KOTW – Crying

When I started doing BDSM, it was very rare that I played a scene that didn’t leave me crying, it was just how every scene was expected to go.  Now, I cry more rarely, and when I do, it’s because I’ve chosen to.

When I was younger, engaging in BDSM, I was bottling up a lot of emotions, and crying in a scene was a safe way to let it all out.  It wasn’t always tears of pain or fear though.  I remember my first ever suspension, it was amazing, and I was blissed out the entire time.  But as the ropes started to come off, as I started to come back to reality, that was when the tears started.  They were tears of joy – of having achieved something that I’d dreamed of doing for a long time, and tears of sorrow – of having the ropes I was wrapped in removed, knowing that this experience was over.

Now, I have two types of crying.  There’s the sort of crying that’s just an odd tear here or there, and this is the sort of crying that happens on shoots, or when I’m playing with new people. It’s that brief moment when the pain gets just that little bit too much.  It’s the moment where I’ll call a cut and recenter myself, get back in control of the situaiton.  It’s one or two tears and then nothing more. I don’t seek out this sort of crying, and it doesn’t provide me with any pleasure.

The other sort of crying is entirely different.  It’s huge, gulping sobs, and mascara running down my face. And it’s the sort of crying that I only do when playing with someone I know well and trust. It’s being taken to a point where I’m no longer in control, of the scene, or myself.  It’s opening up, showing my vulnerability, and trusting that I’ll be held, and safely put back together afterwards.  For me, crying is submission.  It’s a sign that I’m putting myself in the hands of the person who got me to that place.

Because I do this sort of scene so rarely, it feels much more special to me now.  It’s something i share with a small handful of people who are very special to me.  And because they know me so well, it means that they know various different ways to get me to that point. Pure pain will still sometimes get me there, but usually, it has to be combined with something else.  The right words, either tender whispers telling me how good I am, how well I’m taking it, how pleasing I’m being, or harsh verbal abuse, telling me that I’m fat, ugly, useless, that the only way I’ll please is by being open and available to whatever twisted desires someone can think of.  That’s what gets me there. 

I guess it comes back to one thing I’ve always known to be true – if you want my submission, you need to fuck with my head, not just my body.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *