Part Two: Confronting Abuse In The BDSM Community
A Call for Accountability and Change
In this part of my essay, I aim to open a dialogue about the nuances and spectrum of abuse particularly within the context of power dynamics and the professional BDSM community. By exploring these complex issues, I hope to encourage the community to confront mistakes and work towards an environment of accountability, transparency, and support for all members.
PART TWO:
A) Understanding Abuse: Intentions vs. Impact
We tend to characterize abuse as starkly apparent, like the color red, but what if it manifests more subtly, like a sunset with hues of orange and purple, or voluptuous white flowers with tiny blood-colored hearts? Is abuse defined by the frequency or severity of harm? Do good intentions mitigate abusive behaviors? Asking myself these questions challenged my understanding and categorization of abuse, including the spectrum of abuse as it appears in varying intensities and forms.
For a long time, I hesitated to label my encounters with Jill as "abuse" or "abusive," fearing that these terms were too extreme, loaded, or overused. I don’t see Jill as a bad person, I know she cared about me. (Just because someone cares about you, it doesn’t mean they know how to.)
When I see people discussing abuse, I often see a portrayal of perpetrators as these malicious beings or monsters. This dichotomy between "good" and "evil" hinders self-awareness and accountability. By painting abusers in such an extreme light, we inadvertently create a resistance that makes it challenging for people to recognize their own harmful or problematic behaviors. Most people do not see themselves as fundamentally bad or evil. It's not like anyone rolls out of bed in the morning, rubs their hands together like some cartoon villain, and starts plotting all the terrible things they're gonna do that day.
I believe that Jill's abusive behaviors and refusal to take responsibility for her actions were not motivated by a deliberate desire to cause harm but rather emerged from her own trauma responses—prioritizing her own needs over the well-being of others, reacting inappropriately to her emotions, and disregarding the impact of her reactions on myself and others. It's not necessarily malicious, but it is self-centered. She was (maybe still is) so identified with her curated, aspirational self that she lost sight of her actual behaviors and their impact. People who love this carefully crafted version of Jill struggle to see the flawed person behind it - someone who causes harm without realizing it.
Jill's intentions were “good”, and she might have genuinely believed she was helping me. However, her unwavering certainty in her own methods left no space for open dialogue or consideration of my perspective on my own autonomy. Her excessive confidence in her ability to understand other people's inner worlds, coupled with her overconfidence in her own authority, was harmful to me and prevented her from truly seeing or connecting with me as an individual.
Our relationship could only exist on her terms, according to her rules and expectations. For Jill, a relationship is only possible if it adheres to her way of doing things, leaving little room for compromise or mutual understanding. This rigid approach made it difficult for me to want to continue a relationship with her.
B) Confronting Jill, The difference between Toxic and Abuse
I had confronted Jill about her mistreatment in the summer of 2023. My breaking point was her attempt to control me and shame me for “not working on my mental health” the way she expected me to after I had a near death experience. Making a lot of money (she assumed), traveling, playing with friends- were “a big fuck you” for her and my unnamed peers.
For the first time, I told Jill that her behavior was not okay and that I would not tolerate her speaking to me like that anymore. Her aggressive remarks and refusal to acknowledge my claims were hurtful as she seemed to prioritize saving face over being responsible for the harm she has done. This lead to our falling out and I have not heard from her since. One of the last things she said to me was that “she has done nothing but bend over backwards for me” and that she has only ever been a “friend”.
For Jill to push the narrative she and I were, or have always been, friends or equals feels like a dismissal of our shared history. A power imbalance, not equality, characterized our relationship. However, because this power dynamic wasn't explicitly negotiated, it seems like an excuse to evade accountability. The lack of explicit negotiation or definition of roles maintains ambiguity and avoids accountability. By not having explicit boundaries at times, it was excusable to ‘break’ them. Because I hated myself and did not take care of myself, it was ‘okay’ to treat me the way I treated myself.
