Trauma as Transformation: A BDSM Mentorship
Part One. CW: harm, self harm, ideation, etc.
Edit 12/6/2024: After careful reflection, I have decided to come forward and name the person who has abused me. I believe it is crucial to share my experience and raise awareness, as I fear this individual may pose a risk to others. My former mentor, Lucy Sweetkill, is the person I am speaking about.
INTRODUCTION
When I first sought a mentor in the BDSM community, I was searching for guidance, empowerment, and personal growth. As a newcomer to this often misunderstood and stigmatized world, I placed my trust in someone I believed would help me navigate the complex landscape of connection, boundaries, and consent.
Behind the closed doors of my BDSM mentorship, I lived through a disturbing reality where the very trust and vulnerability that are so essential to these practices can be weaponized and exploited. Under the guise of education and healing, I found myself trapped in a cycle of violated boundaries and eroded autonomy, which sent me spiraling into a mental health crisis. Instead of being a safe space for building confidence and facilitating healing, this mentorship became a deeply confusing nightmare that left me feeling betrayed and traumatized.
The secrecy and isolation that often surround BDSM, combined with the romanticized intensity of power dynamics, created a veil within my mentorship under which problematic behaviors camouflaged. Abuse of power was masked as 'encouraging' my surrender to discomfort and dismissed as merely part of the 'business', leaving me silenced, isolated, confused, and unsure of where to turn for help or support.
I share my story and thoughts not to discourage participation in the community, but to advocate for a workplace that is genuinely committed to the principles of respectful and consensual practices. I hope my writing serves as a reminder that while professional BDSM can offer incredible effects on exploration and connection, it is not immune to the very human failings of exploitation and harm.
PART ONE: THE MENTORSHIP EXPERIENCE
A) The Beginning
I grew up believing that love was measured by the extent of my willingness to be eviscerated by it. Having been raised in what many would view as an abusive environment, I erroneously associated love with anguish. I held the belief that real love demanded a component of sacrifice, a notion stemming from the influence of my Mormon and Korean parents. I think that both of their cultural backgrounds shared this common thread in their perspectives on love.
In the fall of 2018, I reached out to Jill, a highly reputable dominatrix, while struggling with depression, substance abuse, and dissatisfaction with my work as an escort. I longed for confidence, a clear sense of identity, and a career (something) I could feel proud of. I saw the world of BDSM as a potential path to emotional and personal transformation - a structured environment for self-discovery and healing away from my self-destructive patterns.
At the time, my understanding of personal boundaries was minimal. Low self-esteem and a fear of disappointing others had shaped me into a people-pleaser. I often prioritized others' needs over my own at the cost of feeling drained and resentful over time. I hoped becoming a dominatrix would provide the discipline and clarity I lacked to reshape my identity and break free from self destructive patterns.
Jill's online presence and the transformative nature of her work resonated with me deeply. She presented herself as an expert guide who could uncover one's true essence through intense, challenging experiences. Her emphasis on surrender to discomfort as a means of growth aligned with my desperation for change. It felt familiar to my upbringing yet so different. I was drawn to the fantasy of being seen, challenged and sculpted by a mentor I could trust and be inspired by. I wanted a role model.
Given my vulnerabilities and lack of prior therapy, having an empathetic, trustworthy mentor was crucial. Jill became a confidante with whom I shared experiences of self-harm, substance abuse, and sexual assault that I had never disclosed to anyone else. Her attentive, non-judgmental approach allowed me to be open and created a great bond.
Looking back, it's clear that what I was seeking was not just a BDSM education but therapy. As someone who was emotionally vulnerable and withdrawn, I placed significant trust in a stranger, albeit one with a reputable standing, to help me. Not knowing this at the time, I was susceptible to potential exploitation or harm if that authority were to be abused. Because this was someone with a seemingly outstanding reputation and another woman/sex worker, I thought her presence was a safe space I never had to question.
The first year of the mentorship before moving to New York was life-changing.
Jill's support was truly amazing in many ways. Not only did she help me move to New York City after a year of mentorship, but she also invested considerable time and energy into my personal development. This level of personal involvement was something I hadn't anticipated when I first sought her mentorship and it surprised me how much she cared. The relationship became sincerely personal, far surpassing the professional boundaries I had expected. Jill allowed me into her life in ways she did not permit many others, sharing vulnerabilities that demonstrated mutual trust and openness. She even referred to me as her family, which was particularly meaningful for someone like myself who comes from a dysfunctional upbringing and was hesitant to allow such closeness into my life.
