I live and write BDSM. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
When i looked at the picture that Kayla had picked, I giggled. I awwww'd at the line she wrote about me. I was pondering before church what I'd write since I had to write after missing last week from being too depressed, with Kayla having picked my picture. As amusingly happens, I did some of my best writing during church- thank goodness I'm a Unitarian Universalist :D. I started from the little bits of interaction that happened between my Master and I the night I took the picture and The Queen turned it into full out ageplay.
"Are you trying to take a picture of your pussy?" Master asks.
"No, Master." I giggle. "Daddy, I'm trying to take a picture of my fun, new socks!" I grin as His wrinkled nose; no Daddy during sex, but He's never quite said it squicks Him enough I should never say. I mean. He jokes and calls me Mommy.
He's at the door, leaving for work.
I dance, run toward Him, hopping and yelling, "Dangly bits! Dangly bits!"
"I'll give you dangly bits," He mutters as He grabs me around the waist for a hug. He kisses my forehead before leaning over further to kiss to my lips.
"Are you going to be good and write instead of playing games?"
I wanna see how far I an push ageplay, But no. I don't want more lines. "Yes, Master. Masturbation Monday needs written."
"Do we need to discuss when you can masturbate again?"
I pout. "Um, maybe, not really, Master."
"Okay, after you write a good bit."
"Yes, Master. Love You, Master." I watch Him walk out the screen door before shutting the storm door.
Spell check completed. Word count- 900 words. Post setting up tomorrow; I'm pretending I have a bed time.
"Lay down, little boy," The Queen coos at Gaelan.
He looks so good on my Master's side of the bed. I turn on my side, my greedy fingers between my thighs, wanting to watch.
"I think you need your Daddy tonight," The Queen continues. He brushes his finger down Gaelan's jaw, his fingers moving slowly through the thick beard.
"Daddy?" Gaelan echoes.
"Yes, your Daddy."
My middle finger slides into my moist twinkle cave as The Queen tenderly rubs Gaelan's chest, up and down strokes that encourage my finger's movements.
"Good boy. Relax into the rubbing." The Queen leans over to kiss Gaelan's forehead. "Should I make Joelle tell you a story as I rub you or would you like a Daddy story?"
"I think Joelle needys a story too, Daddy," Gaelan murmurs.
Needys? Beyond needys.
"A little boy grew up in a house without enough love. Still a little boy on the inside, he crossed a great big pond. Sad and big tears followed him to his bed. Then he meet his Daddy. His Daddy was always ready to give kisses and cuddles because he loves his little boy to the moon and back. Daddy didn't have a Mommy to give his little boy, but he did have a sissy to share."
My orgasm explodes around my stilled finger; The Queen's parted but unspeaking lips tell me he knows. I kiss Gaelan's cheek and close my eyes.
"Sissy loved Bubby as Daddy loved her. She loved watching Daddy help Bubby feel better."
I cuddle up to Gaelan's side, my arm over his broad chest; The Queen begins to rub Bubby's belly.
"Daddy's Gods say we should love each other, that we are all family. My sweetie boy, my loving girl. Daddy is here, no matter what. Daddy does not ask you to be anything, but your cute selves."
I swallow as the wonky, not physically encouraged orgasm kisses me, like The Queen's lips moving from Gaelan's forehead to my own.
"Are you read for sleepies, little loves?"
"Yes, Daddy," Gaelan and I answer together.
He's here to tuck me in like Master does on His nights off when He sees I need it.
The Queen places Ostara puppy against my back as the virtual realness of Gaelan's sweetness warms my front. He takes my sticky fingers from between my thighs and likes them clean. "Good night, little loves."
Watch for links in this one- I'm sharing a bunch today...
I'm writing in my blog creator today. Yeah, after everything went so wrong on my previous blog and I lost anything that wasn't on my computer, I've certainly pondered doing this. You see me fresh out of the shower after I overdid physically activity outside and didn't drink enough; thankfully my sun block clothes from Coolibar protected me and I was just dehydrated.
I won't lie- I've been struggling. Various things have been hard. I'm feeling a super lack of socializing, which seems paradoxical given the fact that I have had "chat" back off on Facebook because someone got bent out of shape when I felt the need to speak a part of my truth. I just turned "chat" back on because I needed to PM an author friend after I won an ebook in a Facebook group "takeover."
