Tag Archives: predators

The gurus

They don’t all call themselves gurus, some use teacher, Owner, shaman, tantrika, daka, coach, guide, and memorably one just went by Dragon. That is outside the not-short list of Daddies I have acquired through my time as an adult. They were all men who were absolutely convinced that they knew what I should do to be happier/healthier/sluttier/less slutty/more attractive/more intelligent/less emotional/less crazy… in short what they all had in common was viewing me as a piece of clay that could be molded into their ideal woman.

If I’m at all honest I totally fucking have a type and it definitely extends to people who like having a massive reality distortion bubble around them that intrudes into other people’s sense of self so they could direct the people.

For the purpose of this writing I am going to assume that the controlling person is primarily male, mostly because I have yet to have an enby try to establish this sort of dynamic with me (not saying they never do at all) and very few women try to influence me in the same manner. I have a number of women I look to for advice and guidance and they are all people with extremely strong opinions (FUCKING HAWT 😍) who will tell me what they think then drop the topic and move on. I will listen or not and that isn’t their problem.

The men come back to check if I am obeying. They chastise me. They tell me “you have to ____”. They tell me that if I keep doing x that I will never (whatever they want me to do). They threaten dire outcomes if I don’t fall in line with their direction.

Before you try to go all “Oh look, just another feminist bitch hating on men” I need to point out that I married one of these dudes and many are still in my extended harem (the people I am deeply emotionally attached to who I have fucked or played with in the past), and I even talked to one about how to write this post. Clearly I don’t just hate all these men. I signed on for sucking one of their cocks for the rest of my days. He has no problem at all with my harem of much loved and adored friends. My husband knows that he has a biological family he may not adore but who would show up to rescue him with money and resources if something went sideways in his life. I have my harem, my triad of best friends, and the loose ties I have extending through communities in cities in many countries. He does not begrudge me the only safety net I have in this life. Mommy boards say that I have a lot of emotional affairs. I’m ok with that description.

So when I talk about the feelings I have about my relationships with men who share this personality trait it is not a purely negative topic. When I say that I would not be who I am without these men I’m really not kidding. I’ve done a lot of hypnosis, NLP, conditioning training, improvement plans, slave contracts, affirmation work, and even a fair bit of strait up corporal punishment when I failed to do as I was ordered.

Every time someone gushes about how confident I am about myself I mentally see that meme of an autistic woman accepting her Oscar for how well she masks.

I have a great deal of self doubt, well less than I used to. I have a great deal of suspicion about my own motives and why I am taking the actions that I am taking. I believe that the self I have constructed amongst my friends, mainly through the writing I have done for decades (it all went private when I moved to the UK but once I have citizenship locked down, finger guns I’m sure it will revive) is a binding contract. Old friends tell me that when they are doing things in their life they stop and consciously think about the delineated way I think through why to act the way I want to act when they are evaluating what they need to do in a situation. I feel kind of stunned when they say this. Then I laugh because immediately after they almost 100% feel the need to follow up with “I know what you would do and it would be ____ (sometimes they are right in that guess and sometimes not) but I am just using the PROCESS and I have different values so what I decided was ____.” There is usually this little bit of a funny energy about this exchange that is now emerging with my kids as they get older.

I do the teacher shit fucking hard too. I’m not just dissing on people who like to influence other people.

When you model how to think through a problem without giving a strong “the right answer will always be ‘x'” people can generalise from that into many cases you never considered initially and often there seems to be this little almost foot stamping response of, “Just because you are right about one part of this process that doesn’t make you right about everything! So THERE!

I think this is pretty subconscious for folks most of the time but when I see it over and over and over and over it gets a little hard to keep the smirk off my face. After this many years of parenting, I am getting particularly obnoxious about keeping a serious, slightly concerned face and leaning in a little to say, “So you are saying I win?”

I’ve now said this to a few friends in situ and they are people who have known me long enough to throw their heads back howling in laughter. Just like last night my coach said at the end of the conversation “So you are telling me that after this conversation you feel a lot more comfortable about the fact that you are clear in your purpose and you don’t think there is underlying inappropriate feelings driving your actions? Now you figured out what you are going to do going forward? So what you are really saying is, I win?

