There are Differences Between Abuse and BDSM

In all fairness to my readers, possible triggers and disagreeable opinions ahead. Other reads are on the right.

I wanted to do a BDSM versus abuse post last summer, but I just couldn't cool off enough for it not to be a rant. Then the inspiration faded and I never wrote it. Given that thing1 has repeatedly reverted to her previous abuser, I have been inspired again.

These are of course, merely my opinions, and they aren't changing anytime soon. So feel free to disagree. That's the beauty of the internet--everyone gets their two cents.
Of course, the beauty of blogging is getting to give your own two cents to your hearts content.
And where else am I going to jump up on my soap box and preach to the masses? We call the people who do it on street corners crazy, those who do it on blogs are bloggers. Snazzy huh.

So for those of you who arrive here by searching for the term "the difference between BDSM and abuse", here's my ten cents.

There's no doubt thing1 needs someone to take her in hand. And I can't help but wonder if what she was looking for before the drugs, before the jerk, before she became what she is now, was something resembling a D/s relationship.

I have seen it written that the difference between BDSM and abuse is consent--an abused woman doesn't give her consent to be beaten and controlled, whereas a submissive has given her consent.
I disagree. While the circumstance are quite different, consent is given by presence--thing1 has given jerk consent to beat the crap out of her because she keeps going back for more.

Sounds cold doesn't it? And it does come from a bit of a cynical place, but I still believe it to be true.
I do realize that some women don't have anyone in their lives to support them and help them escape, but many do. And they just don't take the option.

And neither is knowing the difference between right and wrong the key element here. Thing1 once tried to tell me she could be with shithead now because he's grown--now he knows that what he did was wrong.
I beg to differ. He knew it was wrong to beat her head into the pavement. He just did it anyways. People do things they know are wrong all the time. Knowing that you have done something wrong doesn't make you a better person--it just means you're not a complete psychopath.

That being said, there are truly psychopathic people in this world who are capable of extreme and horrific abuse. I think those are the ones who are capable of digging their claws so far into someone's mind, the other person becomes somewhat incapable of separating themselves.

So if consent and knowledge of doing wrong aren't the defining differences, than what are?

I believe there are many. And I will probably miss quite a few of them. After all, this subject could be debated endlessly.

In my mind, one of the biggest differences is that abusive relationships come from a loss of control on the abuser's part; whereas, BDSM is very much about control--submissive gives control, Dominant exercises self control in the exertion of his will.

In abusive relationships, there seems to be a lot of "it's my fault" from the abused, and quite a bit of "you shouldn't have made me lose my temper--it's your fault" from the abuser.
I believe that responsibility is a hallmark of Dominants. Specifically, personal responsibility. An abuser is never responsible for their actions--it's the fault of the abused for provoking the anger.

In my relationship, actions have consequences and punishment can be one of those consequences. That is our arrangement and it works just fine for us.
Now, if he loses his temper and comes unglued (which is quite rare), it's Not my fault.

An abusive relationship also has the markings of the abused partner not being of equal value (contrary to popular opinion, equal value is not the same as equal footing), they are somehow not up to par and must be changed. Who they are is not acceptable, their input is not welcome, what is acceptable one day may not be the next.
Alpha's Dominance has released and enhanced who I am. It has never sought to change who I inherently am as a person--instead it brings out the parts of me I deny, tempers the parts of me that need work, and encourages my evolution as myself.

Then there is emotion.
Abuse occurs in anger and causes fear of real harm.
Fear is the tool that an abusive partner most often uses to keep the other person with them. It is the binding that holds them together. Not love, not intimacy, not the experience itself.

Alpha occasionally slaps me. Does it bother me? Well, no. Interesting things happen in my mind when he does it. But he has never once touched me in anger. Do I fear that he will harm me? No. Occasionally I may fear the things he could choose to do, or implements he may decide to use, but not him.
And yea, as he says, I'm a bit of a twisted kitty and to some extent, I get off on fear.

