Lil Alygator

We’ve all been trapped in those conversations. I stumbled into one when the ladies in the subby girls’ Kik chat I used to participate in were introducing themselves to a new member. I scrolled up to see where the convo had already been before I jumped in, and I wasn’t surprised to find that several of them were discussing being “slight” or “baby” masochists when the subject of pain play came up. “Hi, I’m Karen, I’ve been in an LDR with my Dom for a month, I’m not a Little but I have Little tendencies, and I’m a baby masochist, but I don’t like much more than a light spanking when I’m in the mood for it.”

The same kind of introductions were deployed line after line, until they started describing the major players who were absent and they got to me. “Meg is a serious masochist,” “Yeeeeeah, don’t ask her about ginger. Just hearing about what she and Super Daddy do with it made my pussy burn for a week,” “They’re goals though. She writes a lot of stuff about their relationship on Tumblr and you should read it,” “She gives amazing advice.” That isn’t how I would’ve introduced myself, and it was strange to see how my group saw me from the outside.

I couldn’t argue with the core of what they’d said, but I felt like they completely missed the boat. For one thing, I suspect my crazy high pain tolerance is partially due to all of my health problems. Hurting is my default state. For another, Super Daddy and I have this wonderfully close, trust-filled dynamic wherein I find it a joy to hurt for him. If he were somebody else, that wouldn’t even be a thing. We have inched along in our journey, with my masochistic side coaxing his sadistic side out a little at a time, and then a bit more. I beg, he gives me a small amount of what I ask for, I enjoy it and I thank him. We bask in that feeling for a while and then, when it’s time, we take another step together. I only recently discovered his evil laugh during playtime, and it was so natural that he didn’t even realize he’d made the sound.

There are many points to pain play in a D/s relationship: it can build a stronger bond between partners, relieve stress, serve as foreplay, clear a submissive’s mind, and underscore the power dynamic. That isn’t even an exhaustive list. But the point of pain play isn’t simply building your tolerance as a submissive to “take” more and harder pain play because your Dom wants to dish it out, or because you see it as a challenge. There may be some subs who would like to explore their as-of-yet unexplored masochistic side and see what effect certain circumstances have on their desire for and limits regarding pain play, but those goals are very personal and should reflect the submissive’s needs.

Pain play isn’t a race you’re running, either against yourself and your previous threshold, or against another masochist. “Taking” more pain than other people is of no consequence or benefit. You should take what gets you to the destination you and your Dom have identified and agreed upon together—in strides that are a manageable size and speed for you… one that doesn’t overwhelm you or leave you feeling inadequate or undeserving. You need to listen to the signals your body is sending and communicate them clearly. The thing that was good pain after 20 minutes last week could be very bad pain after 2 seconds today. There are so many factors that go into what we can tolerate or enjoy at any given moment that have zip to do with how tough we are.

I love impact play and I’ve been known to joke that I like my humor like I like my bottom after play: black and blue. But, every time before we play, Super Daddy asks me if I’m up for it because anything from a migraine hangover to an iffy mental state to being in a more “I need to have pain administered like you’re gently putting a bandaid on your Little One’s scraped knee and less like you’re gleefully pressing buttons on your personal pain toy,” can cause impact play to feel bad and send me to a negative headspace. And, even though many people may struggle to conceptualize this, both are aspects of our dynamic.

That headspace? It’s everything. The headspace should be the goal. It shouldn’t matter if it takes you 10 or 100 swats to get there, because that isn’t the point. And any sadistic Dom who says you have to “take” 100 swats just because he feels the need to give them isn’t a Dom, but simply a sadist who is putting their own desire to wail on someone’s ass ahead of your need to stay safe and within the bounds of what your mind and body can tolerate well. It isn’t smart or safe to play with somebody like that, and they don’t deserve your submission. I keep seeing Tumblr Doms talking about dishing out 50 swats with a cane or 25 with a quirt, and I think one thing: since you can’t tell your ass from your elbow, I sincerely hope that thing you’re holding isn’t actuallly a quirt or a cane because your ignorance and ego could really harm someone, should they ever be blind enough to submit to you.

And, while I’m on this topic, I keep hearing things about people who are ostensibly Doms saying things like that they will “beat you into submission.” Look, it might be true that a sub feels more submissive after pain play with their Dom, but physical pain cannot turn someone into a submissive or make them want to or be able to submit more. It can, however, cause them to fear their abuser—because that’s what a “Dom” who uses physical pain to try and scare submission into somebody: an abuser. A decent Dom will cut you off while you’re still asking for more, and that might be frustrating, but it’s in their job description.

He buys me lunch or coffee on a friend date: hand job under the table or BJ in the bathroom.

He gives me a ride: road head.

He helps me move some heavy boxes: his choice of any of my holes as a shoe of my appreciation.

He lets me sleep on his couch while I’m traveling: I’m his sex doll while I’m under his roof.

He helps me get a job: I’m his sure-thing eager booty call until he gets sick of me.

I don’t need my Dom.

I’m perfectly capable of picking my own panties, making sure the chores get done, and bringing myself to orgasm. I can choose my own bedtime, and I know when it’s time to see the doctor. I don’t need my hand held through every mundane decision.

They keep provoking, keep on acting like they’re in control, like they could pin you down and take over you, like they know how to manipulate you into doing what they want. They think they know what to say to make you angry and give them the punishment they crave.

But I can play this game just as well. Every time you choose to misbehave, knowing that you are in fact misbehaving, I will just ignore it, encourage you even. Suprise you with my reaction - irritate you. Every time I’ll smile and act like I don’t give a damn.

Oh, my boy, you’ll turn angry and frustrated so fast - it’s no fun at all to get beaten at your own game now, is it? It’s no fun to not get what you want so badly. Want turns into need so quickly, too, doesn’t it? And trust me, I’ll notice the exact moment when you finally realized you lost. I’ll be there then, with a firm voice and a firmer grip around your throat, both so badly needed, and I’ll give you a chance to submit. Without protest, without provokations.

If you’ve struggled long enough already, if the need has grown strong enough, you’ll go down to your knees so easily and willingly, and I’ll give you what you need - a good, hard punishment and afterwards one of the best sessions you’ve ever had.

If you still struggle though and you still got enough strength in you to let out a filthy comment - we’ll start again. Same old game, around and around it goes… until you’ve reached your breaking point.