But do you know what I am honest with myself about? An awful lot of these men are uhm not people I can wholeheartedly endorse as upstanding gentlemen. Many of them have pushed far too hard and have raped women who did not use a firm enough “no”. I have supported communities in enacting blacklists that blocked these men from attending. I have spoken to the men in question and told them point blank that I was going to reach out to people in the community they just moved to and I am going to tell those people about your history. They usually sigh very deeply and nod. They know that it is not worth a single minute of their time to try and talk me out of it.

Someone recently mentioned the concept of being in an accountability circle with someone. I spent a little bit of time on DuckDuckGo and thought about that concept more specifically. Ok, that’s my husband and my triad and harem and my sisters and mothers in leather. Those are the people who keep me on the path I want to be on. They tell me when I’m an asshole. They tell me when I fucked up. They help me figure out how to fuck up less. Harm Reduction is the goal. They see me clearly in all of my layers of machinations and mixed feelings and need to learn what “healthy” responses are and they are really good at asking me the right questions.

Over and over I say that the purpose of working with a therapist is so that you can have access to someone who will ask you the questions you need to think about in order to figure out the answer. Therapists aren’t magicians and they aren’t priests: they don’t have all the answers. You have the answers for you and I have the answers for me.

I rode out most of the first couple years of the pandemic not talking much with most of my harem, my triad mostly went silent, and most of my sisters and mothers in leather were far too overwhelmed to have much ability to interact regularly. I did make more tentative connections with new people here in Scotland but frankly it is still early days. Bailey taught me that friends come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime and you don’t know who is who until the end.

Over the past year there has been a slow wave building in my life, the ocean is just starting to send the tide in. The people who are still in my life and who reach out daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, or just when they happen to see something that makes them think of me remind me of just how far the road has been. I have not sat still with just a couple of people, needing them to fill all of my needs. I have been privileged to be a comet in a great many lives.

It’s not that I still know everyone I have slept or played with. Many threads have frayed.

Do you know who stayed? The fucking gurus.

But not even all of them. I have kicked a few out of the harem. People who consistently showed me that they did not understand the agreement between us about which parts of my life and selfhood were up for attack.

I mean, I did marry the grand motherfucking prize winner of the game “What is wrong with Krissy.” I’m not opposed to being attacked on a great many fronts. These people I am speaking about get to stay because they have been able to shift their understanding of me over time with great nuance. They understand that the opening gambit of our relationship was not to be indicative of how we would get along forever. They can usually understand that they have crossed a line just by seeing me narrow my eyes.

I might be into providing service, I may be an absolute workaholic if I am given a project that will please someone in that group of people, I might be fully willing to be an owned possession who has limits about what they are allowed to do in big parts of my life, I might fucking live for the opportunity worship people and grovel as I appreciate the opportunity to please them…

That is always within a strong framework of you have to learn my idiosyncratic, difficult to track, highly specific to my life boundaries and not encroach on them. There are limits. I will comment when you have crossed them. I will retreat from you rapidly if you respond inappropriately. There are lots of kinds of inappropriate.

The only real appropriate response is, “I just said something that was not good. May I ask how that went wrong?” I train my people like I train my plants. To be clear I do not expect the appropriate response from anyone early in a relationship. Casual acquaintances and folks I know randomly/socially are absolutely going to 100% of the time have an inappropriate response. That’s totally fine. I get that. I am not mad. But whatever inappropriate response results in some level of gentle correction. I evaluate how gentle to be on a case by case basis.

If you laugh at my correction you are now out of the running for ever making it past “yeah I know that guy”. And you know what? I’m not mad about that. Really, it’s ok. I may feel lonely in a lot of ways because I have a lot of touch hunger for the specific people who have the right to touch my body because we are deep enough and close enough in our relationship. The people who have survived hundreds or thousands of little course corrections after inappropriate responses.

When I get word of them having fucked up in their community I figure out what went wrong and I proceed to talk to them about where and how that went off the rails. I am not gentle or kind but I am forgiving. I am just as fucked up as they are and they forgive me too.

I have gotten much better with practice about understanding when and how someone can be my prey.

