But this whole "clean" and "dirty" thing, it doesn't make any sense outside my own body, my own head. It's hard to explain it. It helps that the BDSM community tends to frame pain in terms of techniques and less-subjective adjectives, using words like "sharp" or "sting" or "thud." (A lot of people think of "sharp" and "sting" as the same sensation. I usually separate them a bit more, but I'm not sure how many other people separate them.)
The BDSM and polyamory writer Franklin Veaux defines "thud" as "sensation of heavy, dull impact” and defines "sting" as "sensation of quick, sharp pain." These words are most often applied to floggers (implements for hitting people, e.g.: "this is a thuddy flogger"), but sometimes the words are used for other things too. I've found that I generally prefer thuddy-type pain, for example, but it took me a long time to figure that out, because there are so many specific sharp sensations that I love.
Okay. Now for emotions. This is the really hard part.
A while back I got an anonymous comment on my coming-out story that I absolutely love. Here's a quotation from the comment:
When it came to it, very little about the reality [of BDSM] matched my fantasies. Oh, sometimes what we did matched the way a real-life even can match a fantasy. There were moments that were... Transcendental.
But there were many more moments that... were deeply, deeply conflicted. NEVER expected to feel that much... anger... toward someone dominating me and inflicting pain. I expected it to be a relief. I didn't expect to wrestle with hatred.
He liked to slap my face. Everytime he did it I would feel this burst of pure hatred. At one point he asked if I liked it. I said, "No. I hate it. But I don't want you to stop doing it.”
I can't remember right now if any other "coming out" story I've ever read included such a visceral description of anger. Of course, I think the last time I read one I hadn't experienced it myself. Maybe I never noticed it before, but noticed it this time because it resonated with me. But mostly I remember those stories mentioning fear, shame, worry, and embarrassment.
The events in my coming-out story took place years ago, and my feelings about BDSM are really different now. I remember that I was conflicted, furious, resentful. But at the same time, I have often thought that much of my anger and resentment was due to the fact that Richard -- my first intense BDSM partner -- was not emotionally available. I needed support that he didn't give me. (To some extent because neither he nor I recognized how much support I needed.) And, of course, much of that anger was due to the fact that I couldn't deal with BDSM. I was fighting back against my sexuality, and felt unable to take ownership of it.
As I settled my feelings and reconciled myself to my sexual identity, my emotional reactions became a whole different ball game. (It helped that I dated a string of men who were more emotionally available and assisted me with emotional processing, too.) It turned out that the rage that I had suspected was inextricable from BDSM was, in fact, entirely possible to separate. I entered a stage where I learned how to avoid that anger. To work around it. I learned to sink myself into fear and desperation, which I love, and
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