Of course, intent plays it's part too...
In a D/s oriented relationship, the best interests of the submissive and the relationship are reflected in a Dominants actions. Of course, what is in our best interests is not always what we want or like, but it is not detrimental.

BDSM can be subtle, children don't witness it, and the undertones of D/s can occur in a manner that slides right over their heads. Abuse occurs regardless of the presence of children and its impacts on their well-being. You will not walk into my house and see busted furniture, broken baubles, and children cowering in the corner crying that daddy hit mommy.

I believe that BDSM is, among many other things, about exploring possibilities, growing as a person, and accepting who you are.
It is intimacy with pleasure and pain, the experience of stripping away superficial trappings, an exchange of power for the mutual growth and benefit of Dominant and submissive.

This is not all to say that the two are mutually exclusive--that there is no such thing as an abusive relationship between people who practice BDSM. I think that when those lines blur, we are actually looking at the worst culmination of both worlds with the most destructive impacts on the abused.
It's not something I intend to ramble about here as I really have no clear personal perspective on it.

Where Everything Else Fades Away

There's nothing quite like the click as a knife snaps open. No matter where we are or what we are doing, that sound always brings me up short.

As the blade rests against my throat, my mind stills.
Thoughts slip away to the ache in my center as the knife slides lower

and lower

and the ache increases

my body melts under his touch.

As the blade slides between my legs, he warns me to stillness. Instead of fighting the shaking of my body, I give into the tremors until they subside.

He knows how this goes
as he peeks into my soul
and everything outside of
him
me
and his blade
fades away.

There are only two answers for every question:

"Yes Master."

"Yours Master."

Balance

Instead of going out for the crazy weekend, we came home, made popcorn, and watched movies that we couldn't watch with the kids. I had managed to acquire a lovely sunburn at the kiddo's game, so I was slowed down pretty good for a while. I'm no shrinking violet, but too much sun makes me pretty sick. But it was still awesome.

Oh yea, and we had sex in the living room. Super extreme right? Lol.

This morning we picked up the kids and took them to a carnival that passes through every year. I rode the Ferris Wheel--it's been a standing complaint of mine that they wouldn't let me on it when I was pregnant with the little one.

All in all, a very nice weekend.

The thing is, balance is not always an easy thing to achieve.

The balance between responsibility and play, Dominance and submission, obedience and independence, whore and lady.
It seems inevitable that, in my life, the scales will tip one way or another. And the further they go, the harder it is to bring them back to even.

But there is a balance. And I think that over time, it becomes easier to walk that line.

This was a good weekend that helped tip the scales back in a much needed direction.

And did I mention? They finally let me on the damn Ferris wheel! And I didn't even throw up. Major bonus.

The Best Fantasies are Homemade

I think that the best fantasies are the ones pulled from our own memories. Because really, they have already been our experiences and can be pulled out and re-examined at will.
And sometimes, it's really hot in retrospect, when my brain's actually functioning and processing events.

Like lying on my back on the floor with my knees curled to my chest as he squats beside me with an arm resting nonchalantly on his knee. My hair pinned by his hand or under his boot as he looks me over with that calculating self-satisfied gaze.

Thoughts about the way he lifts me up out of the bottom of the bathtub after doing filthy things to me, washing and inspecting every inch of me to his satisfaction. The way he dries my hair and wraps the towel around me when he is done.

The way he wraps his hands in my hair and says "Mine" as he shoves his cock down my throat.
Or any given moment when I don't like what he is doing and the realization hits that he can and will do anything he wants to me--and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

The look in his eyes when I am kneeling at his feet in total humiliation...

I like the warm fuzzy ones too, just because thinking of them makes me feel peaceful.

Like sitting at his feet as he absently strokes my hair while completely focusing on something else.
Or him whispering "good girl" in my ear as I cum at his command.
And the ridiculous joy that comes with being told that he is proud of me.
How he goes to sleep with his arm draped over me and his hand wrapped around my throat.

