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Masochistic Me free porn video
Masochistic Me
By Cal Y. Pygia
Late in purchasing a home computer, I was late in surfing the 'net.
However, when I first took to cyberspace, spending hours perusing porn,
like any other red-blooded, all-American boy, I soon discovered
spanking, both as it is represented in drawings and photographs, still
and (in the form of video clips) moving. I also discovered Literotica,
to which, by today's count, I have submitted (lovely word, that!) over
682 works, about half of which are poems. The remainder, the prose,
essays and stories alike, fall into such categories as BDSM, gay male,
transsexuals and cross dressers, how to, humor and satire, celebrities,
incest/taboo, exhibitionist/voyeur, and nonhuman. Predominant among
the stories are those involving gay male and transsexual characters.
My BDSM stories are mostly about spanking: "A Lark" ("A dare brought
them closer together--much closer!"); "A Tale of a Tail" ("Sarah Owens
tries on the beast within"); "First-Timer," Parts 1 through 5, in which
"a sadistic Dom punishes his male sub," using his hand, a paddle, a wide
belt, and a narrow belt, before the psychological effects are detailed
in the first four parts' "aftermath"; "Hanky Panky" ("He was about to
learn what it's like to be a woman scorned"); "Lysistrata Revisited"
("Aristophanes' brilliance saves the day. . . again"); "Nothing At All"
("Spankings are fun - for the spanker"); "Nothing At All: Alternative
Version" (a gay version of the original heterosexual version); "Quality
Control" (a five-part series in which a scientist discovers the lesbian
lurking within her sadistic self); "The Princess of Pain" ("Which suitor
would win the princess' hand?"); and The Sarah Owens Story (a 23-chapter
novel in which the protagonist, a cheerleader, submits to her new
coach's unusual, but successful, sadistic coaching methods). In
addition, some of my other stories (and many of my poems) also contain
spanking scenes, although they are not themselves primarily about
spanking.
One of the benefits of writing erotic stories is that doing so helps one
to identify the topics of one's sexual interests and to explore the
meanings and the implications of such interests--in short, to know him-
or herself better, both sexually and personally. As anyone who's given
thought to any sexual interest knows, it is extraordinarily difficult to
understand why a particular behavior, such as being spanked (as opposed
to spanking, which is an altogether different experience), is so
overwhelmingly attractive. From the perspective of one who is
willingly, even gladly, spanked, it seems as if the experience attracts
him or her, rather than his or her being attracted to it. The
individual who bares his or her buttocks to another to be humiliated and
spanked by the spanker is hard-pressed to comprehend his or her motive
for such behavior. The aching desire to be spanked is a mystery that is
seemingly impenetrable to both understanding and explication.
It isn't, though. At least, it (finally) is no longer so for me.
Such enlightenment has been difficult, certainly; I puzzled over my
attraction to being spanked, off and on, for months, if not years,
until, in writing the last installment of my "First Timer" series
("First Timer: The Aftermath"), I confronted this question head-on, in
the very first paragraphs:
Gary had taken his clothes off in front of another man. He'd allowed
another man to spank him with his hand, to paddle him, and to beat his
ass with two belts. He'd let another man turn his ass from pink to red
to purple. He'd drunk another man's piss. He'd sucked another man's cock
and swallowed his ejaculate. He'd allowed himself to be reduced to
tears, humiliated beyond belief, and physically and emotionally abused.
Why? What had possessed him to acquiesce to such maltreatment? More
importantly, what was the matter with him that he'd permitted such
mistreatment to begin with? Where was his self-respect, his self-esteem?
No man who cared about himself would do the things he'd done.
Why had Gary?
He was submissive--but what did that mean? He liked to please. He hated
to say no. He wanted to be popular. All his life, he'd wanted others to
like and to accept him. He was acquiescent, compliant, obedient--in a
word, submissive. Although these words defined him perfectly, Gary had
long pretended otherwise, claiming that he was rebellious,
insubordinate, resistant, and, if not dominant, assertive. His behavior
today, in this motel room, with Russ, showed which of these two versions
of himself was true. Gary was a wimp. He'd done everything that Russ had
ordered him to do. He'd proven himself to be Russ' servant, Russ' slut,
Russ' bitch. Although he'd tried to reject it, the truth was, as he'd
found out, that he was a dependent personality, unable to think or feel
or judge for himself. His sense of self, like his sense of self-worth,
depended upon other people--people who were only too happy to use him
for their own purposes and pleasures, as Russ had done and would
continue to do, if Gary allowed it, which, of course, was so likely as
to be a foregone conclusion.
It was said of actors and actresses in general that they lacked a true
self. Therefore, they were able, as it were, to become any character.
