Pain, at its essence, is a multifaceted experience: it’s how we intertwine physiological responses with psychological interpretations. To our bodies, pain is often a warning sign that tells us, “Hey, something’s wrong! Alert!” But for those who tend to lean *towards* some consensual discomfort and suffering, as opposed to away, the difference between “this is what I want!” and harmful damage can often be razor-thin.
This becomes more and more true with certain kinds of edge-play or with capital-S Suffering, but truly, this matters for any of us: one of the things that we go over in my class on pain processing is the role that our own natural fear of damage plays in catastrophizing what’s happening in a scene. For me, something that’s been particularly helpful in processing pain is taking a moment to tell myself, “Okay, I’m responding this way because my body wants to prevent harmful damage, but I know some ways to evaluate if this pain is ‘okay’ or not… and when I go through those measures, it is — so I can now eliminate the panic element of this and allow myself to enjoy it” (whether “it” means the pain itself or the act of Suffering for my partner).
I recently asked my mailing list for their questions about pain and masochism, and this question came up more than any other – and I’m glad, because this is both a pain processing tool in that way I described above and a way that both tops and bottoms can evaluate when something *does* need to stop so that we can stay safer and within our risk profiles as much as possible. So while there are exceptions to everything you read here (or in most of my writings, tbh), here’s are some of the ways you might distinguish between the “good” and the “bad” when it comes to pain.
1. Intensity
Pain we can usually manage:
This is the easisest measure, because pain we can usually manage often feels like “hey, this is pain I can manage!! When it doesn’t, it’s something that you might describe as “challenging,” like what some of us experience during an intense workout. It’s the kind of discomfort that makes you grit your teeth and push forward, not the kind that makes you want to throw in the towel.
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
This is the kind of pain that stops you in your tracks. It’s sharp, severe, or simply unbearable. If you find yourself seeing stars or unable to focus on anything else, that’s often your body waving a big red flag – and it’s true, some of us *do* still want that feeling of unmanageable (guilty), but we can try thinking about it this way instead: consider your reasons for engaging in this play (whether that’s pushing yourself, bonding/intimacy with your partner, a new experience, or whatever else). In the moment of the pain that feels unmanageable, can you still remember your intention and place your attention there, even through the intensity? If not, it could be time to end the scene.
2. Duration
Pain we can usually manage:
Particularly with impact, good pain happens as it is happening and quickly backs off, at least a teeny tiny bit. Most of what we do in play will hurt past the moment of hitting the skin (or piercing or whatever it might be), but it’s like a wave and backs off in between. If you pause to get a drink of water, you shouldn’t be hurting the same amount you are at the moment of contact. And though this writing is meant to be more about evaluating in-the-moment during play, good pain usually follows a predictable healing timeline. You might experience some muscle soreness for a day or two, but it shouldn’t overstay its welcome.
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
Bad pain persists even during breaks. There is no “wave” to the sensation, or maybe it even worsens (in ways that aren’t expected based on the kind of play you’re doing). This may be a flare indicating that something unintentional has occurred.
3. Location
Pain we can usually manage:
Good pain largely shows up exactly where you’d expect it to. Your upper back is being flogged, and your upper back hurts. You are receiving an electric shock to the calf, and you feel it on your calf. It *makes sense*. And though there are exceptions, we most often feel it on our skin and in our muscles.
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
When pain shows up in unexpected places, it’s nearly always cause for concern. If the discomfort is radiating to other parts of your body than where the play is happening, there may be something else going on. And even if they’re *near* that location, feeling pain in bones and joints when it’s happening on soft tissue is usually a warning sign. This also applies to pain felt unevenly: if you’re being hurt the same amount on either side but are feeling it asymmetrically, this is sometimes Not Good. (Though to be fair, it also is sometimes a sign that your top is not right-handed/left-handed and you’re at a bad angle for their good arm.)
