Posts Tagged ‘Domination/submission’

“Pain and Pleasure”….the beginnings of a particularly juicy discussion.

October 20, 2008

Well, our friend Phil (smotp) has begun the discussion that was promised by me weeks ago. It finally begins, but first I want to thank Phil for a very generous gift he gave me this morning.

People know I have been ill…since October 1st actually. I have been in and out of hospital and through the mill with many tests. As of now all things point to ulcers…and I have earned every damn one of them fairly.

Phil has offered his ‘relaxation’ methods and today called me from Wales, where he lives, and proceeded to relax me…and then some.

I won’t go into details, (though girlfriends can contact me privately for the skinny on Phil’s methods…) but all I can say is this:

Thank you, Phil…for a generous and lovely time on the phone. Your beautiful voice, calming and soothing, your words to me so restorative, have moved me to a better place. You masterful conducting of this session has truly been effective in my spirits and body.

Thank you, Phil, for something so very generous and humane from you. You have a healing way beyond comforting.

Phil’s blog …smotp’s weblog is listed on the blogroll here.

Lady Nyo

From Phil:

Sensuality and Sensation a discussion of Sexual Pain

How is it that to be bitten sharply out of the blue on a sensitive part of your body hurts like the devil, yet when sharp teeth clench around an aroused and erect nipple that the pain is often exquisite?

To suddenly have one’s clitoris pinched when your attention is on a book or a tv show is to say the least, distracting. To have the same thing done while a warm knowing mouth is driving one towards orgasm is often the trigger to tip one over into an ecstatic release.

The divide between pain and pleasure is a fluid and permeable separation. Why so?

Our skin has receptors all over it sensitive to touch, heat, pressure and many other stimuli all connected to a netwrok of nerves that wind thorugh us to inform the brain of what is happening moment to moment to our bodies. We also have the other senses all of which generate huge amounts of information.

More than 2 million bits of information about our body and our environment at any one time bombard our brain. In practice we are able to notice between 5 and 9 things at the same time (if we were to process everyhting our senses recorded during the moment of our birth it would take our entire lifetime)

Vast amounts of data pass our conciousness by as they are filtered out to enable us to function. So sensation has to compete for our attention.

Sensuality can be thought of as the appreciation of sensation in a strongly sexual way. As we are stimulated by different senses that impact on our erotic arousal we climb that hill towards the fall into orgasm.

With the touch of a caress, probing fingers and the heat of a mouth on us, our senses are engaged. After a time our filters will become active and have a screening effect on these feelings. As our nerves cannot differentiate between strong stimuli anything that can add to the electrical signals may push us closer to orgasm. The slap of a hand on the rump in over the knee spanking or the biting lick of a singletail, overload already stressed nerves and the result is an explosion of erotic tension in the brain, our pleasure is enhanced.

Pain applied to arousal is clearly something that could benefit all of us to some degree.

However, more particular are those individuals where their minds have ‘rewired’ their reaction to pain. Either through training or psychological variation the simple impact of pain registers with the brain as pleasure. There are in fact different regions of the brain which deal with pain and pleasure but they can be cross wired. These are the Pain Sluts where to be hurt is to get sexual pleasure with none of the preliminary arousal. In fact quite rare. Many convince themselves that they are Pain Sluts when in reality they simply crave the extra release that the application of a harsh stimulus to their jaded arousal delivers.
Much of the process of BDSM practice is ritualistic, designed through anticipation to prepare the recipient to a sufficiently aroused state where the appilication of the crop, cane or electric wand will tip them over to orgasm. Such a practice is psychological reinforcement linking orgasm to the application of pain. This provides an incentive to a partner to submit to the painful activity that may be the goal of the sadistic Dominator.

As in all things moderation is a useful rule of thumb, it is probably good to stop before you start to bleed!

I have posted another chapter of “Another Story”,

September 22, 2008

only because a couple of readers were interested in the first chapter I posted here, Chapter 10.

In rereading this very strange novel…I realize that it came at my very beginning interest in D/s and somewhere I had picked up some concepts of J. Norman’s Natural Order. This surprises me, because I only started to read Norman late last fall, a full year AFTER writing this novel. I wonder where I got these concepts then?

Well, no matter, I have not read this book in almost two years, and am surprised myself at the plot. I think this new year I will go back and rewrite and finish this book.



