About Me

I am a sadist. The greater my affec­tion for you, the greater my urge to hurt you. God help me, I will hurt you. I will breathe in your screams and I will drink your tears. I will tear at your skin and I will tear at your soul. I will bury my teeth in your skin and I will bury my fin­gers in your flesh.

I never asked to be this way. I fought it tooth and nail until I had it so neatly boxed in that I felt noth­ing. I was dying inside.

Some years ago, a very per­cep­tive and lovely lady saw some­thing in me that intrigued her. Through her Siren’s song envelop­ing me in accep­tance and dark­ness she forced me to con­front the dark hunger that has been dor­mant in me for so many years. I doubt that she expected to find it shin­ing with as much inten­sity as it did but nev­er­the­less it is now at the sur­face rather than buried far beneath. With great emo­tional tur­moil I finally grew to not flinch from the image she showed me hold­ing the mir­ror in front of my face.

The day I intro­duced myself to the man in the mir­ror and said, “I am a sadist,” with shiv­ers run­ning down my spine and dif­fi­culty catch­ing my breath, was the day I took back my heart and made it my own.

Being a sadist does not mean that I am cruel, unfeel­ing, or emo­tion­ally unavail­able. Quite on the con­trary. You would be sur­prised with how much love, care, and inti­macy I inflict pain and plea­sure on a will­ing vic­tim. Like a vam­pire I feed off her respon­sive­ness to me, empathiz­ing with and tak­ing my plea­sure in her rap­ture. She, above all else, is the radi­ant focus of my pierc­ing attention.

For me it is about con­nec­tion and inti­macy. What can be more inti­mate than to watch her eyes gloss over when you touch her just so, to breathe in her hot shud­der­ing moans, to drink the tears trick­ling down her cheek?

It is actu­ally not about pain, per se, but the raw­ness, the truth, and the beauty of her expe­ri­ence. You may not think so, but sadists are incred­i­bly empathic and sen­si­tive. The tour de force for the sadist is being enveloped by their partner’s expe­ri­ence and live it through her, with her, in her.

I like to say that what we sadists lack in sym­pa­thy, we make up for in empa­thy. I would go so far as to say that a sadist could be the most atten­tive and sen­si­tive lover, should he ven­ture into the taboo (!) areas of romance and ten­der­ness. Few will have bet­ter insight into your emo­tions and what makes you tick because that sim­ply comes with the territory.

I am fas­ci­nated with the descent into the ele­men­tal mas­cu­line or fem­i­nine in our­selves where our deep­est hungers, desires, yearn­ings and long­ings exist. To con­nect with another soul trav­el­ing the same path, mak­ing us both greater than the sum of our indi­vid­ual selves. To forge a con­nec­tion so pro­found and plunge into inti­macy so intense that angels weep in envy and demons claw at their eyes in despair.

What is impor­tant to me is the pain and plea­sure I bestow the one beneath my hands, how I play with her and how I extract what I want from her. My own phys­i­cal plea­sure is almost an after­thought, over­shad­owed by the imme­di­acy of her rap­ture, no mat­ter if it is from plea­sure or pain. Or both; I really don’t care.

There is no sub­stan­tive dif­fer­ence to me if I inflict pain or plea­sure. I sup­pose I am color-​blind that way. What mat­ters to me is how deeply and pro­foundly I touch her, how deeply and pro­foundly I make her feel. There is a point where she pours her aware­ness from her head and mind into her body and heart and she is com­pletely and totally open to me; that is where I find my sat­is­fac­tion. It is like I am freez­ing cold and she is the fire that warms me. I am merely the fire-​starter.

What dri­ves me is pos­sess­ing her utterly and com­pletely, her eagerly sac­ri­fic­ing her­self on the offer­ing altar of my desire to trea­sure and use, to cher­ish and abuse. To cut through her skin and nurse her liq­uid soul like a vam­pire. To make her cry. Oh, God, to make her cry and drink her tears. To stretch her soul and wrap myself in it like a warm blan­ket. To stretch her flesh and wrap it around my body like a womb. To be shack­led to her, addicted to her, and obsessed by her.

I rel­ish the emo­tional release of unleash­ing my inner beast and let him use, abuse, and con­sume. To shed my mask and allow the ele­men­tal mas­cu­line in me dive into the cool, sooth­ing pool of the ele­men­tal fem­i­nine. To envelop myself in the soft radi­ance of her plea­sure and pain. To be chained by her yield­ing flesh and soft touch. To pos­sess and to be possessed.

In the end, every­thing begins and ends with her. I am just along for the ride.