Speak Up: Domestic Abuse vs BDSM

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The bottom-line difference is prior to direct consent without any stress to avoid a consequence and care.

Although some things within a D/s or M/s dynamic have the traits of domestic abuse it is NOT abuse. It is not abusing another human being even if may look like that to outsiders. It is not abused when someone gladly and willingly by their own free will consent and submit to another human being with common likes. Must be also without being on any type of distress at all either. I know so as a matter of fact and by having the first-hand experience, not once but three times in my lifetime.

The following is my story. The story of one of the few blessed survivors
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As far as I can remember all my adult life I’ve had an abnormal sex drive and preferences. Considering the fact that I started this love business when I marry the first time at the young age of sixteen, that is a long time.

Generally speaking, I’ve always been able to sexually dominate my lovers. That doesn’t mean either that I got every wish, want or request granted. Nor that was able or could articulate those either for some reason or circumstance. Things, like dropping hot wax, using some type of restraint, edging, tease & denial, were common techniques for my “vanilla” lovemaking. So it was scaring from nails scratches, bites, and…etc…oh, my! I just didn’t even have an idea of the “BDSM” discipline or lifestyle until about 2010. Which is when finally stuff started to somewhat make sense to me.

First Instance

Things like when a former forced me to call him “Sir” among other names in and out of the bedroom. That one time he said, “…because I own you and you are my property” and slap me so hard that until this day my jaw is not properly healed. Then turned around to accuse me of making him spend money on me by now having to replace the eyeglasses he just broke on me. Like that one time, he uses a whip on me just because I needed to be taught a lesson. Then be even madder at me because he could have been using this time to make money instead. Like when I was also financially controlled, brainwashed, and isolated from my loved ones. Like when he literally forced me to have two abortions only three months apart just because he didn’t want to have any children with his property; among other things, “Be grateful, at least I am sending you to a clinic.”

I could go on and on, but I am sure you get the picture. I didn’t sign up for any of that! Neither the innocent under my care. My “Sir”, the all Mighty him, is actually someone who everyone admires and liked. A holder of a Master Degree, high IQ, an honorable discharge from the US Navy with an impressive career after. Sadly, nobody knew much about what was happening close doors and when they knew a bit they believed him instead. Which of course got me into even more trouble. Ironic when this older and sadistic psychopath will be enjoying himself when I was ripping his shirt off and clawing him until he bleeds as foreplay.

To this day, I am uncertain if he was practicing his own twisted way of BDSM. Maybe. This is because, from the few things I remember (my brain wiped out most of the details of that decade), he asked me weird questions that I now know they were alternative lifestyles related. He was never direct, however. Neither I had a clue what he meant. I just answer the best I could with the mindset that just in case he can also read my mind to know I wasn’t trying enough or something. That would mean trouble! The additional trouble this mommy didn’t have the luxury to get into. Eventually, it all ended for good. So I thought! About eleven years later I still look around so he doesn’t creep on us and kidnap and kill or take away the daughter he kindly allowed to be born.

Second Instance

To this day, nobody can wake me up either. Whoever lives with me is requested to never ever, EVER, wake me up under any circumstance. Either of two things may happen, I will be sent into a shock and God knows when I can get out of that, or I will defend myself because I’d consider that a personal attack. Not me, my traumas. However, the joys of that are not compliments of the father of my daughter, it is thanks to civil husband number two. Now this man had a weak mind, never even graduated from high school and what is worst no realistic aspirations in life.

I was able to defend myself in the best possible way at any given moment. My weapon of opportunity was sex. He has fetishes he is not aware of and I was able to control him to an extent through those. He was an easy target for my sadistic strikes, though. Yep! I was engaging in abuse myself. To me, I was just defending myself. Survival kicked-in. No need to get into the horrific details of this second experience but the abuse was definitely much more physical than the first. I fought back as much as possible but slowly the situation was breaking me into pieces (again!) and I was losing my will to keep defending myself and the innocent. I was out for good in less than two years. This malignant narcissist gave me a hard time for five years after.

Third Instance

I wish it all ended there, but sadly, I was not only dealing with the aftermath of one and two but I was dealing with the third time around. This is the one I am still having trouble accepting it happened. Alternative lifestyles like nudism, swinging, cuckolding, and even BDSM was explored with this older gentleman. About whom I won’t speak much. I can’t put a label on him yet and I am definitely still in the healing process.

Conclusion

I doubt I will be healed from all of this. The only thing I can do is keep working on it and that means also to learn about myself. This time it feels different because I’ve been able to identify and accept what I was doing wrong that led me to make poor choices.

I’ve heard a popular definition of insanity: “to keep trying to accomplish something the same way as prior failures but expecting different results.”

If the above is true, it will apply here in my case. I strongly believe that not only I survived but this time, this time it feels like I truly got this surviving thing handled well enough. So help me God! I’d like, however, not to survive but to live life instead.

These days when someone asks me for how long I’ve been practicing BDSM or I have been a Domme or a Mistress, my standard answer is along the lines: “Not for too long.”, then pause to add, “But I have been at the other side of the whip before I knew there is a thing called BDSM.”

I have not been officially into BDSM for as many years as other folks. Neither I am as wise or knowledgeable as others, but I do have life experience with the drive to continue on the path that feels right to me for once, and that my friend, is much more valuable than what is written in my formal Mistress Resume.

Speak up and follow your own path

The one that feels right to you and only you, regardless. Don’t worry about staying alone, give it a chance and you will meet like-minded people that will add well to your life along the way.

___
p.s. In the loving memory of the two of my babies that didn’t make it out alive.

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