I am standing at a window, here in this bedroom. I find myself more and more in his world, the world of my Demon Lover. I am not sure of the sequence of time, but it seems that every few days I appear back in this room. Today, I have been busy for a number of hours writing a chapter, one that I hope will bring me to the last one, the conclusion of the novel. I have been in starts and stops over it for the past month, and have had trouble forming my thoughts. Of course, there has been much to distract me. His presence in my ‘life’ , for I guess you could call this life, has been a major obstacle in finishing much. He is entertaining and charming, and brings much trouble to my existence. But all in all, it has been a fruitful time, for if I stumble in the writing, there is much to take up my imagination. I have found out numerous things about him. He is a jealous demon, who prates that he will chase away any competition, and has little regard for my earthly marriage. He already admits that he visits me, and not just in my dreams, but takes a seat next to my bed, and involves himself in my sleep. My patient husband sleeps deeply, and I am not sure that Garrett, the mortal name of my Demon, does not have his hand further in this. A dear friend from the ‘north country’ as my Demon calls him, already has caught his interest, and he has as much threatened me with some foul magic if I continue to converse with him. I will not bow to his threats, for I know that he has become fond of me, and fears my displeasure. He can be a bully but I know now that he needs much assurance from me, and that I give most willingly. I have grown as fond of him, as he seems to be of me, though he goes to great pains to hide it. Ah! The masculine vanity! Alive even in immortals!

I am standing at a window, looking out on a bleak landscape. The middle of winter, and there is fog swirling on the ground around a clump of trees in the midground distance. Or it looks like fog. But then again, it comes together like smoke and rises from a central point in the trees. How strange. It whirls and eddies and takes shape like smoke from a chimney. It holds my attention and I think that I could easily go out for a walk. I throw on my red cloak and go downstairs and out the front door. It is not a long walk to the stand of trees where I saw the smoke, and I feel a strange compulsion to follow. The trees are bare of all leaves, their black limbs are silhouetted against the gray, winter sky. I walk through them, feeling a sense of discovery, being pulled on by my curiosity. There, before me, is perhaps a low fire, though I can’t see any flame. The smoke is thick, and it seems to pour from the ground! As I look upwards, around the trees, there are blackbirds perched in the limbs. They are totally silent, which is strange for a flock of blackbirds. Suddenly the smoke parts, and there, sitting on a stump, about twenty feet from me, is Obadiah!

Oh! I can’t tell if he is an apparition, a ghost, or something else, but he sits there, his long legs stretched out before him, crossed one upon the other, and his arms crossed over his chest. He is not wearing a coat, but is dressed in a white, linen shirt, with a black stock wound around his neck. His face has no expression, but his eyes pierce me with their intensity, and I waver where I stand, not sure that I will faint or remain conscious. He smiles at me, and it is a mocking smile, devoid of any kindness. He is alluring, he is another presence, and I find myself drawn to him as in a trance. I should be afraid of him, considering what he has done to me, but for some reason, I am not. I am excited and unsettled at the same time, perhaps fear plays into these emotions, but curiosity and a perverse desire overcomes all else.

Suddenly! I am laid out on the ground, like I have been pushed down violently behind me. Obadiah disappears in a flash, and behind me is Garrett. He has a sword in his hand, and his face is terrible to see. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to my feet, where he scowls in my direction and drags me out of the glen at a fast pace. I don’t remember my feet even touching the ground, until we are back in my bedroom, and the next thing I hear him slamming the door.

“You damn little fool!” He is furious, and grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. I feel like a rat caught by a terrier. My head is thrown back and forth by his violence and I think my neck will snap. He releases me fast and I fall to the floor. I lay there for a moment, aware that he is standing over me. I can still feel his wrath, like a thick fog in the air. I gasp with fear, and turn to look at him, still lying on the floor. He is standing over me, looking like he could easily kill me.

Then, just as fast, his anger disappeared from his face, and I heard him say, “Nay, get off the floor. You look like a kicked dog. I’ll not harm you more.” He extended his hand and pulled me to my feet, where he looked at me closely. I could tell he was still angry, but is trying his best to not act upon it.

However, I was now the one who is furious. How dare he shake me like a child! How dare he throw me to the ground! Without another thought, I raised my hand and strike him across the face. I saw his surprise, and then, to my horror, heard him utter a hollow laugh. He grabbed both of my wrists in his hands before I could think and pinned them behind me. He did not spare me any pain in the doing.

