From Wikipedia:

“Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing. Dacryphilia is primarily associated with males. The term covers all forms of pleasure from the tears of others. The arousal is achieved when viewing a person in emotional distress. It carries the theme where a person (often a top in a BDSM relationship) induces another (the bottom) to cry, or otherwise show a strong emotion. Dacryphilia is often the basis of humiliation in the ‘pain/restriction/servitude/humiliation’ spectrum of BDSM, for example, a dominant verbally abuses the submissive in order to elicit a tearful response. Similarly, a dominant may physically torture the submissive to draw tears in a pain scene. In this way, dacryphilia is a form of sadism. The psychological aspects of dacryphilia are that the causative entity displays the power to control the psychological response from the receiver. This form of power-play therefore brings pleasure, and for some, sexual arousal. Passive dacryphilia involves a third party who also achieves pleasure in watching someone in emotional distress, usually caused by the scening dominant, though the reason does not restrict the pleasure – a person may enjoy the tears of others despite whatever the cause. Dacryphilia is sometimes used to express the pleasure experienced through one’s own tears, often as an emotional release.”

For me, it’s all about context and rarely about sex, but there is something immensely powerful about seeing a person driven to such extremes of emotion that quite a lot of it ends up leaking out of his or her face. It thrills me. It horrifies me. It gives me that rollercoaster lurch in the stomach. There was a once a chap who came for slave training at Pedestal and his attitude required some adjustment. I explained his errors (in my own special way) and he broke down in tears. It had been a revelation to him, and he left that night as a far better sub – and, in my opinion, a more enlightened and evolved human being – than he had ever been. Under the right circumstances, the sight of someone experiencing a profound emotional transformation causes something deep in my brain to tingle. I see tears themselves as an external expression of that transformation. It’s the beautiful catharsis of it, of that explosive, bursting flood of thought: the ejaculation of the mind.

Or else I’m just a psychopath. It’s got to be one or the other.