When a vanilla man flirts, he wraps you in a bubble of sexy playfulness, and after that, you live happily ever after (until you leave him for fucking you to sleep the missionary way.) When a sadist flirts with you, you feel as though you’re being pushed through an obstacle course complete with spikey double entendres and sheer drops into nothingness. He’ll pull your hair and walk away. He’ll tell you no… then yes… then no again. He’ll push and pull until you feel like a jack-in-the-box. He’ll demonstrate just enough interest to throw you off balance, and then behave as though nothing ever happened. If that sounds like a miserable experience, D/s is probably not your kink (and that’s okay.) If it sounds hot, you and I have a few things in common.
But fuck sadists anyway.
For vanilla men, flirting means expressing attraction. For sadists, it means feeling for the dynamic that emerges organically between you. It also makes them assholes. Delicious assholes, yes, but still assholes.
I kinda like assholes, though, as long as they come with a good dose of ethical thought. As with all power exchange, there’s a bold red line between fun and nonconsent, but I’m not the kind of creature wants to negotiate every lighthearted interaction. For me, there’s little as enchanting as a sadistic fuck who knows how to stretch you out of shape and who’s in no hurry to break the sexual tension. Sometimes, not fucking is even hotter than fucking, and you only get to enjoy it once. After you’ve crossed all the sexual hurdles, you can never go back to not having done so, so you can have your negotiated or short-lived flirtation, and I’ll hold onto all the kinky assholes.
Fuck them, anyway, though. Seriously.