This week, I've missed both Masturbation Monday and WipItUpWednesday blog hops. I hop to manage Masturbation Monday next week, especially since it's the final Monday during National Masturbation Month. Of course, WIP was its own issue this week because last week I finished sharing a big sex/BDSM scene from "Out of the Night: Book One" from the Vala's Story-verse; I'm not sure what I want to share there as I've finished "Night" and have it with beta readers, finished "Gates of the Garden: Book Two," and am currently working in "Skipping Down the Primrose Path: Book Three."
I've been doing pretty good with my vlog. I just finished a script about the idea of "Mx. Right" and I started working on something about my thoughts that Vala's Story is a serial, not a series, and how I've stopped using the word around of "series/serial." So I've been trying not to stalk my view statistics, although I can't deny that I look maybe once a day or so because I did look up the rules about monetization on YouTube and while I don't expect to be the next big YouTuber, my family's finances are such that any small bit of money helps. Right now I have 7 vlogs up.
I'm thinking to get posts up maybe today (Friday, when this will post), Saturday, and Sunday. I hope to. I have one vlog almost ready to upload. However, I also have an 18 year old who didn't go off to college and she wants to go to the mall etc. I just want to make it to the mall without her and have maybe an hour or two of writing without the constant interruptions that writing in the living room and being the fixer of everything (or so it seems) is warrant to.
So it took me a few days to get to writing this even though the inspiration picture told me where to start among cramps that had me not writing. I've been neglecting my girlfriend, except when we're doing UU Lent conversations and so she slipped into this piece :D
"Look at you, still tied up. Shaman forget about you?" Audrey grins at me.
"You know He wouldn't do that," I protest.
"Still it looks like I can enjoy you in a less-than-vanilla situation." Audrey drags her finger up from my cunt lips to just below my collar. "Oh and I notice he only tied one of your hands." She lifts her hand from my throat.
"So are you being a good submissive and begging for your orgasms, since you know that makes him happy, even when he doesn't specifically say you have to beg?"
"Uh." I suck her fingers into my mouth when her fingertips rest on my lips.
"You can still answer me with your mind, dear heart. Let's not play this game."
I think to Audrey, "I try to, when I think to, especially since He got out the beater stick."
"If he didn't forget you, tell me why you're like this, baby?" Audrey pulls her fingers out of my mouth and kneels between my bound open legs.
"He had a coughing fit and needed to get a drink." My lips part and a moan sits in my throat as her fingers slip shallowly into my cunt and asshole.
"No need to let your hovering orgasm get too far away from you." Audrey moves her finger in a small circle in my cunt. "Squeeze my finger," she urges.
"Yes," I hiss as I bear down on my love's precious fingers inside me.
"Remember that you aren't coming until you're able to beg Shaman for permission," Audrey teases as she leads my unbound hand between my legs.
My toes curl underneath the cuffs around my ankles when my fingers come in contact with my slightly sore clit. "Why must you be such a tease? We're supposed to be vanilla."
"Because I'm enjoying myself and vanilla isn't quite as strictly defined anymore. I'm sure Shaman'll be back any moment now. And I can feel how ready you are to orgasm all over my fingers. To cover me with your Joelle juices."
I bite my bottom lip. "Why is it sexy when you say it like that?" I think at Audrey.
"Because I'm not laughing as I say it." Audrey turns her head toward the door. "And there he comes. Maybe I'll be back later when you're relaxing to slumber and we can enjoy some vanilla loving time then."
I struggle to squeeze her fingers harder so she can't take them away from me, but she disappears just the same. "Please, Master," I beg as He picks up the suede flogger again.
"In a bit," He promises.
Isn't Audrey such a tease? Or maybe it's me that's the tease :D but anyway, if you click on the banner for Masturbation Monday or "picture," you can enjoy the other hot, greedy handed writers this week encouraging you to take you orgasm in your own hand :)
Ha! You thought maybe with that picture that you were heading toward some ageplay? Nope :D
You throw me down on the bed. "Are you my slut?"
"Yes, Master," I moan, lifting my ass and thrusting my hips back at You. Please, please.
"Your cunt's so wet." Your hand moves over me, first across my clit, into my cunt. You spit; I hear the sound, feel the wetness dripping down my asscrack. Then You finally push two fingers into my asshole.
"Wet... for... you... Master!" I can't help it; I'm fucking Your hand. "Please fuck my cunt, Master! Please fuck my ass and fill it with Your cum, Master!" I feel the bed move with Your weight. Thanks the Gods!