“So you want to play rough, do you?” He laughed again, and sitting down with me fast in a chair, up ended me across his lap and pulled up my skirts. He exposed my nakedness and beat me hard with his hand. I yelled loudly, and cursed him with all the names I could think of. He thrashed me, hitting my buttocks and also the tops of my legs. I screamed out until I thought I would go hoarse. I cried and pleaded with him, yet he did not spare me his blows. He threw me onto the bed, where I cried and sobbed mightily, more from fear than pain, but there certainly was enough of that! My butt was burning with his blows. I hated him thoroughly, for I had never been treated like this before. I cried until I stopped, and he didn’t offer a word of compassion or apology. When I finally uncovered my face from the pillows, I saw him sitting there, smoking his pipe, like nothing in the world had happened. I felt humiliated and belittled.

“Tell me,” he said between puffs. “Tell me what possessed you to leave this room and go into the woods.” His eyes glittered through the smoke and I knew that I had better take him seriously. Now that I knew he would not spare me his hands, I was afraid of him.

“Oh, my dear Betsy, I can smell your fear, but that is not what I am after. Tell me, now, why you went into the woods.”

I rose up from my stomach, and gingerly sat on the bed. My butt hurt! He was certainly strong with his hands! “I don’t know. I saw some smoke coming from the glen, and I thought that it was interesting. I felt curious.”

“Ah. Did you feel drawn to the woods?” He puffed more forcefully on his pipe.

“Well, the smoke drew me, but then, when I got down there, and near, I felt strangely drawn to the trees. The birds were all silent, I remember that clearly.”

“Looks like Obadiah has called upon other forces for his designs.” He puffed on his pipe. “Seems like he is getting a bit desperate.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is charming you and others to do his bidding. I don’t like it a bit. Makes me work harder, something I generally avoid. Looks like he’s ready for battle.” He spit on the floor and I grimaced at him.

“Who is he charming, you make no sense?” He made no earthly sense to me at all.

My Demon thought a bit before he answered me. “You asked me before about my world. Well, there are many worlds. I can frequent a number of them. This one, where I appear to you, is full of characters. I get lost in the numbers, can’t remember all the hierarchy. But it’s simple enough, or at least I’ll make it simple enough for you. Listen closely. Demons are intermediaries between gods and men. Most of us, what you call ‘demons’ were once men. We are not angels, though. Don’t think that we are. No, there are lots of shapes and shifts abounding. There are Fates, who alter destiny, there are what you know as poltergeists, who cause much mischief, there are the incubi and succubae that you have already experienced (here he tipped his pipe in my direction), there are familiars, who assist what you call witches.” He puffed on his pipe, and packed it down again with his thumb. “There are Demons formed from human semen.” Here he grinned broadly, the smoke swirling around his face, obscuring his eyes. “There are disguised Demons, which I fear is our friend Obadiah, makes it tricky in dealing with him. And there are Demons that instigate Witchcraft. I don’t know what we are dealing with at present, but we are about to find out. He grows more powerful.”

“Is he more powerful than you?” Oh! I have such fear here!

He grins around the stem of his pipe. “No, I’m still more powerful than he. But he grows. And he has enough tricks to harness Cheitan and Saalah to do his bidding.” He laughed a short, bitter laugh.

“And who are they?”

“They are some minor demons, spirits if you will. Not of much merit, but amenable to a bribe. Cheitan is the demon of Smoke and Saalah is a demon that intices women into the woods. All kinds of mischief can befall a maid in the woods. They are known as some of the ‘Devil’s Handmaids’”. He puffed on his pipe, sending up a plume of smoke to the ceiling. An example of “Cheitan”?

“And about your being in the woods, my dear lady. Very foolish of you. Had I not come at the moment I did, you would have suffered another rape by Obadiah. He seems to delight in taking his perverse pleasures with you. You can now thank me for saving you from an even more terrible attack than last time.”

I thought, what worse could he do to me than when he raped me? I shivered.

“Oh, there are plenty of tricks he could render upon your soft body, my darling,.” said my demon, reading my thoughts. “What he did the first time was just a first course for his appetite. You forget we demons have terrific appetites, especially for mortal women. Your flesh, especially those places between your soft, white thighs, are irresistible to us demons.” He leered at me. He is so nasty!

“And what bribe does he induce them to work for him?”

“Probably your blood, or a piece of your flesh. Or if he’s in a particularly generous mood, a piece of your ass. Of course, that would be after he has sated himself on your charms. He would turn you over to them, where they would use you until they were bored and would tear you to pieces.”

Oh, what a terrible mouth on him!

“You see, my darling woman, as long as Obadiah thinks that you are, ah, I think you call it “a free agent’ in your world? Well, as long as Obadiah thinks he can take you at will, even from under my nose, he will come back and try it again. There are only a few ways to discourage him from this behavior.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, it is not by my authority to tell you how to end your novel, but killing him off would help….for a while. That would be one way. There is another way, but you would not want to go down that path.” He laughed to himself, and puffed hard on his pipe, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“And what is that path, dear Demon?”

