What BDSM Is All About

Copyrighted material Used with Permission of the author all rights reserved

by Chris Carroll aka Book

It has cost me a job. It has cost me relationships. It has cost me a bit of pride and forced me to re-evaluate a lot of things that I have always taken for granted as solid in my world. This is okay. This is how I live. This is how I will live from now on because I don’t think I can ever go back to vanilla. This is why. This is what it’s all about…

…it’s about anticipation, that feeling you get when you know you’re about to do something you’ve longed for all of your days, or not longed, ACHED for. A way to be touched and that feeling of euphoria that comes when you’ve found someone who knows how to touch in that way; it’s about not being able to concentrate at work, your mind falling back to the fantasy you had last night when you were alone and trying to sleep and how your little fingers played your body thinking that the fantasy might actually come true; it’s about the run home, the long preperatory shower; picking panties and clothes that are going to make him just DIE; sitting on your hands on the sofa while he sits facing you, hands on your knees holding them apart, whispering his lips so close to your ear…

…it’s about surprise. It’s about things you’ve never thought of, never imagined, never dreamed you could do or worse, even be into. You are standing with your forehead to the wall, your shirt and bra strap worked down over your shoulders, barely on, the button of your jeans open, fly down, panties showing standing there with your eyes closed and he is standing close behind you. You’ve lived here YEARS. Never once did you ever think, especially when you first saw that wall, that you would be standing against it… skin to it… clothes almost falling off… wanting this man to touch you wanting to know what comes next wanting wanting wanting… almost screaming when his lips brush your neck, lips cover teeth, teeth bite… give me your neck to kiss or my teeth will take it. The fist that lands so close to your face startling you, making you fall back against his body… being gently pushed back up against the wall. For that transgression these pants are forfeit… it’s about how wet you get, standing there in your corner with your cute little ass exposed and how you NEVER EVER thought you could get into this.

…it’s about secrets, and fantasies, and the limits you put on yourself. it’s about the naughty little things you’ve always kept locked away in the back of your head… I can’t list them, I’m only still learning of them myself. But you know what they are. you know about how you feel the gambit of emotions around all of them, sometimes ashamed, sometimes amused, sometimes very very aroused. It’s about how they make you feel slutty and how that slutty makes you feel strong. It’s about how they make you feel dirty and how that dirty version of yourself is really kind of hot and you wish you could be her more often because she doesn’t take shit from anybody. It’s about the second life, the soul, that little image of ourselves that we have locked away and that only slips out when we’re on our knees with a cock in our mouth or getting fucked stupidly in a way we shouldn’t be; when we stop being us and start being about the act. We go for a smoke break and the understudy comes to the stage and my god you wish you could be more like her sometimes. It’s about shining a light in the closet, pulling her out and giving her a good once over and realizing, once and for all, that you’re the same person. Let her back in and be better, fuller, more honestly YOU for it.

…it’s about your fears. It’s about thinks that scare you and facing them down. Pain is scary. Being tied up and left in the hands of someone with evil designs on you is scary. It’s about the feeling you get when you face those fears, fight em for an entire scene, and emerge on the other side. It’s about what doesn’t even go through your head when you are tied down on that table. It’s not about the knife tracing so deadly along your flesh or the hand around your throat or how many times you come close to unconsciousness. It’s not about the fire that erupts on your skin or the needles or even the unblinking staring face that is without any hint of emotion as the cock rapes you. It’s about the fact that you are doing this, you are facing this with someone that you trust and when you get passed this hands will be holding you up, helping you rise, and you will never fear these things again. Take a beating, a good hard beating followed by being tied up and fucked at knife point by someone who loves you and NO ONE will EVER be able to bullshit you again.

…it’s about trust. It’s about trusting someone enough to be able to let go completely with them. No worries, no fears, no secrets, no lies. It’s about knowing that for the length of the scene, the moment, the relationship whatever… for the length of time that you are connected you can trust this person with your life. You don’t need to hide anything from them. They are going to peel away your clothes, peel away your worries, peel away all the things that clog up your filters and keep the REAL you hidden. Sure scenes can be scary, but you can face it because underneath all the emotions layered on top of you during a scene… playing to your fear, your embarrassment, humiliation, whatever your game all of that is piled onto trust. You trust that these hands that slap you, this man that makes you sit there, naked, spreading your pussy in a room full of people for everyone to see, these hands that beat you will also caress you and also hold you and lift you. It’s about trust. Even the simplest trust of a promise… you do well girl and I will give you an orgasm that will make your eyes roll back into your head. you don’t do what I tell you and you are going to stay tied up in this scary dark place forever. It’s about trusting someone enough to feel free with them. complete and total freedom.

…it’s dirty. It’s BAD. It’s about being knocked down, and down, and stepped on while you’re down there. It’s about all pretension and fakeness being shaken off of you, old ideas and misconceptions that need to be torn from you sometimes violently. It’s about beatings and floggings and dragon tails and violet wands. It’s about pain and the endorphins pain release. It’s about going down down down as far as you can go. It’s about hitting a wall and thinking oh good jesus I can’t possibly take any more of this and then being pushed past it. then you’re stunned that you’re in this new place and a new wall comes and you cry out please fuck no anything but and you’re past that one now too. It’s about sitting on a couch, held, warm, at the end of a scene and being told exactly what happened. No love, you were on that cross for three hours. no dear, the bruises will probably show up tomorrow. I was beating on you for three hours. You cried. You begged. I told you to shut up and you did. And you know what… you survived. You are so much fucking stronger then anyone has ever given you credit for and I swear to god if you get down on yourself EVER again for being weak I will remind you of exactly what happened here tonight. Not weak. Strong. So fucking strong. I am so fucking proud of you. There are no words. Well done baby. Good fucking job.

…it’s about sex. No, really. It is. I’ve heard all the arguments against this. Hell i just wrote most of them. But let’s be honest here if in no other place, honest here if with no other people then with each other and ourselves. It’s about sex. Put your hand around a willing sub’s neck and two things happen… they drift a little, that dirty inner self comes out a bit and they get turned on. I get more of an erection from firmly holding someone by the shoulders then I do watching a good strip tease. I’ve heard the club rules and agree with them… you can’t do a rape scene without rape, sure and maybe not everyone wants to see you getting your naughty on. I get that too. But let’s not kid ourselves. You dream about being fucked while tied down. You dream about being powerless to a group of rough handed thick cocked men who make you do degrading things and use you for nothing else then there own sexual pleasure. You get wet at the thought. That’s sexual. I get hard at the idea of fucking hand cuffed girls. I get hard at the idea someone tied up on their knees in front of me. That’s sexual. Okay… maybe if it’s not about sex, how about we cut the difference and say there is certainly a sexual element to it? I can go out into public and do public scenes but nine times out of ten whoever my playmate is will be coming home with me and getting fucked six ways of Tuesday because, well frankly, I can’t think of a better reward then orgasms

…it’s about honesty. About complete honesty. Of facing one another with nothing hiding. And about accepting that. And taking that person’s hand regardless.