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Archive for the ‘punching’ Category

Loving Violence – The Power of Punching

Posted by Týr on August 9, 2009

Seeing the empty schedule board at KinkForAll-NYC2 yesterday morning, I decided that that afternoon would bea good opportunity for me to give a quick presentation on one of my favorite kinks, both as a top and a bottom: punching. So in between keeping the event on schedule and before lunch, I jotted down some quick notes about punching, hoping that I had enough to fill my 20 minute slot. It seems I just barely did, so now I’ll put my notes here (and on the KFA website). I’m also mostly going to speak from the position of a punching top, but I do enjoy both topping and bottoming to punching.

Why do I like punching? Well, to me, there are four things about it: it’s a very direct, intimate, powerful, and passionate. And now let me explain what I mean by these terms:

  • direct: there is nothing between you and your bottom. There’s no toy that separates you from your bottom. You feel the same impact your bottom feels, though obviously in a different way.
  • intimate: punching, to me, is a very primal, violent act. To me, someone letting me punch them is a huge sign of trust. Also, by the very nature of punching, you need to be within arm’s length of your bottom. There’s no way for you to not be in your bottom’s face when you’re punching them, so it adds a certain element of “I can’t escape!” to the scene
  • powerful: since punching is, generally speaking, something that is done only out of great anger, letting someone do this out of love makes this so very intense, at least for me. To allow me to turn this angry act into a loving one means a lot to me, and I very much enjoy showing my bottoms this love. They often don’t know just how much love they’re in for.
  • passionate: you cannot throw a punch and do it half-assed. It’s just not possible. Even if you are just going for a fairly light punch, it is going to be very intense. It is a style of play that makes for passionate play, whether you want it to or not.

Additionally, if you are stronger than your bottom, it is a lot of fun to man-handle your bottom. If you’re punching your bottom’s chest and you decide that you want to move on to their back, just pull them up, flip them around, and shove them back against whatever they were leaning against. There’s quite the power rush that comes with that kind of physical domination.

I got to say, as a top, I really like to bruise. I really enjoy knowing that the next morning, when my bottom wakes up and gets in that early morning stretch, they immediately have to cut it short because of the bruises. So please be aware, your bottom will bruise. I, personally, when I get punched, rarely visibly bruise. But a bottom I play with often bruises quite nicely, and the evil person in me really does enjoy poking at the bruises, quite literally, the next day. Also, the next day bruises are often lovely, or as Maja describes them, “tasty”, reminders of the previous night’s fun. And playing lightly with bruises is really fun, no matter what role you’re playing.

Finally, we get to where to punch. Punching is generally done wherever you do other kinds of impact play: the big meaty areas, like the chest, upper back, thighs, shoulder. Avoid joints, kidneys, like you do with flogging or caning or somesuch. I tend to avoid forearms and calves, but I find them not substantial enough, but I suppose your mileage may vary. As for technique, a great hint that I received was to “aim 3 inches below the surface of the skin.” Let me explain what that means: if you are at arm’s reach, then you end up slowing your punch already by the time you fist is about to impact, because else the rest of your body will follow your fist across the room. Clearly this would not be good. So, if you position yourself so that full extension means you’d end up “3 inches below the surface” your fist will impact while still moving at full speed, leading to a much more satisfying blow. And finally, you want to punch with more than just your arms. If you only use your fists to punch, you only end up with a jab. Now, this can be fun if that’s what  you want. But if you want throw as much power into your fist as possible, then you have to use your whole body. I wish I had a martial arts background to explain this better, but basically your entire body has to be in motion for a punch to be as powerful as possible. Your knees, your legs, your torso, your upper body are all driving your arm forward and your arm itself is doing any of the effort.

So that’s my presentation on Punching in a nutshell. If you were at KFA and saw me present and have any questions or things to add, please comment. I’d be glad to address any questions you may have, possibly at other KFAs. I’m thinking about doing this at KFA-Boston in September, so making this presentation better would be much appreciated. Any and all feedback is welcome.

Posted in emotions, intimacy, kink, pain, punching, sexuality, switching | 6 Comments »

tears of joy?

Posted by Týr on January 9, 2009

Shortly after waking up a few days ago, I asked Maja to hurt me. I don’t know why, but I had been craving to be punched for a few days. Luckily, she decided to punch me. I don’t really know how I went from enjoying punching to enjoying being punched, but I have taken quite the liking to the occasional beat-down. I suppose I could explore this, but not now.

I don’t quite remember what inspired both of us to play heavier than we usually do, but we did. Maja pushed my limits, and I responded by asking for more. When she hit me even harder, I asked for more still. Blow after blow landed, always on flesh that was already bruised. At times I moved my hands over chest to give myself a small reprieve. “Move those hands out of my way!” And each time I’d move my hands and grab a hold of our headboard so I could last a few more blows before I gave myself refuge again. And each time I looked forward to more beating. And each time I was dreading the pain. This is how it continued for some time: blow by blow, more and more pain, me covering myself, her ordering my hands away, me gladly, reluctantly, gladly complying, impact upon impact, until finally I said “yellow*.”