It seemed that the room darkened, or perhaps the sky outside did. But something changed noticeably. He still sat there but it seemed that he was whispering in my ear.

“A woman is much happier if she has a Master. Authority thrills a woman, my darling. Nothing but complete subjugation will finally satisfy her.” He smiled at me, and I shivered at his words. What a strange and alien a concept to me. To call him “master”!

“In the animal world, it’s nature’s decree the male shall dominate. And you are my little vixen, my little red fox.” He smiled around the stem of his pipe. “And I am very much the male, here.”

I would not dispute that statement! He was more ‘masculine’ than ten men, twenty. And very proud of it. No ‘metrosexual’ confusion for him.

“You know, sweet darling, I am thinking that Obadiah is nothing more than a very powerful incubus. Sexual relations with an incubus are decidedly unpleasant and an often painful affair. I think that you would agree with that.” He would get no argument from me….

“So, Demon, what are you saying that I should do?”

“Why don’t you refer to me as Demon Lover anymore?”

“So, Demon Lover, what should I do?”

“Look, Betsy, sweetwoman of mine, I think that you should come under my power completely, and let it be known.” He grinned broadly. Oh! This looked like fun for him!

“What is it you are saying I do?”

“Sex is a powerful thing in our worlds, as well as yours. I am suggesting that you become my consort, for as long as you inhabit my world. That could be a long time, it depends upon things.”

“What things, Demon?”

“Ah, that I have no competition in your heart and mind, that you submit to everything I say and do, and that I am Master of you and your body. That you obey me and submit to me in all things. Could you do this?”

“I don’t know. You know that I am married, and I have my friend in the ‘north country’ as you call him. Would I have to give them up for safety here?”

“Well, I can not trample upon your marriage vows, came long before me.”

“So did my friend, Garrett.”

“Ah, that is another complication. But I will look the other way if you please me in all other things.”

“Are you talking about whips and chains and things, Devil?”

He laughed at my words. “Why in Hell’s good name would I need such things? I’m talking about the natural roles of man and woman, or in this case, Demon and mortal woman. What could be clearer?”

“You have lost me. I don’t know anything of subjugation or submission. We modern women tend to avoid all such talk and behavior.”

“And are you any happier for it?” His eyes glittered through the smoke he exhaled.

He had me there. Relations in the twenty first century were confusing enough. Was there any real happiness between men and woman? There was a lot of anger, and sham, and moving about, exchanging partners and forming anew. There was a lot of unhappiness and divorces. The roles between women and men seemed to be mandated by some chaos that we danced to faster and faster. The ‘natural’ roles that seemed to work for past generations were lost to us now. Women were more like men, and men! God! They were like women! Most women I knew had more ‘friends’ that were homosexual, gays, than girlfriends. They were interchangeable. The roles and relations had become very confused. Perhaps he had a point here. Perhaps what he was proposing was a balancing of the roles. The strong man (or devil) and the soft, weaker, woman. Perhaps he was on to something.

“You promise not to hurt me?” I asked him coyly.

He shook his head at me in wonder, and laughed. “Are woman from your century so distanced from their natures that they don’t trust the masculine? Can you place your heart and body in my hands and know that I will protect you? What is it that men do in your domain? Do they not do this fundamental role?”

“Well, not without a lot of confusion, Garrett. They get mixed messages from all sorts of places. I don’t think that modern men know what to do with women.”

He laughed delightedly and gave me his opinion. “You fuck them good, and often, and they keep you entertained. It’s really an easy proposition. They lay down and spread their legs on demand, and you chase off all the wolves. What’s so hard about that?”

Ah, he is a trying and primitive Demon! He has the manners of a goat, but I have told him that before. It is an exchange that he is proposing here. My protection and security from Obadiah if I ‘cleave’ myself to him completely. He hasn’t given me much to go on yet, but I am interested enough in his ideas here. And he has allowed my marriage and my friendships (there are others he doesn’t know about!) and promises to wink at them.

In any case, I am way over my head here, and not before believing in anything supernatural or paranormal, I find myself at a disadvantage. He holds all the cards right now, and I am at his mercy. My fear of Obadiah and what he can do to me overcomes my disdain for my overpowering, vulgar, demon lover.

Hopefully, he will be a kind and generous ‘master.’ I think this is called “bargaining with the Devil?”.

jane kohut-bartels
copyrighted, 2006, 2008

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