At first, this relationship appeared to enrich the mentorship and my life as a whole. However, it simultaneously set the stage for the intricacies and difficulties that emerged later. I felt an overwhelming sense of appreciation for her dedication, considering the undeniable part she played during a critical juncture in my journey. Nevertheless, the intensity of our personal connection, combined with the inherent power imbalances present in our mentor-mentee dynamic, ultimately led to a blurring of boundaries. This would prove to be a challenge to both my individual development and our professional interaction.
B) Jill’s Philosophy
Jill believes that our toughest times are essential, as they teach us important lessons and build resilience. She often used metaphors like not fighting the ocean to surrendering to your discomfort/unknown or flowers needing mud to grow. Her philosophy emphasizes that difficult circumstances are necessary for growth and beauty.
While these sentiments carry a poetic truth, they overlook the reality of such situations and can be dangerous. Take the ocean analogy, for example. Jill compares herself to the ocean, emphasizing the importance of surrendering, letting go, and facing the unknown when confronted with life's challenges, likening it to surviving a bad trip or being in the ocean.
However, in the actual ocean, complete surrender is not a viable option, as it would lead to drowning. When faced with the ocean's power, one's focus is on survival rather than fighting against it. This is where I believe Jill, even now, fails to grasp the crucial distinction between healthy surrender and damaging surrender. While it is valuable and necessary to guide someone in pushing beyond their comfort zone, forcing them to adhere to what you believe is best without allowing them the autonomy to decide for themselves is harmful.
I believe that Jill's own success and survival were rooted in overcoming hardships, leading her to conclude that it was essential for me to face similar challenges. Because she had the capacity to overcome intense difficulties, she presumed that I possessed the same ability and pushed me to achieve success based on her definition.
Growth and resilience can manifest differently for each individual. Just as different flowers thrive in various environments - some in rich soil, others in the air (like orchids) - people have unique needs and challenges. What may flourish one person might hinder another. Adversity can be a powerful teacher, but I also keep in mind that personal development is a highly individual process. I will return to these philosophies later in my writing.
C) Red Flags
“It’s when you end up in the other person’s box without knowing that it happened. It’s not violence you can feel, or coaxing you can reason with; it’s a slow build of their frame around you until you don’t remember what your box ever looked like. Frame control is a quiet subversion of your agency; instead of offering up their frame for you to consider, they pull you in without consent, into a world you probably would never have endorsed from the outside.” -Aella (Knowingless)
By January 2020, a few months after moving to New York City, I began to notice a shift in the dynamics of my mentorship with Jill. As my involvement with her increased, subtle changes gradually became more significant. Initially, these changes seemed minor, like Jill's comments on my choice of baby blue glitter nails, which she described as "too escorty," suggesting I choose a more dominant color. This was the start of a pattern where my choices, seemingly small, were critiqued under the narrative of aligning with a ‘real’ dominatrix's image, subtly encroaching on my personal expression.
As I attended more training sessions, Jill began extending them without notice to provide feedback. While initially constructive, expressing disappointment but detailing what I could improve, her approach over time shifted towards more controlling oversight of my professional development (or rather how people perceived me/her). These sessions seemed focused on continuously molding me to fit a particular image she had in mind, gradually eroding my autonomy in how I practiced and presented myself in the scene.
Becoming roommates with one of her subs added another layer of complexity. While initially wonderful to have a chosen family, it also became a source of stress as Jill's involvement in my personal life intensified. She would inquire with my roommate about my free time and home life, and any conflicts with my roommate were relayed back to her, becoming opportunities for unsolicited criticism or intervention. Any interactions I had with other peers in our shared social circle would find their way back to Jill, providing her with additional reasons for frustrations and disapproval.
The lack of clear boundaries between my professional training and personal life created an environment where I constantly felt watched, controlled, and isolated. This was incredibly confusing for me, I felt I was going insane. Without a distinct separation between these spheres, it became increasingly challenging to maintain a sense of personal autonomy and privacy.
In difficult moments where others would leave, I saw opportunities to prove my dedication and build connection with Jill. My desperation to have a caring role model in my life made me overlook or deny the manipulation and hurt I experienced, as I was too grateful for the relationship. I was finally happy to have someone to look up to, to have someone in my life who I thought saw me. That delusion and desperation ended up being a tool that hurt me and a reason why I looked the other way. Idolizing someone while hating yourself makes it easy to normalize mistreatment.
