1 month ago. Fri 12 Oct 2018 11:08:35 PM IDT
Part 1: The Restorer
He looked down at the pile of rubble before him and smiled. He didn’t have to ask, he already knew. In the market everything was used. All of the merchandise had a ding or two. In many cases it was those “dings” that made the item appear more valuable. Not to him. He wasn’t particularly looking atthe mess before him, but smiled all the same. The heap of raw emotions and scars was passed over by so many. She was no doubt pretty on the outside, but it was beneath the surface that was broken and in her mind shattered beyond repair. The man saw it differently. He was a restorer. One that took what was broken and put it back together. The Restorer knew that a fresh coat of paint wouldn’t fix what was wrong. She had already done that with make-up and a fake smile. The Restorer understood that the insides, what was under the “hood” so to speak, had to be rebuilt from scratch. He knew instinctively that this would take time, that the amazing soul before him would be a “work in progress”. He also knew that many had looked at her and passed her by. All they saw was a pretty face and a lot of work. They were wrong and he knew it. He looked at the scars that he could see and knew there were even more that he couldn’t see. The Restorer looked at things differently than most. He looked at life differently. What others saw as a broken mess, he saw as perfect. She was perfect! With all the scars and emotional damage, she was perfect. She was EXACTLY what HE was looking for.
He claimed the property as his that day. Of all his many capabilities, he knew that patience and caring would be what he would need the most. She needed his understanding, his belief in her that she was of great value, incredible value. The Restorer knew that once he brought this amazing beauty back to life, others would want her, even the ones that had discarded her in the first place. He smiled again. “Too late,” he thought, “you are mine. I will fix you up right, the way that you should be, the way that you deserve to be.” He looked at the scars on her and was appalled. He looked at the small brown circles where she had been used as an ashtray for another’s cigarettes… and amusement. “They will heal,” she implored, then lowered her head in defeat and added, “They always do.” He lifted her chin with his fingers and smiled. “No one will hurt you again.” She returned his smile though her confidence did not match his. All she had left was hope. A hope that someday the Restorer would come. She didn’t believe such a person existed. How could he be real? And even if he were real, why would he want her? He smiled again. He told her such an incredible lie and he had said it straight to her face. How could he have said such an outrageous falsehood? He had looked deep into her eyes and said… “You are perfect.” And to make matters worse, he had gone on to say that she was beautiful, amazing and incredible. He explained that pretty was on the outside. It was the attractive face and body, her gorgeous hair and eyes and her amazing smile. He told her that beauty, true beauty, showedfrom the inside out. He assured her that regardless of what she thought, her inner beauty still shined brightly.
The Restorer did not know of all the abuse that she had suffered, the physical, sexual and emotional abuse. He instinctively knew it was there. During the upcoming weeks, months and years of restoration of her very soul, he would hear and see the remnants of the years of destruction. He would also see the self-destruction, the scars from cutting. He would listen to her as she told of one torment followed by the next. Now it was her turn to smile. She could see that the endless stories of misuse and pain bothered the Restorer. She stopped telling her stories. When he was ready for more, he would ask. She knew that he was a good man, a fair man and that he had what she had wanted and needed for years, control of her. She had no way of knowing where this would lead. She only knew that she trusted him and that he was capable of making her whole again, whatever that could be. He was patient, so incredibly patient with her. For all this time she didn’t believe that such an amazing and patient man existed, but there he was smiling and listening to her. “YES!” she thought, “He is LISTENING to ME.” She could not remember the last time a man in her life listened to her or took her seriously. She had been told repeatedly that her opinions didn’t matter. She had never made the connection that by day people listened to her, really cared for her expertise and knowledge, but at home… at home, she was ignored and ridiculed. She was told that she was stupid and an idiot. Her spirit wasn’t broken it had been repeatedly crushed. The Restorer was careful as he breathed new life into the remnants of her soul. He worked meticulously to rebuild without damaging his precious masterpiece. He had two key things going for him, his patience and his vision for her. He had no idea what the final masterpiece would look like; he simply knew that it would be perfect. He knew that she would be perfect because at every stage in the process, she was perfect. She was the perfect opportunity to restore. After each time that they talked and she smiled at him, she was perfect. She became his “potato chip”; he could not get enough of her. She was perfect.
Part 2: Author’s Ramblings, “White Tattoo”
The above story is dedicated to two amazing women, one that I know well, even intimately, and the other that I am proud to call my friend. We all know that domination takes on different forms and personas. I have always said that true domination takes maturity to execute. Many of us laugh at the 20 year old “dom” with 10 years experience. In my humble opinion (and for those of you who know me, know that my opinions are anything but humble. However, this is my story and if I want to say that my opinions are humble, I will), a dom doesn’t get good at controlling another human being until they are older and has made a lifetime of mistakes both inside bdsm and out. Domination is not abuse. In my opinion, humble or not, abuse has no place anywhere. I know that many doms enjoy inflicting body damaging pain and even torture. I read one posting on the Cage where he was looking forward to using his new sub as an ashtray. I pity the poor girl that is attracted to that. Abuse, physical, emotional and sexual, is real. There is an attraction of these men and women that have suffered abuse for years to kink, mainly submission. I don’t understand it. As we men say, “That is above my pay grade.” But it is there all the same.
A word to my fellow Doms. If you are new to domination or are simply looking for a quickie and the woman mentions that she has been abused in the past, do the right thing and graciously leave her for someone that can help her. You very well could do more damage in your effort to get her into bed.
To my fellow mature Doms, please consider this. Over my years as a Dom, I have talked to countless women who have been abused physically, emotionally or sexually. In my experience it is usually all three together. They have been called stupid and worthless. Many have been raped and assaulted repeatedly. I have seen black eyes, broken bones and worse. The need is real. To be a Dom to a recovering abuse victim will test your patience and ability to care. DO NOT GIVE UP! Their very being is counting on you. You are, in many cases, their last hope. Do not take your responsibilities lightly. Let me give you an insight into IF you are making a difference in her life. She will smile. Abuse victims don’t smile or laugh. In their minds, they are not allowed to have or show pleasure. Their abundant smile and laughter is a very positive sign to you that you are making a difference. If you are a MATURE Dom consider taking on one of these amazing people as your submissive. You will be glad that you did. It will also test your protectiveness as a Dom. I have seen restored submissives where the abuser, once she has been restored, wants her back. It happens.
I wanted to tell THIS story from the Dom’s perspective. The abused submissive will often refer to herself as a “project”. In my case, I do not allow negative talk. It is strictly forbidden. She is not allowed to refer to herself as “stupid”. Those mental stains take years to fade. The good news is that they do fade and are replaced by a “white tattoo”, good memories that cover up old nasty scars.
I have no doubt that I will get negative comments to my thoughts about what a dom can or should be. I am a big boy. I will be fine. But this story had to be told. Besides, as we say as Doms, “It is good to be king!” I will do as I darn well please.