I think this is such an important post–at least for me. I am reblogging for the very first time! I hope the ochre muse doesn’t mind.
My submission has always shocked me. The first time I was exposed to anything resembling dominance, my hormones went wild. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Sensation was all there was. I had never been so lost in my sexuality before. I felt as though I was swimming in sex.
Then came the frenzy. Nothing could tame it, so my life turned into a hot, wet, obsessive dream. There I was, a feminist with ethics stiff enough to choke you with, accepting what I had called “abuse” only a day before. But it wasn’t abuse. It wasn’t even a pathology. It was just sex—really hot sex at that.
My libido is wired out of an odd tangle of objectification, masochism, and subservience. To me, control is bliss. Power exchange is the space wherein I’m free. I become a conduit for a dominant’s desire, and forgetting my own…
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