Why Do People Enjoy Pain? Benign Masochism, Kink and the Second Arrow

Picture a table at a taco stand. Someone reaches for the hottest salsa, eyes watering, forehead damp, grinning. Nobody calls this strange. Yet when the same delight in intensity shows up on a massage table, a rollercoaster queue or a consensual kink scene, people start asking a question I hear constantly: why do people enjoy pain?

The research gives a surprisingly elegant answer, and it lines up with one of the oldest teachings in Buddhism.

Why do people enjoy pain? The benign masochism theory

In 2013 the psychologist Paul Rozin and colleagues published a study with the memorable title "Glad to be sad, and other examples of benign masochism." They surveyed 243 university students and 147 adults online about 29 experiences that start out unpleasant: chilli burn, sad films, frightening movies, painful massage, bitter coffee, exhaustion after exercise.

Many of these were rated as genuinely enjoyable. Thrill rides, spicy food and physical exhaustion sat near the top. The most telling finding concerned limits: 59 percent agreed that their favourite rollercoaster was "the scariest I can put up with." People often seek the edge, just below what they could bear.

Rozin's explanation is benign masochism. The body reacts as though something is wrong: heart pounding, mouth burning, tears rising. The mind knows the situation is safe. That gap produces pleasure, a felt sense of mastery, of mind riding the body's alarm. The authors also describe a protective frame: some psychological distance that tells you this is chosen, contained and survivable.

Anyone who practises conscious kink will recognise every element. Negotiation, safewords and trust are the protective frame. Within that frame, sensation the body codes as alarming can be experienced as intense, clarifying and even joyful.

Pain and pleasure share wiring

Neuroscience supports the idea that pain and pleasure are closer neighbours than we assume. In a 2008 review in Nature Reviews Neuroscience, Siri Leknes and Irene Tracey described extensive overlap in the brain regions that process painful and pleasant sensations, with the opioid and dopamine systems modulating both. They also noted that pain and reward processing can inhibit each other, which helps explain why context changes everything.

Field research on kink adds texture. In a 2009 study in Archives of Sexual Behavior, Brad Sagarin and colleagues measured cortisol and relationship closeness in 58 practitioners before and after consensual scenes. Cortisol rose during the scene for those receiving sensation or following instructions. Afterwards, participants whose scenes went well showed lower cortisol and reported greater closeness. The samples were small and self-selected, so I treat this as a promising signal that invites more research.

The second arrow

In the Sallatha Sutta, the Buddha compares an untrained person in pain to someone struck by an arrow and then, immediately, by a second one. The first arrow is the physical sensation. The second is everything the mind adds: resistance, fear, the story of "this should not be happening." The trained practitioner, the text says, feels only the first arrow.

I find this the most useful lens on chosen intensity. In a well-held scene, or in a cold plunge, or on the meditation cushion during a knee ache, you get to meet sensation with the second arrow set down. The story of victimhood falls away, because you chose it. Panic finds no footing, because the frame holds. What remains is raw sensation, and many people discover that raw sensation, fully met, has a brightness to it.

Yogic traditions speak of tapas, literally "heat," the disciplined endurance that purifies attention. I present this as a contemplative framework, and it resonates with what practitioners describe: intensity, met with presence, can become a doorway to stillness.

A practice: meeting the first arrow

You need nothing kinky for this. Use a cold shower, a spicy bite, or holding a deep stretch.

1. Before you begin, set your frame aloud: "I am choosing this. I can stop at any moment." This is your protective frame.
2. As the sensation arrives, label it precisely in three words: hot, sharp, pulsing, tight, bright.
3. Notice any second arrow: thoughts like "too much" or "I hate this." Name it silently: "story."
4. Breathe out slowly, longer than the in-breath, and return attention to the bare sensation.
5. Stop well before strain. Afterwards, sit for a minute and notice how your body feels. This is your aftercare.

Over time, many people find that the gap between sensation and story widens, and that this skill travels into ordinary life: difficult conversations, grief, physical discomfort.

A note of care: chosen intensity is different from self-harm or ignoring injury. If pain is persistent, unexplained or tied to distress, speak with a doctor or therapist.

Explore sensation, power and trance inside a fully held container at the Hypnotic Kink Retreat in Tulum, 14 to 19 November, by application.

Related reading

• Subspace, Measured: The Neuroscience of Altered States in BDSM
• BDSM and Mental Health: What the Research Actually Shows
• The Science of Surrender: Agency, Trance and the Freedom of Letting Go

Sources

• Rozin, P., Guillot, L., Fincher, K., Rozin, A., & Tsukayama, E. (2013). Glad to be sad, and other examples of benign masochism. Judgment and Decision Making, 8(4), 439 to 447. Full text
• Leknes, S., & Tracey, I. (2008). A common neurobiology for pain and pleasure. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 9, 314 to 320. Record
• Sagarin, B. J., et al. (2009). Hormonal changes and couple bonding in consensual sadomasochistic activity. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 38(2), 186 to 200. PubMed
• Sallatha Sutta: The Arrow (SN 36.6), translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight