Some apologies amount to someone asking for permission to keep doing something bad.
These apologies generally shouldn’t be accepted.
(But it can be really hard not to, because who want permission to do bad things tend to lash out when they don’t get it.)
(If you have to accept a bad apology to protect yourself, it’s not your fault.)
Eg:
Moe: “I’m sorry, I know this is my privileged male opinion talking but…”
Or, Moe: “I’m sorry, I know I’m kind of a creeper…” or “I’m sorry, I know I’m standing too close but…”
At this point, Sarah may feel pressured to say “It’s ok.”
If Sarah says, “Actually, it’s not ok. Please back off” or “Yes, you’re mansplaining, please knock it off”, Moe is likely to get angry.
The thing is, it’s not ok, and Moe has no intention of stopping.
Moe is just apologizing in order to feel ok about doing something he knows is wrong.
Another example:
Sam is a wheelchair user. He’s trying to get through a door.
Mary sees him and decides that he needs help.
Mary rushes to open the door. As she does so, she says “Oh, sorry, I know I’m supposed to ask first”, with an expectant pause.
At this point, Sam may feel pressured to say “It’s ok”, even if the ‘help’ is unwanted and unhelpful.
If Sam says, “Yes, you should have asked first. You’re in my way. Please move”, Mary is likely to get angry and say “I was just trying to help!”.
In this situation, Mary wasn’t really apologizing. She was asking Sam to give her permission to do something she knows is wrong.
More generally:
Fake Apologizer: *does something they know the other person will object to*.
Fake Apologizer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I know I’m doing The Bad Thing…” or “I guess you’re going to be mad if I…”
Fake Apologizer: *expectant pause*
The Target is then supposed to feel pressured to say something like “That’s ok”, or “I know you mean well”, or “You’re a good person, so it’s ok for you to do The Bad Thing.”
If the Target doesn’t respond by giving the Fake Apologizer permission/validation, the Fake Apologizer will often lash out. This sometimes escalates in stages, along the lines of:
Fake Apologizer: I *said* I was sorry!
Fake Apologizer: *expectant pause*
The Target is then supposed to feel pressure to be grateful to the Fake Apologizer for apologizing, and then as a reward, give them permission to do The Bad Thing. (Or apologize for not letting them do The Bad Thing.)
If the Target doesn’t respond in the way the Fake Apologizer wants, they will often escalate to intense personal insults, or even overt threats, eg:
Fake Apologizer: I guess you’re just too bitter and broken inside to accept my good intentions. I hope you get the help you need. And/or:
Fake Apologizer: Ok, fine. I’ll never try to do anything for you ever again. And/or
Fake Apologizer: *storms off, and slams the door in a way that causes the person who refused their intrusive help to fall over*.
Tl;dr Sometimes what looks like an apology is really a manipulative demand for validation and permission to do something bad.
The Lieutenant by Robert Cornelius Via Flickr: I wanted to create something a bit more futuristic and sci-fi-esk … I feel I have accomplished my mission. Check out my newest blog post for some explanation on how I get my “illustrative look” and also take a listen to my in-depth speed edit video! www.robertcorneliusphotography.com/blog/the-illustrative-…
Summary: Sage can’t get off unless they have a little bit of pain with their pleasure. Unfortunately, Trevor knows this. Fortunately, HQ is full of Fakes who don’t care about Trevor’s rules.
A kept!Sage fic. The kept verse involves bad horrible Fakes who do bad horrible things. Cast includes Trevor, Michael, Matt, Jeremy, Geoff, Jack, Gavin, and Alfredo.
Warnings: In this verse, Sage is being held against their will for a long period of time. This captivity involves emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. All three make an appearance in this fic, but the focus is on controlling behavior. Additional warnings include: orgasm denial, brief daddy kink, gun play, biting, collar play, bondage, spanking, references to violent murder (does not happen onscreen), somnophilia, degrading language, various pet names used by an abuser, references to strangulation (very mild choking happens onscreen), sexual masochism (inflicted by others and the self), and manipulation (both by abusers to further their abuse and by a victim to mitigate their own abuse).
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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The grandfather clock in the Fake’s foyer counted the seconds dutifully. Sage sat on an expensive couch, stiff as a board, and watched the pendulum swing back and forth. Geoff had stolen that clock on a whim months ago. He kept it in pristine condition, always polishing and tinkering to keep the machinery singing. Sage had been stolen a lot longer ago. They counted the seconds dutifully, trying not to squirm.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Unlike the clock, Sage had the ability to misbehave.