4. Quality
Pain we can usually manage:
This does depend on what you’re playing with, and “pain that makes sense” applies for this measure too. Sharps feel sharp. Thuddy toys feel thuddy. Stingy ones sting. During breaks, you might describe this kind of pain as an “ache” or “soreness,” or sometimes as a “burn.”
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
If you try to describe your pain and the first words you reach for are ones like “stabbing,” “shooting,” or “electric,” these are potentially problem signs (excepting, of course, where they would make sense – yes, needles feel stabby and electricity feels electric, don’t @ me). And if you’re experiencing numbness, tingling, or unusual weakness alongside the pain, that’s nearly ALWAYS your body telling you something’s amiss.
5. Impact on performance
Pain we can usually manage:
There are more exceptions to this category, but while good pain might take some focused processing or even come with a feeling of “I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” it doesn’t necessarily bring you to an abrupt feeling of “STOP THIS NOW!” Where it does, you can still take a moment to consider and recognize that part of this impulse comes from fear of the next strike or escalation, not just from the physical sensation. We may associate words like “pushing through” with this kind of pain, and we often adapt to it and can enjoy it more over time (both in the immediate and in the long-term).
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
Unlike its “good” counterpart, bad pain tends to cause an immediate and significant drop in your enjoyment of a scene. (Notice I didn’t say of the activity — like how I mentioned being able to re-focus on your reason for play in the “intensity” section, you might really be suffering through something but still able to enjoy that act in the “good pain” category, whereas maybe not so much here.) It might also come with other symptoms, like nausea or blurred vision. Bad pain isn’t the only thing that can cause those items by any means at all, but it certainly *can* cause them.
6. Psychological response
Note: this is the one with the MOST exceptions, because some of us really do love playing with Suffering, fear, and other emotional “negatives.” If you don’t play that way, however, you might consider the following:
Pain we can usually manage:
Good pain often comes with a sense of accomplishment. You might find yourself energized, focused, or turned on by the sensation. It’s challenging, sure, but in a way that makes you feel alive and empowered (even if you integrate power exchange elements and don’t feel *powerful*).
Pain that’s more of a warning sign:
Bad pain often comes with a side of dread. If you find yourself feeling anxious, fearful, or regretting your decision to engage in the activity, listen to those instincts. They’re often your subconscious picking up on signals that something isn’t right.
These measures allow us to introspect as to if the pain we are feeling is really connected to its physiological cause, or if the psychological of “pain = warning” is making it seem worse than it is. You’d be surprised how much better you’ll find you are at pain processing if you can say, “Okay, nervous system: I know that this physical sensation is you trying to tell me we’re in danger, but here’s why *I* think you’re wrong.” And there are other things we can do to help ourselves and our partners tell the difference between these two kinds of pain too, like establishing personal baselines and paying attention to posture and other elements that could be exacerbating pain unnecessarily – but as a very, very general guide, those are a few of the things I think about.
Finally, I’ll say what I always am sure to at the end of this section of the class: pain that doesn’t meet these warning sign descriptions doesn’t automatically mean there isn’t harm being caused (especially with damage that accumulates, like nerve compression), and “good” pain may STILL be something that you reach an “I don’t want to be doing this anymore” point with, for any of a vast multitude of reasons… and that’s okay! Certainly, harm isn’t the only reason to end a scene, and I’d say that in an ideal world, that’s never what causes us to end a scene. So please don’t take from this that you shouldn’t stop if you are only falling in the “pain we can usually manage” zone.
Learning to differentiate between productive discomfort and harmful pain is a skill that develops with experience, and there’s no one-size-fits-all. I Love consensual pain (obviously), and I personally find that Suffering in a way that pushes back on what my brain wants to tell me is okay is exhilarating, and transformative, and incredibly intimate. And that’s something that’s most certainly achievable without it coming at the cost of long-term health or the activities we value most. The key, as with anything else that happens between people, is awareness, communication, and aiming to never stop learning about your (or your partner’s) own body and mind.
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