People often draw analogies between things in kink sex and vanilla sex. They do this sometimes out of necessity and sometimes out of a desire to avoid the overhead of defining every term they use, but mostly they do it (as I’m about to do) because it’s something they’ve heard done before.

I’ve never “flown” in a scene. That is to say, I’ve never “checked out” or “seen my body from outside itself” or “felt like the pain was sexually pleasurable,” or many of the other things lots of people who do what I do and claim similar labels as I claim have often told me about their experiences. Typically, they call this experience flying, and I’ve usually heard it discussed as though it was the BDSM version of an orgasm.

Well, if flying is the BDSM version of an orgasm and scenes are the BDSM version of sex, then I’ve never come.

Of course we all know that different people play differently and for different reasons and different goals and it’s all good no matter who you are or what you’re into or whatever, but whenever this subject gets brought up it makes me feel a little anorgasmic in regards to kinky things.

A part of me is always wondering if I’m just too technically-minded, too focused on comparing experiences with descriptions that I’ve missed the boat already in the same way vanilla people sometimes seem to me to be so concerned with orgasms and ejaculations that even when they experience them they sometimes didn’t know that they had. And then part of me says to myself that it must be practically impossible not to notice something like an orgasm (“oh, you’ll know!”), so a kinky scene orgasm should be similarly impossible not to notice, and since I’ve never noticed one I’ve probably never had one.

A lot of people talk about flying by talking about how pain, when experienced at a certain intensity, rhythm, and circumstance, makes the rest of their existence kind of fade out and brings into focus only the lovely sensations of the moment. I can understand that very viscerally; one of the reasons I love BDSM (and kinky sex, and sensual experiences in general) is because they help me get out of my head and into my body, for lack of a better description at the moment.

However, these same people tell me that the pain is sexually exciting. That’s not something I can relate to. Friends have told me stories about whippings and beatings that have left them wet or hard and rutting in place, making their very thought processes change somewhat dramatically. I wonder what that sort of an experience would be like. It honestly doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me, because as I’ve said before, pain doesn’t turn me on.

As a perfect and somewhat humorous example, take a very sexy takedown scene that happened recently. Having been pulled away from Eileen for purposes completely unbeknownst to me at the time, I got worried about her when a friend said they had ended their scene because Eileen seemed “a little ADD at the end.” Strange, I thought, Eileen only gets that way when something is wrong. I should go check on her.

I quickly turned around and started walking back toward her when several more friends appeared and stopped me. No, hang on, I told them, I need to check on Eileen and make sure she’s okay. Then, when they pulled a hood over my face and quickly grabbed me by my limbs, you want to know what my first thought was? It was:

Oh, this is a takedown. Eileen’s probably fine.

This was no surprise to Eileen, who later remarked, I knew your brain would keep working. It did. My second thought was, “In takedowns, the victim gets to struggle. I’d enjoy doing that!” So of course I struggled as much as I could while staying (as) careful (as I could) not to inadvertently kick the wrong person in the genitals.

This illustrates a very typical experience that I have when I play: I’m very often completely conscious of what’s going on and very aware of the reality of a situation. When Eileen and I play with knives, I’m not scared that she’ll purposefully cut my throat, or gouge my eye out, I’m scared that she’ll do it accidentally. (The risk is what’s appealing.) When she whips me, I’m often adjusting my position and I’m motivated to do so by the conscious awareness that my back is no longer straight after that last stroke and that it should be made straight again, or that the sound of the whip and the feel of the air it pushed toward me means the whip is approximately four inches in that direction so I should turn appropriately.

Really, and I’d hate to destroy people’s illusions of my kinky sex if they have any, but I’m actually extremely unsexy in my head when I play. Rational thought processes are not really that sexy no matter how you try to dress them up. Everything sexy is entirely about emotion.

Getting beaten with a nightstick is just that; a stick and a body. It’s all very mechanical and not very hot. However, with some feeling in there, like being forced to the ground and invited to violently show the emotional aspects of aggression by fighting back, then physically losing and giving in to overwhelming force, now that’s sexy.

It’s very, very hard to get me out of my head. The only two things that have ever succeeded in doing so have been intense pain and intense pleasure (not necessarily orgasmic pleasure), and even these things don’t manage to do it for very long stretches at a time. The way lots of people describe flying, it seems as though they experience some kind of emotional or spiritual climax too abstract for words. This is all wonderful, but is far too abstract for me.

I don’t deal very well with abstracts. I’m a rather technical person, obviously, so I like things that make sense and which are grounded in rational thought. When people try to explain things to me that they say are based on “auras” or “energies,” I usually just smile and nod. I have no problem with these things, most recently evidenced by a sudden interest in my social group with tantric practices, but I’d prefer to keep a critical eye pinned consistently in that direction.

So when I think about flying, in all the experiences I’ve had the one that comes closest to it has been getting suspended in rope bondage. Because that’s when I was in the air, swinging around, and that’s what flying means to me.