When I was a bookish teenager, I wanted to be an Indian temple prostitute. Luckily, I never got the chance.

Later I became curious about S&M. The term seems to be a placeholder for many things. S&M is big as life and there are many sides to it. There is a nerdy side, bespectacled savoring of “Venus in Furs” and “Belle de Jour” over a dinner table. There is a pop culture side filled with bloggers and gothic chicks mercilessly abusing the word “spanking”. There is business, play and a spiritual quest.

To most people S&M probably remains a carnival-like kaleidoscope filled with medieval clowns, twisted carousels and latex. With busty, invincible (and optionally fanged) dominatrixes and aging satyrs, their ordinary bellies hanging down as they beg for Mistress’ forgiveness on their four and wiggle their pathetic behinds obscenely. As they dive in their mental back-rooms with desperate determination and continue upwards in their blinding build-up and release of lust, unclear thirst and heavy, sinking, heavenly freedom. Intense reduction to their primary elements and then, again, guilt.

Most people act it all out in their heads. Some go further and find actors and actresses. I don’t think either way is better than the other. I think S&M is just like anything else in life – an experience, a creative outlet, a vehicle for release and evolution. All things important.

Sometimes people ask me what I am – a domme or a sub. Then there is usually an awkward pause because I don’t know the answer. I am very comfortable dominating. Submitting to a man takes a very special man. The only man I can submit to without losing my identity is a man who shows me love. Not generic, hypothetical love but very real love of a real strong man. For me. And that has very little to do with the glorified S&M.

Both submission and domination can be very rewarding, in different ways. Secretly, I suspect that they are two sides of the same wonderful thing, different modes of talking to God. True masters and mistresses give the gift of love, and so do true subs. It’s all the same.

I am claustrophobic, things like teasing and restricted motion horrify me. It is probably another facet of being violently creative. Sometimes I wonder whether suppressed creativity has its merit, – it probably does, – I just don’t like the sensation.

As far as dominant men, I am only drawn to benevolent domination. I hiss, spit and laugh theatrically at self-proclaimed masters and mistresses who are way too insecure to humanly love their partner. Predatory, ruthless domination has its place, it fascinates me, but it doesn’t turn me on. I have strong emotions and strong sensations, anything less than that is reductive and hostile; reductive things hurt. I don’t blame or resent damaged people who insist on damaged interactions. We have all been damaged, it’s sansara after all.

But for all practical purposes I am attracted to masculine heroes who don’t need to consume others in order to stay alive. Those who are willing to submit to me so that I can submit to them. Sometimes I miss but I keep walking. And just in case, I hide a whip behind my back.

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