I am pretty wordy about figuring it out though. Typing is my native language and I have been sitting on everything I’ve thought over the last few years. Necessary time to hibernate and slow down. You have to close some doors in order to open other doors.

When someone tells me that they are desperately holding on to a person in their life because they feel like they are afraid of the pain of the loss I can’t help but think of all the times when creating an empty space in my life lead to me being able to create a different connection that nurtured me deeply but wouldn’t ultimately be as all consuming. Sometimes the person I thought completely lost turns out to be a comet who can show up for chats every few years. Every time I have that happen I say a blessing for Past Me having the wisdom to smile brightly and wish my friend joy as they severed the tie to run off and grow somewhere else.

It’s funny how much this all feels more and more like a cross between gardening metaphors. Oy. That’s yet another detour.

The point, and the reason I haven’t hurried off the dang computer yet is that I know that if I am writing a contract in my head around my behavior and what I should be doing to continue the arc I have been on for quite some time I might have to say pieces of that out loud again. I can’t get to backstory yet but I will. This stretch of writing is a long time coming and most everyone has even told me it is fine if I just use their names. A few asked for pseudonyms and I go with that.

They are each of them a whole fabulous thread of interactions and course corrections and fucking opportunities for growth. Other people don’t need to care about any of this at all. I write it down simply because that is how I learn what I need to learn. I ask myself the question and then I write until I figure out the answer. I’ve made many of my closest friends through writing. We have arguments and debates and always come again and again to the same end result: we each have our own different right answer and it won’t be the same. This is part of how they taught me to think and I miss it deeply.

I miss letting them in.

Finding space for that writing is hard with running and gardening. There’s this whole web to weave. I don’t know how much of it will end up here, probably just most of the slutty or kinky stuff. But I have to start writing again. I am getting off course. As I was told several times yesterday: I am always at my finest when I am saying what I am thinking so that I don’t get cocky or shitty because I would have to admit that too.

I think fuck ups should be very publicly discussed and analysed. I’m not just saying “boundary crossings” or assaults or anything extreme. I find out who is going to end up closer in or farther out on the extended web with every time I talk about them doing something I don’t like.

I’m not talking about a big deal. I’m talking about noticing “Hey, x thing sucks and it isn’t cool”. There is a lot to be learned when people react to that. A whole lot of people will pick up their football and go home and will speak about me with scathing words. Cool. I’m used to that.

But the people who stay all wiggle into the right place for them. It takes time. Seasonal changes sometimes make waves in that group of folks who are around for reasons that might not be so needed anymore. And some of them fade out except for the occasional fond smile or grimace depending on why they faded out.

But the ones who stay. Well, chef’s kiss they are my kind of predators and I am very happy to recognise that my loving them means that I am choosing to do whatever is in my power to help them only go after prey instead of finding victims. I hope not in a codependent way? I really don’t have time for that much involvement with fucking anyone’s life outside of people I live with. Good grief.

I can only ask questions and hope they are the right ones. I can only tell them where they are fucking up and how. I can ask them to consider why they want to do a thing. I absofuckinglutely will do something to deplatform them as much as possible. Fine. Learn how to be a member of a community who is known as someone to keep an eye on. You don’t get to be the leader. You know how you are wanting to go do x, y, and z? How about if instead of you doing that you look around at who could be doing that even better than you can but they need some kind of support to make that happen. Don’t take the stage.

Cause with these specific predators we have agreements between us. I will call you what you are. You will never in your whole life have to worry if I am just sucking up to you. I will tell you what I think without reservation or softening my tone in any way. You get to find out what the inside of my brain instinctively produces in response to you doing that. And we will talk about this until you motherfucking understand how and why you done wrong and how you are fucking going to make amends.

Maybe not in that same city because you fucked up so bad you have to leave. (Ironic that I say that here. To the best of my knowledge I did not leave the bay area because I fucked up and was driven out of any communities. If anyone disagrees with my assessment feel free to comment below.) So maybe my level of intervention is going to be a bit messy and ridiculous. But I know what you are. I know what you have done. And you can have a redemption arc–that’s great. It will require you not doing the same ol’ same ol’. You have to choose to change. You have to figure out what your answers are. Where is the enlightened self interest in your need to change? What should you change to get what you are currently fucking yourself out of in your impulsive dipshit move?

