HyposMuse
Hypo's Treasure
- Joined
- Aug 22, 2025
- Posts
- 15
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:
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
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
