Welcome to Ask a Cleveland Sex Therapist. Want to ask Matt a question that could be tackled in a future column? Click here. Now, onto this week’s topic.
Hey Matt,
Why do people find pain to be such a turn on?
– Kim
When I reflect on some of the most misunderstood concepts within the realm of human sexuality, kink and BDSM are at the top of the list. Specifically, the idea that people could find pleasure in experiencing pain tends to blow people’s minds. Now I get it, you may be thinking, “why would anyone like that?” Honestly, fair question. We are taught from a young age that pain is usually associated with something “bad,” a consequence of our actions or feeling we want to avoid. But what if I told you the connection between pain and pleasure is so deeply rooted in us that you might even start to notice it in yourself? Enjoying consensual pain is not weird or pathological. It doesn’t automatically mean you have trauma. It isn’t a milder version of self-harm. It’s simply one way that humans (complex, sensory seeking, emotionally driven humans) explore intimacy. So Kim, join me as we dive into this wild world of pain and pleasure and see if we can’t make it become a little less mysterious.
Let’s begin with the part most people don’t realize: pain and pleasure aren’t opposites. In fact, they share a surprising amount of brain real estate. When the body senses pain, the brain responds with endorphins and enkephalins, which are natural opioids. They soothe the pain, sure, but they also create a warm, “I could sink into this” feeling. Add dopamine into the mix for anticipation and reward, adrenaline for intensity, and oxytocin for connection, and suddenly the right kind of pain transforms into something pleasurable or even euphoric. That is why the slap on your butt during sex or the pinching of your nipples may feel so good! It’s the same reason people love roller coasters, tattoos, marathon running, spicy food, and cold plunges. Kink is just another place where people seek it.
But context is everything. Your body interprets pain wildly differently depending on whether it’s consenting and safe. If you stub your toe on a dresser at 2 a.m., which is unfortunately something I do quite often, your nervous system screams “danger,” while you scream expletives. There’s no negotiation, no trust, no erotic meaning. But if you’re in a consensual kink scenario or scene, one you’ve talked through, agreed to, and feel connected in, your brain shifts the entire experience. It says, “This sensation is chosen. This sensation is safe. This sensation has purpose.” When the meaning changes, the chemistry changes. If I can choose the pain, I can experience it differently. That is how people reach “subspace,” that floaty, out-of-your-head, deeply embodied state that can show up during impact play. It sounds mystical, and maybe not interesting for some of you, but it’s just neurobiology responding to safety and intensity in the same moment.
I would kick myself if I did not write about the myth that refuses to die: the idea that interest in kink must come from trauma. Not everything that is not considered “vanilla” is because someone has experienced immense trauma. The Sexual Health Alliance wrote a fantastic piece on this, and it echoes everything we see in actual research. People who practice BDSM do not show higher rates of psychological distress, nor do they have higher rates of childhood trauma. In fact, some studies show they often report equal or even better mental health and relationship satisfaction. What is true is that some people with trauma do find healing in kink. This is because it can give structure, clarity, control, and predictability, which they may not have had before kink. It would be doing a disservice to the complexity of human sexuality if we reduced kink to just trauma reenactment, because that simply isn’t what the data shows.
There’s also the relational side of kink that most outsiders miss entirely. Kink is built on communication. Before any scene, people negotiate boundaries, share desires, ask questions, and establish safety protocols. During the scene, they check in, monitor each other’s body language, and adjust based on real-time feedback. Afterward, they offer aftercare (i.e. a moment to reconnect, soothe, hydrate, and emotionally integrate the experience). If anything, kink requires more emotional intelligence, not less. Some of the couples and polyamorous folx I’ve worked with who have the strongest communication skills are also the most delightfully kinky. Kink, and more specifically BDSM, don’t have to be so scary.
Let’s talk a little bit about if you’re someone who’s curious about exploring the fun world of pleasurable pain. First, you don’t have to jump into the deep end. I wouldn’t recommend it. You don’t just jump out of a plane when you want to skydive. You talk to others, emotionally regulate, and take it slow. Sensual pain is the same way. I don’t want curiosity to feel shameful for anyone. You can go slowly, communicate clearly, and explore sensation with intention. Quickly, a note to licensed mental health professionals, stop shaming your clients because of your own internal biases. When therapists stop pathologizing kink, clients stop carrying unnecessary shame. When clients stop carrying shame, they actually get to experience their full erotic selves.
As I wrap up, let me just say this: we like what we like. Sometimes that includes sting, pressure, intensity, grasping, restraint, heat, or the sweet hum of sensation that sits right on the edge between pain and pleasure. Sometimes we like to be spanked, pinched, slapped, or bitten. Our brains are wired for complexity, not purity. They respond to context, not sex negative morality. When there’s safety, pain doesn’t stay pain. It becomes connection. It becomes pleasure. Pain is just another language we can learn within our erotic selves, and like any language, it’s meant to be understood, not feared.
Matt Lachman is a Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor and Supervisor, AASECT Certified Sex Therapist, and owner of Cleveland Sex Therapy, located in the heart of Gordon Square. Since opening Cleveland Sex Therapy in 2019, Matt has been dedicated to promoting sex positivity and inclusivity in his work with individuals, couples, and polyamorous relationships. When he’s not helping clients navigate their sexual and relational journeys, you can find him enjoying a cold brew at Gypsy Beans, sipping a cocktail at Luxe, or relaxing on his couch watching reruns of Happy Endings. Ask a question of your own here.
Disclaimer: The advice provided in this column is intended for generalinformational purposes only and should not be considered a substitute for professional therapy or mental health treatment. Each individual’s situation is unique, and the insights offered here may not address the complexities of your specific circumstances. If you’re experiencing challenges related to your mental health, relationships, or sexuality, I strongly encourage you to reach out to a licensed therapist or mental health professional for personalized support. You’re not alone—help is available.
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