Reading The Topping Book is bringing all sorts of memories back for me. Good, bad, pleasure-filled and painful. The hard part is that the memories are so mixed, the bitter inexorably wrapped around the salty and the sweet. i can't simply leave the whole mess behind me, though I've been trying; it keeps coming back, no matter how much i try to forget. There are things i have forgotten, and other emblazoned permanently on the map of my memories, the marks on my body and on my erotic map.
Because i still like some of the things that turned me on then, but they're so woven with shame and humiliation that I can't separate the two, as much as i'd like to.
And it's still hard for me to believe the things that happened actually happened to me. Even the most vivid of the memories seem to sit at one remove, separated from me by the barrier that was initially merciful and now makes it difficult to deal with.
I'd like to think that now, I'd be safer; I'd know better what I wanted and how to get it. I was awfully naive when i started playing. Someone once told me that I wasn't so much submissive as passive, that I didn't seem to want to give in so much as i wanted to be absolved of responsibility for what happened to me.
I'm over that now, and I've figured out the reasons and the triggers for my passivity. And I've discovered the devilish pleasures of topping and the desire to give a bottom everything they wanted and things they didn't even know they could want. And I've discovered the desire to be treated well as a submissive, to bottom to someone capable of understanding the sensations they were inflicting on me.
And I think the bitter is part of the sweet, the conflict is part of the game.
I want to say something...but no. We can't save each other, I know. I've said my piece, and now I will keep my mouth shut until my input is wanted.Oh, but i know how it feels to watch a train wreck just waiting to happen....