As soon as the front door creaked, Sage sprang off the couch.
The stench of violence followed Michael like smoke. He smelled like lighter fluid and human meat. Sweat and smoke clung to his face and neck, along with a telltale red splatter. His breath was heavy and there was still a gun in his sweaty fist, as though he’d used it just moments ago.
Sage didn’t know what he’d been up to or who he’d been killing, and they didn’t want to know.
“Michael—” They rushed up to him before he was even through the door. “I-I need you to—”
The barrel of the gun cut off their words.
Sage staggered back, quivering, as Michael used the gun like it was just an extension of his hand, shoving them roughly back.
“Don’t get in my goddamn way,” Michael grunted. He kept the gun pointed at them. “I’m trying to take my boots off. Christ.”
Sage’s gaze jumped between the gun and Michael’s face. The harsh pressure of the barrel was making their heart pound. Despite the danger, they couldn’t make themself back off. “I-I— I need—”
“You need a bullet? I’ve got plenty left.”
“I need a favor!” Sage confessed in a rush.
Michael’s eyebrows rose. With a scoff, he lowered his gun. “Fuck, you’re a mess.” The observation was the first thing to bring humor to his voice. “You look like you fucked a steamroller. Rough morning?”
Sage knew what he meant, but roughness was the entire problem. If their morning had been rougher, they wouldn’t be in this situation.
Lips had been the first sensation Sage felt as they awoke, before light touched their eyes, before sleep had really lifted. They had felt soft lips moving over their own, muffling their sleeping breath. And…
A second pair of lips, and a tongue, between their pliant legs, tasting them in their sleep. Sage awoke already moaning.
“G-Gavin…”
“G’morning, love,” Gavin cooed. He cupped Sage’s face, trapping it close to his own. “Just relax and let Jack work her magic.”
Jack’s tongue coaxed weak noises out of Sage, but Gavin’s tongue stifled every one.
“M-morning was fine,” Sage said stiffly.
It had been soft and sweet, even when Jack and Gavin took turns sinking inside Sage. Too soft. One rough yank on Sage’s hair would have been enough, one moment of pain to spice up the pleasure, but Gavin and Jack never obliged. Sage couldn’t finish without that extra little push.
“Congratulations on your great morning,” Michael drawled. “Can I fucking help you with something?”
Sage had tried to be subtle, slipping a hand over their own skin, searching for the perfect moment to scratch. If Jack and Gavin wouldn’t supply the pain they needed, they could do it themself. One sweet, biting press of nails into skin, that was all they needed…
Fingers closed over their wrist before they could scratch, though. Gavin lifted their hand to his lips, giving it a kiss, smirking fit to burst. He’d known.
Sage squirmed, their eyes glued to the carpet. They cleared their throat and said in a shaky half-whisper, “W-would you… fuck me?”
Michael blinked. “’Scuse me?”
It didn’t feel like it should have been possible, but Sage’s blush deepened. “Um… I-I really need to come, and—”
Michael snorted. He shoved past them, tossing his gun carelessly on the coffee table. “So? Go beg Trevor to throw you a bone.”
Trevor. Sage had gone to him first, of course they did. Trevor was always so willing to indulge them. Sage had crawled into his bed, needy, pleading, offering whatever he wanted. Maybe that had been their mistake. They gave him a taste of something and he took a liking to it.
“You’re so cute like this,” he breathed, hand in Sage’s hair.
Soft, too soft. No matter how Sage whined, no matter how they lavished his balls or swallowed his cock, he never pulled. Just stroked.
It was no accident. Trevor had learned all of Sage’s buttons long ago.
“I just want to keep you like this all day.” He pushed, still so gentle, until Sage’s nose was pressed against his body. “You can be a good little pet for me, right? I’ll give you such a nice reward if you make it until tonight…”
“I already went to Trevor,” Sage said, truthfully. Then they lied. “He’s not as good as you.”
That got Michael’s attention. For the first time, he was neither scowling nor smirking.
“Come back to my room tonight.” Trevor made a promise as he latched a new dog tag to Sage’s collar. “I’ll spoil you all night if you’re good.”
Sage fidgeted with their collar, casually tucking the tag under the leather. No need to let Michael see the instructions that Trevor had left there for the rest of the crew, the embossed words “Don’t Let Me Come.”
“You could have asked anyone,” Michael pressed. The look in his eyes was intense.
