I’ve never really understood the connection between pleasure and pain.
It’s weird, isn’t it? How something that is supposed to be unpleasurable, dislikable — a sensation that is very much our body saying “bad, wrong, don’t do this” — somehow brings an incredible kind of pleasure.
It hurts, it’s awful, and yet it feels so good.
Is this why some people like spicy foods? Or other people enjoy throwing themselves off the side of cliffs and airplanes?
Underneath the kinks, am I just another adrenaline-seeker — just someone who gets their rush from whips and paddles, rather than parachutes and bungee-cords?
I never thought that I would end up being where I am, and being who I am. But I’ve found out that these are deep truths about myself — that being a pain play sub is as important to my being as being a connoisseur of fried chicken.
I crave both in much the same way, and I get grumpy after not having some in much the same way.
And I think I need some of both, right now.
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