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I almost went vanilla.

For this post I needed to get something off my chest.

So I have a friend, who once had a boyfriend who almost turned me vanilla. For those who don’t know what that means, it means something almost made me give up on BDSM and not for any ‘good’ reasons. Let me set the scene for you;

I’d made a new friend and I could tell that she was sad, we both did the Princes Trust together and this is where she met him. I could sense they were going to get together straight away. She was a Princess worthy of a Disney movie. He was a healthy young guy, wore black, listened to metal music, and I saw some of myself when I was that age in him. However I had this sickening sense of dread, as if I was tasting tainted air when I met him. I can’t describe it, but it’s like a sixth sense for sh*t . The more dead and acrid a sense I get, the greater the sh*t and this was like licking a corpse. I brushed this aside because he made my friend happy.

I regretted that decision ever since.

That thing turned out to be a monster, the kind that’s just below pedophiles. He hurt my friend badly. In a way that I knew if I was her, I wouldn’t have survived. I should have known better than to ignore my instincts. The same core instincts that tell me how to fall with out braking anything, tell me when a storms coming, tell me how to tie someone up beautifully and how to cook. An odd mix I know, but I shouldn’t ignore them all the same. For ignoring them leads to doom. Even if it’s a niggling feeling that I will need something specific in a few days time. If I don’t take it, something will catch fire, or it will be the apocalypse or I’ll need to escape from rabid women or something else just as dire.

Anyway, what is important about this; was that I felt something familiar in him; something that made me think of myself. We would even butt heads because we were so similar but he always backed down. When I finally found out everything that had transpired… I wanted to throw up, peel off my crawling skin and rub the vomit into my wounds. (Severe I know but he’s almost killed her several times over.) That monster had controlled my beautiful friend, infected her, wore away her esteem, until the shining star of a princess was no more. I stared at her in disbelieve. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t told me or ran to me for help. She just stared back at me with a forsaken look in her eyes, and I could see her pain and wondered if I’d been blind.

Later I began to think of the fine line that I walk between being a Dom and being that…thing. I started to question everything I’d ever done. That b*st*rd’s control is the type that leaves you wondering where they begin and you end, in your own head space. I’ve felt this type of personal corruption when dealing with my mother. I know the pain my friend was feeling. I started to believe I was doing the same thing with my partner. What if I was causing this pain in him? What if it was so bad that he couldn’t tell me? Or couldn’t sleep at night? I began to hate my Dom instincts. I wanted to remove something that had been part of me since I was born. I wanted to remove something so integral and deep that it might as well be my heart. All on the odd chance that I was just a monster with a different face.

So I tried, but the more I fought it, the more it fought back with every tooth, claw and nail. I couldn’t be normal if I tried. Instead I threw myself into learning everything to contain/harness my instincts. And hell I’m better for this experience, even if I have ‘pervy’ books in my room that would cause trouble if any one discovered them.

All I know is I couldn’t f*ck normally even if I tried.

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