“I-I’ve… I’ve already asked the rest of the crew.” Sage bit their lip, and swallowed a little moan. “They, um… they didn’t help.”
Sage didn’t dare disobey Trevor’s orders themself, though they easily could have finished on their own. But if another Fake did it… Trevor’s anger was so easy to redirect.
“What’s wrong, little bookworm?” Geoff patted his knee. “Come here and tell Daddy all about it.”
Michael laughed, shrugging out of his blood-stained jacket. “None of them would fuck you? Color me surprised.”
Before Sage could even begin to climb in Geoff’s lap, his clever fingers caught their collar, rubbing the edges of the brand-new tag. “Mmm, what’s this?“
Sage’s face flushed hot. “Th-that's—”
“A little bonding exercise between our favorite strangler and his pet? How cute.”
Sage’s voice was miserable. “No, they… they still…” They squirmed under Michael’s gaze, the admission squeaky with embarrassment. “They fucked me.”
Geoff was the only one who could truly disobey Trevor without consequence. He could have taken care of things. He…
He traced a finger in an agonizingly slow circle around Sage’s aching clit, making them clench around his cock. There was only one proper way to sit in Daddy’s lap. Sage told him every detail of the morning between whimpers.
“It’s so sweet to see you and Trev playing together,” Geoff purred. He never let go of the dog tag as Sage rode him. “I’ll make sure I play by his rules.”
Michael’s breath caught. “All of them fucked you?”
“All of them.”
Well…
When Geoff hadn’t helped, Sage had turned to the next most likely Fake to ignore Trevor’s rules.
Sage’s breath caught as soon as the question left their lips. Matt glanced up from the book he was reading. He didn’t move his head, so he ended up staring at Sage over the rim of his glasses. He held their gaze for several seconds, not saying a word, then went back to his book.
He slowly turned a page. Sage was getting lightheaded.
“No.”
"Jesus christ,” Michael breathed. “No wonder you look like you ran a marathon. You fuckin’ did, huh?”
Trevor’s sugary affection was flammable. More than one Fake had been sent to the respawn room for putting their hands on his pet. But he had a blind spot.
Sage found them in the armory: both of them. Alfredo was as striking as ever in his tight jeans, sitting on a desk like a chair, one long leg dangling off the edge. A menacing rifle was in his hands, deftly taken to pieces while Sage watched.
Trevor was in the room too, cleaning his own gun.
Michael unsuccessfully wiped at a smear of dried blood on his jaw. “So if you’ve already spread your legs for everyone else, what do you need me for?”
It was impossible not to be charmed by Alfredo, no matter what horrible act of violence he was committing at the time. That was what made him so dangerous. Trevor was no more immune to it than Sage was.
“Fredo?” Sage stole the pet name they’d heard Trevor use. “Can I…”
“The others just made it worse,” Sage insisted.
Alfredo’s gun was pressed against Sage’s forehead while his cunt was pressed against their tongue. Trevor whistled to himself, but never looked up from the gun he was cleaning.
Alfredo’s gun never pressed quite hard enough.
Impatience was creeping into Michael’s voice. “Made what worse?”
Sage was nearly whining. “None of them would let me…”
Sage had been hopeful when they went to Geoff, hopeful that he would use his authority to do whatever he wanted. Matt had never concerned himself with Trevor’s rules in the first place. And Alfredo… Trevor could never say no to him. Any of them could have relieved Sage’s plight.
Going to Jeremy, however, had been an act of desperation, and it was probably the worst thing Sage could have done.
“You need someone to hurt you?” Jeremy asked, confused.
Sage nodded miserably. Jeremy made a show of looking around, as if expecting to catch Trevor hiding around the nearest corner. Silently, they beckoned Sage to follow them.
Sage shouldn’t have followed.
Michael stepped closer. Sage’s heart pounded as he stared at them, demanding eye contact.
“So you’ve been edging all day?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it could have cut steel. “You’ve been fucked by the whole crew and haven’t gotten off once?”
The soft click of an unlatching buckle, the leather slide of a belt being removed from its pants, was enough to send Sage’s heart hammering against their chest.
“Bend over.” Jeremy’s voice was calm. “I can hurt you.”
Michael lifted his hand, gripped Sage’s chin. It was harsh, rude, the first non-gentle touch all day, and Sage’s knees turned to water.
“And now you’re crawling to me for the rough fuck you can’t get anywhere else. Is that it?”
