How Abuse Affected Me

Sometimes, my Dom is a little afraid to hurt me. To be mean to me. To demand submission when I honestly don't want to give it. Culturally charged words like rape and slavery make him cringe.

They used to make me cringe, too.

Pasts abuse made me fear giving up control. Sex was a weapon and men had the power. They could hurt you. They could use you, abandon you, lie to you. They could make you submit, promise you the world, and then tear your dreams of intimacy apart. I'd be left devestated and alone. I wasn't sure I could handle that, so I developed a fear of sex.

Not just all sex. Intimate sex. Mention intimacy and I'd shudder. I'd feel grossed out but couldn't explain why. No, thank you. Hurt me, use me, and I'll use you, but please don't try to be tender to me or look into my eyes or tell me you love me. Gross.

At the same time, I was also afraid of physical manifestations of power. I thought the male organ was gross and ugly. The penis was the enemy! I may not have said it, but I felt it. I acted like it. Because of penises, men did all sorts of awful things. I was not a fan. You might even say I was afraid of them.

Luckily, I met a few men who could control said male organs. Who seemed to actually put me first and their (or what my culture insisted was their) all-consuming need for constant sexual gratification second.

I was suspicious to say the least. Cosmo and tv and even FetLife told me all men were slaves to their sexual appetites. Magazines and tv told me that if men said they weren't looking at porn or masturbating or checking out other women, they were lying to you, simple as that. When such wholesome men came along, I thought I smelled a rat.

Eventually, I married one of those good, wholesome men. I was still pretty suspicious though. I just knew I was going to get used for sex, even if he never said it. I kept waiting for him to push me down and ravage me.

Now, I trust him a lot more. I've learned not all men are animals and I trust my Dom completely.

But sometimes it still makes him afraid to push me too far. Slavery.... consensual non-consent... rape.... coercion.... sexual submission. All these things are things we want and discuss, but he's afraid to go too far and damage me forever. Afraid because over the years I've insisted I could never want those things or trust someone enough to let them happen. Afraid because he's seen my eyes go vacant and my head go somewhere else, seen me roll over in bed shuddering and withdraw completely into myself and not talk to him, seen all the effects of abuse.

It happens less and less. But it's always a possibility. Abuse, like cancer or addiction, is something you can live with and get past, but will always be a part of who you are--- or at least who you were.

My abuse doesn't define who I am anymore. But it did shape who I was. And that affects who I am.

A survivor who is learning to trust someone who loves her very much.

Religiosity and Polygamy

I think, after my last post on Monogamy, it's important to add that there are Christian kinksters who practice polygamy.

I wouldn't say most of them, but some do.

I think monogamy is the best reflection of the relationship between Christ and the Church that marriages are supposed to emulate based on Ephesians 5:21-28. But I can also distinguish between anti-biblical (goes against explicit Biblical teachings) and extra-biblical (is not specifically mentioned in the Bible).

If you want to know what God thinks about gay sex (which is not the same as struggling with same-sex attraction) or premarital sex, it's in the Bible. There's no way to avoid that. But if you're wondering what He says about abortion or polygamy, it's not specifically mentioned. We must rely on the Bible's treatment of similar topics and how God wants us to live our lives in general to find the best path in those instances.

Personally, I think there's a strong Biblical case for monogamy. Not only does it better reflect the Church's metaphorical marriage to Christ, but it was God's original plan and ideal. He warns against it for leaders of Israel in the Old Testament and leaders of the newly emerging church in the New Testament. The first recorded polygamist was not a follower of God's will and it was not a story meant to be emulated or mimicked. Most stories of polygamy, including David, Solomon, Abraham, and Jacob, told a tale of woe and strife caused by multiple wives.

But God never expressly forbid it. He allowed it for many kings and leaders, so long as the relationship was validated by marriage and not just an excuse for premarital sex with random women.

Hence, I know some kinksters who practice polygamy. Their faith seems sincere, even if I don't agree that multiple partners is the best way to reflect God's will in our lives.

I asked my Dom what he thought about polygamy. We both have degrees in religion from a secular university, so I trusted his expertise. He told me, "I think God allowed it. I don't necessarily think it's the best way."

I am inclined to agree.

Submission and Feminism

Is D/s pathololgical?

The APA used to think so. Many people still do. Culture tells us that equality is "right." Either sex wanting to be too dominate or too submissive is wrong. Pathological, even. There must be something wrong with them.

Tomio wrote about this in Submission is not Pathological. Is there a high rate of self-identified abuse victims in BDSM? Yes, but Richers et. al suggest not a statistically significant one.

My Dom sometimes is hesitant to embrace true slavery with me. Does slavery mean he doesn't care about me or love me? Does 24/7 mean my needs never get met? Does CNC (consensual nonconsent) mean he could end up raping me? What if he enjoys it? What if I am psychologically damaged by it? What if he breaks my trust and I hate him forever?

These are fears we've both had to work through, and still are. For me, it's more a fear of, "Who am I? Am I bad for liking this? What about the times I hate it? Or when I love it? What do they mean about me?" And the kicker: "Does that make me a bad feminist?" If there's one club in this culture all women are supposedly initiated into at birth and should remain loyal to until death, it's feminism. And that is often interpreted as being equal in everything. To that school of thought, liking slavery or rough sex or a strong man is a bad, bad thing. It can shake your feeling of who are you are a woman.

For male subs, I'd imagine it's just as difficult; culture tells us to be "a man" you have to be assertive and strong.

Sometimes I love submission. Sometimes I act very submissive and wake up the next morning with a feeling of self-loathing. I feel like the things I've enjoyed are bad, wrong, or disgusting. My culture's views on sex, and my fears and worries about my own desires, keep me from embracing what is probably a normal and healthy sexual expression for my husband and me.

Last week, I woke up with that self-loathing feeling. It's the one I imagine the Hollywood version of a sorority girl feels when she wakes up, hung over and naked, in the bed with a nameless and jerky frat boy from the party before. She feels cheap and admonishes herself as she takes the Walk of Shame. That's how I felt.

I crept into the bathroom, berating myself. Why did I let myself do those things? Why did I ask for them? Why did I enjoy them? Who am I?

The words I used to my husband to describe myself were not very pretty. Whorish. Slutty.

"How can it be those things?" he asked. "You don't do them with other men. You don't do them for money. It's intimacy with your husband. You're monogamous."

Logical, but I didn't feel better. I pictured a line of feminists scowling at me from the pagebooks of history, like my sexual preferences might destroy their years of hard work to get women recognized as equals in the workplace and society.

Silly, I know. But I worried.

Now I think I worried to much. Feminism is about choice. Marriage is about spousal intimacy, and no one but God and the spouses can decide what is right or wrong for them in private.

And you don't have to be a "feminist" to be a good woman. You don't have to fit into a box of what womanhood is.

You can just be yourself.