What are some common misconceptions that you can think of that the outside world (or the media) believe about this lifestyle?

I can think of millions:

-We were all sexually abused as children and that is why we're into this
-We have violent tendencies and are amoral
-We are all "sex addicts" who need a greater and greater thrill to be satisifed
-We are mentally ill and harbor fantasies of violent behavior
-We will have sex with anyone we can
-We try to "recruit" people
-We are devil-worshippers
-We are prone to domestic violence and child abuse
-Those of us who are bi are "gay and in denial" or "confused" or "sex addicts"
-Those of us who are poly are all unstable
-We all carry some STD
-We are predators

These are just a few I can think of. All false.

I think the number one misconception is that people don't think love is ever involved in BDSM. For me, BDSM is all about love and trust and compassion. It's pretty hard to convince a straight audience of that. They get lost in the accessories. :-X

LOL - ok, my kid said it this way...

"Your just like anyone else, you just need a lot of equipment to have sex."

Ann

**Those of us who are bi are "gay and in denial" or "confused" or "sex addicts"**

I think the same could be said for vanilla bi people too.

Or how about the one where we are supposed to play our parts 24/7? Where the Dom is supposed to dominate every single person he/she meets, or that the submissive is a virtual doormat, not having a mind of their own?

here is one I heard......
"BDSM is a cover for domestic Violence and should be outlawed" to say such a thing is to show your absolute ignorance of the facts!

People who spout of about things they don't understand make me very mad!

I know let's gather all them up and have them sit thru a demonstration have them to listen to folks who are really enjoying it. maybe then they would be educated enough to understand the difference between good pain and bad pain!!!!!!

Keeper's Kitty

How about:

- You need to go to Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA). With all due resect to our enlightened Glory, this was proffered by a psychologist and endorsed by a sexologist. We were only discussing spanking thoughts at the time, not "heavier" BDSM stuff.

- Normal guys don't do that.

- Don't you dare bring anything home.

- How could you, your daughter needs a father.

Needless to say, my ex was not terribly supportive. Her narrow attitude is common in society IMHO.

:)
Paul

Gloria wrote:
 "...they get lost in all the accessories."

Those who read the lists probably know that I'm more of a "kink" person than an extreme "SM" player.
And I'm unsure what you specifically mean by "accessories", Gloria - but I take it to mean the "external" things used by BDSMers that call attention to themselves.

Now, please rest assured all - I'm in no way trying to address you "rights" to do whatever you want, etc., etc.

But - you have to admit, that the edgier play that involves the use of certain equipment does make most anyone wonder *how* the scene represents demonstrations of love, affection, respect, etc.

I wonder if people involved in BDSM would be able to construct a scene that had less of the "violent" accessories and *still* be able to enjoy it?

I'm simply asking.

I've no idea if that's possible or not. Perhaps some believe the "accessories" mostly *define* BDSM.
I'm not one of them as I see it more of a "mind control" or "internal" scene for myself.
But, I may not understand it all too well.

Sublimity

Not only bi but switches are also referred to as confused

Sublimity,

By accessories, yep, I meant the adult toys we use, and the leather we wear, and all other gadgetry and costumes associated with BDSM.

I don't think it's just the extreme stuff that create walls. Although black leather has become fashionable, leather people still stand out in a crowd when dressed up and fetishists still look exotic and strange to most vanilla people. I think people do judge us by those externals. I myself remember the first time I saw a leather hood. I was 18 and completely innocent about SM, and the only association I could make with the hood was that it was something worn by executioners. It scared the daylights out of me because I thought somehow SMers used it to pretend they were killing people. (Of course, I learned many years ago that hoods are actually delicious sensory deprivation toys that can send a submissive into a state of bliss.)

But I never forget my own ignorance about SM and know that many people still feel as I once did.

And, yes, long before we had our impressive arrays of exotic erotic playthings and fine fetish doodads and baroque whips, people were doing SM. There is no time in history when people weren't doing SM. It's just that they didn't have a name for it until about 125 years ago. Before that, what we now call sexual perversions were generally labeled as vices.

