BDSM and the Darkness of Life

When I was a teenager I liked to wallow in misery. I liked to read books about horrible things; about people who died or suffered in ways that perhaps made them wish they would die. I read about the concentration camps, anorexia, extreme poverty, p*d*phili*, schizophrenia, abuse, harassment, f*rced marriages, neglected ch*ldr*n and traumatized adults. Fear, v******e, horror, grief, humiliation and pain. Evil. I wallowed in evil.

And this is very strange, I think, the fact that I chose to spend so much time in the company of misery. Because it's really, really hard for me to accept evil in the world. Hopefully most of us don't accept injustice. But I am actually really weighed down by the knowledge that evil might be waiting around the corner, waiting to seize me or one of my closest. I'm sometimes paralyzed by despair when I read about the darkness that constantly is within reach (or if it's the other way around, of course, that it is us who are within reach of the darkness).

And what do I do, how do I handle this at times skinless experience to crack under the pressure of hatred and fear? Well, I flee into BDSM. I go to Him. I let him beat me, **** me, strangle me, dr*g me and literally p*sis on me. I let him talk condescending to me, as if I was his private property. And it comforts me. It calms me. It makes me stronger when I meet my everyday life.

It's strange, right, It doesn't really add up?! I have wondered if my anger regarding r*cism, sexism and ignorant stupidity has made me come to appreciate an even more brutal practice of BDSM. Well, I'm a feminist. Quite a militant feminist and anti-racist. Politically correct (I am proud to say!). The slightest contemptuous comment can make me completely outraged. And vi*lenc* against women, ****, where perpetrators go free because they didn't really understand that she did not want to have sex with them - she might have been just a little shy, the court stated, maybe that was the reason she was a little hesitant about being fucked with a bottle by three unknown men?! - It makes me furious. Furious and disappointed.

But when the weekend comes, I get in my car and go to Him. And hope that he will beat me harder, that he will fuck me more brutal and that he will wake me in the middle of the night by pressing his stiff cock hard into my anal. When I go to sleep with him, I feel such a peace - peace and harmony of a kind I have never before experienced in my life. I'm perfectly safe. He takes care of me. I feel happy and loved. And nothing bad can happen to me when I am lying in his bed.

So I hate the darkness, but seek the opportunity to play the part of the victim. It's perhaps a way for me to handle the evil in life. But still – it feels strange that I get sexually aroused by things that ”irl” would make me furious...! The key word, though, is consent. I go to him by free will. He does, obviously, nothing to me that I don't want him to. With him, I can act out. With him, I can wallow in consensual darkness. With him, darkness turns to light.