The masochistic urge

Last night I experienced what I will call a 'masochistic urge'. I woke in the night, my mind a continuous moving image of sadistic romp. My light nightgown had moved up so that I was more or less exposed and my body was crying out for some sort of sensation. I knew that I had to do something to relieve what I will refer to as 'emotional pain'. I felt ungrounded; free floating. I was profoundly aware of an open cunt, and also conscious that my ass was empty. It felt so very wrong to feel this way; totally unmoored.

I had a few thoughts as to how to relieve this state of despair. More than aware that I needed to feel something, I pinched the skin of my right wrist and felt a mild relief, but not enough to do any lasting good. Remembering that I was at the holiday house with few supplies at my disposal I decided to get up and have some Panadol and then scrunch up tight, night gown covering me and to will myself to sleep. In the dark, I could find no Panadol and there remained only one thing to do.

I reached for an anal plug, coated it with some lube and put it in place within seconds. I squeezed. My goodness, instant relief! I felt grounded now, much better equipped for the rest of the night ahead. I got back into bed and squeezed and squeezed, and much like a parent rocking a child to sleep in his cot, I lulled myself back to sleep in this way.

This morning I have been aware of a general agitation. I know what I need and I can't seem to get it. I can't seem to convince my partner in life of this need of mine to be dominated at his will on some sort of a regular basis. It is like chalk and cheese, really. How can you explain to someone that has never had these needs that they are real, invasive, chronic and can't be helped?

It's not about the pain. I don't necessarily need pain. I don't need him to make welts or bruises necessarily. It's much more simple than that. I need to feel sensation. We have delivered every day a newspaper rolled up tight in plastic and a dozen whacks of this provides me with sensation that is satisfactory to settle down this impulse of mine which leaves me so very agitated. It's not really that complicated or that hard to achieve relief. What happens is that the tension, the tightness in my body is released and I can relax.Which is not to say that I don't appreciate the force of something more intense, just that he doesn't need to feel that he needs to do that everytime if he doesn't want to.

One time recently he 'attacked' me on the couch when he came home. I can't even quite remember what he was doing but I do remember he was twisting my nipples and holding my cunt and providing a lot of sensation that had me squealing in spite of a son being home. Afterwards, and during in fact, I felt fantastic. So, I don't think it is about pain really but more about some force and intention with a little pain thrown in for good effect.

To be clear, I do like to be intensely challenged. I like to be tied up and taken beyond the limits of my pain threshold but I don't need that all the time. Something faster and easier can fill the gap during those sessions.

When I am in this agitated, needy state I often feel that I have built up a head of steam and I need to release it any way I can. This leads to a blitz of the house or a fast walk/jog in the park. It feels that, since I can't get the sensation my body demands I need to relieve the pent up agitation and anxiety with speed and output. I just need to do something with my body to let go of excess energy and tightness.

I have been trained to provide myself with relief. This, as far as I can tell, is what the plugs are about for me - to provide me with a way to give myself some masochistic relief from being overly stimulated by these bodily needs. I can give myself sensation on a daily basis and I can feel the grounded effect of wearing a large, heavy plug in my ass.

This does work. It has provided me with an enormous amount of relief from the masochistic urge; satisfied the urge. It's a lot of arousal to deal with, sometimes more than I have a clue what to do with, but I won't focus on that dilemma today. I'll just say that the arousal I experience can lead me to lay off the plugs which then creates the need for more masochism; a viscious cycle if ever there was one. My achilles heel is that I live with intense, dramatic, invasive, overwhelming and chronic arousal. Sigh.

Of course, even a masochist shies away at times from inflicting pain/sensation on herself. It's not always an easy thing to do. Far easier, for the sadistic partner/top to enforce this sort of regimen on her. That makes far more sense to her and is so much easier to achieve. One can relieve oneself of any sense of guilt or shame by passing it over to the other. Yes, we do do that. And, it makes sense. It means that we are not alone. We are understood. This means everything.

