BDSM as Therapy: Sharing Stories, Tools, and Lessons

[HyposMuse]

A Little About Me
Most people who know me in my everyday life would never call me submissive. I'm loud, opinionated, and full of sass. I’m the one people go to when they need a plan or some perspective. I work in helping fields, I'm the mom friend, the one who looks after everyone else. From the outside, that might not look like submission. But underneath, I have always carried a submissive nature. You just have to know where to look.

My drive for submission started with a yearning for control and acceptance. I matured fast, both mentally and physically. I had already known grooming and molestation as a child, but I discovered sex before the major traumas of my teenage years. Even then, by the time I began exploring, I craved a place where the rules were clear, where I could give up the constant weight of responsibility and finally feel contained.

I grew up during the early internet, which meant I had access to all of the information and none of the safeguards. My first foray into BDSM was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay on IRC. He wanted me to call him Master and be at his whim for hours, and I was hooked. I spent weeks after that searching for anything I could find on this kind of dynamic. My hands were busy both learning and giving in to the needs that rose up inside me.

For years I kept my explorations online. I was too young, pretending to be old enough, but desperate to learn. I found communities where people told me how to touch myself, where couples let me watch them play on grainy webcams, where I could train myself through obedience without ever being touched.

I learned my own body through the lens of submission.

When I was old enough to actually date, I did not attract the kind of people who honored the dynamic I craved. Instead, I attracted abuse. The rape and mistreatment of those years nearly stole sex from me entirely. But I pushed on and I was trained more seriously, taught posture, discipline, and the structure of obedience. When I turned eighteen I thought I was stepping into a total power exchange, but what I actually stepped into was exploitation. That taught me a hard truth: BDSM can heal, but it can just as easily retraumatize when you do not know your partner, or yourself.

Why BDSM Can Heal
BDSM overlaps with several clinical approaches that therapists use to treat trauma.

Exposure therapy works by intentionally revisiting difficult triggers in a controlled way. In BDSM, a survivor may choose to lean into fear, restraint, or even pain, but with the grounding knowledge that they can stop at any time. Their body climbs into activation and then is guided back down safely. That cycle rewires the nervous system to learn that fear does not always equal danger.

Play therapy gives people space to test roles and rewrite narratives. In kink, play can mean costumes, rituals, roleplay, laughter, or fantasy. What once felt chaotic or shameful can be reframed as chosen, intentional, and even joyful.

Reregulation happens through aftercare. The care shown after impact, humiliation, or surrender teaches the body that sex and intensity do not make us lesser. Aftercare closes the loop, grounding us in safety and helping the brain store the memory as healing instead of retraumatizing.

Trust and intimacy are relearned through BDSM negotiation and structure. For someone who had trust shattered early, being able to surrender within clearly defined boundaries can rewrite what intimacy feels like. My body has learned that surrender does not have to mean danger. It can mean safety, care, and belonging.

Pitfalls and Predators
Without groundwork, BDSM can be dangerous. If you do not know your partner or you do not know yourself, the risk of retraumatization is real.

Red flags to watch for:

• Partners who push boundaries or hard limits
• Partners who act like your limits are secondary to their pleasure
• Partners who dismiss your needs as part of the dynamic
• Partners that ignore safe words

Those people are not Doms. They are abusers with titles.

The reason I'm writing all of this is to help inform and educate, and also to connect with people like myself who want to understand the why and the how. Why does BDSM help survivors heal? How does it work in the mind and body? And how do we protect ourselves from confusing abuse with submission?

Knowledge is power. Self knowledge is safety. Know yourself before giving yourself away.

I am also inviting your thoughts, tools, and perspectives. If you have found healing through BDSM, or if you have practices that help you or your partners feel safe while exploring, I would love to hear them. If you have questions or thoughts, please let me know!

-Muse

 

[Servileone13]

Thank you for sharing this. Someday I hope to have your strength to share my journey. For now just let me say that the D/s aspect has indeed helped to heal. Your self description fits me to a T only in male form. My "unseen" submission has got me through a lot and taught me how to trust again.