“Y-y-yes!”
The anticipation of Jeremy’s belt was torturous. When Sage finally felt it, it was a feather-light caress, leather trailing lightly across the curve of their ass. Tickling, teasing.
“Ready?” Jeremy asked.
The belt lifted away. A quick whistle of velocity, a horrifying THUMP as the belt struck the mattress next to Sage, a startled jolt that ran through their whole body and brought them nothing. Sage nearly sobbed as the belt dragged lightly across their skin again.
Michael’s gaze drifted down. His hand slipped off Sage’s chin and grabbed their collar instead, slipping out the hidden dog tag before Sage could squeak. Exposing the words “Don’t Let Me Come.”
“Ah. I see what’s happening.”
Sage’s face was hot with need. “M-Michael, please—”
“Jeremy, please!”
As Jeremy wound the belt around Sage’s wrists, binding them behind their back, they leaned close to Sage’s ear and whispered.
“I told you I could hurt you.”
“So that’s why you haven’t taken care of this yourself.” Michael tugged on the collar, making Sage’s whole body wobble. “Trevor’s orders. You’re not gonna disobey Daddy.”
Sage writhed in the makeshift bondage as they felt Jeremy’s tongue where they’d been hoping to feel his belt. One firm hand on their back kept them pinned as Jeremy gave them the kind of kiss Jack had given them that morning.
It should have hurt at least a little when they squeezed their cock into Sage’s ass, inch by thick inch, but Jeremy had the patience of a saint when it came to torment. Tongue and fingers and lube soothed away every trace of discomfort. Even when Jeremy’s hips bumped against Sage’s un-spanked ass, all it did was make them drip.
Michael yanked on the collar, making Sage stumble. “You know what, though?” His fingers wound into their hair. A cold shiver of anticipation gripped Sage’s spine. “Trevor isn’t my Daddy.”
His hand tightened in a vicious fist, wrenching Sage’s head back. Hot sparks of pain danced down their back and exploded in their vision. Sage barely noticed it when Michael’s other hand pressed between their legs, groping roughly.
“He’s been saving you up for himself, huh? Like a sweet slice of cake. I always love stealing from him.”
Michael’s fist twisted in Sage’s hair, his fingers pressing against them through the thin fabric of their yoga pants. It wasn’t a lighthearted playing with Sage’s clit as much as it was Michael mashing a button with his thumb, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered more than the fact that someone was finally hurting them.
Their orgasm was half-drowned out by the blinding, deafening experience of seeing Heaven’s Gates and hearing the entire angel’s chorus. Sage was positive their legs had given out, but since Michael had a firm grip on their hair, they knew they weren’t going to fall.
“You’re fucking easy,” Michael taunted. Still gripping Sage by the hair, he hauled them towards the same table he’d tossed his gun onto. “Bend over.”
The command must have just been for show, because he shoved Sage face-down onto the table, almost pinning them against the gun. He grabbed the waistband of their flimsy pants, but instead of yanking it down over their ass, he grabbed it with his other hand and ripped.
“There we go.” Michael spread Sage’s ass, thumb teasing against their hole. “There’s my favorite fleshlight.” He pressed his thumb in, then snorted. “Not as, uh, tight as you should be. Someone else prep you?”
Sage squirmed, tried and failed to hide their burning face against the table. Aftershocks were still shuddering up and down their spine. “Nnh— J-Jeremy.”
“Well. Remind me to send them a fucking thank-you card.”
With his thumb still buried to the knuckle, Michael sheathed himself in Sage’s cunt. Sage’s back arched, eyes rolling, knuckles going white on the table.
“Jeeesus, you really were worked up, huh? Wet as shit.” Michael slid out just as quickly as he’d pushed in, guiding his dick up to their ass instead, pulling his thumb out. “Thanks for the free lube, slut. You’re gonna need it.”
Jeremy’s careful work had prepared Sage for penetration, but there was no way to prepare a human body for Michael. Sage winced between cries as Michael pounded them hard enough to rock the table. His hand was back in their hair, yanking and twisting, his open zipper scratching their thighs. This was what Sage had been aching for ever since Jack’s gentle tongue swirled over their clit that morning.
“Fuck, man,” Michael groaned, grabbing a soft handful of Sage’s ass as he fucked it. “Trevor’s gonna be so pissed.”