I've heard gay people say they wish they were 'normal', but it isn't the case. I feel this way sometimes. How sweet it would be, I think on occasion, to be a 'normal' woman who got her rocks off visiting Positano or being an Auxiliary Member of the National Library, or playing bridge. The fact is that my life is controlled by my needs. I'm a slave to my body's demands and nothing thrills me more than when my body achieves the satisfaction that allows my spirits to soar. Then, I am the luckiest girl in the world.

HIghly sensitive people

Psychologists tend to disagree about how to categorize people like me who are supposedly "highly sensitive". We are the type of people who can be overwhelmed by the senses. If there is too much noise we tend to close down or to head to a quiet and preferably dark room. We tend to take in the world in an intense way and the sight or sound of something can be extra offensive to us or alternatively it can move us in profound ways.

With children, educators like to use desensitization. Therefore, if a child is struggling to be around disruptive children, or loud and extroverted children, they might throw him into a drama group where he can 'desensitize' from the discomfort of that situation.

To some extent, this works. My husband and I had a quick meal out before seeing  a movie last night and whilst he went to the bathroom and I paid, I said to the cashier girl, "Are you aware of how loud it is in here or do you zone it out?" "Oh, I can't hear it," she responded. "I'm in my own little bubble. Does it bother you?" "Sometimes," I responded. "But, I'm learning to be in my own little bubble too."

In a situation with my husband I can reach my elastic limit due to this high sensitivity to the senses. I'm not always comfortable with different sensations occurring on top of one another or at the same time. If you take this morning, I took all sorts of discomfort and sensations for two hours without a hint of complaint until  I got a hard whack of the tawse on my ass at the same time as he asked me to lay on my stomach and "put your hands between your legs and play with yourself". Instantly, I had reached my limit. The sting of the tawse at the same moment as I was asked to do something supposedly pleasurable was the straw that broke the camel's back. It took quite some time to get over that high sensitivity to that sensation. Once the senses have reached 'high alert' they stay up there for quite some time.

Life for the highly sensitive person needs to be navigated with some care. It's one thing to expect us to be in a situation with loud noise but quite another to be subjected to listening to awful and awfully loud 'music' at the same time as expecting us to talk. Or to ask us to enjoy making a meal while Bart Simpson and other equally painful sounding characters talk in the background. People assure me that if I ever listened to the dialog I would appreciate it as funny and clever but I can't get past their dreadful speaking voices to even entertain the idea of hearing what they have they to say. Are you getting the picture of what it is to be a 'highly sensitive person'?

Perhaps this is partly why I adore the idea of sensory deprivation. The idea of having my entire head covered in latex and being asked to do nothing but stay still and take it sounds like heaven to me. Sometimes, I choose to limit my words for a day. I say only that which is absolutely necessary in order to settle my system down; to find my 'center', as the meditation people like to say. My daily ritual is all about settling me down too. It's an experience that demands that I be somewhat reflective of my status and whilst doing that, other issues pale into insignificance. There are ancillary benefits too, of course. It is highly pleasurable and highly pleasurable too to know that I'm following prescribed protocols.

Each day now, I meditate. My new meditation teacher didn't give us a choice about that and I've found it amazing to take that 10 minutes or so each day and empty my head of thoughts. I wrap a beautiful, pashmina shawl around me (my son brought it back from Nepal for me so it is very special to me) and I sit cross legged and focus on my breathing, repeating a certain word over and over that takes me to a very 'dumdum' place.

I think I was meant to live a rather sheltered life under the wing of a cerebral, infinitely wise and patient man; the sort of man who calmly steered me back to 'centre' each time I strayed away from the path that was best for me - a narrow road but a road just meant for me. My husband does this for me in his own way, for sure, but in an ideal world he'd have more focus for it; stronger/intenser and more regular reminders. I've thought a lot about a M/s lifestyle lately. I've been reading about how one can love a woman but that the M/s dynamic always remains the same and I find that very appealing. This sort of constancy would settle my senses and emotions; allow me to navigate through life with certainty.

I am most happy when I can feel  constancy of his control over me and that he is enjoying that. I am most happy when I am aware of my place in the our shared dynamic and reminders of that place are bountiful. It settles my sensitive senses and makes me feel cherished; loved; safe and secure. In a world that constantly plays havoc with my senses, a contained life is a blessing for me.