 

[SirSparky]

A Little About Me
Most people who know me in my everyday life would never call me submissive. I'm loud, opinionated, and full of sass. I’m the one people go to when they need a plan or some perspective. I work in helping fields, I'm the mom friend, the one who looks after everyone else. From the outside, that might not look like submission. But underneath, I have always carried a submissive nature. You just have to know where to look.

My drive for submission started with a yearning for control and acceptance. I matured fast, both mentally and physically. I had already known grooming and molestation as a child, but I discovered sex before the major traumas of my teenage years. Even then, by the time I began exploring, I craved a place where the rules were clear, where I could give up the constant weight of responsibility and finally feel contained.

I grew up during the early internet, which meant I had access to all of the information and none of the safeguards. My first foray into BDSM was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay on IRC. He wanted me to call him Master and be at his whim for hours, and I was hooked. I spent weeks after that searching for anything I could find on this kind of dynamic. My hands were busy both learning and giving in to the needs that rose up inside me.

For years I kept my explorations online. I was too young, pretending to be old enough, but desperate to learn. I found communities where people told me how to touch myself, where couples let me watch them play on grainy webcams, where I could train myself through obedience without ever being touched.

I learned my own body through the lens of submission.

When I was old enough to actually date, I did not attract the kind of people who honored the dynamic I craved. Instead, I attracted abuse. The rape and mistreatment of those years nearly stole sex from me entirely. But I pushed on and I was trained more seriously, taught posture, discipline, and the structure of obedience. When I turned eighteen I thought I was stepping into a total power exchange, but what I actually stepped into was exploitation. That taught me a hard truth: BDSM can heal, but it can just as easily retraumatize when you do not know your partner, or yourself.

Why BDSM Can Heal
BDSM overlaps with several clinical approaches that therapists use to treat trauma.

Exposure therapy works by intentionally revisiting difficult triggers in a controlled way. In BDSM, a survivor may choose to lean into fear, restraint, or even pain, but with the grounding knowledge that they can stop at any time. Their body climbs into activation and then is guided back down safely. That cycle rewires the nervous system to learn that fear does not always equal danger.

Play therapy gives people space to test roles and rewrite narratives. In kink, play can mean costumes, rituals, roleplay, laughter, or fantasy. What once felt chaotic or shameful can be reframed as chosen, intentional, and even joyful.

Reregulation happens through aftercare. The care shown after impact, humiliation, or surrender teaches the body that sex and intensity do not make us lesser. Aftercare closes the loop, grounding us in safety and helping the brain store the memory as healing instead of retraumatizing.

Trust and intimacy are relearned through BDSM negotiation and structure. For someone who had trust shattered early, being able to surrender within clearly defined boundaries can rewrite what intimacy feels like. My body has learned that surrender does not have to mean danger. It can mean safety, care, and belonging.

Pitfalls and Predators
Without groundwork, BDSM can be dangerous. If you do not know your partner or you do not know yourself, the risk of retraumatization is real.

Red flags to watch for:

• Partners who push boundaries or hard limits
• Partners who act like your limits are secondary to their pleasure
• Partners who dismiss your needs as part of the dynamic
• Partners that ignore safe words

Those people are not Doms. They are abusers with titles.

The reason I'm writing all of this is to help inform and educate, and also to connect with people like myself who want to understand the why and the how. Why does BDSM help survivors heal? How does it work in the mind and body? And how do we protect ourselves from confusing abuse with submission?

Knowledge is power. Self knowledge is safety. Know yourself before giving yourself away.

I am also inviting your thoughts, tools, and perspectives. If you have found healing through BDSM, or if you have practices that help you or your partners feel safe while exploring, I would love to hear them. If you have questions or thoughts, please let me know!

-Muse

Thank you for sharing your history and journey.

You are correct in that people thst are in it for their own pleasure with noctjouhht to the submissive are not Dom's, they are abusers.

I will always take care of my sub. Guide her and give her structure and try to make her a better version of herself

 

[Hypocrites]

The pride I feel at having @HyposMuse post this is beyond quantifying.

I think, if you've read any of my posts, it is known that I've been around the barn a couple of times. Allow me to offer examples from Muse and my times together. Muse is mine, I keep and protect her like anyone with a prized possession they love. She is obedient to me and defers to me. However, the two examples I use as exemplars of her concepts are very personal and deeply altering. Therefore it is with her knowledge and consent that I post these.