The people who stay are messy and complicated and I hold no illusions about them. As a deeply flawed person I want to be seen and accepted for the totality of myself. And that has involved a lot of agreements about what had to change.

How in the fuck would someone new just know all that bullshit? For fucks sake. That’s ridiculous and unfair.

I know.

I can never really write it all down but it moves the conversation along by so much when I at least try.

So yeah. I suppose this is my personal ad. This is how I have always hunted. My prey is different for so many reasons but if you are patient with me I will be as explicit as I can. You don’t have to come for the whole ride. You are welcome to come in and out whenever you need.

Cause I’m a wordy bitch.

Little Monster, Big Monster

I have been thinking about this guy who was around the San Francisco scene years ago. I’m going to call him Deep Tissue Dude because one of the ways he made friends was by giving free massages to people, mostly women. He did have professional training and he was extremely technically skilled. It wasn’t his primary job (most folks struggle to survive in the Bay Area on just a massage therapist wage) but when he was in between tech gigs he would take on some clients to fill in the gap.

I met him after I left my Owner. I was 23 and I was going to Burning Man events with folks who were slightly overlapping with the kink community in part because I was trying to find a different community group where I wouldn’t have to see my ex and partly because I was in a weird place with my self harming behavior. I don’t think that extreme promiscuity is always done from a place of self harm but I can say that my own promiscuity is sometimes done from a place of love and connection and sometimes it is based on the fact that I had a sociopathic pedophile as a father who told me I existed in the world because men need a place to put their dicks. I had been in therapy on and off for 20 years at that point but I had not yet met the therapist who really rocked my whole world and made me really make leaps and bounds of progress with my trauma.

I met this guy and he seemed pretty cool. He talked a lot about his parenting and he talked a lot about boundaries and safety and consent and just generally he was good at giving off all the “I’m a good guy–really” signals. I feel it is important to say that he was an incredibly large man; like Samoan large. He was very tall–maybe 6’3″? (That’ll be around 190cm for the rest of you.) He had a gigantic barrel chest; he was fat but that wasn’t the dominant impression he gave. He was just massive. He was careful and deliberate about how he used his size when he interacted with women, and of course he mostly interacted with women. He hung out with men approximately how much he had to in order to pass the “Oh I know him; he’s alright” bar.

He did that thing where he walked and moved with authority so people tended to knee jerk assume that he really knew what he was talking about. He would talk about bodies and anatomy to perverts and sexually adventurous people in a way that established his authority. He was trying hard to be an important someone without actually being in a position of responsibility. He talked constantly about accountability

I’ll be frank and say that at that period of time most of the people I was hanging out with were doing a lot of drugs. MDMA was the big favorite, but GHB, nitrous, and coke were around too. I got the impression that other folks were using additional drugs but I didn’t know as much about that.

So Deep Tissue Dude never explicitly said “If you have sex with me I will give you drugs” and he never said “I will give you free massages if you have sex with me”. He was super careful to never ever be blunt about things. But he would ensure a plentiful supply of drugs for people who chose to hang around him when he was at an event. Much later I talked to other women and he crossed sexual lines during the massages quite frequently and none of us ever felt like we could bring it up. He always had a “Oh I am so sorry, I was misinterpreting your signals. I thought you wanted me to.”

I feel very required to stop at this point and explicitly say that even though I am aware that what he did was sexual assault I do not carry him in my head and in my heart as someone who assaulted me. I mean, he did but it wasn’t a big assault and it never went very far. He put his finger in my cunt once. He leaned over and licked my cunt once. Those happened several months apart and after the second time I never came back for another massage.

Why did I hang out with him at all? Why didn’t I ghost him after the first “slip”? Well, frankly, because I was fucking poor and I have chronic pain issues and he gave me help to ease the pain I was in.

