A Friend Date with a Sadist

Post-pandemic, my masochist has been a shadow in the recesses of my soul.  Like other pieces of me, she has been turned off...disconnected...off-fuckin-line.  The most delightful aspects of my journey had been abandoned to the weight of social chaos, service commitments, and dearth of male Dominant energy. 

But here I was eagerly getting in a truck with my favorite creative Sadist—where there would be no exit and little room to maneuver.  My anxiety started well before that first hug.  I had no idea how I would cope with or process any bits of his Sadism in my masochist's absence.  Knowing the pain would come at some point felt like standing on a high dive about to jump into an ice cold pool on a hot humid day.  You look down a little disoriented, wondering how the hell you got up there, dreading how much it's gonna suck but hoping like crazy it will refresh your mind, body, and spirit.

It so sucked. lol

He graciously gave me a few miles that we filled with non-stop chatter before he suddenly launched the game of hunter/prey at a random red light.  That first vice grip of his hand on my thigh stole my breath, blanked out my mind, and shoved me unceremoniously in fight or flight mode, with fight being the only option in the tight space.  Still trapped in my bland vanilla existence from a blur of years, I pushed, pulled, and struggled against his grip as I fought him and the pain in between laughing fits of "No, no, nooooo...fuuuuuck....noooo...."'s.  

My masochist wasn't there to save me.  That bitch was in the mother fuckin wind.  I simply drowned in the chaotic waves of pain from a seemingly harmless hand.  I'd dealt with floggers and dragontails and straps with more grace and dignity. 

His amusement at my clumsy, bumbling responses was apparent, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what he said.  His words barely registered through my haze of suffering.

Only the green light saved my total humiliation.  Plunged back into reality, I grasped at logical thoughtful conversation and the the thrill of seeing my friend after so many years while I tried to regain some balance not to mention self-respect.

It lasted until another red light.  

So began our sadomasochistic dance.

Again and again as traffic stalled in seemingly endless Queens to Manhattan gridlock, he wrapped a hand around a body part and squeezed.  Again and again I jumped, clenched, braced myself, and tried to hide.  I was stiff, unsure, and completely uncoordinated.  I think I may have even begged for mercy and maybe... no...like...definitely more than once.  

Each time, pain flooded and overwhelmed everything that I was.  I lost count of the momentary rounds of torture.  Though I hungered to feel like ME again, my scrambled brain couldn't remember how to play this damn game.  I needed all my fucking pieces back where they belonged, but I didn't know where to begin even searching.

I lost track of minutes and miles.  As we closed in on Manhattan's skyline, his cruel hand snaked its way again across my flesh, and I was at a complete loss with how to cope.  Having no options left, I gave in to the inevitable.  I shut off my mind that had futilely tried to reason with a Sadist intent on destruction and closed my eyes.  His fierce fingertips dug into my soft tender skin.  I exhaled and let him have his cruel way with my body.

There...wait...maybe???

An internal door effortlessly opened.

Instead of chaos, his leisurely violence sank into the shadows of my soul, where they consumed his agony like the most precious of nectar.  Ahhhh yessssss... THIS... magic....  THIS...peace....  THIS...everyfuckinthing....  I sighed and maybe whimpered and simply basked in the masochistic bliss that blossomed from my depths to whisper like butterflies up my spine.  Fuuuuck yesssss!!!

In my surrender, I'd finally found my path to that lost doorway that led to the deepest, darkest, most beautiful pieces of me.  The wicked energy there wrapped around me in loving embrace, welcoming me home.

His taunting, the music, the other vehicles feet away from my open window faded from my world.  Nothing else mattered but my delicate dance with pain.  Wave after wave moved through me fueling more joy.  I was everything and nothing.  Victim and prey.  Conqueror and Master.

His hand backed away from my body for the green light, and words I didn't care about left his mouth.  "Stop talking," I whispered.  All of me was focused on pain's echoes still pulsing in my flesh...an energetic imprint burned into me and licking the dark needy masochist in my soul.  I smiled.

It no longer sucked.  It felt like fucking Heaven.

Thank you, my friend, my BHH, my SWGD, for helping to return to me what I'd been unable to find.  Your presence in my life never fails to change my course.  ~DEEP HAT TIP~
~DominaKat