You pull your fingers out and wipe them on my inner thigh. A ringing slap echoes through the room. Then You grab my asscheeks and spread them apart before thrusting hard into my cunt.
"Thank You, Master. Thank You!" I'm not sure if my words are as audible to You as they are in my head. I think for a moment how I taunted, teased tonight, how I made sure You could see my cunt lips when I bent over in my short skirt.
"Your cunt and then your ass?" You pull my hair, pulling my face away from the bed.
"Please, cunt, ass, Master. Please." I cry out at another unexpected slap to my ass.
"You've been a rotten tease all night, why should I do what you want?" You slap my ass harder.
"Please, I beg, Master. I beg!" I draw in a harsh breath but it gets stuck in my lungs when You thrust Your cock into my ass; You were right. I am so wet that my cunt juices worked as good as lube. "Yes! Please use my ass, Master. Use my ass hard and fill it with Your cum, Master!"
You squeeze my asscheek and slap it. "Hard?"
"Yes, hard, harder, please, I beg You, Master!"
"Spread your cheeks for me."
My hands shoot behind me and my fingers press into the hot handprints You've left as I spread myself to allow Your cock to go farther into me. "Master, please fill me. I beg You to fuck my ass until You fill it with Your cum, Master. Please, Master. Master."
Your grunt washes over me.
I close my eyes to focus on the sensation of Your cum shooting into my ass. "Thank You thank You Thank You! Master! Thank You, Master! Thank You for filling my ass, Master!" I scream.
You fall down to the bed, pinning me beneath Your body.
The orgasm that had started to wane powerfully shocks through my body again.
Your harsh breathing strokes my neck. You roll onto your side, taking me with you. "You mind me waking you, using you as my fucktoy, and filling your ass with my cum?"
I whimper softly. "Never, Master. Thank You, Master. Love You, Master."
"Love you too, fucktoy."
Was that difficult for you to read? Did you find the language hard to deal with? Cunt, ass, fucktoy, slut. These words are heard on a regular in my bedroom and I love them! While Master had only only recently started using fucktoy when I first wrote this reblogged story, He's taken to using it commonly and I love it! This is even language He'll use with me outside of the bedroom, as long as we aren't among too hopelessly mundane people. Mind you, if anyone besides Him directed those words at me, I'd be mighty pissed; I accepted His collar- doesn't make me a doormat for the world!
Now wanna read something funny? When I'm reading other erotic fiction- whether it lays more between the lines of "pornography," "erotica," or "erotic romance"- I find much of the word choice frustrating. Words like "core" and don't get me started on phrases like "love button" (instead of clit or the medically correct, clitoris). These words meant to be gentler, unoffensive to women, those irritate me, often enough turn me off. Of course, I'm learning to calm my reaction to them; I've found many writers like Sue Lyndon who uses terms like that in some of the historical spanking fiction she has written and published.
It all comes down to perspective, I guess- "core" is more acceptable, it seems, but I'd rather read "cunt."
Moments of BDSM. That's definitely a part of my perspective. Sometimes I get so frustrated reading about "sessions," "BDSM club play," "play time." I forget which post it was in or who said it, but I loved a recent comment "... life tinged with BDSM." As the lifestyle submissive in a long time couple where we have family obligations, a companion animal (a previously cat as I reblog this), a teen and her live-in boyfriend, and lots of other things, several hours taken for a scene isn't very realistic. So I wanted to look at the moments of BDSM activity, interactions that can tinge my world.
"Master, any plans today?" I finish drying off, pull my damp towel into place on its bar, before stepping out on the bathmat that He's just stepped off of.
He brushes his hair, stroke after stroke, and in its wetness, it reaches toward the longer hair that he had when we first met.
The first strike falls and I wobble, moan. I press my hands flat against the bathroom wall as He delivers several more swats with His brush.
"Don't give me that," He laughs.
"No, Master. That felt good, Master," I purr. I let go of the wall and resume getting ready for the day. I guess I go do author work and wait on seeing if I can guess His plans or if He'll tell me.
I may hate my mother, but grandparents are good for some things, I think as I wander back into the living room, naked and carrying a dish of ice cream. "Ice cream, Master?"
His fingers are rapidly moving over His keyboard. "There, thanks." He points at an empty spot on His laptop desk.
