Sometimes, there is a momentary loss of humanity. It’s the sadistic mindset of Dommespace, and it both repels and fascinates me. I briefly become the sociopath, and the sociopath is commonly thought to be devoid of empathy. Yet it’s the empathy I get off on. In those moments when she is bent over the banister – folded in half, bound, trussed, face contorted, rump held high, relishing the cool smack of my palm across her buttocks – my humanity is lost, yet does not cease to exist. It merely travels. Consciousness turns to thick, sticky liquid, seeps out, moves. The body I inhabit becomes empty. It thrashes mindlessly, laughing, relishing her pain. And my spirit is elsewhere. For a moment, just a moment, it lives within her. I wear her skin. I see through her eyes. Her cries are mine. When the first tear is squeezed out from between her tightly-closed eyelids, I can only equate the sensation to that feeling during the crescendo of a favourite song, the tingle and rush at its familiar melody, the transcendent beauty that makes one’s knees quiver involuntarily. When I give her pain, I inhabit her entirely. I feel it all, and I love it. That, to me, is Dommespace.
You are really an incredible writer, you paint such amazing pictures with words.
When I was first coming to terms with my sadism, I thought of that part of myself as “the beast.” I worried quite a bit about what exactly made me different than a sociopath. Eventually, I realized the empathetic part of me (“the mommy”) was always present too, and that’s what made me an ethical domme rather than a monster. It’s not that my sadism is so different than a sociopath’s, just that I bring something *else* to the table.
It’s nice to stop and stroke a shivering submissive, to know my touch can bring comfort. It’s touching to wipe away the tears, to be the all-loving comforter. And it’s awesome to witness the trust they place in “the mommy,” knowing how hungry “the beast” can be.
While I enjoy both, I differ from you in that the empathetic part is not what gets me off. For me, it’s the screams preceding the comforting that really feed my hunger.
It’s so kewl to “talk” with another sadist; it’s been a while.
Though I am not a sadist, I found that to be incredibly fucking beautiful! Thanks so much for sharing this…gives me some insight…you really put me there to help understand the rush and satisfaction.