Michael’s hand kept the promise that Jeremy’s belt had broken. The first hard spank left a handprint and punched the air out of Sage’s lungs. Their chest heaved with every slap, gasping relief and shuddering through a second orgasm. Michael pinned them down as they writhed through it. The hand left their hair, replaced by teeth on their shoulder. These weren’t friendly nips; Michael left painful red marks. Sage didn’t stop squirming even as the waves of pleasure faded.
“That’s it, bitch,” Michael growled, “nnh, squeeze for me–”
Sage caught their breath, feeling every pulse of come in their ass. Michael pulled back, finally removing his teeth from their shoulder, but didn’t pull out right away. Sage’s breath steamed against the table as his nails ran lazily down their back. They hurt in a dozen places, but the aching strain of denial was finally gone.
Finally, as if satisfied with the view, Michael pulled out and left them on the table. He landed with a flump on the nearby couch, stretched for a moment, then braced his boot against the coffee table.
“A guy can’t take his fuckin’ shoes off around here,” he grunted, unlacing his boot, “without railing someone’s asshole first.”
Wobbling, Sage peeled themself off the table. Michael was kicking his boots off, pulling out his phone like nothing had happened. Well. Like nothing had happened, except for the fact that he was bare from waist to thigh, his balls and softening dick coated with both his and Sage’s come.
When Michael looked up again, he seemed genuinely surprised that Sage was still there. “What, you want me to make you breakfast?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as his words. Sex had softened his rough edges a little.
Gingerly, Sage sat on the couch with him. There was no way to pull their ruined pants back up, so their sore ass rested bare on the couch cushions. Nervous, not sure what they wanted, they placed a hand on his thigh.
Michael didn’t protest, turning his attention back to his phone. “You can clean me up if you want. I’m not getting up for a while, that was a good fuck.”
Gingerly, Sage scooted closer. Michael had gone back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone, so Sage leaned their head into his lap and nuzzled his balls. Satisfied at last, they could enjoy soft things again. They swallowed the happy little moan that bubbled up in their throat as they moved their tongue over him slowly.
Sage jumped a little when they felt a hand on their head. Glancing up, Michael wasn’t even looking at them, but his fingers busied themselves running through Sage’s hair, scritching their scalp. Sage melted, nearly started purring.
“Look good like that.” Michael’s voice, slurred and slow as it was from afterglow, made Sage smile. His fingers clenched a little, a mockery of a yank, laughable after how rough he’d just been with them. “C’mon, they’re not gonna worship themselves.”
Quiet enough that he couldn’t hear, Sage mumbled, “Yes sir,” and got back to work.
It was tempting to dissolve into the contentment of it all, the intimacy of Michael’s hand in their hair and the dull, throbbing reminders of his teeth and hands, the sore slickness between their legs… but there was one loose end Sage needed to tie up. Discreetly, covering up the sound with a pleased hum, Sage slipped a hand under their body. They were still sensitive, twitching under the touch of fingers through barely-hanging-on yoga pants. They probably could have gotten off again from the sting of Michael’s bite marks and the deep ache of a rough fuck, but getting off again wasn’t their goal.
It wasn’t discreet enough. Michael glanced down from his phone and scoffed.
“Again? That wasn’t enough for you?”
Sage pulled their pink face out of his lap. “I-it’s not that, it’s just… Trevor…”
Trevor was expecting a whimpery, squirmy, desperate pet in his bedroom tonight. Sage could still cover up what they’d done, but only if they put on a performance. It would have to be convincing. Trevor’s anger was easy to redirect, but all the same…
The words wouldn’t come out, stuck behind a clog of shame. Michael had been wonderful, Sage wasn’t trying to one-up him, these were just… preventative measures.
“Oh,Trevor?”
Sage’s head snapped up at the sound of Michael laughing.
“I think that ship has fucking sailed.” Still chuckling, Michael tilted his phone down so they could see the screen. “I just sent him a photo of me balls-deep in your ass. Probably too late to pretend nothing happened between us, huh?”
Below the lurid picture– bite marks and all– a single massive text from Trevor dominated the text box. It was so long it ran off the bottom of the screen.
Your timing is impeccable, Michael. I was just pondering a spool of wire. Have you been garroted before? I’ve always wondered if it makes a bloodless death or not. Will you merely thrash yourself to death like an animal as your windpipe collapses, or will the wire bite into your skin and make a dreadful mess? I imagine it depends on the wire. Home Depot has a great selection of
“You think he’s pissed?” Michael snickered.
Sage’s stomach dropped through the floor.
