Your cock is beautiful – 34

“True.” I said, “In everyday life, you don’t seem to submit to anyone or anything. But you call me ‘Sir’. You beg for your orgasms. You claim that I own your body.”

“Yeah…” she said uncertainly.

“That’s called submission, sweetheart.” I said, smiling, “You submit to me, and you like it. You have these submissive traits that allow you to tolerate, and even enjoy all the things I do to you. In the BDSM community, you’re known as a submissive, or a sub. Someone who finds pleasure and satisfaction in submitting to another.”

By this point I was pretty much quoting a blog I’d read about “The Lifestyle” verbatim. It had been one of the more helpful things I’d read when I first discovered how satisfying it was to dominate Stella.

She was looking down, considering my words. She looked placated for a second, but then frowned and shook her head.

“So, what’s… BDSM?” she asked.

“We’ll… we’ll get to that.” I said, wanting to talk through each aspect first. “I’m what’s known as a Dominant, or Dom. Someone who gets pleasure from… well, the things I do. Basically from making you submit.”

“I thought that was just because you hate me.” she said quietly.

“My feelings for you… are complicated.” I said, “And not what we’re talking about right now. I started to dominate you because I was angry with you, but then I realized that I liked it on a different level. On a few different levels, actually…”

I trailed off.

“So that’s why I like being… hurt?” she asked.

“Well, that’s something slightly different.” I said, “I mean, you should know this. What’s it called when someone enjoys pain?”

“Um… being a freak?” she said.

“Masochism.” I said simply.

“Oh.” she said, surprised. Then, as if finally understanding, “Oh…”

“Yeah.” I said. “Earlier today you had an orgasm from nothing but being whipped. You like pain. You’re a masochist.”

“I’ve never…I’ve never thought about it in those terms before… I thought…well, I don’t know what I thought.” she said. “I thought I was just… fucked up. Or that I liked you so much that I even enjoyed you hurting me.”

I gave her a few seconds to digest this information. She looked afraid of the implications of this news.

“So you’re a sub, I’m a Dom.” I said, “And if you’re a masochist, then I’m a…”

I trailed off, seeing if she’d answer. She didn’t, but her eyes widened.

“A sadist.” I finished.

She didn’t move a muscle, but suddenly I could almost feel the fear coming off of her. I’d had much the same reaction when I’d first considered applying that label to myself.

Outside of the BDSM community, the only people who were considered actual sadists were usually criminals, often the most violent and hated. It was pretty much synonymous with ‘evil’, or ‘psycho’. At least, that had been my perception of the word. Learning that there were people who lived fairly normal, happy lives who would proudly give themselves that label had been an eye-opening discovery.

“Does that scare you?” I asked in a teasing tone, “To think that the man you love is a sadist.”

She flinched when I said the word again.

I suddenly felt totally vulnerable.

“It’s not a surprise, is it?” I asked, “After all the times I’ve hurt you…”

“I don’t know.” she almost whispered, “I’ve just… I’ve never-“

“Thought about it in those terms?” I finished.

She nodded, still wide eyed.

“This doesn’t change anything… not really…” I said.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I decided to move on. I turned onto my back, looking up at the ceiling.

“The exact wording of BDSM can sometimes be interpreted a few different ways.” I said, changing the subject, “But it’s actually six words arranged in three couplets.”

“Oh.” she said, “You mean like, BD, DS, SM?”

I laughed. It took her so long to understand that she had submissive traits, but this she got instantly.

“Right.” I said. “BD is Bondage and Discipline. That’s when I tie you up, and punish you. They’re basically just tools for dominance, at least for me. Some people like them for different reasons. There’s a lot of room for personal preference and interpretation in this kind of relationship, not everyone has the same way of doing things.”

It felt good to talk about all of this, about what our relationship meant to me. I wanted to tell her about what it had felt like to discover all of this, but I didn’t want to get distracted.

“D/s usually stands for Dominant and submissive.” I said, “Dominant is usually stylised with an uppercase ‘D’, while submissive has a lower case ‘s’, to highlight who’s the more important one. I mean, obviously both are important, but it’s another powerful thing. Sometimes it’s interpreted as Dominant and slave, which is just another way of saying Dom and sub. I mean, some people think there’s an important distinction, but I don’t know…”

I knew I was rambling, but I was nervous about her reaction. This was another of those topics that I wasn’t used to talking about, but had only ever discussed with people online, who were mostly just screen names to me. I’d never actually breathed a single word of this to anyone before.

I hadn’t looked at her yet.

“So…” she said, surprising me, “Then SM is… sadist and masochist.”

“Right.” I said. “That’s what ‘S&M’ is too, by the way… Sadomasochism. Or, again, sometimes people will say that for them ‘SM’ means slave and Master, but…”

I trailed off, shrugging. I was really bad at this, I was starting to learn. When faced with this kind of difficult emotional conflict my first instinct was to retreat to logic. Facts and definitions, things I could argue and manipulate. This wasn’t helping her, that was obvious.

“This is a lot to take in.” she said.

“I know.” I answered.

“So… so I’m really not.. normal?” she asked, emotion creeping back into her tone.

“Well… I mean, it depends on-” I started.

“God, so it’s not enough that I’m a slut, now you’re telling me that deep down I’m some kind of… masochistic freak?” she accused, the anger in her voice rising. “Like, that all I want deep down is to be someone else’s bitch?”

“I… I mean, that’s one way of putting it-“

“Fuck that, that’s not… you don’t fucking know me, you don’t know how this feels.” she said angrily. “You can’t just tell me I’m all fucked up and just expect me to accept it.”

“I didn’t say you were fucked up, I’m-“

“But I don’t want it to be like this.” she said, interrupting me again, “I just want things to be normal.”

I laughed. How could anything between us ever be normal?

“Stella… you wouldn’t give a shit about me if I didn’t treat you like this. You don’t want to be normal.” I said.

She flinched away from me, as if she’d been slapped. Her rage seemed to dissipate, only to be replaced by a cold, intense stare.

“That’s fucked up.” she said, “You think I love you because you hurt me?”

“All I’ve done is hurt you.” I said calmly, “You treated me like shit until I did the same to you, and then you fell in love with me.”

She didn’t respond.

“Think about it.” I continued, “You had a boyfriend already, you had a normal relationship with Mike and look how that ended.”