We spent maybe hundreds of hours getting to know each other before we ever came together physically, I knew of her abuse, rapes, stalking and exploitation. I share these examples of decades old traumas that could trigger debilitating panic attacks. I hope these will serve as practical and illustrative examples of how the healing may manifest.

She can tell you more about this if she chooses. One particular trauma that was crippling for decades, on many levels and was the cause of a clear hard limit when we were getting to know each other and negotiating, was being strangled nearly to death. She once expressed that she didn't know why he stopped when he did. She describes the moment when she gave up as the life was leaving her body. So touching the throat was a devastating trigger. It took her years to even wear a safety belt (the weapon) properly and slip collars (She wears mine).

It concerned me enough that when I picked her up at the airport and tied her before placing her in the van, I made sure the harness went through her arm so that she wouldn't have it up on her throat while her own hands were unable to help. As we were together, I was very observant of physiological and vocal signs of impending panic.

When I'd caress her neck, I used the back of my hand. Her breathing quickened but she didn't panic, instead she let herself slip into sub space some.

Trust is the singular most important factor in a BDSM relationship and I guard hers jealously. So you'll read about it a lot whenever I'm writing. A close second is developing the skills needed to "read" your sub and be able to adjust and pivot based on what her (or his) reactions are.

The trust she had in me grew, the longer we were together. When something occurred that would have gotten her struck in the past caused her to flinch. I immediately soothed her, brought her back to the present and corrected her initial behavior in an appropriate manner.

Yet I was completely surprised when, during our scene, she took my hand and placed it on her throat. I didn't pull back but I asked if she was sure. She said yes and I applied pressure (there's safe ways to do this) where her windpipe was protected and I soothed her during it by saying things like, "you can breathe", "you are safe" until she acknowledged it to me. I needed the reassurance she was alright. Soon this became a touch she desires. Ultimately I collared her, with a tight collar, as I took ownership of her.

The other example I was unaware of as trauma related was her fear of firearms. I knew she had been threatened with one and she knew that I carried 24/7. She opted to trust me enough to be with me. I assumed, like in the majority of cases, it was a lack of understanding that informed her fear.

So I cajoled her into a range day. Expose her to various weapons, let her see how they work and learn how to shoot. Her courage melted my heart. I could see and feel her fear and anxiety yet she maintained her composure, was attentive and learned. For the record, she's a naturally good shot so...

I had her start with a small caliber and had her work her way up, including my own carry. When I opened the case for my Glock, she took a sudden step back and the look of terror scared me. I asked her if it looked like the gun and she nodded so I closed it up. I also asked if she wanted to go and she didn't, that she wanted to sit and watch me shoot.

She remained poised, followed any directions with aplomb and remained still though I could see anxiety. The healing part came after, in the van. That's when it all came out. How close, how easily he could have killed her. I made sure she felt my touch, heard my voice and knew she was safe.

Again, this is not intended to delve further into concepts my erudite Muse knows as much about as any therapist. It's intended to help one visualize how healing may present and how we handled it.

 

[Indian_daddy_raj_6ft]

A Little About Me
Most people who know me in my everyday life would never call me submissive. I'm loud, opinionated, and full of sass. I’m the one people go to when they need a plan or some perspective. I work in helping fields, I'm the mom friend, the one who looks after everyone else. From the outside, that might not look like submission. But underneath, I have always carried a submissive nature. You just have to know where to look.

My drive for submission started with a yearning for control and acceptance. I matured fast, both mentally and physically. I had already known grooming and molestation as a child, but I discovered sex before the major traumas of my teenage years. Even then, by the time I began exploring, I craved a place where the rules were clear, where I could give up the constant weight of responsibility and finally feel contained.

I grew up during the early internet, which meant I had access to all of the information and none of the safeguards. My first foray into BDSM was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay on IRC. He wanted me to call him Master and be at his whim for hours, and I was hooked. I spent weeks after that searching for anything I could find on this kind of dynamic. My hands were busy both learning and giving in to the needs that rose up inside me.