By the summer of 2020, my relationship with Jill had become fraught with tension. From 2020 to 2021, there were numerous instances where Jill would keep me after sessions for at least an hour, sometimes multiple times a week, to meticulously point out all the areas where I could have improved my performance, even if I hadn't necessarily done anything 'wrong’. These lectures were often delivered with heated frustration, and even minor choices, such as opting for a leather strap instead of a chain for bondage or choosing a feather over a pinwheel for sensation play, would trigger lengthy critiques on my inadequacy as a dominatrix. To avoid conflict, I found myself constantly seeking her approval, becoming increasingly cautious around her and her peers.
I normalized the feeling of walking on eggshells around Jill. It was only years later that I realized the psychological toll and the unhealthy dynamics that had developed between us. I came to understand that my focus in our relationship had shifted from personal development to going great lengths to avoid her mistreatment.
At times, staying back for these lectures meant missing other commitments or not being able to go home to walk my dog between sessions, despite having informed Jill of subsequent appointments before the sessions. Although I don't believe she intentionally made me miss them, her anger seemed to make her forget about my schedule. My fear of upsetting her further prevented me from insisting on leaving or interrupting her to remind her of the missed appointments. This was not an isolated occurrence but part of a pattern where smallest missteps elicited excessive and sometimes severe reactions from her. The constant scrutiny led me to become exceedingly cautious and scared of her.
Mistakes such as dropping a chain on a client's foot while navigating a panic attack or walking with one of her clients post-session would trigger similarly prolonged reprimands. In one instance, after walking with a client following a session and allegedly giving the impression that I was leading him on, I endured a four-hour lecture over the phone. While I recognize the importance of being held accountable, the intensity of her response seemed disproportionate. Regardless of whether the issue was a genuine misstep or merely failing to meet an expected standard, everything I did seemed flawed in her eyes. I didn’t know what to do.
A significant portion of these lectures involved Jill expressing her belief that I could never succeed as a dominatrix, that I lacked common sense, and that she felt she was wasting her time with me. She would tell me that our unnamed peers saw me as a waste of her time and energy, suggesting that I should give up. I recall a specific instance when Jill told me that many of our peers and even subs had confided in her their confusion about why she kept me as a mentee. When I expressed my gratitude for her perseverance with me despite being a terrible mentee and acknowledged her efforts to show up for me, she yelled, "Do you think I give a fuck about what you think of me?" I was taken aback, not by the aggressiveness, but by Jill's conflation of my apology and appreciation with a form of validation. She often reminded me, without explicitly using the word, of what a burden I was as her mentee, emphasizing that even our peers agreed. (“People ask me why I even bother with you”). Jill frequently shared her conversations with our peers, without naming them, telling me that no one thought I was a good dominatrix or that people found me aloof or weird. This lack of specificity made it difficult for me to trust anyone or know who to turn to, adding a layer of isolation to my experience. Jill insisted on strict confidentiality regarding our relationship and interactions, framing it as a necessary measure to protect her privacy.
Furthermore, Jill would sometimes remind me that my struggles with substance abuse and depression were not nearly as severe as the hardships faced by those dying from poverty or cancer. She often pointed out my privileges—being pretty, financially stable, thin, and my race—but often used them to invalidate what I was going through.
D) Trauma Individuality, Marginalization and Gratitude as weapons.
This is where I think of Trauma Individuality. It is how one's subjective experience of pain shapes their identity as a human being distinctly separate from others. Trauma Individuality, borne from (either real or perceived) unique sufferings, can be a source of both pain and pride. It is this double-edged sword that some people cling to, even at the expense of alienation from others. They retreat into a fortress of "painful pride," where their traumatized selves become both sanctuary and prison. For those navigating such darkness, there's a profound effort to connect with others who share similar experiences. While there is undeniable value and connection in relationships forged from shared trauma, this common ground can sometimes lead to gatekeeping or an unhealthy policing of experiences.
Jill emerges as a figure shaped by adversity, with a resilience that allowed her not only to survive but to thrive in the face of relentless challenges. Her dedication and ability to manage pain is inspiring, highlighting the potential to grow stronger from hardship. However, Jill's experiences also serve as a backdrop for more complex interactions. Despite the strength she demonstrates and the success she has built from it, Jill sometimes used her hardships as a benchmark to invalidate or minimize my struggles, as in the situation where her greater suffering is wielded to overshadow my battles with depression and substance abuse.
By comparing her hardships to mine, she reminded me that my struggles are less significant, implying that "real problems" (like cancer or poverty) are those that deserve her empathy. Her unique experiences of oppression and hardship became a tool to assert her superiority and invalidate the struggles of those she deemed less marginalized. This created a hierarchy of suffering where Jill positioned herself at the top, using her trauma as a shield to deflect criticism and a sword to attack those who challenged her.