People with fully developed identities, it was said, had much more
difficulty in pretending to be other individuals. Ray Bradbury had
written a short story that seemed to support this idea. In his story, an
extraterrestrial shape shifter took whatever form people wanted him to
adopt, becoming a son to a childless couple, a brother to an only child,
or a child who'd been slain in an accident. The problem for him was that
everyone he met wanted him to be someone other than himself, and, in
trying to please everyone at once, he overstressed his vital organs and
died. The moral of the story was not lost on Gary, but he'd found a
solution. Although a person couldn't please everyone, he could, at least
sometimes, please one person. For the present--and, Gary hoped, from now
on--this one person would be Russ. By satisfying and pleasing Russ, Gary
could find acceptance, an identity, security, and, eventually, maybe
even a semblance of love.
But there was another reason that Gary had allowed Russ to use him. Gary
regarded himself as a loser. He was a nobody and a nothing. He was so
worthless that he deserved to be punished, and, since he was infinitely
unworthy, he deserved endless punishment, the crueler the better.
Through suffering for others, he might, someday, become worthy by
providing a worthwhile service, as had, for example, the whipping boys
of the middle ages. It was unseemly that a prince should be spanked or
beaten, for he was of royal blood. Therefore, when it was considered
necessary that a wayward heir to the throne be disciplined for
misbehavior, it was not his ass, but that of his stand-in, the whipping
boy's, to be flogged. Gary saw himself as serving a like function for
men who were, by virtue of their dominance and aggressiveness, his
superiors.
By serving and servicing Russ' needs and desires, by fulfilling his
every whim, Gary would be sacrificing himself in the interest of Russ'
emotional and spiritual health and happiness. As a result, by making
himself useful in this manner, his own otherwise miserable existence
would become worthwhile; he would, over time, perhaps thereby redeem
himself. That which was unworthy might become worthy. Of course, the
spankings would continue, even when he had become worthy, for they
alone, along with the other services, such as fellatio and his imbibing
the golden nectar of Russ' bladder, would continue to make him worthy.
Russ was providing an even greater service to Gary than Gary was
providing for him, for it was Russ' use and abuse of him that bestowed
upon the worthless Gary whatever worthiness he was thereby given and by
Russ' use and abuse of him that Gary continued to maintain such
worthiness.
These revelations did not come to Gary immediately. They were insights
born of hours of reflection concerning why he took pleasure in being
used by another man and why he felt joy at being abused by another man.
However, once Gary had attained this wisdom, all the many spankings he'd
received during the set that Russ had bestowed upon him during their
first session had been well worth it. Now, for the first time in his
life, thanks to the help of his mentor, Gary had come to understand who
he was and why he was as he was. A great, perplexing mystery had been
resolved, and the pieces of his personality had, as it were, come
together, completing a whole of his fractured psyche. By the stripes
that Russ had inflicted upon Gary's satin-smooth buttocks, Russ had
healed him. He had made Gary whole.
(For my take, thus far, at least, on sadism, take a gander at my essay,
"Cruel Art," which, I argue, "brings out the savage beast in all of
us.")
Further reflection on the matter has caused me to realize that I have
feminized part of my own personality or, perhaps, in Freudian terms, I
have recognized and accepted my anima as a true and powerful component
of my deepest identity. I do not treat "her" as a woman in her own
right, but as the woman in me, and I generally subject her to the
demands, insults, reprimands, chastisements, and other emasculating and,
indeed, dehumanizing behaviors of others, both male and female, that
anyone must encounter who works for a living, socializes, or simply goes
about the business of existing in a cold, cruel world that he or she
never made. Perhaps, in doing so, I can isolate my anima as the weak,
relatively helpless and ineffective "loser" who deserves punishment
while I, the manly man, remain, well, the manly man. It's an
interesting psychodynamic. (It's also a bit of pain, literally, from
time to time.)
Lately, I have found, quite by chance, another theory that supports the
one that I have already worked out for myself, which I have shared, in a
less-than-clinical, literary manner both in this essay and in "First
Timer: The Aftermath." This theory, as it turns out, was expounded by
none other than Sigmund Freud himself. I came across a summary of
Freud's explanation of masochism in chapter two, "Passionate Fictions:
Radclyffe Hall's The Well of Loneliness," of Jean Bobby Noble's
excellent study, Masculinity Without Men?: Female Masculinity in
Twentieth-Century Fictions (Vancouver: The University of British
Columbia, 2004).
Although Noble's own interest, in this volume, at least, is primarily
related to lesbian literature, her summary of Freud's take on masochism
is too good not to share with Literotica's readers (and writers). The
explanation may have been a long time coming for others, as it has for
me, and, whether one is a devotee of spanking, in either the sadistic or
the masochistic role, a fellow writer who is interested in describing
the pyschodynamics of his or her masochistic characters in a believable
and psychologically grounded manner, or simply interested in this aspect
of BDSM, Noble's summary of Freud's insightful analysis of masochism is
apt to be informative, engrossing, and enlightening.