Michael flicked the phone back around, scrolling idly through Trevor’s elaborate threats. “Don’t look so scared, I’ll keep him busy for a while. Go take a nap, sleep off that brutal assfucking.”
Sage could feel tears coming, and blinked them back. Before they could think better of it, they flung themself into Michael’s arms, hugging him around the neck and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He tensed up at first, but relaxed as he brought his hands up to their hips.
“Get the fuck out of here unless you want another round.” Idly, he picked up the gun that still rested on the table, though he didn’t aim it with any conviction. “Just so you know, round two ends with a bullet.”
Sage breathed, “Thank you, Michael,” as they pulled away.
A happy glow was humming in Sage’s chest, putting a spring in their wobbly steps. They left the room, turned a corner, and bounced off of Trevor’s solid chest.
Warmth fled Sage’s body like an extinguished candle. The look on Trevor’s face froze them in place, took the breath from their lungs. Before they could speak, Trevor grabbed them by the collar, choking off their words.
“Go. To. My. Room.” His grip tightened, pressing the leather hard against Sage’s throat. “And wait there.”
Sage nodded weakly. The collar was too tight for them to speak.
Somewhere behind them, Michael laughed. “Shit, you got here quick. Somethin’ wrong, buddy?”
Trevor’s searing gaze shifted away from Sage. He shoved them away, letting them cough and gasp for air. Without a word, he strode towards Michael.
Michael was sprawled on the couch with his arms resting on the back, a savage grin on his face, gun dangling from one hand. He hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself away. “Yeah, babe, c'mere and choke me. If you can.”
Sage didn’t wait to see whose blood hit the wall first. They scrambled down the hall towards Trevor’s room, heart pounding, afterglow all gone. For a moment, adrenaline overrode soreness.
Trevor’s anger was easy to redirect, but like a wandering dog, it sometimes found its way back home.
remember to cry for help without guilt-tripping. i know it feels like you’ve been abandoned and betrayed, but it’s probably not true, and it’s not okay to accuse the people around you of something they might not have done.
“i guess none of you like me” could be better phrased as “i feel unloved right now”
“but nobody cares anyway” could be better phrased as “i feel insignificant and i need reassurance”
rather than assuming others’ feelings, give them time to explain them. you’ll usually get a much better answer.
This is really important for future predictions, too. “You’re eventually going to leave me” is impossible for someone else to disprove without just sticking around forever, but no one wants to stick around when they’re being constantly accused of future abandonment. Giving someone no choice but to either stay with you forever in order to prove you wrong or leave you and prove you right is incredibly emotionally manipulative, whether you mean it to be or not.
“I get scared sometimes because I’m afraid of being alone again” is easier to address and doesn’t leave your partner(s)/friend(s) feeling as though they’re being preemptively accused of something.
yessss this- I see some people in the notes saying the better phrasing is unnatural but it’s like you don’t Have to use those exact words, you just need to make sure you’re not using manipulative language or language that literally traps someone into reassuring you (like constant self deprecating jokes) because none of that is a healthy way to cope with mental illness at all
very very fun fact
we cant help it
i would be very surprised if there’s any neurotypicals in this reblog chain - the only “we” that exists here includes all of us. you can always help it. there’s no such thing as “illness that makes you incapable of not hurting others”. it can be hard to manage your symptoms - i don’t like the harsh tone i adopted for this op anymore - but you can always try, i promise.
There are some things I feel as though I’m not meant to say in relation to my relationship with Mister, at least, not publicly, not outside the sanctuary of the world that exists purely between the two of us.
For all we share and write about, there are some things which seem to fall into an unspoken category of “you’re not meant to say that” in the D/s and BDSM community.
Or perhaps I just don’t see some things written about because it’s truly taboo, maybe there are aspects of the relationship dynamics that Mister and I share that are simply frowned upon or not acceptable to the outside world no matter how fulfilling we find them ourselves.
For the most part, Mister and I keep these things to ourselves, we don’t really share the things that are harder to explain or we feel people won’t understand or we feel fall into that category of “you’re not meant to say that”.
I want to start changing that a little. For our own sake as well as for anyone who may need to read it.
I will preface this by saying I speak only for Mister and I, and not the community at large or for any other D/s relationships either generally or specifically. I would also ask that before you respond, or before you send hate mail if you’re so inclined, that you read this in full and try to keep an open mind before reacting.
So, with that said…
Mister intentionally manipulates me, and not only do I allow him to, I want him to.