I'll end by simply pointing out that vice rhymes with nice and spice.

Accident?

:-D

hugs,

Glory

Lets see....

If ya ride a Harley or wear leather then you have to be "into" BDSM. (or at least own a crop..lol)

It's all just a pain game.

Everyone within the lifestyle "does" everyone within the lifestyle.

A slave is always a "sex slave"

A submissive is always submissive to everyone. And always acts submissive regardless of who she is around. (No voice, no choice, no rights)

A Dominant is a sex starved abuser.

A Dominant sells off his/her submissive.

Just to name a few....

~Chris

You go, Chris. Here's another: "Dominatrices are all man-haters."

Wait now, lesbians are all man-haters.

wow, so all lesbians are dominant man haters?

well that certainly explains a lot <snort!>

Ann
(non lesbian, dominant, friend of men)

a girl apologizes for having been absent for a few days - a girl had other obligations....<g!>)

Off Thread:

(Laughing merrily)

SteelSkys! Ann!
Master and I both tolerate unfamiliar men - as long as they don't attempt to get within striking distance. Closer than that and we need a complete background check in hand, and maybe a couple character references... (tongue-in-cheek only to a degree!)

A dear friend recently told me it was because of "all the scar tissue on my soul."

BOT:

Sublimity?
Toys are always a fun addition - but they don't define Master, or me - so I agree personally, it's all in the mind as an origin - but there are no limits, ever!

"Anyone into that sick stuff is also heavily into drugs!" (ooh, the opportunities to reply to that one have been endless! ex: endorphin saturation comes naturally to those in loving D/s - who needs illegal narcotics?)

"Does that mean she walks you on a leash, and you kiss her feet?" (please, yes, anytime, anywhere! Absolutely!)

"You look and act like you worship her!" (so? your point is...?)

"She looks at everyone like a tactical target - and she scared the hell out of me; and then I saw her look at you - what's going on with you two!" (they left skid-marks when I explained....)

"Why all the swords and knives! And all the trophies and medals! And what's with the polished tree trunk standing there (in the middle of the living room, floor-to-ceiling)!" ( I explained, we ended up talking for 3 hours; and she has been my latest martial arts student - and tends to look at both of us with wide eyes for some reason! {Dr. Gloria, she's also bought everything she could find that you've written, and just entered a Kempo/Kendo dojo as a full-time student! I think she's going to look for "someone special" of her own!})

"Does it always have to involve pain?"

I answered them with this -

Counting Down

She came back from a run, Her uniform both sweaty and chilled cold from the bitter wind that
was sweeping down form the mountains, hair blown every which way, the rust and silver tangled,
Her eyes quietly blazing.

It had been a call to save a young girl trapped; the sedan had flipped over several times and landed
in the river. Miraculously, the driver wasn’t severely injured, only a clean break of her left arm
above the elbow and some superficial cuts and bruises.

I heard her come back in District a couple hours later, off shift now; and I set the tea pot on,
waiting, knowing that She would need to talk about the call to unwind. There had been a real
danger of hypothermia for everyone involved in the extrication with the nasty weather, but, from
what I could make out from listening to the scanner, it had gone pretty well.

I was starting on my second cup of tea when Master came in - and there was nothing in the way
She looked at me to indicate that She was wanting to unwind....

Save for a long wrap sweater and shearling moccasins, I was nude. The woodstove was bright,
devouring dry black oak and seasoned fir, holding the sub-zero night well at bay.

She held Her arms out, an invitation to warm Her, to surrender my warmth - and She was so cold
it shocked me to gasp in pain. My body was contained in an embrace that I knew I could not free
myself from, had such a thought ever even crossed my mind, and I smelled the antiseptic, harsh
stamp of the ambulance and the supplies mixed with the cold, the rich scent of Her after working
hard on the call clear.

Hands worked into my hair, She kept me close, almost bent backwards, and led me to the bed
where the comforter was folded back, never saying a word, Her eyes brighter , a smile working
across Her face, lips parted into a rising curve that clearly stated intent....