Oh yes, the best fantasies are definitely homemade.

All About Play

When I'm down, Alpha is always there to lift me up (or scrape the pieces off the ground as the case may be), and it took me a very long time to realize that, even those who pick us up need someone to lean on at times.

He has been feeling more than his age since a recent appointment and I am left wishing he could see himself through my eyes. Much as I sometimes wish I could see myself through his I suppose.

I think it is much more difficult to handle his times of being down as a sub than it was when we were vanilla. Though perhaps then I never fully realized that the need for support is a human characteristic, so it mattered less to me. Because he always seemed so strong and unbreakable.

And I still see him that way. But I also know he is human (gasp and shudder, what a mind blowing realization).

Alpha is older than me and has always had the views and concepts that come with more experience in this world. And though he misses feeling young, he really still is.
His chosen profession is not an easy one and has taken it's toll with all the markings that come from years of long days packed with hard physical labor and the responsibilities of making tough decisions that cannot be undone.

I was sitting at the park yesterday watching the kiddo play soccer, munchkin playing on the playground as if there was no tomorrow, the sun slowly fading over the mountain, kids the age we were when we met strolling in the sun as if they had no concept of the weight of reality, and I realized something--while Alpha has always held a great weight of responsibility, I have really done nothing to make it better.

He is a responsible yet spontaneous person. And I was always there advocating the most responsible route, pointing out why we shouldn't do the fun thing, why we couldn't do the spur of the moment activity he was advocating. For the most part he ignored my objections and we did them anyways. And now I am quite thankful for that.
But I think that slowly over time, what I was really doing was wearing down that spontaneous man who never had a chance to be a kid.
Everybody needs to play sometime. And while I was learning that from him, to some extent he was learning the opposite from me.

So this weekend we are going to play. Even if it just means getting lost in the woods for a day, or unplugging the phone and strolling around the house naked eating copious amounts of popcorn and watching movies. We are going to leave the kids with grandma and quit acting like responsibilities are the only thing in life that really matters.
Because he taught me how to play. And I think it's time I reminded him how precious of a gift that is.

Rambling my Way Back to Reality

It's hard for me to write after a crazy dry spell. All the thoughts I kept locked up come flowing through so fast that it is nearly impossible to form any of them into something coherent until the waters settle. So I slowly ramble my way back to our reality.

The absolute best moments are sitting at his feet while he idly strokes my hair, and he leans over and whispers "good girl" in my ear.

In that moment I am whatever he wishes me to be.

It's odd you know, the cravings and how they are fed by both his denial and willingness to feed them.

The denial feeds my need for his control even if it means not getting what I am after. It lacks that sated feeling, but serves as a reminder of my place.

And no matter how crazy the world gets, when our little circle looks like a crazy scribble drawn by an inattentive four year old, there always comes some method to the madness.
We come flowing back to where we should be. Even though it's not always where we were.

I'm trying to get back to my daily routine of working out and I hate to say it, but there may be something to be said for trigger point therapy (horrid stuff if you ask me. Novocaine made me nauseous for two days and I almost passed out after injection # 5. Who does that to people for a living?!), because my back almost feels, dare I say it? Normal!

My mom might watch the boys next weekend. Who knows, maybe we'll even go out and play like adults! Imagine that. I forgot what it's like lol.

Thirsty

Maybe it's those little moments smashed up against the fridge gasping for air, or the look that says "Mine!"
Or the way he touches me like every inch belongs to him...

Or perhaps it's the downright D/s drought we have been living in.

But I am thirsty for that sense of being owned...

Very thirsty.

They say that by the time you realize you are thirsty, you're already dehydrated.

I do believe that's true.

And it's easy to gorge and drink your fill until you're sick...Unless the person in charge refuses to let you have your fill. In which case, you avoid the unpleasant repercussions of not being able to handle it...But you still drool over that pool just within sight, just begging you to dive in so you can sate your thirst and sink into its depths...

Yea, I'm not a fan of denial.

Who knew?