Here is a VERY rough draft of a chapter I'm working on. It's not very sexy but thought provoking. Enjoy!
Chapter 9
My stomach wanted me to return to seclusion but my pride said I needed to at least act like I had everything under control. If I was honest, I understood what Angus meant and I was ashamed that I couldn’t. Three fundamental principles are at the core of all genuine BDSM relationships – trust, safety, and surrender. All three are very complex, interconnected, and time-sensitive mental creatures balanced capriciously on a round pin-head. Surrender is the obligation of the sub while it’s the dom’s responsibility to ensure the safety of their sub – trust ebbs and wanes reflecting the results of each session. For those of us bond to it through matrimony, it’s everyday life. Thus, it wasn’t just children or a doctorate program but how I wasn’t approaching the whole thing. Angus was saying I hadn’t held up to my end of the bargain. I knew that. He was right, of course. I just couldn’t do it and I hated myself for it.
The “good therapist”, Dr. Ragonese, told me that some abuse survivors develop a “Giant Protector Self”, a hypervigilant persona that helps keep one safe from future monsters. Only this protector is no phenom. It’s ADHD-riddled 8-year-old nawing on a freshly cut piece sugar cane and slamming bad advice about who to trust and who not to at your forehead like mini dodge balls. Your Freudian ego eventually gives up and you trust no one – safer than making a mistake. But, sometime later, she added something else to the standard psychobabble textbook. It must have come from Chapter 69.
It was supposed to be my second to last session as I was moving to America, thinking I had my feelings nicely managed and a plan to avoid planning. I had just discovered my not so inner randy and had a pocketful of pro-queer mindfulness. I was telling her how I was looking forward to exploring many of my fantasies somewhere away from my father’s many eyes. Then, she said something that reached a corner of my soul that I was still too young to know was there. “Please be careful. Submission can be tricky business for a survivor.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, immediately halting my self-aggrandizing prognostications.
She cocked her head slightly to the left, “From our conversations, I assumed you were a bottom. Am I incorrect?”
“You think the rape did that?”
“Rape is violence. Sex is something quite different. And BDSM is a way of life, not a roadside welcome center.”
“But how did you know I was bottoming?”
“You mean that you are a bottom? Why darlin’, you just told me!”
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