This perspective, while possibly intended to motivate and humble, felt dismissive and diminishing. It carried an implicit message that one should feel grateful for lesser adversities, overlooking the fact that pain is not a competition and everyone's emotional experiences are valid. Jill's approach, which included habitual reminders that others would “die for” my position, essentially uses gratitude as a weapon rather than a healing tool, suggesting that any failure to cope as she has is a personal failing rather than a natural response to one's circumstances.
The way gratitude, therapy, growth, and comparisons of our traumas were used during my mentorship with Jill caused me to gaslight myself. It made me feel as though any confusion or hurt I was experiencing was a result of my own ingratitude, or worse, an indication of a flaw within myself.
E) The Harm
Over the 2.5 years with Jill, I paid $1,200 per month, participated in both training sessions (Jill would usually charge a discounted rate) and discounted double sessions (Jill charged more than her usual rate but less than what would be typical for two sessions and retained all the profit), and cleaned her dungeon for at least two hours weekly, even for almost two years after my mentorship ended. Initially, all of these were consensual and none of these were coerced. However, for the last 9~ months of the mentorship, I felt as it I was wasting my time and money. Despite this feeling, I felt unable to leave due to a mixture of sunk cost fallacy, fear of Jill, and fear of losing her.
Though I was able to charge clients $300/hour if they contacted me individually, Jill did not seem comfortable with the idea of me charging that rate. As a "learning opportunity," she wanted to focus on promoting discounted sessions if I were to see a client by myself. In these sessions, I was allowed to charge only the rental fee for her dungeon, but I then had to pay her that fee. I was often told that my skills were not well enough to go independent or charge $300/hour. When I once mentioned I would like to charge that much when I graduate from the mentorship, Jill accused me of “thinking I was special” and wondered “what the fuck made me think I was worth that”. In addition, once a client paid Jill a tip to give me which she withheld (I think most likely she forgot because she was too angry) because she thought my performance during that session was “embarrassing”. Although I cried, I still thanked her for being honest with me and being patient with me.
I remember one evening, I was allowed to see one of Jill’s clients by myself. She gave me some suggestions but I decided to do what I felt was best and the client left the session seemingly excited. I was proud of myself. The next time I saw Jill, we were getting ready for a double session and she inquired about my previous session. I explained to her what I had done and that the client seemed happy. This was met with a short heated lecture on why I should just quit, that I was a waste of her efforts, and why I wasn’t ready to go independent. I tried to keep composure during that session but ended up breaking down while the client was in bondage. Jill reacted as if she was genuinely confused as to why I was crying.
I was grateful for this opportunity because, through our many conversations, I came to believe that my skills as a dominatrix were genuinely worth this much—that I wasn't very good, and thus the arrangement was justified. Reflecting on these demands, it's bewildering to think that I was expected to feel grateful and fortunate for these opportunities, which seemed more about enhancing her value than benefiting my growth or well-being and having a poor theory of mind. (Though I do not think Jill is aware of this/refuses to acknowledge this)
Boundaries not being respected in the workplace:
There was a time where I repeatedly told Jill that I felt unsafe working with a specific client, but she disregarded my concerns and insisted that I continued seeing him. Again, she claimed that the most challenging situations (or clients) provide the greatest opportunities for growth. In a separate incident, one of Jill's clients failed to pay me for a missed escorting appointment. However, Jill chose not to intervene or assist me in resolving the issue (most likely because it was around escorting which she did not approve of). And then there was a time when I informed Jill about a client inappropriately touching me during a session while she stepped away, she placed the responsibility on me to confront the client directly. Rather than stepping in to support me and establish clear boundaries with the client, she expected me to handle the situation on my own.
Coercion to stop escorting:
About two years into the mentorship, during a Zoom meeting, Jill 'suggested' that I should quit escorting to focus solely on my training with her. I was uncomfortable with this idea and declined. However, Jill persisted, arguing that escorting was detrimental to my mental health and boundaries. I countered by expressing that it was actually the mentorship causing damage to my mental health, and that my affection for her made it difficult for me to establish boundaries. She dismissed my concerns, insisting that she had superior knowledge about mental health and BDSM and that I should trust her judgment. She reminded me of my privileges and that how I earned my money wasn't like the hard work she earned her money.
Eventually, she gave me an ultimatum: stop escorting or end the mentorship. In anger, I chose to end the mentorship and disconnected from the meeting. Shortly after, Jill texted me, urging me to call back as there was more to discuss. When I returned the call, she let me know that my decision had consequences, such as my roommate (her sub) having to find a new roommate, me having to restart my career as a dominatrix without her support, and losing support from our peers, which I saw as losing my community.
