could tolerate her. That she is physically unappealing is irrelevant. I want a sadist not a beauty pageant winner. Besides I no prize myself anymore.
Unavoidably sounding arrogant I confess that I’ve never felt that a top needs to be as smart as I am. Not that I want a fool (except in fantasy). Common sense is all I ask for. And a little skill with whips and canes.
My messages to her:
Dear Mistress X,
This woman’s communications looked like a scrabble board after a nuclear war. No capitalization. No punctuation. She didn’t even bother to spell “me” correctly.
How can you respect or trust someone like that?