For years I kept my explorations online. I was too young, pretending to be old enough, but desperate to learn. I found communities where people told me how to touch myself, where couples let me watch them play on grainy webcams, where I could train myself through obedience without ever being touched.

I learned my own body through the lens of submission.

When I was old enough to actually date, I did not attract the kind of people who honored the dynamic I craved. Instead, I attracted abuse. The rape and mistreatment of those years nearly stole sex from me entirely. But I pushed on and I was trained more seriously, taught posture, discipline, and the structure of obedience. When I turned eighteen I thought I was stepping into a total power exchange, but what I actually stepped into was exploitation. That taught me a hard truth: BDSM can heal, but it can just as easily retraumatize when you do not know your partner, or yourself.

Why BDSM Can Heal
BDSM overlaps with several clinical approaches that therapists use to treat trauma.

Exposure therapy works by intentionally revisiting difficult triggers in a controlled way. In BDSM, a survivor may choose to lean into fear, restraint, or even pain, but with the grounding knowledge that they can stop at any time. Their body climbs into activation and then is guided back down safely. That cycle rewires the nervous system to learn that fear does not always equal danger.

Play therapy gives people space to test roles and rewrite narratives. In kink, play can mean costumes, rituals, roleplay, laughter, or fantasy. What once felt chaotic or shameful can be reframed as chosen, intentional, and even joyful.

Reregulation happens through aftercare. The care shown after impact, humiliation, or surrender teaches the body that sex and intensity do not make us lesser. Aftercare closes the loop, grounding us in safety and helping the brain store the memory as healing instead of retraumatizing.

Trust and intimacy are relearned through BDSM negotiation and structure. For someone who had trust shattered early, being able to surrender within clearly defined boundaries can rewrite what intimacy feels like. My body has learned that surrender does not have to mean danger. It can mean safety, care, and belonging.

Pitfalls and Predators
Without groundwork, BDSM can be dangerous. If you do not know your partner or you do not know yourself, the risk of retraumatization is real.

Red flags to watch for:

• Partners who push boundaries or hard limits
• Partners who act like your limits are secondary to their pleasure
• Partners who dismiss your needs as part of the dynamic
• Partners that ignore safe words

Those people are not Doms. They are abusers with titles.

The reason I'm writing all of this is to help inform and educate, and also to connect with people like myself who want to understand the why and the how. Why does BDSM help survivors heal? How does it work in the mind and body? And how do we protect ourselves from confusing abuse with submission?

Knowledge is power. Self knowledge is safety. Know yourself before giving yourself away.

I am also inviting your thoughts, tools, and perspectives. If you have found healing through BDSM, or if you have practices that help you or your partners feel safe while exploring, I would love to hear them. If you have questions or thoughts, please let me know!

-Muse

Thank you for this. This is really helpful. Even I have this thoughts. I have tried regular therapy it is good but I have some body insecurities. I am M28. Even though I have relationships in the past . I have always feels insecure about my body and i do reached out many therapies couldn't worked on. Do you think this therapy can help ? If yes please suggest me. Thank you
Really appreciate for sharing this

 

[Ushbit]

I am a survivor of tremendous abuse, lasting for 18 years of my life, at the hands of the people who were supposed to be my caregivers and who I should've been able to trust most. The result being cPTSD, together with associated mental (co)illnesses.

I sought out BDSM, half-instinctively, as a way of healing early in my life. Years afterwards I was shocked when my therapist asked me to, mentally, put myself back in traumatising situations- only to change details and the outcome so that the scenario would play out with me not coming into any danger. She called it "Childhood Reclaiming". I realized, thats very much what I used to do myself- putting myself in a position of violence and dependance, only that I had absolute assurance that I am safe. That I was in charge of what was happening. That things were not done to me, but at my explicit wish.

Now, years later, I am on the other side of the dynamics. Psychologically, it has been as beneficial. Again, I have to think about that therapist, who explained to me that our problematic traits, schemes, as she called them, are not good, or bad. They can only be helpful, or not helpful. And they can be helpful in one situation, or period in our lives, but very unhelpful in others. And, because there are situations where they serve us well, they might be very difficult to give up.

