“What happened to all the sadists? What happened to those who wanna see us bruised, sweaty and crying for mercy but never giving completely in?”
I don’t often speak for a group of people, preferring to speak of my personal experience. But my responses to the above questions received nothing but positive comments, and numerous people began to follow me because of them. So in this instance, I feel comfortable using inclusive language. I’m also going to use female bottom and (mostly) male top designations, as that seems to be the most prevalent dynamic that this comes up in.
Where did all the sadists go?!
Where are all the good predators?
They mean the sadists and predators who know exactly what a masochist needs and how to deliver it. How to take the raw sexual energy and turn it into a play session that’ll be remembered for years rather than forgotten before work on Monday. They mean someone who knows how to take them on a ride worth having and leave their legs shaking and the makeup smeared all over their face. Someone who leaves them knowing they been fucked, just how hard, and smiling for days remembering it through all the sore muscles and bruises.
I know. As a masochist, I want those things too.
As a sadist, however…
I’ll tell you where the sadists and predators are. We’re really smart. We see the jellyfish floating around our shark-inhabited waters, bumping into everything because they are so UNself-aware…and we are avoiding them like the plague.
We read one too many “WAAAAAAH I GOT IN OVER MY HEAD AND HE’S SUCH A CRIMINAL!” writing posted by some chick who can’t take responsibility for her own stupid choices. We realized we can no longer trust a bottom to be who and what they say they are. Yeah, they say they’re so hardcore a masochist; but then they’re whining to stop after five minutes of a moderate spanking because they can’t take the pain. One strike beyond, because it’s hard to stop a paddle in mid-swing when doling out two swats a second, the accusations of consent violation start flying.
It’s a disgusting atmosphere in which accused equals guilty. There’s no room for the smallest error. No room for a simple mistake. There’s no space for being human anymore. The top, the sadist, absolutely must be flawless, must be utterly perfect in every single thing at every single moment.
Cane tip wrapped around an inch too far? Consent violation.
Couldn’t deflate the butt plug and remove it one second after the bottom says stop? Consent violation.
Hugged? Consent violation.
Kissed on the cheek? Consent violation.
Shake a hand without immediate permission? Consent violation.
Hold hands? Consent violation.
Not tell every person in the venue that the scene you’re about to have with someone might trigger someone in the audience? Yup. Consent violation.
Every week there are more accusatory posts, because every week there are stupid people making stupid choices to go where they ought not to be, and doing shit they ought not be doing. Everyone else pays the price, because they cannot, for the life of them, say “Yup, that was me. I shouldn’t have been there. My bad.”
Nope. It MUST be someone else’s fault! Always. To say anything else is victim blaming…even when they are solely the victim of their own foolishness.
We see that shit for what it is. Jail bait. Fortunately, they broadcast their inanity for all to see, so they’re easy to avoid from then on. It’s only that first poor schmuck who is ruined for life for no reason other than to do it. We’re not likely to forget that this guy, that guy, the other guy got reamed by the keyboard warrior mob. We don’t want to be next.
I mean seriously, one errant strike half an inch outside the designated six-inch-wide, three-inch-tall “green” zone and a top finds they’re being lynched by the Court of Stupidity. I mean the Court of Public Opinion. They’re the same thing, so whatevs.
So that means not playing with people we’ve not played with before. It means keeping to the familiar partners. Or not bothering to play at all.
We watched as a stupid fantasy sent in PM (a fantasy based off an episode of The Closer, I’ll point out) was churned around into a fictitious cyberland rape charge by a very small group of consent militants who blew it all completely out of proportion and charged like a herd of cows over the cliff into deactivating their accounts for five days. The most peaceful five days that site had seen in a very long time, I’ll add.
Yeah, we watched that shit with amusement, and we knew exactly what it all meant. It meant it was time to take a step back and let the stand and model parade go by for a while. Stand and model, because very few of the cows stampeding over the cliff were actual BDSM participants. For being such experts on everything, it’s remarkable how little they’ve actually done.
Mmmhm. We saw that shit. Like an episode of Keystone Kops with people slamming and sniping each other all over the place, posting personal information there and on Facebook. We want no part of that shitshow.
We saw where that stampede was heading. We saw this situation coming. We’re not willing to put our reputations, our lives, on the line to play with some chickadee who has no clue what she’s really asking for, or the consequences of her decision.
I know this first hand. I had some chick ask for a caning “but no marks”. I had to tell her that isn’t going to happen. You’re being hit repeatedly by a stick. If you don’t have rhino hide, there are going to be marks. If memory serves, I gave her a five-minute butt warming with a paddle and that was it.