I’ve been thinking about him because I think about the way that he gave me very minor uncomfortable feelings fairly quickly. I noticed that his big talk about how important his kids were in his life… was accompanied by him rarely actually seeing his kids and constantly pleading poverty for why he couldn’t afford to send child support to his “evil” ex. I noticed that he had a revolving door of “super close friends” who were always women, usually women who were under 25 and coming from backgrounds of extreme trauma. I noticed that he would always loudly, verbally set boundaries in really conservative places but then he would cross them regularly and say that he didn’t actually need the boundaries to be so conservative because actually I wasn’t taking advantage of him the way “other people” did.

He did a lot of talking about all the things he was going to do, all the ways he could do cool things for people, all the classes he could teach… and in reality outside of providing drugs he wasn’t stable or consistent or a good source of anything.

For me he was a Little Monster. He did shit he shouldn’t do; things that are literally illegal and he was messy and inappropriate. I don’t feel violated and I don’t feel like a victim.

But there were women for whom he was a Big Monster. There was one girl in particular where he gave her drugs and then he raped her. She went to the police and it was a whole shit show. I don’t know if I am remembering this completely correctly (it has been almost 20 years) but I believe it didn’t get to trial. She was slut shamed into infinity and beyond and she couldn’t handle pushing hard enough to make him pay.

I actually think of that woman, who was more of a girl at the time, quite often. Sometimes people will ask me why I am as conservative as I am with some of my boundaries in my parenting and I think of this girl. Her mother was a pro-domme and active in the scene. This girl had grown up surrounded by perverts. I met her when she was 18 and she told stories about how she had been sitting on the knees of various prominent perverts naked in hot tubs since she was 16.

I think of her every single time I tell my children how to handle nudity and adults who get close to them. (For the record my kids have been to many nudist events and I don’t think naked bodies are in any way a problem or inherently sexual.) I think of her when I tell my kids to beware of people who try really really really hard to seem trustworthy.

Why do they need to try so hard?

I think of that girl when I tell parents in the scene that it’s not a good idea to carry on with your kinky life with your children present. I think of that girl when I tell parents that I don’t think co-ops for babysitting with other kinky parents are a good idea. I mean, she isn’t even the only child of kinky parents I know who has had what seemed to me to be a very brutal entry into adulthood.

Deep Tissue Dude was blacklisted from a few events. He was no longer welcome at the Burning Man parties. Last I heard he had moved to a different city and was an integral part of the scene there.

I know he sexually assaulted at least dozens of women. I am quite certain he raped many–I have no way of guessing the number.

I think of him when I interact with people and they have messy boundaries. I think of him when I interact with people who loudly state why they are an authority and credible over and over again. I think of him when someone makes big promises about all the things they are going to do for other people.

I think of her when I watch people try to figure out how to respond to Monsters both Big and Little. There is so much silencing of discourse “don’t bring drama” and minimising the experiences of people who know something isn’t right but they aren’t sure where the line was crossed.

I know lots of people who cross a line once then they don’t cross it again. I deeply respect them. I know lots of people who cross a line then they make big protestations about how they won’t do something inappropriate again… until the next time.

When my inside voice tells me that I need to stay away from someone, when I notice that someone is inconsistent with their words versus their behavior, when I notice that someone reminds me of Monsters I used to know I listen now. I feel more emboldened to talk about stupid small things that start adding up. If I have a list of 3 or 4 small things that bother me I recognise that as meaning I will not be surprised when I find out that this person, who might be a Little Monster for me, will probably, eventually be a Big Monster for someone else.

I am grateful for the fact that I am no longer in a place in my life where the company of a Little Monster is better than being alone. I have a lot of compassion for the girl I was and the reasons that I made quite a few very poor choices in friends.

Pay attention to the integrity people have around their words. People really like to tell on themselves. When someone says “Oh, I will…” all the time but they don’t actually do it don’t be surprised when they say “Oh, I will never…” and then they do it anyway.

Just keep swimming

Last night Noah was being a sensitive new age guy and he checked in if the current level of increase in meanness/friction on my cunt is a problem. He said he knows it is a lot compared to what had been happening and he just wants to make sure I’m ok.

I said, “Well I did tell you I’d be ok with you fucking me pretty much whenever and I’m still mostly initiating all of our sex. So mostly I’m thinking that you aren’t fucking me enough…. loser.” (We are having sex pretty much every day lately.)

