Because I Can

Originally posted on Yahoo 360 on Sunday February 10, 2008 - 06:21pm (CST)

Music throbs out of the speakers. Johnette Napolitano sings soft and low. Then the beat picks up and her voice gets louder as she begins the refrain “Because I wanna! Because I can!”

Listening to Concrete Blonde always makes me want to hurt somebody, in a very good way. (Un?) fortunately for Terry, he’s usually the one nominated these days. “Here, bunny, bunny, bunny” I call in a soft, slinky voice. And like a moth to a flame or a sailor to the call of a siren he cannot resist the pull.

I’ve hurt my little bunny a lot this week. 3 nights in a row I’ve tormented him just for the pleasure of making him wiggle and whimper and cry.

Horrible of me, isn’t it?

Well it would be, if it wasn’t for the fact that being hurt solely for the sake of my pleasure is what he likes best. It’s another one of those odd topsy-turvy quirks that makes life style kinksters so incomprehensible to outsiders. How, why, what is wrong with you people? What twisted type of person likes to hurt, and who is warped enough to take pleasure in causing that pain?

We are. And quite frankly we refuse to be ashamed of it.

For Terry, hurting for me is an offering, a gift, a testament of his dedication to me. The practice of offerings of pain and suffering is as old has human history; initiation rites, religious rituals, purifications, coming of age ceremonies…just about every culture in the world has used pain or deprivation to mark transitions. Life itself begins in a tide of pain and blood. Why wouldn’t it be natural for humans to turn back to those same things to begin new phases of that life?

But what about me? Why make someone suffer if they don’t have to? Simple. Am I to deny someone so dear to me the thing his soul most yearns for? What love or care would it show to deprive him of his deepest need? I hurt him because he needs to hurt, and because I know how to do it safely and carefully to make sure he is not harmed. Second to that there is the alchemy worked in a scene, the strength and determination forged in the heat of the pain. Each lash burns away more of his imperfections, bringing him closer to being the best man he can be.

Yes, I take pleasure in his suffering, but I do so because I know there is pleasure in it for him, too. I feel his joy in the sting of the whip, the delight in boasting of what he’s taken. These are old motives; primal motives that are mostly forgotten in our world of SUVs and instant gratification, but they should not be. The power in learning to survive an ordeal is a timeless lesson. We learn it proudly.

Ms. Betty