Consent

I read a paranormal, erotic romance recently. It is a pretty typical story of the sub-genre; two shifters recognise each other as lifetime mates, but one (or both) have some conflict about the mating. There’s always some external threat that drives the story. But everyone settles down at the end, generally when one or the other (or both) show the depth of their feelings by doing some big, unselfish act.

It’s a sub-genre that can be fun and well done when written by an adept author. In the hands of a not so well-practiced author…meh. The results can range from laughable to kind of icky.

The one I read had a sexually aggressive woman. Which is not out of the ordinary, but this one was creepy. The character kept on going a few steps too far into sexual assault. I understand that this is fiction. It is a safe way to explore those thoughts and desires.

However, for me, it is not sexy. I have gotten to a point where non-consent is the death of desire. It does not matter what the genders are of the participants. It is something that I have always believed, but I was surprised by the level of ick that I felt reading the story. And I wonder if it has something to do with my life in BDSM?

I wonder if my fascination with shaky consent was because I was always hoping to stumble on a top. Now that I have a Sir, who fulfills my desire to sub, I don’t find that attractive. Because everything in our BDSM is consensual, and sexy as hell.

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