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Well! Ok then!” Then he ripped his pajamas off real fast and started poking at my clothes. So I undressed and we, like the fully mature people we are, proceeded to spend about 40 minutes rolling back and forth naked telling stupid jokes and not getting around to having sex.

Finally I said, “This is my downfall. I am too funny. You can’t bear the seriousness of fucking someone as funny as me–it might ruin the mood.”

Really it just felt like we were young again and we had all the time in the world to just enjoy being naked together and of course eventually we will get around to sex.. it’s inevitable. Also inevitable: when we did it was of course very fucked up roleplay about how to manipulate a child into not having the right vocabulary for even reporting sexual abuse. After all, he is just having me pray every night and giving me a relaxing massage.

I met Noah when he was 26, we spent his 27th birthday together. I was 22 when we met. On one hand I felt so very worldly when we met but now I look back on it and I giggle. What does it mean to be worldly anyway? I was in such a rush to gain “experience” as if that would somehow make my life better. In some ways it was a good thing.

I have friends who settled down permanently with the first or second person they ever dated or had sex with. Most of them have told me that they have mixed feelings about the fact that they have little or no sexual experience outside of this primary relationship. They feel like they don’t know as much about what they do or don’t like.

I’m sure there are people who are completely content with their one lifetime partner, but those folks don’t talk to me about it.

I have never had a moment of pause where I have thought “Oh no if only I had more experience with other people.” Sometimes I miss the hunt because I was good at it and it was fun, but that’s not the same thing. Really I’m not even sure if I would hunt the same way going forward in any case. My life is so different and the Jenga tower is somewhat precarious. I don’t have much time to give anyone and the community in Scotland is so small that hunting with my normal voraciousness would very quickly create a challenging situation. Even if you are being honest and up front, not as many people are happy to be part of a truly extensive network as you think.

It’s a rare person who appreciates the sort of woman who can cheerfully pick up 8 new partners in a weekend. Daddy James you are always and forever the best first date of my whole life. I love you so much.

When you are fucking a lot of people you find out very intimately about peoples’ prejudices. I firmly believe that anyone gets to dislike whatever they want. Depending on how you say that people often assume that you end up on the side of disliking something they are on and they freely explain in great detail.

I asked about whether the older people I know remember a time when things were less judgmental because I saw a comment on a buddy’s post from someone I don’t know (who is ironically, younger than me) who said that they are old enough to remember a time when people in the community didn’t judge and they accepted everyone.

People judge whores. People judge women who use the word whore for themself in complicated ways. I remain grateful for the sex workers in my life who were close friends when I was working through some of my really intense trauma who told me that whatever associations other people have with that word are not my problem. My experiences are mine and no one can take them away from me or say that I am not allowed to experience the world as I am. It’s really weird that my biological father gave me that gift. Apparently whore is a title that a man is allowed to gift to a small child and she can keep it absolutely forever no matter what anyone else thinks.

I think about the judgment that people pass because despite the press releases that the bdsm community likes to put out about how people in the bdsm community tend to have slightly higher than average EQ and they are not significantly more traumatized than the normal population…

I am a traumatized motherfucker. Much of what drives me to seek out predatory and vicious partners is not some abstract “I was born this way”; I was shaped by a monster. When I was young and in the scene I would occasionally hear outlandish stories about how the younger you were when you started being inculcated into “slave life” the better you will be for the rest of your life. There was a woman who claimed her family sold her into a bdsm slave family at 14. This was treated like a hot/good thing?

Yet in reality if the core of your sexuality is formed around extreme trauma and abuse and, frankly, brainwashing you make people fucking uncomfortable. The average person (even in the scene) you want to go play with and fuck is not able to handle even being too aware of the extent of extreme abuse that people like me live through. Because yeah I do want you to act that out with me. Yeah. I do want you to be that fucking evil.

My biological father held a gun to my head while raping me. If Noah wanted to do that we would have to do the scene on top of a Princess and the Pea pile of towels to catch the river of squirting I would do.