My harsh traits that I developed have helped, nay, saved and carried me through the very disadvantaged life, when obstacles were coming from within and without. Only, after I've aimed footing and control, they started to actually be in my way. They were hurtful to my surroundings, the people that sincerely love me being collateral in my uncompromising disposition. At the same time, the thought of giving them up, even partially, left me feeling cold every time. Because I know I would not only be shedding my armour, it felt like I'd be resigning of a true part of myself.

In being a domme, there is a way to keep these parts of myself to everyone's benefit. My sternness, insistance on rules and proper conduct, determination, even my short temper are directed where they are appreciated and craved for. So, I can retire what has been a survival mechanism and use it for pleasure, mine and his. Because life is good, now.

That said, I'd really like to point out some dangers that come with "psychologising" BDSM. It is great to analyse, and it surely should be done, but more than once I've encountered efforts to use these analyses as means of essentialising and medicalising kinksters. In essence, the attitude is: if it's tracable to a set of psychological (pre)conditions, you should be able to treat it. That identifying the origin of kink should be used to "heal" te kinkster and return them into the fold of "normal" sexual behaviour. It's, at the very bottom, a puritanistic way of coercing individuals away from their unique sexual expression, in the name of normalcy. What is particularly sour is that I've seen a lot of this kind of push in communities otherwise close to my heart.

So, while I'm happy to share my journey here, to anyone who tries to unsolicitedly link my kinks with my past abuse I say: FU, it's none of your business how I get laid.

 

[justanewsub]

I'm new around these parts, so don't have anything to add personally yet. However, I just want to thank you all for this thread as it's incredibly informative of people's thought processes

 

[justanewsub]

I am a survivor of tremendous abuse, lasting for 18 years of my life, at the hands of the people who were supposed to be my caregivers and who I should've been able to trust most. The result being cPTSD, together with associated mental (co)illnesses.

I sought out BDSM, half-instinctively, as a way of healing early in my life. Years afterwards I was shocked when my therapist asked me to, mentally, put myself back in traumatising situations- only to change details and the outcome so that the scenario would play out with me not coming into any danger. She called it "Childhood Reclaiming". I realized, thats very much what I used to do myself- putting myself in a position of violence and dependance, only that I had absolute assurance that I am safe. That I was in charge of what was happening. That things were not done to me, but at my explicit wish.

Now, years later, I am on the other side of the dynamics. Psychologically, it has been as beneficial. Again, I have to think about that therapist, who explained to me that our problematic traits, schemes, as she called them, are not good, or bad. They can only be helpful, or not helpful. And they can be helpful in one situation, or period in our lives, but very unhelpful in others. And, because there are situations where they serve us well, they might be very difficult to give up.

My harsh traits that I developed have helped, nay, saved and carried me through the very disadvantaged life, when obstacles were coming from within and without. Only, after I've aimed footing and control, they started to actually be in my way. They were hurtful to my surroundings, the people that sincerely love me being collateral in my uncompromising disposition. At the same time, the thought of giving them up, even partially, left me feeling cold every time. Because I know I would not only be shedding my armour, it felt like I'd be resigning of a true part of myself.

In being a domme, there is a way to keep these parts of myself to everyone's benefit. My sternness, insistance on rules and proper conduct, determination, even my short temper are directed where they are appreciated and craved for. So, I can retire what has been a survival mechanism and use it for pleasure, mine and his. Because life is good, now.

That said, I'd really like to point out some dangers that come with "psychologising" BDSM. It is great to analyse, and it surely should be done, but more than once I've encountered efforts to use these analyses as means of essentialising and medicalising kinksters. In essence, the attitude is: if it's tracable to a set of psychological (pre)conditions, you should be able to treat it. That identifying the origin of kink should be used to "heal" te kinkster and return them into the fold of "normal" sexual behaviour. It's, at the very bottom, a puritanistic way of coercing individuals away from their unique sexual expression, in the name of normalcy. What is particularly sour is that I've seen a lot of this kind of push in communities otherwise close to my heart.

So, while I'm happy to share my journey here, to anyone who tries to unsolicitedly link my kinks with my past abuse I say: FU, it's none of your business how I get laid.