The power imbalance developed gradually, fueled by my low self-esteem, people pleasing, and limited self-awareness. My desperation to avoid loneliness, to be liked, and my anxiety about disappointing others or facing abandonment—these feelings were intensified by Jill's often aggressive responses. Whether consciously or not, Jill used this imbalance to her advantage: it became a means to repeat and rationalize harmful behaviors. This was not a relationship of “equals”.
The distinction between a toxic relationship and an abusive one lies in the presence of a consistent pattern of control, manipulation, and exploitation. While toxic relationships can be mutually harmful, abuse involves a clear power imbalance and asymmetrical harm inflicted by one person onto another.
C) Community Response
After ending communication with Jill, it was like a floodgate had opened, and all the pain and hurt I'd been holding back came pouring out. I started sharing my experiences with mutual peers within Jill’s circle. But instead of finding support, I was met with skepticism and at times, victim blaming comments. They downplayed my history, made excuses for her behavior, or didn't believe me.
It felt as if there was this unspoken pressure to be articulate and polished when talking about the traumatic stuff I've been through. Why should I have to package my trauma in a neat, professional way just to be believed? It was disappointing that people expect me to react a certain way or fit into some predetermined mold for my story to be considered valid.
It felt like a second betrayal, like I was being silenced and dismissed all over again.
Some encouraged me to focus on the narrative that Jill was ultimately beneficial to my career and life, implying that the suffering I endured was irrelevant or “worth it”. Others rationalized her actions, such as coercing me to stop escorting, because “it didn't financially break me” or because I had expressed a desire to eventually leave the industry, which they (wrongfully) interpreted as consent.
Her aggressive behaviors were excused as a response to me being a "terrible mentee" or dismissed altogether because no one else had witnessed or experienced them. In addition, as I was strictly forbidden to not talk bout Jill with anyone, I have never said anything before and have only spoken highly of her.
Questions like "Why did this only happen to you?" or "I never encountered or observed this" was invalidating, as if the absence of their own similar experiences negated the reality of mine. These responses were particularly disappointing coming from those who claim to advocate for safe spaces, communication, consent, and responsibility within the community.
I struggled with the idea of remaining part of a community that appears to overlook such issues. I thought about quitting. While I recognize that a few individuals do not define the entirety of the community, it becomes challenging to navigate when influential figures who wield significant power within the group are involved. I have to remind myself that my experiences do not represent others and universalizing them in the community is a way of exaggerating the truth. However, I strongly believe that I am not the only one who has suffered abuse or harm from someone exploiting their position of authority.
D) Patterns
While I must respect the privacy of those directly involved and refrain from disclosing specifics, these stories paint a disturbing picture of widespread misconduct among some highly established dominatrixes, confirming the problematic behaviors I witnessed firsthand and illustrating a systemic issue that extends beyond isolated incidents.
Before ending my relationship with Jill, I became increasingly aware of a broader pattern of power abuse within the community. About a handful of friends shared accounts of racism, exploitation, financial scams, grooming, discrimination, bullying, gatekeeping, enabling of abuse, and even sexual assault, all linked to individuals that have astonishing reputations.
Example 1: I've observed concerning signs of abuse in a friend's consensual non-consent (CNC) relationship with her Mistress. My friend often rationalized the aggressive and manipulative behaviors as intrinsic to their CNC dynamic. Adding to my concerns, her Mistress explicitly forbade me from discussing their relationship, claiming I couldn't grasp its complexity, which I found suspicious. (This was after this friend confided in me that she had suspicions of being abused) My friend has confided in me multiple times about feeling abused, only to later dismiss these feelings or accept excuses from her Mistress.
The relationship actually resembled the one I had with Jill. While I have no objections to CNC dynamics generally, in this particular case, I believe the relationship was abusive. From what I could see, the interactions between them didn’t seem to embody mutual respect and honest communication.
