“I want you to hurt me because it makes you hard.”

इस कहानी के बारे में

This is one of those posts that goes into the sometimes dark places in my brain. As a result, it involves discussion of things like pain, BDSM, and roleplaying sex-as-punishment. Everything in the post is 100% consensual, but I’m just giving you a heads-up so if those things are likely to disturb you please don’t read on. We’re discussing the difference between corporal punishment and what I’m going to call ‘angry punishment.’ I explain to him that, in previous role-plays, I’ve struggled with the idea of rigid, ordered punishment. Counting spanks, measured chastisement, that kind of thing. The type of role-play where I am a naughty girl, and a guy in a position of authority is responsible for correcting me: He orders me to bend over and touch my toes, stretching my thighs and arse taut for the cane or tawse. He makes me wait for what feels like an achingly long time, as my calves tingle and my cunt gets slick, and I wait for the first thwack. At that moment what I’m hoping for isn’t one sharp stroke. I’m not anticipating a measured, precise stripe across my backside. But usually that’s what I get. One stripe – carefully applied – then the inevitable order: “Count them.” And I count. One, two, three, four… I count the strokes and I thank him for each one. This controlled, dominant guy, who will dish out exactly as much pain as I deserve and no more. That’s nice – it is . But it’s not the best. The best – what I’m hoping for – is a loss of control. I’m looking for him not to deal out punishment like it’s medicine, and he’s the careful pharmacist weighing the exact number of pills. I want punishment that comes only because it pleases him to do it. A beating powered not by his judgment but by his rage. “Get the fuck over and pull down those knickers.” Voice cracking slightly because he’s so angry, then later trembling more because the sight of my exposed cunt makes him want to do more than beat me. He slips the belt out through the loops of his trousers and folds it quickly in half, then half again – a short, thick, leather strap with which to smack me. One, two, three, four, five, six… they fall in a blur. There’s no time to count, and I can’t get a word in because with each stroke he’s telling me more about how I’m a dirty girl, and why I deserve this. Why he loves this. In the latter scenario, he’s not ‘done’ when I’m suitably punished, he’s only ‘done’ when he’s satisfied. When he’s beaten me hard enough to make his prick throb, and fucked me good and hard while I grip on tight to my calves and focus on the dual pleasures of staying upright and coming round his dick. I explain this to him – this difference. The difference between pain as punishment – the way it might be meted out if I were a naughty schoolgirl and he a headmaster giving me six of the best – and pain as sexual brutality. In the latter I’m not being punished because I deserve it but because he needs it – he can’t get hard unless he sees my arse glowing red from the stripes, hears the thwack of leather on taut skin. Hears me squeal. Watches my cunt get wet from it. We’re trying to narrow down the kink. Because BDSM is not a narrow enough definition. ‘Spanking’ or ‘corporal punishment’ does not get close enough to pulling the nuance of this particular fantasy. Halfway through the conversation, I realise that what I’m trying to do is give a one-sentence summary of what turns me on the most: a universal rule he can apply when he’s thinking of new and harder ways to fuck me. “It’s not about pain per se ,” I explain, “I want you to hurt me because it makes you hard.” And he thinks for a while, dick twitching in his pants, as I rub the back of my hand casually over his crotch. Does he think this is weird? I think this is weird. I struggle with the idea of a kink that looks selfless but is in fact the oddest kind of control. Not ‘do things because you love them’ but ‘love these things because I want you to want to do them.’ Some people may have other summaries. I suspect there are plenty for whom the controlled corporal punishment ticks exactly their boxes. Their kink summaries may go something like: “I want to be hurt for my own good.” “I need to feel like I deserve the cane.” Others, for whom pain is less important, may feel like the following sum them up better: “I get pleasure from extreme obedience.” “I need to be naked while you are clothed.” When we’re discussing this, it occurs to me that almost any mood, or scene, could be captured with these phrases. The detail I go into – about the belt and the anger and the specific role-play – that’s the stuff that he can play jazz with. Specific words or actions aren’t always necessary, and if the belt is swapped for a tawse or a ruler? It won’t kill the fantasy or the fun. As long as the motivation stays the same: “I want you to hurt me because it makes you hard.” At some point I’ll tell you what his summary was.