I was laid across the bed, my head falling over the edge, Her fingers brushing my mouth, warning
me to silence, stillness, and I waited, relaxing into the lavender-print flannel sheets, listening to
Her strip off the uniform efficiently; familiar sounds: belt, buttons, zipper, boots.

She kneels beside me, and I feel the deep chill still in Her thigh pressed to my side.

“I want to get warm.
“I will talk about everything later.
“Know that I must have you, though, now....”

Her mouth closed on my breasts, flickingbitingkissing each pierced nipple hungrily, painfully, and
as I wordlessly cried out, arching to that isolated contact, She whispered,

“Ninety-nine..”

To the side of my throat, patiently, the same intense kiss,

“Ninety-eight....”

By the time She got to seventy, I was drenched in sweat, trembling uncontrollably, and She was
still methodical, Her voice unchanging, the pace of the kisses constant. A tracery of sensation
was being marked on me, a signature of hunger that was insatiable, and my self-control was gone
- there was only surrender.

“Fifty-six....”

Never the same place twice, if even only by a fraction of an inch. She was dismantling me, heat
pouring from Her now, Her breathing deep and easy; while I was laughing/crying to each contact,
sightless in the light of the fire but for a spreading, liquid color that flowed through me, every
pore, every nerve; I ached to break pose, to even just touch Her, and I would not, I celebrated
Her collar, the tattoos, the piercings She had marked me with, slave; sanity a myth, scorned.

“Twenty-one....”

Power. Master was a brilliance I had not imagined, this so unexpected, so relentless. Desire. I
wanted Her to whip me, to break this pattern of precision; and She continued, implacable.

“Six....”

I was in a space of golden light, a sequence of markings now almost complete comprising my
entire being, and She had still not touched my sex. Mastery. We were both drenched in sweat
now, Her movements only guessed at, as I could not see Her, only submit to Her mouth, a
danger, devouring me with precision.

“Two....”

Consciousness was ascending and traveling through planes of being made only of the sound of
Her voice, the markings on me now connected with need, pure and tangible; I was defined into
something new, simple, owned and controlled by Her hunger. Every dream I had ever
experienced was foremost, now, a desperate want, some way to claim enough power of my own
to last, to last just a little longer, a girl will never fail, and there is someone screaming
continuously now....

“One....”

And Her mouth is fastened on my sex, the same kiss.
Lightening and release focus into that moment with the simplicity of completing connect-the-dots,
and a velvety blackness falls over me, and I hear Her soft laughter, feral and rich,

“Pretty slave....”

(true story)
___________________________________________________

She told me she'd tried it on her husband, and by the next morning she had trouble walking.....

We're now good friends!

a girl loves to dismantle misconceptions!

With Master growing stronger every day, a girl is unable to put into words exactly how, but the topography of our relationship is evolving: Master is celebrating my strengths in wanting me now to get into very good physical condition - and wants to then, when She's satisfied, dress me in matching leather!

We've begun sparring, both unarmed, and with sheathed knives, so very carefully.

By the end of this Summer, we may both be involuntarily prompting a whole new set of questions and misconceptions!

(if i have posted that account here before, my apologies - it's the memory thing)

edited:

(i just checked, and found i had, over on Sub-Conscious. i apologize. a girl never means to sound self-important, self-centered. a girl is very stupid)

You are *not* stupid at all, trisha.
The story is lovely, as is your relationship with your Master.
How sweet of you to help your friend to find her path, and dissolve the misconceptions. :)

Sublimity, I don't see accessories as defining BDSM at all. They can make it more interesting, creative, pleasurable, and so on, but it comes down to two bodies, two minds, and two souls coming together.

Accessories are always optional. ;)

Accessories are always optional. ;) >>

AHEM.

Not in this house, they're not.

;-)

submlimity,
i could happily do a scene with no violence either as a sub or a Dom.
it isn't about violence it is about control

dat brat