Because to be clear if you do to me what I like having done to me… you are going to have to sit real hard with the idea of whether or not you are a bad person. You are going to have to be ok doing fucked up shit to someone who has a documented police record of having incredibly fucked up shit done to them. You have to face it head on. You have to embrace it and really own it and be ok with the fact that other people are absolutely going to judge the fuck out of you if they find out what you do.

I am trickling out stories, yo. I know I have a new audience and I know that is pressure. I know that the Scottish people will get to know what I put out there in writing far faster than they will get to know me in person because I don’t leave the house that often. Nobody sees me week after week at a munch to get used to me slowly over time. I am going to be very much on the fringe for a long time, perhaps forever. Will I ever play publicly here? I don’t know.

I don’t particularly enjoy playing in the safe zone that I used to specifically inhabit in public play spaces. Well, I enjoyed it a lot more in the past but I don’t think I could get back to that headspace. I want to play for me now, not for advertising for the maximum number of potential partners. And I am fucked up.

I watch the age players defend that it isn’t about sex. Oh. Well sometimes it is. And sometimes it is about specifically degrading a little and making it very bad for them.

I watch pet play folks get upset about people bringing up bestiality. Oh. Well… I don’t think I could cross the line with an actual animal for all kinds of very good reasons but the stories are fucking hot. Roleplaying it? Fuck yeah. The more humiliating and disgusting the better.

Rand went down a list of things that most people would reject and it was a challenge for me to find a true hard limit on any of it. Much of it I want to be verbal/roleplay–there are no actual children involved in my sex life and there hasn’t been since I was the child and there never will be again.

I remember saying, “No children, no animals, no dead people other than that let’s talk.” But really if you want to roleplay any of those scenarios… ok.

I don’t find bodies off putting. I don’t find bodily functions to be deal breakers. I don’t have many limits or reasons I will tell someone to stop something in the abstract. There are days when I can’t do a certain thing for a transient reason and there are tons of obstacles to my having space and safety for most of them but that’s not the same thing.

When people get very upset about wanting to get rid of all predators in the scene I can’t help but wonder… but do you really want to? If you do then who are people like me going to play with?

Neither Noah nor I would be as good at crossing social more lines and being degrading and violent and vile as we are if we had never gone too far.

I always say that you learn more from mistakes than you do from always doing things right. I have made a lot of mistakes. A tremendous number of mistakes. I am sure that there are at least a couple of people who think of me and feel really bad sometimes. I know Noah has at least one woman who saw him in her nightmares. She came to me to process it because that is exactly the sort of thing that someone would do, right? I told her that I would support her in any way I could. She was entitled to say or do anything she needed to do to communicate to Noah how badly he fucked up. If she wanted him to pay for her therapy that would be completely legitimate. She wrote some very intense letters. I read them with Noah because he needed to understand fully how he fucked up. I am still friends with her and she says things are much better now. She’s happy.

You learn more from mistakes than you do from always doing it right. I know how badly I can hurt someone. Noah knows how badly he can hurt someone. Hell, he knows how badly he can hurt me. He fucked up really badly in the first six months of being married by the choice of when to rape me. It caused an extra layer of trauma that had to be unpacked.

Do you know how hard it makes me come when he hurts me and tells me that he is so glad that he gets to rape me decade after decade? It is literally completely fucked up. This is vanilla-land “You should run, not walk away from this man.”

Instead I am no longer allowed to say “Jesus Christ” because the only God I am allowed to worship is Noah so it has to be his name I say.

“The difference is consent” except when there is no consent and sometimes that is far better.

“We evaluate the risks to make safe choices” except when we totally fucking don’t and we flail and we hurt people and we traumatize them and then we put our finger on that trauma and push down a little harder because the bruise was starting to fade and we can’t have that.

I don’t do safe things. I do things that any reasonable therapist would tell me is a bad fucking idea and I am totally risking cracking my psyche wide open. Yes. The best orgasms live there.

Bdsm is not therapy. Bdsm is a place where fucked up people can do very fucked up things. I treat the bdsm community like the sea and I am a shark looking for a bigger shark. When I encountered stingrays and eels and angler fish I wished them well and kept looking until I found someone who could appreciate the kind of fucked up I am. Someone with just enough training in mental health to be able to properly enjoy fucking with someone who is as damaged as I am. I found a megalodon; just think of all the nice people I am keeping safe by keeping him off the market.

