On December 1st, I published a short story called Bulletproof as well as a collection of five short stories. Both are BDSM erotica. LINKS
The five are stories I wrote a few years ago. Bulletproof was written this year (2024) and, for the first time, I wrote purely for me.
I wrote to put into words the exact nature of what I was desiring and hoping for and I’m speaking up about my desires now because I’ve kept quiet about them for too long. Or, I realised, it is not that I was silent. It was more that I spoke and was not listened to. And I, for all sorts of complex and valid reasons, allowed myself to be not listened to, to set those needs and desires aside.
In the past, I have assumed responsibility for others not hearing, not listening. Now, I set that aside. I see that I did speak of what I needed. So many times. I also made mistakes: maybe I was not clear enough, I was certainly not insistent or boundaried enough, and I take full responsibility for those mistakes. I’ve learnt from them. This is all that mistakes ever ask from you.
In writing the Eloise and Smith story I was saying fully Yes to all of myself: to my needs, my desires, what I would like for myself.
To be able to say yes to ourselves is vital. To be able to say yes to our needs, our feelings, our imaginations is how we feel alive.
In counterpoint, we also need to be able to speak and hear a No. I like to hear No. I like you to draw a line because then I know where I stand. No is clarity. No is your will. Asking the question or stating the need is me acting on mine.
I think boundaries create safety. I think a No is not a wall, but rather a buttress for connection. It supports and contains; it holds up, internally and externally. It can be flying and light or it can be solid and immovable.
I wrote this Bulletproof for me and for the person whose imagination inspired it but, more importantly, I wrote it for anyone who still feels shame or distress when they consider their fantasies, their desires, their needs. I would like everyone to feel that all of what they desire to do with other consenting adults is allowed, that it’s okay to want what you want, to feel how you feel.
Consent is the key that unlocks these experiences but the door that we must unlock is a door called risk. We are repeatedly asked to take risks in relationships. To speak the truth of who and what we are, to say what we need, is to take a risk. But the absence of action is what causes life and relationships to stall and stagnate. Life wants you to be a channel for experience. Allow it.
I’m optimistic that fewer and fewer people need to be told that desiring these experiences is more than okay, indeed, it’s to be celebrated. I’m optimistic too that this will continue.
I hope that, by sharing my deepest desires, by showing you what I need, how I crave to be held and what I long for, I encourage you to sharpen and strengthen your will as well as your understanding of consent and power and how that plays out in relationships. I hope it sharpens and strengthens your will and your ability to speak of what you need in the way that Miller, in his own unique way, has strengthened mine.
What I feel now is confident that I’ve made myself clear. I know that I will have to keep speaking up for myself. I also know there will come times when I don’t want to, when I feel frustrated, and at those times I will allow myself to simply point to these stories and these words.
