A sadomasochism class changed my life

This article is reprinted with permission from the public account Leviathan (ID: liweitan2014)

Leviathan’s note: Although the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition (DSM-IV) Sadism or masochism is considered a psychological disorder, but many BDSM enthusiasts may not think so. Additionally, many people may view BDSM as a scary or unpleasant experience. However, activities in BDSM are consensual and typically aimed at mutual pleasure. Because of this, BDSM practitioners believe that it and sexual abuse are two completely different things.

Text/JillianRichardson

Translation/Qingkong Feiyan

Proofreading/Sure enough, Turing 4.0

Original text/narrative.ly/ the-dominatrix-class-that-changed-my-life/

I was frustrated in love, so I lost all my confidence. I once walked into a "sex dungeon" above a Japanese restaurant and whipped a man, and I never looked back.

I'm sure I'm in the right place. A professional dominatrix named TaraIndiana had emailed me the address earlier that day. However, wherever I could see, I only saw the back door of a Japanese restaurant and a few kitchen workers taking a cigarette break. The sexdungeons I'm looking for can't be found in a sushi restaurant, right? Then I started to wonder how much I knew about the "Dynasty of Sex." The idea had just entered my mind two weeks ago, and now I was standing at the back door of a sushi restaurant, looking for signs of the classroom where I was taking "Secrets of the World's Best Female Dominators."

“Are you looking for Cyn Studio?” One of the men stared at me and asked. I nodded, feeling a little more confident. If it's possible for a stranger to picture me in a room full of whips and whippers, maybe I'm not that much of a loser after all.

This man led me up to the eighth floor. As I struggled to climb up, I passed by another man. After glancing at me, this man stared at me intently. He hit the ground and continued walking down, never looking up again. Does he think I'm a dominatrix on my way to work? To my surprise, he looked at me with such complete surrender that it made me feel sexy and powerful. When I reached the top of the stairs, even though I was still a little out of breath, I felt less wobbly than I had on the street.

A woman in casual business attire checked me in at the front desk, and I caught a glimpse of the interior of a studio, richly decorated with black leather and red velvet. It looks like the lobby of a fancy hotel - if you can forget about the men being tied up and tortured.

Then, I was taken into a spacious and open room. Hidden behind the pillars in the room were some utensils that could be used in different scenarios: a St. Andrew's cross, chains, and what looked like an operating table (I would later learn that the medical role play here was a sexual one) manifestation of fetish). There were some small props on the table at the front of the room, and I pretended that I had seen them countless times. These props include: spiked collars, leather handcuffs, clappers (a special type of spanking board) and various whips. As a diligent student, I sat on a hard foldable chair in the front row, took a deep breath, and prepared to start.

There are other women in the classroom. We smiled at each other and awkwardly chatted in our folding chairs. There was a tacit understanding that everyone would not mention the following lesson - a lesson on how to conquer men, including how to make good use of the pussy power derived from women.

Ultimately, I changed the paradigm of love, sex, and life in this class.

***

When I was growing up, I had a sister who was 6 years older than me. Her life was many times cooler than mine. She dated a CK underwear model and took free tours of the Hamptons (located at the Atlantic end of Long Island near the Atlantic Ocean) with handsome guys. Meanwhile, I was in the chorus, wearing a wide blue sash and a rumpled white shirt. I kept talking about Harry Potter as if that was my job. What my sister calls "stress" is having three men trying to get her attention at the same time when I'm desperate for someone to ask me out.

My first kiss came very late, when I was 16 years old. I didn't even like my first kiss. He loved chasing storms, as well as football and dirty bikes. And I had little interest in any of this. But, I went out with him anyway because I didn't know if other boys would be interested in me. When I was in high school, I asked Andrew to dance because I had a crush on him for over a year. He initially agreed, but regretted it the same day. Because he hopes a better girl can invite him. Two years later, I was filling Tim's locker with his favorite candies and inviting him to the Sadie Hawkins dance—and I was let go again.

When I was a freshman, I gave my first night to someone from the a cappella group that everyone in school was looking for. We had dinner together and then I went to where he worked. The only regret is that he doesn't like me. My first time happened when I drank too much at a party. A week later, I saw him kissing a girl at another party, the same party he invited me to. The worst part is, I never spoke up for myself. I never told those men how deeply they hurt me. I moved on, keeping silent about the past. Because I feel like this is the best thing I can get.

My bad luck continued into college. One of my bed partners was a melancholy actor who was pretty good in bed, but all he talked about was how much he hated himself. Additionally, I slept with a sexy Australian composer who, however, hid the fact that he had a girlfriend from me. I met a game designer from London and I trusted him with my secrets. However, after the one-night stand, I never heard from him again. A filmmaker inspired me creatively, but he lived with his mother, who coincidentally had the same name as me. I also met a sports guy with whom I had absolutely nothing in common who wrote me several love letters after I told him I no longer wanted to date him. A singer I met in a writing class hugged and kissed me on the street and then the next day pretended I didn't exist. Another friend told me he loved me when he was drunk, but ignored me the next day.

Before the age of 20, I had no confidence in my love life. I felt like no one wanted to be with me. When I think of men, all I can think of is heartbreak. No matter how hard I try, there are always a steady stream of rotten peach blossoms around me, but none of them are reliable.

