I Don’t Need Therapy Just Because I’m Kinky

I feel the need to post a reply to a comment left on one of my blog posts. Here is a copy of the comment:

This story about her sub [sic-Dom] beating her is heartbreaking. If that doesn’t cry out “I NEED THERAPY” I dont know what does. Feeling the need to have a guy beat the shit out of you so you can feel connected to him is not healthy or normal. It indicates a real psychological problem and that problem will NEVER be solved through violence. I will pray for you.

Maybe because you only know me through my BDSM blog, you think that is all my relationships is. I can’t blame you; it’s not like I discuss the other aspects of my marriage much on here. However, I think it is important to remember that even though BDSM is an important part of my marriage, it is nowhere near all of it.

The amount of time my Dom and I spend having kinky sex is really relatively small in proportion to our other activities. We are happily married. We are parents together. We go on dates. We both work. We cook and clean and watch tv and do laundry and sleep and laugh just like any other couple. Sex and domination is not all we are about.

Does my Dom sometimes hit me? Sure. Does he ever do it outside of a consensual sexual context? Absolutely not. Would I stand for it if he did? Not a chance.

You know, I don’t need my Dom to beat me to feel connected to him. I feel connected to him when he brings me flowers. When we have wrestling matches on the living room floor. When we sit down, exhausted, and discuss our parenting techniques together. When we joke together. When he makes me laugh. When we cuddle and watch our favorite tv shows together. When we have sex. When he gives me a massage. When he calls me just to ask how my day is going. When he kisses my forehead before he leaves for work.

And yes, also when he dominates me in the bedroom. Does that mean I need therapy? Not necessarily. It means that, for whatever reason, dominance is one of the ways we bond. It makes me feel closer to him. He is my rock, my strength, my head, my dominant, my husband. I can relax and let him be in charge. The next day I am more open, more affectionate,  more loving. And guess what? Those are all GOOD things for my marriage!

You know what? I’ve been to therapy. Years and years of it. It’s helped me get through relationship issues with my mother (which, unlike my relationship with my amazing husband, is an abusive relationship), to learn more about myself, to help me deal with mental illness, to help me control my anxiety. Therapy has helped me in many ways. I am under the care of a trained psychiatrist who has me on so many medications I feel like opening a pharmacy in my bathroom. And yes, they do help. Some. But even with medicine, I still have bad dreams, anxiety problems, and panic attacks. The medicine helps but does not solve the problem.

You know what does solve the problem? Dominating sex with my husband. No amount of prescription pills can make me sleep the hard, dreamless sleep of a woman completely at peace, mentally and physically exhausted and floating in the relaxation of sub space. After we have a “session,” I don’t have nightmares. I don’t stay awake worrying. I don’t wake up worrying. I sleep, relaxed and safe and secure and happy.

I haven’t talked to a therapist about my kinky habits because they do not cause a problem for me in my life. Of all the bad things that have happened to me, having a sexually dominating husband who loves and cherishes me is not one of them. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

It doesn’t mean BDSM is for everyone. But it also doesn’t mean any woman with an interest in BDSM needs to run screaming to a therapist so she can have her mind changed until she enjoys only vanilla sex.

It means whatever makes my husband and me happy, connected, close, and loving works for us. It means any sex that we both enjoy and that does nothing but bring us closer and make us feel more connected can only be a good thing.

Kinky sex? Bring it on.


I keep wanting to write this, but I keep stopping.  I stop because I don’t want anyone to think I am complaining.  I’m not.  We have it pretty good right now, and if we aren’t able to connect as often lately, it is more because of my health and work than his.  And he NEVER gives me a hard time when I am having a hard time.  Which is pretty great of him.

So, this is not a complaint.  It is more of an observation.

I miss being spanked.

We slipped out of the habit of doing it one day.  I think we both think about it from time to time, but then we just don’t.  And the more time passes, the less we probably think of it.  Yes, Conina’s fabulous floggers are gathering dust and not fulfilling their divine purpose.

I miss being spanked.

But it is more than that.  It has dawned on me that I miss having a secret.  I like the random moments when I feel my bottom tingle a bit and no one knows it.  I like talking with a client about a serious issue while thinking – “what if I told them I was distracted because I was flogged just before coming over?”  I like the way having such a naughty secret makes me feel more feminine and yes, more powerful, out in the world.

When I was regularly being spanked, I would think, “I have to tell people about this!”  But now that we have stepped away for a while, I don’t know if I would think that again.  I have learned that having something to smile about silently is more than half the fun.

I miss being spanked.