I often think "how did I wind up submissive." I like the "FU" approach, even to myself, at times. Don't overthink it. Just be

 

[MikeForYourWife]

A Little About Me
Most people who know me in my everyday life would never call me submissive. I'm loud, opinionated, and full of sass. I’m the one people go to when they need a plan or some perspective. I work in helping fields, I'm the mom friend, the one who looks after everyone else. From the outside, that might not look like submission. But underneath, I have always carried a submissive nature. You just have to know where to look.

My drive for submission started with a yearning for control and acceptance. I matured fast, both mentally and physically. I had already known grooming and molestation as a child, but I discovered sex before the major traumas of my teenage years. Even then, by the time I began exploring, I craved a place where the rules were clear, where I could give up the constant weight of responsibility and finally feel contained.

I grew up during the early internet, which meant I had access to all of the information and none of the safeguards. My first foray into BDSM was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay on IRC. He wanted me to call him Master and be at his whim for hours, and I was hooked. I spent weeks after that searching for anything I could find on this kind of dynamic. My hands were busy both learning and giving in to the needs that rose up inside me.

For years I kept my explorations online. I was too young, pretending to be old enough, but desperate to learn. I found communities where people told me how to touch myself, where couples let me watch them play on grainy webcams, where I could train myself through obedience without ever being touched.

I learned my own body through the lens of submission.

When I was old enough to actually date, I did not attract the kind of people who honored the dynamic I craved. Instead, I attracted abuse. The rape and mistreatment of those years nearly stole sex from me entirely. But I pushed on and I was trained more seriously, taught posture, discipline, and the structure of obedience. When I turned eighteen I thought I was stepping into a total power exchange, but what I actually stepped into was exploitation. That taught me a hard truth: BDSM can heal, but it can just as easily retraumatize when you do not know your partner, or yourself.

Why BDSM Can Heal
BDSM overlaps with several clinical approaches that therapists use to treat trauma.

Exposure therapy works by intentionally revisiting difficult triggers in a controlled way. In BDSM, a survivor may choose to lean into fear, restraint, or even pain, but with the grounding knowledge that they can stop at any time. Their body climbs into activation and then is guided back down safely. That cycle rewires the nervous system to learn that fear does not always equal danger.

Play therapy gives people space to test roles and rewrite narratives. In kink, play can mean costumes, rituals, roleplay, laughter, or fantasy. What once felt chaotic or shameful can be reframed as chosen, intentional, and even joyful.

Reregulation happens through aftercare. The care shown after impact, humiliation, or surrender teaches the body that sex and intensity do not make us lesser. Aftercare closes the loop, grounding us in safety and helping the brain store the memory as healing instead of retraumatizing.

Trust and intimacy are relearned through BDSM negotiation and structure. For someone who had trust shattered early, being able to surrender within clearly defined boundaries can rewrite what intimacy feels like. My body has learned that surrender does not have to mean danger. It can mean safety, care, and belonging.

Pitfalls and Predators
Without groundwork, BDSM can be dangerous. If you do not know your partner or you do not know yourself, the risk of retraumatization is real.

Red flags to watch for:

• Partners who push boundaries or hard limits
• Partners who act like your limits are secondary to their pleasure
• Partners who dismiss your needs as part of the dynamic
• Partners that ignore safe words

Those people are not Doms. They are abusers with titles.

The reason I'm writing all of this is to help inform and educate, and also to connect with people like myself who want to understand the why and the how. Why does BDSM help survivors heal? How does it work in the mind and body? And how do we protect ourselves from confusing abuse with submission?

Knowledge is power. Self knowledge is safety. Know yourself before giving yourself away.

I am also inviting your thoughts, tools, and perspectives. If you have found healing through BDSM, or if you have practices that help you or your partners feel safe while exploring, I would love to hear them. If you have questions or thoughts, please let me know!

-Muse

Great post. What is not discussed enough is the fact that the dominates first responsibly is to keep the submissive safe. The relationship does not work unless the submissive has complete trust and the dominant has earned if.

 

[liqueur]

What is not discussed enough is the fact that the dominates first responsibly is...

... is to learn the difference between dominate and dominant.