I Cracked…
Purchased on Saturday, and likely finishing it today, on the train.
I love, I really love it.
Au Naturale
When I was a senior in college, I elected for a writing on photography class. My ability to churn great things from sleepless nights and the praise of my history teachers from previous years were quite encouraging. I thought I was going to pass this with my eyes closed.
Well- not quite…
My instructor was Linda Yablonsky</a>, art critic, author, and my personal Soul Destroyer.
A better story-teller would give detailed stories and share each moment of embarassment at each of her harsh strokes on paper and passionate critique via e-mail. A better blogger would detail that time I showed up with freshly shaved eyebrows [an act of grief]; how she noticed and STILL told me what I submitted wasn’t up to snuff.
…but this is by no means a negative reflection on that semester. She was right, my writing was and still is crap. Nothing but soul-less pseudo-academic drivel to elevate what little I have to say in the first place.
In my own strange, masochistic way, I’m thankful to her. Between the loss I underwent that year and the inability to please her [bordering on a bit of a D/s relationship, eh?], her knocking me down a few pegs was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
So fuck it…why not just be honest in my writing now. Now that I don’t have to turn it in to anyone and just hope that this makes sense to whomever clicks their way through.
So, I promise, no more academic voice. Just honesty.
___________________
So, to start fresh…bullets!
- Have a new space courtesy of an established NYC domme. A more domestic atmosphere, finally!
- Have had this insane itch to check out <a href=”http://www.paddlesnyc.com/events.html”>Paddles’ spanking parties</a>. I sort of wish my partner would cave and come with, but he’s very strict about his privacy. Ah well, maybe he’ll cave for my birthday…;)
- Speaking of my birthday, I turn 24 on August 14th. I feel like my 23rd year took but five little minutes to complete.
- Also, please take a look at my links page. I have added two, new blogs for your enjoyment.
Pain
I decided to clean out the documents on my laptop en route to Boston over the weekend. While coursing through the contents of my iPhoto folders, I discovered a long-forgotten copy of Big, Natural and Bound 3. For those unfamiliar with the extensive Rick Savage back catalog, this is the third DVD in a series centered on breast and nipple torture.
Throughout the film, three young, and, of course, ample-breasted women are punished by their mistress. You find the expected fare: breast-slapping, binding and use of a rather large violet wand.
The dialogue between the headmistress and her victim made me pause. She is being punished for chronic lateness, and reacting with whimpers and cries with each hard pinch of her nipples and each violent twist of her breasts.
Between each action, her mistress responds with demands for redemption. She, however, encourages her charge to distance herself from the pain and focus only her mistress’s pleasure.
…And when you know I’m being pleased, that pain disappears, doesn’t it? She nearly croons. Make the pain go away…
Though it is mere dialogue, the idea of shifting focus from redemption to pleasure really hit me. I understand the exchange is meant to be erotic under the guise of a code of dedication. However, the idea of mentally avoiding atonement and focusing on the pleasure of the other is counter-productive. If one were really sorry, they would not allow this to cloud the apology.
My first year of professional play was spent as a submissive and learning the fine art of pain management. My punishments for given scenes were painful, but my line of work dictated that be able to bear or find some enjoyment in it. My initial resolution was to mentally deviate. I tried incredibly hard to re-arrange the Brooklyn shoreline, focusing on each grain of sand, one at a time. Needless to say that once some heavy stroke of a whip to my thighs, the image would quickly fade, creating the added anxiety of starting over again. Hence, a triple whammy: Unbearable pain, anxiety and distraction.
If it wasn’t my own deviation, it was the client/Master’s attempt to do so. I could completely cover the shoreline of my mental picture with the number of Take the pain for your Master, Tori’s and Don’t focus on the pain. Focus on my pleasures. I recently bottomed to a client who did this very thing as I tried to tell him that his belt was wrapping and doing some damage. Every attempt to seriously protest was met with another instruction to just take the pain.
Take the pain, Tori.
This kind of dialogue is selfish on the part of the Top, if one is playing within the context of a domestic scene, perhaps less so with a corporal one. Physical punishment is primarily for the benefit of the bottom; to really drive the idea so deep, it is not easily forgotten. This isn’t about the Top; this is about the bottom and his need for improvement.
I’m reminded of a bit of dialogue from the movie, Fight Club, where Tyler Durden performs his first rite of initiation, dripping lye over the top of his roommate’s hand. The viewer is subject to his victim’s mental images as he finds his centers. He pictures words like “searing” and “burning” in between calm pictures of forests and images of fire. Durden literally slaps him, screaming, “…This is the greatest moment of your life and you’re off somewhere missing it!”
Pain is the real meat of these sessions, if the bottom is focusing on pleasing his Top, and not on the reasons for his punishment, he has not learned anything. During my sessions, I give instruction to concentrate. To focus and anticipate. There is a rhythm to my strokes that can be found and worked with. Each is brutal, but bearable, so long as there is focus on what is at hand.
…and breaking radio silence
I’m back, boys. With an arsenal of things to take care of and post. My vacation was lovely, but just furthers my poor time management skills.
I’m due for a spanking for this, I’m sure.