Noah didn’t pick someone who compulsively cannot say no to sex even when I really should because of physical damage by accident. He is a fucked up person. I mean that in the very best of ways. He is brilliant and he can hold many contradictory truths in his mind at the same time. He deeply respects me and he wants me to be a big person in the world taking up space. He is the reason I have most of the self confidence I have to just go do whatever I want. I used to doubt myself so much. I don’t have time anymore. He also wants to hurt me emotionally in ways I won’t shake off. He wants to specifically drill down on damage created by my father.

I can’t wait until he can go back to cutting on me.

In many ways it is much better for everyone that Noah put the choke chain on me. Scotland is a small sea and we are very big sharks.

This is what you’re for.

I don’t think that many people have their earliest memories of their parent involve their parent telling them that they exist to have people put things inside their body… but I’m not alone. I’ve talked to a fair number of people in my incest cohort and I’ll talk to more. I’m not alone. I’ve learned a lot from my cohort. I’ve learned that my father’s play book was not his alone.

There are a lot of really messed up people in this world. They hurt other people. I’m not saying that “all people who are abused grow up to abuse”… that’s patently untrue. It’s something like 80% of people who are abused do not grow up to hurt anyone. Most of us realize that hurting other people (nonconsensually) is a problem and we try to avoid doing it. But it’s a journey.

I was what folks euphemistically call a child predator. What that meant is I pushed for sex with other children who were really not ready. I sexually assaulted and raped people before I was 10 because I had no concept in my mind that people might even want to say no to what I was doing.

I found the bdsm community at 18. I am so grateful to you all.

I was sexually assaulted by people in the scene. Some of them fairly “big names”. Folks that people trusted. I also had some of the healthiest relationships of my entire life because of the scene. I learned from people who could clearly articulate their boundaries and limits and interests.

I am so inspired by those of you who know yourselves and you know what you like and don’t like. I’m better than I was but I’m still not where I want to get.

I’ve been in and around the bdsm community for going on 18 years now. I started out being uhhh… highly reactive. I would scream and rant and flail at people who crossed my boundaries because I didn’t have a less reactive way to deal with that. Thank you to all the kind people who recognized that I was a traumatized fucked up kid and you were patient with me. I remember the long kind explanations I used to get about why my reaction wouldn’t get me what I wanted in a given situation.

Even though it didn’t seem like it at the time… I was listening.

You have to understand that I was coming from a background where most of the “advice” I had been given up to that point was designed to make me easier to abuse. Most of the advice I had been given up to that point in my life was working towards lowering my sense of self esteem and self worth so I wouldn’t complain as people hurt me very badly.

I wasn’t in a good place to accept advice.

But many of you persevered. You kept talking to me. You recognized that I was a scared, feral animal. Thank you.

I’m still working through layers of sexual dysfunction. I’m still trying to get to the point where I have positive emotional and physical reactions to warning signs in my body. It’s very hard. I still want to dissociate and shut down and just wait for it to be over.

It’s still a slow process. I hate myself for how long it is taking and I know that 18 years of damage will take a lot more than 18 years to completely unravel because life just isn’t fucking fair. But I’ve come a long way.

Yesterday I managed to stop sex that was hurting me. I haven’t managed to do that all that many times in my entire life. Usually when it hurts like that I just dissociate and wait for it to be over. Yesterday I managed to have an internal emotional reaction where I decided I didn’t want to be hurt like that and I spoke up. It’s a huge deal for me.

It’s funny how I can negotiate that I don’t like floggers–I like to be hit with hands and single tails and canes… but I really struggle with saying “Sometimes my cunt doesn’t want to cooperate and you damage me when we try to have sex and I really shouldn’t have sex under those circumstances.”

Even though my husband is a pretty damn good man who will stop on a dime if told to. It isn’t that he doesn’t care. It’s that I struggle with thinking I am worth defending.

I know what I am for in the marrow of my bones. I was made to be hurt by sex. I was told so from when I was a toddler.

But maybe that was just one more lie from a flaming monster.

Maybe someday I will feel like I am made for something else.