When I was twelve, I watched a contestant audition for American Idol on TV, and within twenty seconds of them making a fool of themselves before the judges, I had to leave the family living room to escape the pain of embarrassment. It was the first time I recognised my great fear: being humiliated. Seeing a person being mocked or ridiculed causes me mental distress and physical discomfort, and these symptoms are supercharged when I am the subject of attention.
To cope with public humiliation, I respond in three ways. In the case of second-hand embarrassment, like watching an audition go south,
I flee
. When I embarrass myself, like saying something stupid,
I shrink
. But when someone else tries to humiliate me,
I fight
, like the boys at school who teased me about my red hair will confess. I cannot abide being humiliated.
It shocked me, then, to learn that the exact opposite is true in a sexual context. My third boyfriend, who was five years older than me, gave me this revelation the very first time he fucked me. I can pinpoint the moment of realisation to the instant he grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and called me a dirty college whore. The orgasm I experienced that night put all others before to shame.
Fast-forward to today and I can report that I love humiliation, degradation, and CNC play in the bedroom. Even rape fantasies turn me on. Not only do I love these fetishes, I believe I need it, which is a problem, because I am in love with a man who is thoroughly vanilla.
Dan is kind, loving, and funny. He's charismatic, smart, good-looking, charming, and above all, he is sensible.
Earlier today, while Dan walked me home, I was catcalled by three road workers in my neighbourhood. Without thinking, I crossed the street, faced up to these hard hat assholes, and gave them a piece of my mind. They did not expect petite little me up in their grill, and by the time Dan arrived by my side, they looked chastised and apologised, 'No offence meant, luv.'
Poor Dan looked exasperated and angry as he led me away.
Later that night, as we cuddled naked in bed, Dan said, 'You really shouldn't have confronted those guys.'
We had just made love. Sex with Dan is good, you know? He's a giver, an attentive lover, the kind of selfless man who wants to fulfil all your womanly needs. But Dan could never degrade me. It's just not in his make-up to do so, and honestly, I don't want him fulfilling my darker needs as it would violate his character and change what we have. Cuddling after sex is our love language, and chatting with him while I rest in his arms is my favourite thing in the world. This precious time would be under threat if Dan had to mistreat me in bed.
'They can't just get away with it,' I replied.
'It's dangerous, Sarah,' he said. 'Best to just ignore them.'
'Then they never learn, never change.'
'Maybe,' Dan said, 'But I'd rather you play it safe. Confronting assholes only increases your chances of getting in trouble. God forbid, you get hurt or raped.'
'Mmm,' I said, 'I bet they'd rape the fuck out of me.'
It was a slip. I was sleepy and spoke thoughtlessly.
Fuck
.
Dan was horrified.
'It's a joke,' I said quickly. 'A bad joke. Sorry.' I kissed him. 'Forget I said it.'
We cuddled in silence. Dan stroked my hair and I gently caressed his arm.
It
had
been a joke, but I can tell you that the thought persisted. I fantasised in great detail about the three road workers abusing me in the nearby alleyway. I went to the bathroom when Dan fell asleep, sat on the toilet, and masturbated furiously.
Dan is curious by nature, and having said what I said, he raised it over breakfast the next day. 'Why would you say that?'
I have to tell him, don't I?
I was scared shitless that my revelations would ruin everything, which is why I hadn't revealed them before. But really, I should have. Over and above being sensible, Dan is also unflappable. I knew this, and I knew he loved me, like I loved him, I was sure of it. Of all people, he deserved to know
me
, warts and all. I wanted to grow old with him after all.
'Dan,' I said, 'There's something you don't know about me, and I'm sorry I've kept it from you.'
'Okay,' he said, concerned.
'I have a few fetishes. Some really out there kinks.'
'Okay.'
'I... uh... I like to be degraded. During sex.'
'What?'
'Degraded. Like, I need to be humiliated. Mentally, physically, verbally...'
'Need?' Dan said.
'Well,' I said, contemplatively, 'Yes, if I'm honest.'
Dan and I had been together for over a year, and the truth was that I increasingly yearned for a man to use me as his fuckdoll. I was desperate, every day, more and more, to the point where I seriously considered cheating on Dan to numb the ache.
'I could never,' he said, crestfallen.
His conflict was hard to witness. 'I know. I know, hun. I wouldn't ask you to. I don't want you to.'
'But,' Dan said, then paused. 'I thought our sex was great.'
'It is!'
'But you're not satisfied?'
I wanted to reassure him that I was, but that would have been a lie.
'I love you,' I said. 'You give me so much. You make me happy, and I really do enjoy and need our love-making. It's just that I also have this other side of me.'
I held Dan's hand as he processed.
'And last night's comment?' he asked.
'I have rape fantasies,' I said.
'You want to be raped?'
'No, not for real, obviously,' I said. 'Have you heard of consensual non-consent?'
'Can't say that I have.'
'Well, it's a type of roleplay for a forced activity, like rape, where consent is waived, but everyone involved actually gives upfront consent that it's all okay. You just play like it's not.'
'Sounds dangerous.'
'That's kind of the point.'
We spent the morning talking more about my kinks and experiences. To my profound relief, he was taking it remarkably well. I mean, I revealed things that could shock John Waters, but Dan listened calmly and asked a ton of questions. You have to admire how secure he is in himself. Unflappable.
That's not to say it was easy for him. It must have been very hard, but to Dan's massive credit, he immediately accepted this part of me and took my words at face value. I said I loved him and wanted to be with him. He believed me. I said I needed my dark urges satisfied to be happy. He believed me. I was relieved that we both agreed that he couldn't and shouldn't be the one to try to fulfil these needs directly.
Sensible. Unflappable. Dan is something else too. He's a problem-solver. That evening I found him on his laptop researching my fetishes. What a man.
The following Saturday, we spent the day in the back garden barbecuing and drinking beer in the sun. When we took our plates to the kitchen in the front of the house, Dan happened to notice three men through the window. Three men working in the street.
'Babe, look.'