This is why I sit in a folding chair in a dungeon like this, hoping to find my private parts of the Force and my inner desire to dominate. I met some women from the BDSM community in New York City, as well as some professional dominatrixes. Translator's Note: The term BDSM is used to describe a number of related patterns of human sexual behavior. Its main subgroups are exactly what the acronym BDSM itself refers to: bondage discipline (B/D), dominance and submission (dominance submission (D/S)), sadism and masochism (Sadism Masochism) S/M). I was blown away by their confidence. When they walked into the room, other people glanced sideways, but they didn't care. These women don’t need others to tell them they are beautiful and sexy to feel validated within.

They themselves know their own beauty and have built a career based on their advantages. I hope I can love myself as much as they do. I want to be not only sexy but also in control in my life.

In front of me stood Tara Indiana. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looked harmless. However, I Googled her name before, and the reality of her was contrary to the impression she gave off. On a sexual fetish website called Fetlife, she has more than 950 followers. She wrote on the website:

"Please have no doubt - you will become my puppet, and you will gradually like this feeling. All pleasure must be obtained through hard work, in the form of housekeeping Or financial exploitation. If you don't know who I am, this is a once-in-a-lifetime honor and opportunity."

Tara Indiana

If you read "Little Yellow. "Article", you will find that she treats people as "human ashtrays". She tied people's bodies with ropes, slapped their butts and whipped them. She even had her own dungeon where she taught other female dominatrixes. In short, she is a true abuser.

Now, she is standing alone in front of a whiteboard.

While waiting for the other women to arrive, I noticed a fat cat sitting on a stool above me. I looked at this furry little dumpling, and it gave me a "little bitch, what do you know" look. "I can only imagine what this cat has seen," I said loudly. To my surprise, Tara smiled, and I began to feel relaxed.

The course has begun. We discussed the differences between being a professional dominatrix and dominatrixing as a lifestyle, we also talked about how to be irresistible and the importance of seeing yourself as a goddess. I've seen talk shows and magazines that encourage women to find their inner goddess. But I never knew exactly what to do. Take a Zumba dance class and get a beauty treatment? Or enjoy a kale salad? The personal changes I can think of are all that simple. But this is all nonsense. For me, real change comes from daring to learn from others who face their true desires, both online and in real life. For some men, when you mention the word "submission," they always frown because they think submission is a sign of lack of manliness. For some women, male surrender means that they can discover some "desire to dominate" that exists in their hearts, and this is exactly what society strives to break.

The psychological elements of this course are very important, but I am still curious about how female abusers work indoors. While I was concentrating on my studies, Tara pulled me aside and told me that there would be a "slave training" course immediately afterwards. A man would be taking the course and Tara thought he would be a perfect match for me.

***

So I stayed - after two hours of nervously searching for the entrance in the alley, I was still sitting in the "sex dungeon" . When a group of volunteers acting as "slaves" walked in, I felt a little uncomfortable that these men were completely reduced to human playthings. But I knew how much I wanted to be dominant, and this was a great time to learn. I'm not going to ask my casual date if we can do BDSM—at least not until I know what I'm supposed to do.

The people in this class are completely different from the previous class. I'm no longer surrounded by women who want to spice things up in the bedroom, but by femme fatales who project an aura of "I don't care what you think of me." I started chatting with a woman next to me. She was a professional dominatrix and we chatted about some cheap sex education classes. We laughed together, and to my surprise, I felt more relaxed than I had ever felt before, even with a group of men behind me. Because from the moment they walked in, they fully recognized me as their master.

Tara needs someone to come forward.

For the next few days that week, this man traveled across town to give me a foot massage, and I told him to turn his back and sit down, as I had learned in class. on the floor. And I sat on the bed and wrapped my legs around his neck. This way, he could massage my legs and feet, but he wouldn't have the benefit of looking at me. At first, I was very nervous, but gradually I got used to it. I told him things that only a man would say in a sex scene, like: "You are mine," "You are my toy," "You were born to serve me," "Only my pleasure is important, and your happiness is insignificant” and so on.

At first, what I couldn’t believe was that he didn’t laugh at me. I think it's all so ridiculous. But after 10 minutes, I felt like I was completely in character. I even told him that from now on he would only be able to masturbate with my permission and that he would have to call me "goddess". Before he left, I allowed him to kiss my leg, the reward he'd been begging for. I giggled as I sent him off without letting him look at me the whole time. What did I just do? Why do I feel so good? Can I share this experience with others?

***

Before that summer, sex had never been a "powerful" experience for me. While I thought I was smart, funny, and attractive, I felt like I wasn't perfect enough to keep a man around. I had to learn to think of myself as a G-cup goddess and let others I met validate that. The change in my view of myself not only came from within, but also came from learning the mentality and true opinions of others.

I no longer struggle, but there is one thing I don’t even have the confidence to doubt: I still feel that I can’t control men, but men can control me.

I continued my sexual exploration for the remainder of that summer. I went to a polyamory meetup and learned about different types of relationships. I became friends with everyone I met. They introduced me to a wonderful world but also made sure I felt safe and happy. I attended my first "cosplay" party at a friend's apartment, and it was a blast. I met an abuser from England who wanted to practice the "ropeart art" on me. That night we switched roles and I was the tormentor. In order to obtain pleasure, people can say that they will do anything. I've seen people use flames to burn the other person's body to get satisfaction. I saw a very effeminate man. I've also seen women dressing up as mermaids. I started dating an actor from HBO who paid $400 for dinner and all he got was a kiss. I was even invited to take a trip to the Hamptons.

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