Already feeling isolated, I had no one to turn to, as I was also forbidden from discussing my mentorship with anyone else. I had moved to New York City to commit to my training with her and left my home about a year before. I had put so much into the mentorship that I did not want it to be for nothing. Eventually, I agreed, and she spent the next hour explaining to me me that I had made the right decision for my mental health. In addition, she wanted me to break the lease and let go of my incall space (which I did, but for my own reasons). In total, this meeting (not including the time I hung up) was 5 hours. Starting immediately that day, I was not allowed to escort without knowing how long it was to last. I was not allowed to escort until Jill felt I was ready. But I felt deep down, she just wanted me to stop and hoped that one day I would never return to it.
Throughout my relationship with Jill, the effects on my well-being were severely detrimental. This period was marked by intense stress-related physical symptoms, such as stress hives and heavy, irregular menstrual bleeding so severe that I needed to replace my mattress and tried a plethora of antidepressant, anti-anxiety, and ADHD (misdiagnosed) treatments to manage these symptoms.
At my lowest point, I felt completely stripped of my autonomy, consumed by an unrelenting sense of incompetence and defeat. It was as if I had descended into insanity, trapped in a never-ending cycle of despair. (This feeling was further amplified by Jill's occasional remarks, suggesting that Koreans, and including my mother, were crazy.) By the end of 2020, my days were filled with episodes of crying, profound exhaustion, and an engulfing sense of self-hatred and shame. In search of some meaning or escape, I frequently binged on LSD and mushrooms. This was me purging.
Amidst these struggles, Jill's influence often exacerbated my difficulties. Contrary to my therapist's advice, she 'suggested' I attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings to address my use of psychedelics and marijuana. Her approach felt more punitive and policing rather than supportive. She demanded transparency about my drug use, only to use it as a reason to chastise me for my perceived inadequacies. This created a destructive cycle where her criticism resulted in my increased drug use as a form of self-punishment. (But these were poor choices I made and I had responsibility in how I responded.)
About a week before Christmas that year, after months of just wanting everything to be quiet and feeling so tired I had an aborted suicide attempt.
I cleaned her dungeon the very next day.
F) Therapy, Diagnosis, Mental Health
My journey of mental health has been a challenging one, marked by evolving diagnoses and the profound impact of my relationship with Jill. In Spring 2021, the initial diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), based on symptoms such as emotional instability, emptiness, impulsive behaviors, self-harm, suicidal ideation, and a fluctuating sense of identity, led me to engage in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) from 2021-2022. Despite the difficulties in my relationship with Jill, I made the choice to wait for a relatively calm period before ending the mentorship in April 2021, aiming to part on amicable terms.
After I left the mentorship, distanced myself from Jill, and focused on therapy- I continued my relationship with Jill. And things got better between us. During this time, I internalized much of the conflict and challenges in the relationship as a result of my own struggles with BPD. This internalization even led to a sense of gratitude towards Jill for keeping me in her life, despite no longer being her mentee and grappling with mental health issues.
However, I had a falling out with Jill in the summer of 2023 after I had confronted her about how she treated me during the mentorship. Additionally, a more recent diagnosis of Autism in September 2023 has prompted a pivot in my perspective and understanding of my experiences. This new lens has illuminated how many of my behaviors during the mentorship with Jill (and life in general) were likely manifestations of previously undiagnosed Autism, further complicated by CPTSD/PTSD from both early life experiences and the period before meeting Jill, and then intensified by the dynamics of our relationship.
Reflecting on Jill's frustrations with me through the lens of autistic traits, such as missing social cues or going nonverbal/stiff during panic attacks (which were perceived as me not ‘being present’), has reshaped my understanding of the relationship dynamics. The realization that the improvements I had previously attributed to DBT therapy for BPD were more likely the result of creating distance from Jill and reducing the frequency of harmful and abusive interactions was a saddening one.
My ability to hide symptoms, along with changes in diagnostic criteria over time, led to missed symptoms or being misdiagnosed. This impacted my treatment and self-understanding. What I considered 'improvement' was actually the result of better masking, and I wasn't even aware of how much I was masking until around the time I had my falling out with Jill. It is interesting how we deceive ourselves for protection, but I will talk about this later.
I still think about the value of nurturing safe relationships that provide space for open discussions about the difference between the illusion of progress vs. genuine progress, while acknowledging that progress is nonlinear and subjective. Honest progress involves directly confronting and fully acknowledging our inner experiences, thoughts, and emotions. And it’s okay if it looks a little ugly sometimes.