Example 2: There was another friend who confided in me about a sexual assault they experienced. What made the situation even more disturbing was that their Mistress, who they trusted and looked up to, tried to shield the perpetrator from any consequences. It turned out the person who assaulted my friend was closely connected to the Mistress, so she went out of her way to conceal what had happened and sweep it under the rug.
Example 3: Another friend of mine opened up to me about a disturbing experience he had with his mentor. He confided that this person, who was supposed to be guiding and supporting him, had actually made multiple attempts to groom him. My friend felt increasingly uneasy and unsettled by his mentor's behavior, which crossed boundaries and exploited the power dynamic between them.
This is the extent of my examples though I have many more. I don't feel comfortable sharing names or too many details out of respect for everyone's privacy, but these stories paint a pretty grim picture. It seems like there's a pattern of misconduct among some of the most established dominatrixes in the community. Though there are a few bad apples , it's still a systemic issue that goes way beyond isolated incidents. And it lines up with the troubling behavior I experienced firsthand with Jill.
E) Going Public
At first, I was reluctant to share my experiences because I wasn’t sure how to approach the topic or what the consequences might be for my reputation. This hesitation left me feeling isolated, unable to seek advice or support, and fearful of speaking out. To find clarity and support, I went back to therapy to revisit my past. Despite feeling guilty at the time, I did confide in a few people who had no connection to Jill. During my mentorship, some of them voiced concerns about potential abuse, but I wasn’t ready to believe them then. When I eventually came to terms with what had happened, I reached out to these people to talk about what I was going through.
I began sharing my story more openly, including with some individuals I wasn't particularly close to. I received a lot of support during this time (thank you). This decision to make my experiences more public provided valuable insights into others' perceptions of mentorship dynamics within the BDSM community and their views on ethical behavior.
F) Looking Away
The reactions of some of my peers disturbingly mirror those who disregard violations (like Harvey Weinstein), prioritizing personal loyalty or advantage over justice and integrity. This behavior echoes historical instances where people have supported powerful figures accused of abuse, often at the expense of the victims' well-being. Because my abuse was "invisible," lacking physical or sexual violence, was it ever truly acknowledged as abuse? Have we forgotten that abusers can belong to any race, status, occupation, age group, or gender?
It is disappointing to witness fellow sex workers in the BDSM community to be aware of these abuses, choose to overlook, enable, or fail to confront such behaviors due to fears of reputational damage or personal biases. As sex workers, we often face isolation and discrimination from mainstream society, which pressures us to present a united front. Unfortunately, this can lead ignoring or rationalizing internal harm rather than addressing it. It gives me the impression that these people care more about appearances than responsibility. (See also: Awful Behavior From Awakened People)
I think this reluctance to acknowledge and address abuse within our ranks stems from a deep-seated fear of the implications. Admitting that a mentor or colleague could be abusive threatens not only our personal connections but also our sense of identity and safety within the community. As a result, I wonder if these people may feel compelled to remain silent or complicit, perpetuating a cycle of abuse and silence that undermines the integrity and supportiveness the BDSM community claims to uphold.
The hesitance of some peers to fully acknowledge the gravity of my experiences highlights a broader societal issue: the pervasive underestimation of non-physical abuse. This tendency to minimize psychological abuse reflects a widespread difficulty in recognizing and validating the trauma associated with emotional harm, a challenge evident in workplace abuses and high-profile scandals. This reluctance among my peers may also be influenced by their desire to maintain beneficial relationships with my former mentor, whose influential status offers them direct advantages.
Recognizing the profound impact of emotional and psychological abuse is crucial, particularly when perpetrated by someone in a position of power and trust. My experiences have shown me that this form of abuse can be as traumatic, if not more so, than physical assaults I've endured. I don't make this comparison to diminish the seriousness of physical violence but rather to emphasize the complex and enduring nature of psychological manipulation and betrayal. Advocating for the recognition of all forms of abuse and their potential to inflict deep psychological wounds is important for connection and self awareness.
