I was not sexually abused as a child, but I did suffer severely from neglect. My parents were perfectly lovely people, but they were also both clinically insane. My father was a paranoid schizophrenic, my mother a manic depressive. Neither of them was in treatment or therapy, apart from those times one or the other would suffer a break, and spend a little time institutionalized. I don't blame them, though it would be a lie to say I harbor no deep resentments. I was unaware that my chronic neglect was what drove me to very young promiscuity. I was a "weird" kid, unpopular, few friends. When I discovered I could get affection and attention from men I thought it was terrific. Now, I said before that I wasn't sexually abused as a child- I suppose technically, the men who took advantage of my desperate desire for affection could certainly be called abusers, given that I was a child at the time, (13-16, roughly,) I didn't feel particularly abused, and my only regret for my youthful promiscuity is that I lacked the judgement and understanding to own that sexuality, and instead, let it own me.
I think it's absolutely clear that I crave domination because of the discipline my childhood lacked, and being dommed by a strong, loving Top is incredibly empowering for me. What's less clear is how my past plays into my victim role/fetish. I imagine my insistence that victims in my fantasies and the fiction I most enjoy must be "blameless" is a reflection of my own need to balm a subliminal guilt over having behaved the way that I did as a child- it wasn't my fault. As an adult, I rationally understand this, of course, and that sense of guilt is deeply rooted in my subconscious.
Of course, I only think about these things when I'm
not indulging in my predilections of perversion,
Whatever the cause, I do like what i like, and want what I want, after all, and happily enjoying it seems worlds better than repressing it. I own it. It does not own me.