Unrealistic expectations abound, largely because they don’t want to listen to those of us who really do this shit and know what the fuck we’re talking about. They’d rather listen to the lies being told in discussion threads. They want to be told only what they want to hear. They don’t want the truth.
Just fulfill their fantasy, dammit! Don’t annoy them with facts.
We’re not willing to go all in on some bottom who doesn’t want to take the time to talk for half an hour with a complete stranger before going into an intense, to the edge, encounter. If they’re not willing to put in a little time and negotiation, then they aren’t going to get our attention at all. It’s much safer that way.
Nope, they want to skip right over that negotiation thing. Never mind that they are not nearly prepared for what could happen to them. Lack of negotiation is one of the things stated when they make their accusations. They ADMIT they didn’t discuss things well enough. They admit they didn’t bring up this or that. They admit they LIED when asked. Somehow it’s still the top’s fault when things go sideways.
Up pops another writing about how some top wasn’t a mind reader when the bottom didn’t open her mouth and make words to say there was a problem.
We bitch at dudes for thinking with their dicks, but lemme tell you, I have never before seen such a group of twats thinking solely with their pussies.
Are you what you say you are, masochist bottom standing there begging me for a spanking? In ten years of topping others, I’ve only ever had two women who could go as long as I wanted to beat and whip on them. So that’s not very good odds.
Are you WHO you say you are? Will there really be no drama? I doubt it. Those who say they hate drama seem to make the most.
Sadists and predators are not willing to take the chance that you’ll turn out to be some psycho hellbent on ruining their lives because you didn’t get cuddled long enough at the SM dungeon. A friend of mine made a “rabbit in the soup pot on my stove” reference. Yeah, we think along those lines. We see that shit coming.
Are you going to turn psycho because the top you’re done playing with dared to go play with some other chick ten minutes after you walked away?
Whammo, there’s another writing about how she didn’t get sufficient “aftercare” (which is, by their own words, a euphemism for cuddling with these chicks) and he’s such an abusive ass for going to play with someone else.
Lemme tell you something. If you’re looking for cuddling from strangers at the SM dungeon, you’re looking in the wrooooooooong damn place.
Are you going to go insane on him because he didn’t want to be your boyfriend for the next three months after half an hour of play? I’ve seen someone declare that any top who plays with her knows they MUST be available to her for THREE MONTHS afterward, for after care. (does the math…three play partners in one night, twice a month…six men pandering to her “needs” for three months, renewed monthly) That is completely ridiculous.
That’s is a boyfriend fetish and a fear of being alone, not a need for after care.
We’re not interested in being roped into a nonconsensual role as your significant other for quarter of the year over half an hour of patting your tushie. Trust me. Your tushie isn’t that special. Casual play means we both walk away when it’s done, not that we’re tied to you for weeks on end until you find a replacement mark.
I’ve seen one of these people state in a writing that she’s not interested in justice. She’s only interested in destroying someone. I’ve seen another state that she can destroy a top with one post.
Where did the sadists and predators go?
Nowhere. We’re still here.
We’re just a LOT more cautious nowadays about our casual play.
This is the bed made by all those chicks who knew they didn’t belong in the first place, and the militant consent crew that twists everything they don’t like into the worst of consent violations because they have nothing better to do that day than cause trouble where there wasn’t any.
This is the bed created by party promoters who decided the nillas (and their money) coming in the door were more important than the actual SM practitioners. This is the bed created by the Dungeon Monitors who tell hard players they can’t play hard anymore because the nillas will get scared. Or who tell those hard players to wait until later in the evening to play. You know, after the non-participants go home and won’t get scared by what they might see.
This is the bed made by all those people who put ticket sales and group membership numbers ahead of quality and experience.
They’ve left you, masochist wondering where the sadists/predators have gone, to lay in it.
I know it’s not a comfy bed. I’m a sadomasochist. I see it from the perspective of the sadist top who has to be extremely careful, and I see it from the perspective of the maso bottom who craves that intensity and absolutely means it when I say “MOREMOREMORE Please don’t stop!” I have told more than one top that, within the boundaries of the party’s rules they could not possibly violate my consent.
“What happened to those who want to see fire and spunk??”
They’re waiting for the brat-fad crap to be over, and for submissive to mean NOT the boss of everything again…because that bullshit gets fuckin’ old fuckin’ fast.
“Where are all the sadists/predators?!”
They both standing together on the sidelines, watching the circus and shaking their heads…and protecting their asses by not playing with or getting into a relationship with people they don’t know well enough.
What did you think was going to happen?
TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She’s been doing this BDSM stuff for 30 years in private and 10 years in public venues.
She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty fiction books that you can find on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2
She enjoys crochet, coffee, and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.