Maja gently tumbled next to me onto the bed and gathered me into her arms, while I gathered myself a tiny bit, getting my breathing a bit regular again, enjoying the dull ache on its own, without any other impacts, feeling my chest be sore when I inhaled, letting that feeling become a more regular, noticed feature of living. After about a minute, Maja looked up at me and asked me if I could go on. I nodded as eagerly as someone so conflicted only can. As she climbed back up, straddling me, I looked up at her and asked her to make me cry. A wicked gleam shot through her eye. She asked me “Are you sure you want this? Because I won’t let up until you safeword or you’re crying. No backing out.” Realizing that she was serious, I gulped and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure.” I wanted her to have my tears, which she’s wanted from me for so long.

So I moved my hands back to headboard, grabbing hold so I could once again put off protecting myself. She began by punching my chest again. This really hurt, and while I cringed and winced like never before, I wasn’t getting close to tears. Maja noticed this, and decide to switch tactics. The sides of my rib cages exploded in pain as her hands came down hard and fast, slapping my sides again and again. My tears were almost there, but that alone couldn’t quite get them out, no matter how hard she slapped them, no matter how often she slapped me again and again. Finally, she decides that she is going to dig her fingers into my newly tenderized sides. Each finger, distinctly, yet in one giant clump, try to burrow through my ribs, nail-first. This is too much, and I start bawling. Having gotten what she wants, Maja redoubles her efforts, trying new spots to dig in, pressing harder. I sob, having trouble getting myself together enough to say “red**”, my senses informing me only of the attack on my rib cage and, like some forgotten attention-hungry kid, the recent pummelling of my chest. Finally, I gather my wits enough to blurt out “red” before rolling over into the fetal position, big huge sobs erupting between my tears.

My first instinct is to curl up in a ball, inside myself, try to get distance, find a safe place. But I realize that I had asked her for this. From her. If I hadn’t mentioned it, the thought of making me cry would never have crossed her mind (well, at least at the time). So I realize that I have to give myself to her so that I can be put back together. After 20 seconds of sobbing I force myself to turn around again and find the nearest crook of Maja’s neck to just live there, in her arms for a bit. The arms that love me. The arms that beat me. Because they love me. But fuck, they made me cry!

My breathing calms down as Maja comforts me in words that register as speaking, but they have no meaning. The words wash over me, but I only register the soft, affectionate tones of voice. She takes her hand, gently lifts up on my chin, and kisses me. I feel like I threw my arms around her right then, because that seems like the kind of thing I’d do, but I honestly have no idea.

 The morning didn’t end there, though the inflicting of pain did. Throughout the rest of the day, and every now and then for the past few days, I’ve been conflicted about that scene. Actually, about the crying part only. The rest of it was really hot. The punching, the stern tone when I’d cover myself, forcing my arms to stay out, making me vulnerable, all that I’d want to do right now if I could. But something about the crying bothers me. I am normally fairly controlled in my emotions, and I suppose that letting myself be forced to cry (which is really what that was) just isn’t my thing. I don’t know why this is, really; I just like keeping my composure. Sobbing, to me, is most definitely not that. But I’ll gladly take everything else, before and after the crying.

And because Maja is the one who made me cry, I’ve been resenting her a tiny bit, even though that is retarded. I mean I did ask for it. I knew it would make her happy, because omg has she talked about wanting me to cry. Still, if I could have the rest of that scene but not the tears, I would be much happier. See, looking back on this scene I quite enjoyed it, even the crying. However, the crying bothered me, both then and now. Do I want to try it out again? Be made to bawl again? Maybe. I’m not averse to it, even though I really didn’t like it. I know that Maja did though.

But is that enough to make up for it? How much should I be willing to do something I don’t enjoy for her sake? And I don’t mean “not enjoy” the way some enjoy being single-tailed. I mean legitimately not enjoy. Didn’t like it. Yet I’d do it again.

Why is that? Am I looking to make Maja happy? Am I looking to lose that control in a controlled environment? Is this my body’s way of telling me I have too much sodium in my diet? That’s really the part that’s confusing me right now: why do I want to do this again when every part of me is telling me to recoil and run away. Do I want to do this again? I feel like each half of my mind is controlled by opposing forces. I’ll probably go down this path one more time, slipping and sliding on my tears as I go.

So go ahead, make me cry, but don’t you dare touch me.

 

* “yellow” = don’t end the scene entirely, but stop hitting me for now

** “red” = the scene is entirely done. no more.

Posted in crying, emotions, fear, intimacy, kink, pain, punching, relationships, sexuality | 6 Comments »