rape with a loving partner acting the part of the aggressor. While, on the surface, this might be seen as counterproductive, those I have spoken to are unanimous in declaring that the psychodrama helped them “get control of the trauma.”
The logic seems to be that the original act left the victim with a sense of powerlessness, but reenacting it in an environment of BDSM, where he or she can set the parameters of the action and even abruptly halt the scene with a safeword, gives a feeling of empowerment.
I should note here that these submissive individuals, both male and female, initiated the idea of using a scene psychodrama in this way. I would strongly caution any dominant not to coerce a submissive into such scenes with the thought of providing a sort of home-brew therapy. The dynamics of control seem to indicate that a suggestion of this sort must originate from the individual most directly affected.
Other submissives report that BDSM helps them deal with emotional pain by allowing them to “go away,” to escape into the intense sensuality and endorphinin- engendered haze where memories and even rational thought becomes secondary. This is often referred to as “subspace,” but, as with much in this world, the criteria vary greatly for what “subspace” actually is and how one gets there.
Of course, this going-away isn’t unique to BDSM. I doubt that there are many of us who have not set down an engrossing book to discover we were cramped and ached from the position in which we had been sitting. The book literally took us away from our bodies.
A friend who is active in the arts observes that the first five minutes of a play or musical presentation may be accompanied by coughs and other noises from the audience. Soon, these vanish as the performance lifts the audience from the mundane sensations of their bodies to a higher plane where noises from tickles in the throat and squeaks from uncomfortable chairs cannot follow.
When these submissives talk about their use of BDSM to deal with their pain, it’s not clear whether they are describing a benefit or a cause. Did the emotional pain lead the person to choose a submissive role in BDSM play? While this is possible, I could equally persuasively argue that the person was already submissive and was simply using the BDSM scene to deal with the existing pain.
Another need or cause cited by some submissives is that in their early lives they sealed away their emotions. In some cases, this was the result of abuse; in others, it was because the family ignored or concealed emotion. As one submissive woman put it, “By being submissive to my master and relinquishing all control to him, we are slowly tearing down the protective walls I built because of some things which happened in my childhood. For me, BDSM is a way of confronting my fears and allowing myself to grow emotionally. What I find most appealing about BDSM are the emotional and psychological aspects – although the physical is also fun. Would I still find it appealing if my childhood had been different? I don’t know, but I doubt it.”
Another woman commented that before she took part in BDSM activities she had been very passive and stuck in vanilla relationships. However, after experiencing the intense communications necessary to make a BDSM relationship work, she found herself being more forthright.
Is the increased ability to communicate simply a benefit of the scene, or did the blocking these women experienced cause their submissive feelings? Did the blocking and the feelings have the same original source? Obviously, there isn’t any clear, single answer.
Why would someone want to be dominant?
Some individuals take the inverse of my relaxing- from-power explanation of submissive behavior to state that dominants, then, must be weak individuals who need to take the power from others to experience a contrast to their helplessness.
Aside from the knee-jerk reaction that this ain’t so, the