I’ll Have One Serving of Degradation and Five of Subspace Please

Degradation might be my biggest kink… beyond simple dominance, of course. One degrading sentence can kick me into the most delicious subspace. The most significant correlate to degradation is intimacy in my relationships. It brought me intimacy in bucketloads. I’ve never felt as close to another person as I have to the only dominant who ever explored this kink with me.

I’m not sure what came first: the trust or the degradation. Either the safety he bundled me up in afterwards earned my trust, or the trust is precisely the reason degradation was possible. Maybe it was a domino effect.

Either way, we shared more with each other than we had ever shared with another soul. I unloaded every secret I had into his hands, and he did the same with me. I happily showed him parts of myself I’d been too ashamed to show anyone else, and I soon learned that that was an excellent idea because it only made him love me more.

(Continued below)


I knew that if I was safe enough to give him access to my darkest corners, I was safe enough to tell him everything about myself and my sexuality, which is why our sex life was more intense than anything I’ve encountered before or since.

It’s counterintuitive that degradation should lead to love and intimacy, but there you have it. It happened. Put a woman in subspace often enough and you’re likely to land up with a crazy level of sub frenzy.

<fuck> That happened, too. </fuck>

I spent my days feeling as though I was walking in a thick smog of pure sex. Not a dry second passed. Not one. It was absurd. It was beautiful.

Nothing—not the subspace nor the degradation—would have happened unless I’d known that he would never leave me alone without taking care of what I needed from aftercare. He put my wellbeing first. Hell, he was the most patient person I’d ever met around my illness.

BDSM takes us out of the grey of sex into a life of contrasts. Because black happens, white is possible. Because pain happens, absolute pleasure is possible. Because degradation happens, the utmost respect can arise. I won’t presume to know why the hell that is. I just know that it happens, but in a way, degradation only happened because his respect was significant enough to allow for it.

In many ways, the experience was dichotomous. I’m not sure if I could carefully separate out what was degradation and what was simply him holding the truth of my sexuality up to the light and exploiting it completely. I suppose that’s what made it so damn good.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s