kinky as therapy

People in the BDSM world love to analyse their kinks and deviances, and I am no different in that respect. I suppose it's because (especially) in the beginning I enjoyed things - like being tied up and spanked - that I just could not reconcile in my head. This wasn't the sex I'd grown up learning about, it was better. But wasn't that a bit weird? So I questioned everything, and turned myself inside out trying to make sense of it all. Why did I like being restrained?; why did I like the 'pain' endured from a good spanking?; why was I much happier when I wasn't in control?, and so it went on. Never really did find the answers to those questions, and I've long since given up looking for them. It just is, and that's good enough for me (now).

But I haven't been able to feel like that about everything, in particular those activities I love that are reminiscent of certain "bad" things that happened in my past. That one never sat easy with me. It always felt wrong that I could get such a kick out of a good rape scene when I've actually been raped and know first hand how horrific it is. I mean, it's just fucked up, isn't it.

It wasn't until last year I finally made some sense of it. As you may or may not know, many years ago I was physically and mentally abused by cuntface (the ex-husband). Ever since then, I haven't been able to be in the vicinity of violence in any shape or form without having some sort of panic attack. In terms of BDSM, being hit in the face and having my hair pulled were real hard limits for the longest time. But one night the boyfriend and I were playing and it was getting quite rough, but I was completely lost in myself and really enjoying it. And out of nowhere I heard myself say to him "Hit me. In the face". So he hit me. In the face. Several times. I came like a fucking train that night.

And that's when it occurred to me that at least some of my kinks are a kind of therapy, a reclamation, a weird and private victory over the cunts that tried to hurt me. I channel all my pain and guilt and terror into sex, and it somehow loses its hold on me. So rather than lay there like a good girl and be raped, which is basically what I did at the time, now I scream and struggle and fight back, and make it mine.

And if that's sick and/or perverted, tough. It works for me.