Suppose, hypothetically, as a small thought experiment, that you were in fact a sadist. Not in the way that the BDSM community actually means, but that your sexuality hinges largely upon causing harm to others and that there is nothing safe, sane, nor consensual about it because ssn doesn't quite tickle your fancy. It is, to you, akin to playing house instead of being a home owner. Suppose further that as a consequence of this sadism clashing with your superego you opted to live in near celibacy, save short and controlled dalliances with your preferred sexual partners, but that you found these to be unsatisfying because they lacked your, ah, preferred flavor palate of sexual enjoyment. So you return to a sort of enforced celibacy which, in retrospect, probably did a great deal to contribute to the sort of repressive habits that created your unusual characteristic in the first place.
Now you're an adult and have a problem: you can't stave off your own sexuality forever. Nor do you particularly wish to. It's simply gotten to the point where you wish to have fun, but you also want to retain your humanity. How does one strike a balance between the satisfaction of one's own bestial nature and one's need to live decently? How does one find that razor's edge upon which to perch and remain there? On the one side is self-righteous suicide, and the other monstrosity, and in the middle is perhaps civilization.
So while I ask of you a specific question, perhaps the line of query can be asked more broadly: how does one find internal balance?
You idiot. stop reading de sade NOW. you speak like a wanna-be from 1824.
However, bit more specific pls. What is it that gets you off/what you're craving?
This is relevant to getting good adv
>you speak like a wanna-be from 1824
My diction and vernacular is modern, though my speech is quite so formal as to rigid. Ask me how I know that you don't rub shoulders with the elite.
>What is it that gets you off?
Things both exquisite and varied. If I were to conjure a particular scenario from the front of my mind, then I might call up the following: imagine a beautiful woman. She has a pedigree. She has education. She has social influence. Her family has money. Imagine that she also has a secret that she wants nobody to find out about. Let us suppose that she would choose to be subjected to quite a bit torment before letting this secret out in the open. Perhaps it would mean destruction. And so we begin consensually, only not. Perhaps with set of very special acupuncture needles that, when struck with picks, produce musical notes through intense vibration, planted by some amount of medical training near enough to important nerve clusters to, ah, tickle them. In accompaniment, suppose we have other implements of a grim nature. I leave some of those to your wild imagination. Suppose now that there's a limit to pain that our lovely creature is willing to endure, and we won't push her past it, but we will probe her depths. She will grovel, among other things.
Suppose that you were someone whose mind spat up such things unbidden, but that you were, in fact, in possession of an intact conscience and capable of guilt. What now?
Not in the least. You know a tryhard by their limited vocabulary, and when they deliberately pull out a handful of three syllable words that they remember from a high school english, history, or science class that aren't actually very impressive. They are also marked by their use of words that are fundamentally superfluous to what they are trying to communicate. There is no fat for trimming here.
You're offended because you can almost hear the sneer in my words and feel my contempt dribble across your face, and you seek to return the offense. But you don't quite grasp why calling someone a tryhard and a redditor isn't quite the barb you had hoped. Hence my oozing smugness.
Because I enjoy such variety that I haven't the patience to describe the full panoply of pleasures I would partake of.
I'm a masochist in a pretty tame way in that I like to be taken forcefully with very little foreplay and choked out. This proclivity has led me to unconsciously pick lovers who are sadistic not just in bed but out as well. I don't enjoy the psychological sadism at all. So I'm interested in people like you in myriad ways.
>Suppose that you were someone whose mind spat up such things unbidden, but that you were, in fact, in possession of an intact conscience and capable of guilt. What now?
Maybe go to Literotica where your obviously towering creativity and linguistic abilities would be better appreciated?
Post a picture of yourself
>>mfw I'm the sadist in an S&M relationship that doesn't involve safe words and the only rule is no visible scars.
>>mfw op is a fag who probably resembles DeSade physically and tries over compensate for his hideous features with excessive verbosity.
I disagree. I think he's probably gorgeous (I've noticed that anons tend to be surprisingly sexy-looking, but that might just be due to extreme youth).
Fat/unattractive people are rarely sadists. Sadists can practice and get away with things only good-looking people can.
Hurting people gives you special satisfaction because at one time in your life, probably when you were a little kid, you found that you were unable to get attention by acting "good." But you found that by acting "bad" you could get the attention you needed.
Hah. Using anti-bullying seminars that are coughing up a very psych 101 concept regarding children with insecure attachment to their parents being unable to distinguish positive attention from negative attention is something I'm not surprised that the education system has brought back into vogue.
Now how did I know that about you?