I know most people hear the word manipulation and it’s automatically associated with abusive behavior. Generally speaking if we talk about manipulation we’re referring to an act of consciously coercing an action, behavior or mental state in someone else without their knowledge and more often than not with some form of malicious or selfish intention behind doing so.
While I absolutely do not, and would not ever, condone abusive, maliciously minded or intended manipulation in any way, shape or form regardless of the relationship dynamics involved I do believe that when used in the right way and with the right person there can be such a thing as positivemanipulation.
Mister and I talk a lot about what we both want from our relationship, what we’d like to accomplish as well as where our limits are, not just in terms of the sexual or physical activities but also where the lines of independence get drawn, where the mental and behavioral lines are drawn and where the absolute necessities are in relation to how we work together and how we operate or function in the world outside of our relationship.
We discuss the goals or concepts of what we want to achieve in great detail, but once we’ve discussed it and agreed to work towards it I tend to hand over the planning of how we accomplish it to Mister.
When it comes to physical activity or behaviors I’m often highly aware of what the plan is - learning to crawl up and down the stairs, being able to deep throat him in a single stroke without flinching, walking flawlessly in heels, increasing my pain tolerance…all of those things had a clear learning path and a clear plan that I was consciously aware of and an active participant in.
The mental and psychological goals are harder though, and sometimes the most effective way for Mister to be able to help me overcome mental barriers is to do so in a way that I’m not explicitly aware of at the time.
I trust Mister completely, and I genuinely want to be owned by him in mind, body and soul. It’s through his leadership, control and ownership that I am becoming the best possible version of myself, and I believe that happens just a little more each day.
There are some things that he simply can’t accomplish through his command and my consent alone, though.
I am able to let go and be vulnerable in front of him not because he told me to be vulnerable but because he showed me that it was safe to be vulnerable with him. He used the tools at his disposal and his knowledge of my mind, my fears, my insecurities and incorporated that knowledge into activities carried out in a safe environment that would make me feel vulnerable before him, a little at first and then gradually building over time. I learnt it was safe through action and reinforcement.
I know I can turn to Mister when I need help or when I encounter problems because he intentionally created low risk or no risk scenarios (such as moving our favorite mugs out of reach) that would make me turn to him to ask for help, because as much as I would love it if he could have simply told me he would help me when I needed it, asking for help is hard, and because of a history with people saying they would be there and not following through the words alone wouldn’t have been as effective as showing that he would help when I asked for it. It’s because he showed me through the small things that I trust in him and have enough confidence to turn to him when it comes to the big things.
There are a lot of things that are part of our relationship that are generally considered to be forms of manipulation and behavior modification. Sometimes I’m consciously aware of them, I know for example that Mister rewarding “good” or desired behaviors makes me more eager or comfortable to repeat those behaviors in the future, even if the reward is as simple as being told that I’m a “good girl” or hair ruffles.
But I’m also aware that there are some things Mister intentionally does to encourage or create certain behaviors and beliefs that aren’t explicitly stated, and that sometimes those things are subtle enough to fly under my mental defenses - and while I might not be able to tell you exactly what those things are until after the fact, I can tell you with absolute certainty that they are done with good intent and designed to achieve our mutual goals and desires.
Sometimes the best tool Mister has at his disposal in training me and guiding us towards where we want or need to go is beyond my conscious mind. To speak to something beyond the place within me bound by previously learned behaviors or perceptions forged through societal expectations and the fears and doubts left by less well intentioned people who came before him and instead work with the subconscious mind (no pun intended, but it’s a happy accident).
Our destinations are negotiated, but the path to get there often isn’t.
In order for Mister to lead, I must first be brave enough to follow and trust in him enough to choose our course.
Sometimes that means my conscious mind follows blindly, knowing that it’s safe to switch off under his care and his command.
~Wyn xx
I am so proud of you, Pup.
You submit to me with grace, dignity and mind blowing self awareness - even when it comes to accepting or even embracing concepts like manipulation and mind games.
You say I make you the best version of yourself. The same is true in reverse.
Submissive Saturday
Trust is earned….. An beautiful testament to what Dominance and submission can look like. Bravo.