I've also realize that privilege plays a significant role in a person's ability to hold others accountable or speak out about their concerns. In my case, I'm grateful to be in a position where my livelihood won't be jeopardized if, in the worst-case scenario, I face backlash or ostracism from the community for speaking up. (Though I am sure my business will be impacted negatively in some way) This understanding has helped me let go of some of the bitterness I previously held towards certain peers.
Conclusion (Because I don’t know how to fit this into a good flow)
To be honest, I have my reservations about individual or online mentorship programs. I'm hesitant to trust those who make their living by charging aspiring dommes for guidance on how to become a professional dominatrix. However, I acknowledge that this is my personal bias, and I'm open to the possibility that my perspective could change in the future.
I genuinely believe that the most effective ways to learn and grow as a professional dominatrix are through in-person (or virtual) workshops, classes, or lessons focused on developing specific skills, as well as through networking with experienced professionals in the field.
Hands-on learning events in structured settings, where one can receive direct guidance and feedback from knowledgeable instructors, are invaluable for acquiring the necessary skills and techniques. Additionally, building relationships with others in the community provides opportunities for ongoing support and advice that can be essential for navigating the challenges and complexities of this profession.
The BDSM community may not be as formally structured as the civilian world, but we have a unique chance to actively implement our values of consent and trust. Although it's challenging to know how to voice concerns or report misconduct, I think it’s worth trying to work towards creating a safe environment free from the fear of retaliation or isolation.
In a world that stigmatizes BDSM and sex workers, it is understandable why it can be hard to talk about the harm that happens in the community but it ends up the people we try to protect. I think committing to ongoing learning, self-reflection, and challenging damaging norms can help. I would like to see less of a ‘whorearchy’ and see my peers prioritize respect, consent, and mutual growth, using influence to empower and teach rather than police and gatekeep.
While structure can aid in safety and consent, we must be careful not to suppress creativity or exploration of non-traditional dynamics. I hope we can balance protective measures with the freedom that allows safe exploration of desires.
It's fascinating how we've managed to create a set of superficial molds and expectations within a world that prides itself on breaking conventions. Looking back, I wish I had someone to support me when I was at my most vulnerable, someone who could have helped me safely explore my desires and options. And guess what? Being a dominant doesn't mean you can't enjoy certain acts. You can absolutely be a dominant and still enjoy sucking a dick! It's not about the specific action; it's about how you approach it.
The same goes for other roles and dynamics. You can be a bottom and still embody dominance. You can be a switch and still be a powerful dominant figure. And you don't have to fit into any stereotypical mold - you can be soft-spoken, wear frilly pink dresses, or have any other traits that might not typically be associated with dominance. At the end of the day, it's about embracing your own pleasure and desires. On your terms.
You can be playful, humorous, and even a bit (harmlessly) cringe, and still be powerful. It’s refreshing not to take yourself too seriously all the time!
Not everyone wants to be a dominant, and that's perfectly valid too. Some people may prefer to take on a guiding role, focusing more on support and experimentation than on power dynamics. Personally, while I enjoy and appreciate power dynamics at times, they aren't a non-negotiable element in my professional relationships. For me, genuine respect is the most important factor.
I want to see more people play outside of these boxes and examine the boundaries of what we think we know. I encourage people to explore the differences between inner reality vs. objective reality.
I would like to be part of a community where genuine connections are cherished, and everyone feels valued and supported, regardless of their roles or preferences. A space where people can be their true selves and explore their desires without fear of judgment or pressure to conform to specific labels of dominance or submission or whatever. I would like to see more conversations on appreciating our professional and intimate diversities.
And lastly, admitting mistakes doesn’t make you any less of a dominant. Being vulnerable, having flaws, or feeling insecure at times doesn't take away your power. I think to be truly secure in yourself and to be resilient, you have to own up to your flaws and mistakes.
Additional Links That I Found Helpful:
PART THREE: SELF REFLECTIONS AND HARD TRUTHS