Originally posted in September on another site that doesn’t keep dates of when things were posted. Playing catch up.

I knew for a long time that BDSM wasn’t just the body and getting off, there’s the mind as well. Last night was abject proof.

My dominant’s dominant, Mum, showed up last night at the sim. Domlyskirts was still sleeping and woke up just as Mum asked for some time with me.

“Don’t worry, mine,” said Domlyskirts over a chat, “Please? For me? Go chat with Mum. You can be open with Mum. Trust me.”

With a happy encouraging pat on my behind from another at the sim, I agreed.

So, I went.

I was scared.

I spoke.

I cried. My shirt was wet with sobs.

“He took your flame,” she said to me.

“He tried, and left an ember,” I replied. “Domlyskirts breathed on it.”

We kept on speaking. My heart poured out. My fear. My love for Domlyskirts. My past hurt. My primal wound.

It felt like for hours. I didn’t feel judged for being broken.

I’m crying now as I write about it.

Then, she took me for an exercise. Gave me fae wings. Told me to fly at the sim she brought me to, so I did.

I found a spot. It looks like it could be part of my happy place. Someone remade my happy place. It wasn’t perfect, but I stopped to look. A hammock, instead of a swing. A babbling brooke. Mum was circling overhead, protecting me.

I found aurorahs too. And I flew as she gave me song after song to queue up as I flew.

I cried. I laughed. I cried again.

“Let’s dance our way back to the sim,” she said.

Domlyskirts was waiting.

“It is always that intense with mum?” I asked.



*footnote: Mum is the name I gave my dominant’s dominant a long time ago. Calling her “mum” was a lot easier than calling her by her full name.  It’s a shorthand, and is meant to be respectful.

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