This, then, is Noble's summary of Freud's take on the topic:
Sigmund Freud (1984) theorized three kinds of masochism: (1) erotogenic,
a primary instinct or corporeal pleasure in pain that is constitutive of
the other two types; (2) feminine, which positions its presumably male
sufferer as a woman whose desires are to be placed in characteristically
female situations like being treated as a small, helpless, naughty
child, being castrated, being copulated with, or giving birth to a
child; and (3) moral, in which "an unconscious sense of guilt" gives way
to a need for punishment. . . . Freud focuses primarily on moral
masochism, which, he argues, begins when "the ego reacts with feelings
of anxiety. . . to the perception that it has failed to perform to the
behests of its ideal, the superego. . . As Freud himself argued, many
of his own patients who were diagnosed as masochistic were either men or
effeminized men who sought to be punished by the symbolic father and to
have passive (feminine) sexual relations to him. For the moral
masochist, the ego reacts with feelings of anxiety to the perception
that it has not lived up to the demands either of the super-ego (the
introjected representative of the parents) or the influences of the past
or traditions of teachers, publicly recognized heroes as authorities, or
self-chosen models. . . . This introjected super-ego may become harsh,
cruel, and inexorable against the ego that is in its charge. So it
becomes a representative of the external world and a model for the
endeavors of the ego. The result is that those suffering as moral
masochists are suffering under the domination of an especially sensitive
conscience and an unconscious untramorality that "provoke[s] punishment
from this last representative of the parents [i. e., a monstrously large
and harsh, indeed, titanic super-ego [and] must do what is expedient,
must act against his own interest, must ruin the prospects which open
out to him in the real world and must, perhaps, destroy his own real
existence" (62).
In the same chapter, Noble also summarizes Theodore Reik's 1941 "study
of masochism," which attributes the masochist's pleasure in pain to a
messianic complex. Basically, Noble says, Reik argues that "Reik's
Christian masochist is both the victim and the victimizer and thus seeks
punishment from within. . . . There is something of the public
spectacle--indeed, one might even argue something of the exhibitionist--
that is constitutive of the pleasurable punishments for Reik's
masochist" (63).
Reik's masochist is identifiable, Noble says, by "four primary
features": he (Reik's masochist is male) (1) "seeks out the gaze of
those who can either reward his deeds or witness his suffering"; (2) has
a need for fantasy, especially one in which he imagines that "what is
beaten is not so much the body as the flesh and, beyond that, sin
itself"; (3) "the suspension of punishment (or reward) for as long as
possible"; and (4) "the orchestration of a punishment imperative where
the masochist aggressively demands punishment to relieve the
accumulating anxiety" (63-64).
According to Reik, Noble says, "Ultimately, or perhaps penultimately,
the moral masochist seeks to be raised on an invisible pedestal and,
eventually, to assume his place within a divine family in the same way
that Christ himself came to be installed in a suffering and castrated
position as the living promise of redemption" (64).
For masochistic me, Freud's analysis better fits my own deepest, if not
darkest, psychodynamics. Unlike many masochists, I neither require nor
desire fantasy, role-playing, or other such imaginative adjuncts to
spankings. I simply want to bare my buttocks to another man (or to a
woman or a shemale, for that matter), be told what to do (e. g., "lie
across my lap," "bend over and clutch the seat of the stool," "stand in
the corner with your hands atop your head"), and receive the strokes of
his hand, paddle, or belt. I also enjoy his rubbing my buttocks between
one set of strokes and another and welcome the honor and privilege of
masturbating him or sucking his cock before, during, and/or after the
spanking session. As one can see, Freud's analysis explains my own
masochism better than Reik's, although I don't doubt that, for others,
Reik's messianic model is more on the mark.
Ultimately, we musty work out the method in the apparent madness of our
own peculiar perversions and fetishes for ourselves, "with fear and
trembling," as the apostle Paul says, concerning another (or maybe the
same) matter, one's salvation. We must examine closely our own thoughts
and feelings, our own pasts and presents, and ask the difficult question
of "why?" concerning our own needs, desires, and behaviors as masochists
(subs) (or, for that matter, as sadists, or Doms). When one has done
so, though, I'm betting that he or she will find that one or the other
of these psychoanalysts will have beaten him or her to the punch and
that his or her own masochism will have been explained, already, either
in terms of "Freud's masochist" or "Reik's masochist." One or the
other, I daresay, will turn out, as Freud's does for me, to be one's own
"masochistic me" as well.
Marisol
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