I set the bowl down and start to move away. I gasp at the unexpected blow across my chest; I hadn't noticed Master picking up His back scratcher. "Thanks, Master," I whimper as the arousal zings through my body again. I arrange my body over the arm of His recliner, my legs spread to help with balancing over 12-packs of soda and everything else collecting on the floor.
The back scratcher falls on back, hard and harder. I'm glad my cunt is above air, not the chair arm, or there'd be an embarrassing wet spot when I get up.
"Give me more than a few minutes warning before you go to bed and we'll have some fun with the beater stick," He says and I shiver; I've finally learned to like that particular toy. "Maybe I'll even get out a clothespin or two."
"Yes, please, Master." I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as some weird collision of wanting to address my Master as "my Queen," arousal, and thinking on how often I've written some slave doing what I just did with my lip and my teeth happens in my addled brain.
He laughs. "Go back to your writing."
"Yes, Master." I notice my legs are still shaking as I drop into my armchair and flip to the OpenOffice file I'm working in.
I stand beside the table where Master is playing Warmachine.
Master's left arm snakes out to wrap around my waist. "Why are you frowny?"
"I'm frustrated," I lower my voice, not knowing the guy He's playing against, "Master. Struggling to write."
"I could take you out back and whack your ass."
I grin. "That'd help."
He's back into His game so I don't try to explain what I'm writing; it looks like a teaching game.
Good gamer wife, I think as I wander back to where my computer is set up in a cubbie. His words echo in my brain, keeping time with Marilyn Manson's growled, snarled lyrics. High ponytail, the hair divided into two braids- hopefully it's gets Him into the mind, the mood for something more... and our being awake, being interested come together at the right moment.
I stand just inside the bedroom; I take in a deep breath. Master complains I strip out of my clothes too quick so I'm just gonna stand here a moment.
"Good girl." His large hand squeezes the back of my neck without warning.
I nearly fall to the floor at the praise, the phrase making me so ready. I'm glad for the sundress, its only-for-looks straps.
He grabs at my dress at my waist and starts pulling up handfuls of fabric. "You were teasing me and every guy at the store with your hard nipples showing through this dress." One of his hands moves over my chest, sliding over the soft cotton dress.
I groan at the sensation of His hot hand against my nipples, which have gotten even harder.
Then He's back to lifting my dress, my naked skin bared to His touch. He pulls it over my head and tosses it toward the hamper. He shoves me toward the foot of the bed.
Tripping over dog bedding, I find my upper body pressing into the comforter.
His phone makes some sound; I'm not sure what it is.
"Maybe that's Your mom or a job calling back, Master?" I suggest, nonetheless trying to hold onto the moment.
He stuffs a dirty sock of His into my mouth. "Stay," He orders as He goes to check His phone.
I slowly come into consciousness, still groggy from last night's play. I shift my hips and cuddle against Him.
One hand comes into my hair and He drags me down the bed.
I open my mouth and breath in as I come close to His cock. Morning wood, such a fun phrase. I groan as His hard cock shoves into my mouth.
I love not having the moment to compose my body before He uses my mouth for a hole.
