The Soul of the Sadist

On my partner’s computer in Their home office, there is a row of sticky notes with positive affirmations. Most of them relating to Their work, but one of them stands out as a little different:

“I like doing awful things, but that doesn’t make Me an awful person.”

i got a question this week in my Instagram inbox (did you send me one too and didn’t get a reply? i remember it exists maybe twice a year, sorry – nothing personal!) about, well, exactly that. How does it work feeling comfortable with my partner being a Sadist? How do i know that i am safe, how can i even feel safe, knowing that They enjoy hurting me and seeing me suffer? Does Sadism indicate that someone is a bad person?

So i sent a fairly long response, but as always i have excessive thoughts. And it’s not an uncommon – or unreasonable – question. Sadism is scary, often that’s the point.

So first, let’s circle back to that sticky note.

When me and my partner first started dating and were figuring out O/our shared kinks, i introduced Them to one of mine – verbal degradation. They’d dabbled before, but previous experience was pretty limited to a few “mean words”, as They put it. my idea of a good degradation scene involves tapping into real, deep insecurities. i want to be genuinely upset – if it’s done well then it turns me on, if it’s done really well then it doesn’t – because i’ve mildly dissociated and i’m crying too hard to be horny anymore. my partner was up for having a go, and They turned out to be exceptionally good at it. They are wickedly creative, impressively nasty, and oh yeah – They liked it too. A lot.

And then They had to process that. W/we did a few scenes like that in pretty quick succession, and sometimes half an hour of aftercare cuddles and some reassurance that yes, They were doing it right was all They needed. Sometimes They needed more reassurance – confirmation that i really did want that, and i knew They didn’t mean those things. Every once in a while it hit Them really, really hard, and W/we needed deep chats to navigate what They were feeling.

They’d come face to face with something in Them – a previously unexplored area of Their own Sadism – that scared Them. They had questions – what kind of a person would say things like that to anyone, much less someone They love?

So W/we talked it through, and somewhere in the conversation from the things i said to reassure Them and the things They said to argue with Their own mind, out came the sticky note. “I like doing awful things, but that doesn’t make Me an awful person.” Words to live by.

Because an awful person – a Sadist who just wanted to hurt people and didn’t care about the harm done – wouldn’t be asking those questions. An ethical Sadist probably will, at some point – though i do hope that as understanding around kink improves and shame diminishes people become less afraid of their own desires. But even without that self doubt, the guilt, the shame, the confusion – there are a hundred ways to see the proof a Sadist cares.

It’s in the way my partner checked on me multiple times a day after a minor injury i got during play with Them. It’s in the days where i’m rotting on the couch with flu and i say “free use still applies” and They say “go to bed and get some rest.” Possibly followed by “silly boy.” It’s in the way that when W/we still used safewords, if i called “yellow” They would fully stop, check in, and proceed with caution even if all i’d needed was a quick breather. And it’s outside of O/our play too – it’s Them driving me to Asda at 9pm to buy a giant dinosaur stuffie, finding they’re sold out, and driving another 12 miles to find it at another store. It’s Them letting me loose on O/our home with the Christmas decorations and giving me free rein because i never decorated for Christmas before. It’s in every little moment – the random acts of violence and the soft moments between.

The internal emotional and (sometimes) sexual reaction of a Sadist seeing someone in pain might not be hugely different between a sadistic serial killer and an ethical Sadist. What they’re feeling is probably in the same genre of experiences at the very least. But the values, empathy levels, and behaviour couldn’t be further apart. my partner enjoys inflicting pain – both physical and emotional – on willing partners who are actively seeking that pain and consenting to it. i’m a masochist, so W/we fit together well. They are horrified by the thought of inflicting pain or harm that They didn’t intend (like an accidental injury during play), or doing anything that wasn’t consented to. They have no interest in doing the things W/we do with someone who doesn’t share O/our desire for them – They seek mutually satisfying violence with masochists who like it very rough. An exact mirror, in fact, of what i look for in a partner – a Sadist who can push me hard and help me break, and gives good cuddles afterwards while i’m floating around in space.

So – what kind of a person would say and do those terrible, awful things to anyone, much less someone They love?

my partner would, and does. The person who promised to love me like i’d never been loved before and delivers every day. Who knows all of my stuffies by name, and has conversations with my cats (“We’ve discussed this,” They say helplessly, as the cat sits down on Their keyboard again). So when we had those big talks, this is what i told Them:

“Your Sadism is a gift. That gift is what makes You capable of intimacy with someone like me.”

Because i can be punishingly hard to reach. My masochism and my submission are primarily sexual and form the basis of almost all of my desire – but it’s more than that. They create the spaces where i can let myself be vulnerable, where i let myself be seen. Where – perhaps most importantly – i let myself be ugly, messy, raw. When i first met my ex-wife They didn’t see me without makeup for six months. We lived together after two – i was sleeping in it. In vanilla relationships i’ve avoided sex because i was bloated or had razor burn and didn’t want to be seen “imperfect”. Now i’m in a relationship where pissing myself while i throw up and cry all at the same time means W/we’ve done it right. i let myself me known, i let myself be seen, and masochism – though definitely not the only way – is something that carries me there. My guard cannot be up when it is being broken to pieces right along with me.

Trust is earned – and my partner proves every day that they deserve mine. But feeling that trust, as a traumatised person who’s been hurt too many times, is often difficult for me. That intimacy – that raw, dark, magic intimacy – lets me know Them in a way where the trust is not only easy, but inevitable. i trust Them more than anyone i have ever known. i feel safe with Them – not only because They demonstrate Their commitment to my safety, but because They create a space where i can be truly psychologically safe and work through the hypervigilance and fear that kept me in survival mode for years. i know They are a good person – not only in the way i see Them treat me and others, but on an instinctive level that only comes from gazing into another persons soul. i do not feel these things in spite of my partner’s sadism, but partly because of it. Because of the vulnerability that comes with showing another human being the most strange and twisted parts of yourself, and having them accept them, and accepting theirs in return. W/we are fluent in a love language not many want to speak, but for U/us it is one of the most powerful ways that W/we communicate. And i wouldn’t – no, couldn’t – have it any other way.