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clothed on the outside, raw on the inside

I'd like to specifically draw people's attention to this blog post of Calico's which brought a tear to my eye in its sincerity and truth. It reminds me of similar posts by Bitchy Jones.

When I Domme for fun, it's different. I know the girl I have tied up, mostly. I know her well enough to have a general idea of what I can do to her, what I can show her. And, so far, I haven't played with a partner too heavily, too intensely since my really, really unhealthy Domme/sub relationship when I was 20. My exploits as a Domme have been, for the most part, on the lighter side, the playfully wicked side. And I know why.

I worry that I'll get too deep in Top space, and I'll tear them apart.

I suspect actually that this is why I decided to be submissive for so long. It was safer for me when I was the one bound and crying. I didn't want to look in the mirror and see myself glowing with sex while my submissive bled and screamed and wept. I'd rather be the submissive, and avoid that dark side to me entirely.

I couldn't keep it up forever, though. I wanted to be in charge, wanted to slap lovers in the face and grab them by the hair for a deep kiss. I knew I had changed. And I decided to Domme professionally, because in some ways it allows me to try lots of different things before bringing them home to my lovers.

And now, sometimes, I'll have a submissive client who will touch that Beast inside me in some way. They'll move their head just so, and expose pale neck, and it's all I can do not to grab something sharp in one hand and their hair in another. They'll look up at me in a way that speaks to me, that says "yes, you may do as you will" and yet I know they aren't really saying that, I can't, I just can't. What I will is probably not safe or sane, even if it's consensual. And I can't even guarantee the Beast wants consent.

Sometimes I think I'm harboring a monster behind these brown eyes and black rimmed glasses. I'm a feminist! I support human rights! I'm a volunteer for charity! So what went wrong, really, I ask myself as I wank off to stuff even I find embarrassing, even I hide away so no one will see.

I don't do this to my partners because they want to give up control. They want to trust me. I'm afraid of that trust, afraid of what I might do if given the chance. With a client, they're ultimately still in control, and in some way the exchange of money helps me keep the Beast under control, knowing I'm acting within well-discussed perimeters. There's a script, spoken or unspoken, and there's no room in that script for a predator.

I'm young yet, and can hope it'll sort itself out in the coming years.

"I am turned on by his suffering, but also soft and lost," says Bitchy Jones in the post I referenced above. I know that feeling. And I go home, afterwards, sometimes shaky, feeling like I'm a step away from being a serial killer or some crazy hellcat. And I feel reluctant to ask to be held, because it's a professional gig, it shouldn't really affect me like this. It would detract from the fantasy to ask for a hug, though I sometimes do anyway.

Sometimes I feel ashamed, even doing what they asked, because I enjoyed it almost too much. Like Monday- I had a client who wanted to drink my urine, and I had never done it, and decided, sure, why not. But while it was happening I wanted to grab his hair and cover his face and the floor with it, mark him, get it on his clothes and skin and make him lick it up. And I felt horrified, like, what got into me?

I am almost always completely clothed during sessions. Very little of me is exposed, skin-wise, yet I feel so unbearably naked and raw.

It's easier when I don't get into the fantasy. When I do, I find myself just as dizzy as my client, drifting in space. Except I anchor him home, and he leaves for his normal life... while I keep drifting, and dream of blood and violence.

Categories: bdsm, personal, sadism or serial killer

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