So I needed to write a word cloud... I thought I'd share... this is what happened :D
Bipolar, Aspie, Autistic, chaotic, chaos theory of organization, organization by piles, submissive, BDSM, non-monogamous, hyper-polite, social justice, learning, autodidact, technology sucks, Unitarian Universalist, atheist, sun allergic, vampire, abusive survivor, rape survivor, rebel, mouthy, angry, educator, home educator, constant panic, overwhelmed, loud music, folk music, rap, bisexual, pansexual, BDSm-oriented, noetisexual, mental life, online life, writer, storyteller, uptight, clothing performance, mom, gender, questioner, animal lover, tattooed, swearing, My Little Pony, 4, distrust, distrust of cops, activist, political wanderer, not a doormat, fierce, wrong, processing, mansions of thought, sex, sexual educator, freak, non-mainstream, gender non-conforming, long hair, balance of "natural" and chemical, med non-compliant, messy, meltdowns, "never the daughter they wanted," "produced the grandchild they didn't want," vegan, vegetarian, hypoglycemic, energy drink addicted, "wired wrong," Audrey dolly, The Queen, Vala's Story, spanking, transgender, intersex, trans-attracted, noeti-relationship, cuil, cuilmate, burden, incompetent, disabled, neurodivergent, not dating, Mx. Right, physically mostly able, impatient, appears to have unending patience, debilitating periods, distrust of any medical health professionals in the course of their job, non-gaming wife, pseudo privilege, dysfunctional, singer, can't dance in front of people but can fuck, not person-in-the-pew, lay leader, story-verses, mixing of seemingly unrelated things, Jelly Bellies, Pinkie Pie, "totally random," LGBT, alphabet soup, Intersectionality, trying to make sure I don't repeat myself even though I always do, liberal, Jamberry, stimming, needing pictures in a word cloud, anorexic, emotional eater, author, nudist, clothing optional, homemade tshirts, vulgar tshirts, characters who live in my mind, dark, pain, ache, feminist?, the wrong type of woman, sex worker, whore, second chances, serial, series, serial/series?, random humor, cry ugly, cry alone, cry where no one can see it, service, servant, the past is always in this moment, family is not only determined by blood, Anne Rice theory of erotica, goth, unbalanced, maladjusted, masks, trying to appear mainstream, trying to appear neurotypical, technological challenged, overshare, giving, TMI
⚧ That's one symbol missing from the above picture. I find it ironic as the short poem I'm sharing, my first post for Rainbow Snippets, is about nonbinary gender and my "gender symbols" picture is missing any of the symbols that nonbinary people use for themselves. I'm still reeling from something transphobic someone said in my name. This poem came from my feelings about that.
My genderqueer friend--hir gender isn't a role
Ze is genderqueer at hir core--gender assignment doesn't asked the assigned
It's not for me-cisgender- to understand--just for me to respect
Enby exist--just for me to respect
I once thought just men and women existed--this isn't about me
Cores are to be respected--nonbinary
And just so you know :D if you click on Rainbow Snippets above or on this link https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/ , you'll go to the public group on Facebook where you can find more links to more LGBTQIA+/queer fiction and book reviews.
I'm starting with a fan requested-topic; I hope with the website move, I might resurrect fan questions.
"I'd like to know why you got into BDSM , like why do you think it's part of your make up? Although I'm not sure if you want to get that personal."
I laughed a little when I read this message from my friend. "... that personal"? Sometimes I think I'm lacking in the notion of "things too personal to be shared." When I first created an author's blog, in posting on it, I had struggled with "Is this too personal?" or "Is this un-professional?" I'm reminded of the feminist statement of "The personal is political." That adds another dimension for me because the personal, professional, and political intersect in my life.
I am a lifestyle submissive; I live 24/7 in a fetish relationship with my dominant, whom I address as "Master," unless various factors call me not to do so. Before meeting my first girlfriend, I'd "found" Marquis de Sade in the library and loved him; while I love his writing, it has very little to do with a modern, consensual BDSM relationship. I was introduced to this modern BDSM by my first girlfriend. She introduced me to BDSM in two ways- she moved me beyond de Sade to reading Anne Rice's "Beauty" books, originally written under a pen name although she has since published them under her own name as well as engaging in BDSM with me. The "Beauty" or "Sleeping Beauty" books, both nicknames I've seen used in the BDSM community, as well as having used myself are an "erotic fairy tale"; I think Anne has even used that phrase in her writing, hence the quote marks. The thing is, she wasn't trying to write reality; she was working from the Sleeping Beauty myth, just taking it in an adult direction. She also was not trying to write a modern, consensual BDSM relationship. Thinking on de Sade and Anne Rice's erotic writing, I knew I loved it, I knew it resonated with me on some level, but I knew it wasn't livable. Unfortunately as a new adult, I moved into more and more conservative areas, into areas that didn't have many or any stores that carried adult books. The internet also wasn't the quite the behemoth it is today; I didn't realize I could go to websites and buy books. I certainly couldn't just go to barnesandnoble.com and search "BDSM erotica" to find the specific genre I wanted; yes, I have done just this search recently and found some books I wanted to buy and others that made me laugh uncontrollably. However, circling back to when I was finally old enough to buy erotica legally, as I did not have access to the wealth of choices, authors I do today, I assumed that no one was writing BDSM erotica that was based in reality, showed modern, happy, healthy, consensual BDSM relationships. So the voracious writing that I'd started as soon as an English teacher got me writing in sentences found its way into this BDSM erotica that I envisioned.