This ^^^ is well worth reading. I had a submissive once who had a brilliant insight: “So your Dominance is basically Skinnerian behavior modification.” It was a sharp observation, and spot-on. We Doms do manipulate our girls. And they allow it, even embrace it. When a submissive says “My one big problem is impatience” or “I hate how I’m so fidgety and can’t just be still” or “I wish I didn’t hate my body so much,” our Domly antennae perk up and we immediately think “Area for focus.” And we begin a focused, planned, unapologetic process of manipulating our girl to help her to come to terms with these areas, and eventually to rise above them. It’s a large part of why we Doms exist.
spookybeautyreligionknight, ghostniniko, bananasisternikol, penguinnita, and niniiliko are all the same person.
BLOCK THEM IMMEDIATELY.
If you do not block them, I wish you lots of luck. This person has harassed me and a few of my other friends. I don’t want anyone else to suffer through that as well.
They have told me to kill myself and harassed me on a couple of different accounts. I have screenshots, so I will post them here as well.
The first ones (in white) are of a conversation from yesterday.
The ones in pink are from early this morning. These are the last messages I sent to them.
DO NOT TRUST THIS PERSON’S WORDS.
@angel-amongst-guardsand@phonedude-bryan have also been prime targets. I’m unsure of any other harassment they may have done, but I’m certain that they’ve manipulated others. They tried to manipulate my girlfriend as well. So please, do not interact with this person.
This has been a PSA. Thank you and I am sorry if they harass you as well. Maybe we can bring this person down.
imagine not understanding that malcolm bright is a victim of circumstances and psychological torture who has severe ptsd just so you can be like “good for her” to ainsley who is clearly being written as an actual villian for what she has done and is doing. malcolm wasn’t right to lie to her, but he wasn’t gaslighting her because gaslighting is a specific kind of manipulation with insidious intent. lying is part of gaslighting, but not all lying IS gaslighting. malcolm did hide what ainsley did, but he did not do it to hurt her. he did it to save her. to save her the trauma of what she did, because he thought she would feel as crushingly guilty as he does - which she CLEARLY does not. he did it to take the fall for her despite it costing him everything, including his sense of self.
if he were gaslighting her, it would be to hurt her and control her. also, an important factor is that he comes to the conclusion on his own that keeping the truth from her was wrong, he apologizes and promises her that he will be there. if he were truly gaslighting her, he would not have done that. he would have shifted the blame on her for his lies. but he didn’t. then we see ainsley actually gaslight him by making him think that she killed a second person. she literally did this to torture him emotionally.
men can be victims, and it is important to see a male character be as open and emotionally vulnerable about trauma the way malcolm is. it’s refreshing to see him say he has trauma, to know it isn’t his fault and to cry openly about it. plus, in that moment we are supposed to be realizing that ainsley doesn’t love or care about malcolm. she is a killer just like their father. it is not a #yas queen moment and if you think it is you probably watched midsommar wrong too. malcolm isn’t perfect, but he isn’t meant to be. he is a traumtized individual making the best of his situation without getting any breaks in the process. he is bound to make mistakes along the way. but he isn’t malicious. that’s the point.
Very true! Might I add that one of the goals of gaslighting is to make the person being gaslighted doubt their own ability to distinguish the truth from the lies in order to eventually make that person dependent on the gaslighter for the “truth.” While I think Malcolm lying to Ainsley may have had a similar effect due to her memories coming back which were contradictory to what he was telling her (remember in 2x04 when she said “I feel like I’m going insane”?), Malcolm definitely didn’t do it to make Ainsley dependent on him (which is what Martin would have done) - he literally says in 2x07 that he did to “save [her] pain.” One could argue he lied to Jessica about it too to save her the pain of finding out that another member of her family, “perfect, nontraumatized” Ainsley, was a killer.
Lying to Jessica and Ainsley and covering up Endicott’s murder are all mistakes that Malcolm has made, some with bad consequences to come if the 2x08 promo is anything to go by, but he didn’t do any of it maliciously, certainly didn’t enjoy any of it (I don’t believe the “flashbacks” in 2x01 are actually what happened - more what Martin is planting in Malcolm’s mind), it has caused him severe emotional pain, and once he realized he’d made a mistake and he needed to rectify that, he apologized in person to Ainsley, comforted her and offered her support. And Ainsley, already having set up her sick “prank”, went ahead with it anyway. She watched her brother breaking down in front of her, made him worried on purpose all day by ignoring him, made smart remarks about him in front of their aunt and their mother and expressed no remorse. Honestly, I’m no expert so I don’t know if Ainsley is a sociopath or what, but I do think that this could be a dark path that the writers are setting her down on (but I’m here for that because I like dark female characters).
