This is our truth, tell us yours
Carter wrote earlier about how in being the person he wants to be he has to move beyond the cliches of BDSM, the broken sadist dominating because they need to, replaced by the knowing person using a whole range of techniques including pain to achieve their aims and desires. Which is not to say he is not a sadist, but that being a sadist is not what the world seems to imagine it to be. (There is a wonderful explanation of this more fully here).
Reading I was struck by how different some myths about submissives are, that we are strong people who submit as a “break” from having to be strong. As I wrote here I dispute the idea of me being strong, and I dont particularly like the idea of it being pathologized to explain my sexual desires. Take yesterday for example. Yes, I was tired, and yes, I was worried that I may not be able to give my all. Had Carter continued down his original path of pain and force I would have still submitted, it would have been though from a place of “strength”, the idea that I can take this. All too often this is what submission becomes, the competitive nature of subs not helping as we are terrible for ohhing and ahhhing over the number of strokes or depth of bruises.
I saw a picture on twitter yesterday which summed this up, a very beaten and bloody backside, with the caption ” I want a man who can do this to me”. As pure masochism of course I can understand this, but as submission I have to ask why we focus so much on the externals, and never on the internals? Leather kilts are frequently mocked in the cigar dungeon, and whilst being careful not to step on the toes of YKINMK people seem less willing to look critically at s types who focus on paraphernalia and externals to somehow prove their submission.
Carter mentioned stripping me the last time we met. I can still feel his fingers gently pushing the straps of my dress off my shoulders. I was totally unaware of the picture in my head, but as he did so he refuted so many foolish ideas about sadists and dominants. Later as I cried, not from pain but from orgasms, I was struck by how he had not only seen but used my fears. I even commented that a thrust of a cock can sear you more than a stroke of the cane, when used by a person concerned with internals not externals. I was not being strong as I bent for the cane or belt, nor was I being weak as I came and sobbed. I was simply being, in the most wonderful way I have ever known.