Now I'm going to copy/paste something I posted on another blog post- when the "Liebster Award" was going around my spanking/Domestic Discipline/BDSM writing friends. Answering "who/what inspired you to write this book?" asking about my WIP (work-in-progress), I answered this:
Tom- who I mentioned earlier, mentioned in my dedication. The situation just wasn't right for either of us, but I wanted more from the relationship. I pulled pieces of him and me into various characters in various ways. I've described Vala as "me to the Nth" degree; I partied with guys in high school to get drugs so she was actually a prostitute. However, when that relationship went away and my Master claimed me, The Queen started to grow beyond Tom, to take on characteristics of my Master, finally growing into his own person. But there are many strands of inspiration, beyond these. I'd started writing BDSM erotica for many reasons. One of these was the fact that I didn't enjoy much of what was out there (when the Marquis de Sade is your favorite writer, that shows some trouble). I also wanted to find a balance between the wishy-washy, politically correct, sanitized BDSM I was seeing. I wanted something real, something vital. I'd found it in real life with my Master; I wanted to have it fiction and I found I had to write it myself- although feel free to share the names of authors who also engage in this dance; I'd love to read their writing.
For me, BDSM has been a reading/writing/living thing. Each of those pieces mixed in me. I loved to read BDSM writing; I wanted to write it because I wasn't seeing exactly what I wanted; I wanted to live BDSM in a modern, consensual relationship with a person who was also open to my desire to live polyamorously.
The next piece of "personal, professional, political"- political. Various people and groups are engaged in activism around giving people the right to engage in BDSM practices responsibly. While sadly only existing as a resource now, the first draft of this spoke of Leather and Grace UUs for BDSM Awareness. It is important to me as a Unitarian Universalist that "kink" (as it's been come to be called when not wanting to use BDSM, S/M, leathersex, or any of the other names that "alternative sexuality" sometimes is called) is an accepted part of my sexuality. I am pansexual, non-monogamous, and kinky (or BDSM-oriented as I'll often say it)- I consider those three things to be integral parts of my identity. Please do take the time to read the "Kink as an orientation?" page on L&G's. While some authors of BDSM erotica and other "risque" sub-genres of romance choose to write under a pseudonym to keep their private and professional lives separately, I've decided to use my legal name because I write, read, live it. This is political for me because BDSM practitioners have experienced discrimination, myself included. Many laws do not support our freedom. So I've made the choice to put my face out there, my name out there. As Harvey Milk said, "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" speaking of homosexuality, I think the same thing can be said of BDSM practitioners who are able. So writing erotica is also a political act for me.
Finally, there is the personal "why are you into BDSM?" that dances through all these answers. Many more words than I could ever care to read have been written philosophizing why some people get into BDSM. I'm not sure I can say why? Certainly not just one reason. With any part of sexuality, I find it disingenuous to try to say there is just one cause. Consider the whole nature/nurture argument as it plays out among same sex rights. Does the cause of one's homosexuality really give credence to either equal or non-equal rights with the heterosexual majority? I don't think it should. However I can give some things that might be the why. My mother is a perfectionist and I believe that she is manipulative. As I was growing up, I never felt that I could please her. Eventually, I got to my teen years and actively wanted NOT to please her. That desire to people please was already solidly in me however. In lifestyle BDSM, I've found that I can focus on that people-pleasing just on my dominant while not allowing other people to use me. I've lived all my life in Michigan; unfortunately it is one state that has a lot more "abstinence-only sexual education" and I was further unfortunate to live in a conservative area where this was the curriculum. So when I lost my virginity to rape at 13, I was sadly lacking in knowledge to make sense of what happened to me. Of course, as I write this, I am 25 years removed from that experience. I have had the chance to heal, the tools of my healing varying from time to open-minded, liberal religious experiences including various neo-pagan and finally Unitarian Universalist beliefs. It kills me though to think how my rape experience feeds into the stereotype of "freaky person into freaky things with bad stuff in the past." I was excited recently to read this article though; the author discusses how "S/M helped [her] heal from [her] rape." While my experience and hers are far from the same, I definitely related to her story. However, her talk about trust made the most sense to me. I don't trust most men, I don't trust them to respect me, my desires, my history. It may seem paradoxical to those who don't understand BDSM, but the structure of our relationship helps me to trust my Master in ways I never trust another guy.
So I'm sure that I’ve more than answered the question, albeit wandering around and around the point as I often do. However, I will answer further, if there are questions and I do feel like answering. "Submissive" does not necessarily equal "doormat."