I Just Need You to Hurt Me
Someone once asked what it was about pain that did it for me but it’s not the pain. It never has been.
The pain itself at the moment of impact is awful and I abhor it, but I still - occasionally - need it.
It's a purge, you see. It's not something many people seem to want or be capable of. Sure, a sadist might, but the ones I've encountered seem to be in either the “I want you aroused so we can bang after” or “I'mma just hit you until something breaks and it doesn't matter why you're doing this” camps.
I had that awkward experience. Eventually, it reached the point that I was able to pool my strength and laugh myself silly at what a bizarre occurrence it was: the “Service Top” wanting to fuck me ruined it somewhat. Had he applied the right mix of heat, intensity, and reinforcement, I might have been tempted.
But that's the thing; I don't want to be tempted. I want desire to course through me, along with the adrenaline and endorphins and thoughts of “Oh my god if he hits me again I'm gonna die". It's not the pain that's doing that, though: It’s the person.
I look at photos of hitty things and stingy things, scratchy things and sharp things, and I want them all. I want to experience each and every one with someone who's not necessarily turned on by what they're doing, but rather by what the experience is doing for me - and what it’s doing isn’t turning me on, I can assure you.
It's teaching me. It's bringing my deepest strengths to the surface. It's healing me.
I've reflected a lot on why I want such an intense level of violence at times. It scares those close to me when I talk about it; it scares me, too. If someone doesn't hurt me in the right way, I push for more in all the wrong ways. I'm a mental self-harmer, and someone’s willingness to hurt me stops that. It's not masochism. It's something else. See, things are never as simple as they look. Diamonds need intense pressure to become something precious and coveted. If you break one piece off a jigsaw, it's ruined, unless you destroy the whole thing and start over.
It's like tattooing psoriasis.
I met a man once whilst I was getting a tattoo. He had the worst tribal sleeve I've ever seen, and he was in the process of getting it all reworked. It looked stunning where he'd had it done. But half of his arm was covered - and I mean covered - in psoriasis. He was in agony in the chair as the needle dragged over the broken skin.
I noticed that where the tribal had been renewed and redone, there was hardly any of the angry red and white mess that such a crippling condition leaves you with. The trauma from the needle had forced his skin to heal and the condition to improve. It didn't itch anymore, didn't hurt anymore, and the skin was almost back to normal. Rejuvenated. Fixed.
And that's how I see it when someone hurts me. It's not pain; it's an opportunity. Pain forces me to heal old wounds and as a result, I become stronger. By pressuring me down into my core - for that strength to kick in and push back - it’s shining this diamond. Love alone won't do it anymore, because these old wounds were inflicted in love. But it needn't be a war.
It's not pain I crave, but I do need you to hurt me.
About the Author: DiavalDiablo is a mental auralist with a love of sharp things, including wit, and is considered an "antisocial butterfly".
