I am thankful to see that this thread has been spared the curse of the server, and I say this because it is probably the most significant thread on the site, because in there somewhere is a great many lives torn apart by ignorance.

Ok so the site crashed, and we all know that it is part of life on the www, I was looking at the threads and I see that a lot of them are lost, but the memories of what was written in them still remain in my mind. I wrote in many of the threads myself; and some, just a few stick in my mind so firmly. I now feel that thinking of all that is lost it is only right that we should repair the threads as best we can. In the few months that I was a member before the crash I took great stock in what my peers and equals had written in this thread, and I believe I owe denuseri the respect of replacing some of what was lost. This was a repair thread because as I wrote and told you all of my feelings and pain, it repaired a lot of the hurt and guilt inside of me. It is the thread that is in need of repair now and I hope that with others this will be the day it starts.

At the age of 4 years my father beat me wicked with a two inch wide belt, it took place maybe once a week. It was not just me but my brother also, but my father beat me first being the youngest, my brother that was twelve months older than me was also beat, but my father’s rage was subdued when it was his turn. He always received a lighter punishment, and in later years it caused a lot of resentment between my brother and me, and even now looking at him I cannot forget or forgive. My father died some few years ago but, I never went to his funeral and I am unsure why, but I never forgave him, and not even now can I bring myself to do so. It is on record that I had a nervous breakdown at the age of 4 and a half, it begs belief to why that took place. Ok I admit, I am 58 years old now, and this all took place in 1954, things were done different then and children at school in England were punished with the cane.

Schooling was a bitch, I had hiding after hiding and I can remember most even now today. There was a teacher in a first grade school that on every Wednesday, she would get two twelve inch rulers back to back and strike the rear of my thighs. Why? Because it was spelling and I had no idea and was not good enough; this also took place on a Friday, Why? Because I could not say my eight times table in maths, but the over-riding reason was because, she was the head teacher and she could. The worst thing was that it was in front of all the other pupils’ male and female, and all of my friends that were sat there smirking.

I joined the UK Special Forces, and after that no one messed with me until my first wife. She took great pride in pulling me down and rubbing my face into the ground. After a mild argument where she was found to be wrong, she would take her revenge in the darkness of the marital bed. She would rake her fingernails down my bare back drawing the blood, and I would lay there saying nothing with tears in my eyes being a coward. She never did that because she had to, she did that because she could and she knew that I would let her, she also knew that it was not in my nature to strike back. I was glad when I was sent to N Ireland for the troubles, because I found it safer and less painful dodging the Thomson machine gun, molitof cocktails and nail bombs, than it was being with her.

I am in no doubt that all of these traumatic experiences have something to do with the way I think about BDSM. It is a strange feeling though, when after going through all this that, I now find I am attracted to the very thing that gave me so much pain.

I would also like to say something about triggers, and I have had mine pulled on many occasions. I had my trigger pulled only the other week, and it came from a person that I had never taken into consideration. At 86 years old it was my mother, we have never seen eye to eye, but she pulled it and I went off in the expected explosion. The thing was it was because of the lost threads that I realise that she was as much of the problem as my father, teacher and my first wife. She had been standing back in her silence watching all of what took place, and it was as a mother she should have defended me, or at least gave me the love I was seeking.

This thread is about life in the dark world of fear, where silence is just as noisy as the mouth screaming abuse. It is about the lost love and the false love, it is about people that through no fault of their own who have been let down by their peers, their friends and the worst of all their families. When young there are a lot of hearts broken and there are a lot of lives shattered, and I find that it is a good thing that I have lived for 58 years, because I am still picking up the pieces. I have always been led to believe that a person should never look back, but I think that the only way to go forward is to do that very thing. I still have a lot of hurt inside of me, one day; well maybe? I will be returning to this thread because it has captured my mind, the posts that are here are showing the guilty that their crimes will never be forgotten.

Regards ian 2411