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Disability / Kink

Slap My A$$ Until the Feeling Comes Back – On Disability and Bondage

"I began to seek out online forums and learned about a component of BDSM that was and is rarely discussed: bondage and disability."

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Written by Allia (A.E.) Sadeghipour.

Art by AdminAnubis

“A woman’s life is pain, that’s all there is to it.” — Toni Jordan, The Fragments

In 2014, I suffered a horrendous roller derby injury hurting my coccyx and dislocating both hips over the span of nine months. I never even made the team; However, I did make numerous doctors appointments, x-rays, physical therapy appointments, and pill after pill after pill. All while trying to get my Masters degree and juggling a new polyamorous relationship. I remember lying on the ground in an open top tent in the middle of Joshua Tree next to my boyfriend and Kitten. They were passionately engaged with each other as I watched them and cried, realizing that I may never know the pleasure of bondage again and that my relationship was over. They immediately stopped and embraced me, as I sobbed silently. They continued and I eventually moved on.

I watched them and cried, realizing that I may never know the pleasure of bondage again and that my relationship was over.

It was in one of these reflective moments that I came across an old book. A dusty black spine with red devil insignia on the bottom shelf. A clear symbolic representation of my sexual identity. I reached out, pulled the book from the shelf, opened it and was met with the chapter I never finished.

The article described Naomi, a fisting competitor, and her partner’s daily life. Tender moments of making dinner together, discussing work, and light touching when passing through narrow corridors. When not “playing,” they would discuss the fisting competition as if they were training for a marathon discussing the number of attendees, the competitors, best practices, nutritional and dietary habits, stretching techniques, and performance anxieties. The competition itself was tortuous and, in the end, she didn’t win. They congratulated the victors and returned home where Naomi drew a cold bath attempting to ease her soreness. Her partner soaked her hair and brushed it with tears in his eyes, explaining that it was an honor to know her and be a part of her life.

I closed the book. I realized what I had truly been missing and that it was not going to happen in my current relationship. The three part Venn diagram of 1. My dominance, 2. My queerness and 3. A supportive partner was not happen in my current partnership. But I was overwhelmed with another fear: Would it even be possible with my injury? Could I feel sexual joy when I physically felt nothing? I began to seek out online forums and learned about a component of BDSM that was and is rarely discussed: bondage and disability.

Would it even be possible with my injury? Could I feel sexual joy when I physically felt nothing?

I learned about different assistive devices that could be used and the best way to help a paralyzed partner from their chair into a fuck swing. I learned how the brain processes heat and cold similarly. I learned through many online discussions how trapped and stagnated members of the disabled community feel with regards to their sexual desires and identities. I once read a post by an individual explaining, “I might not be able to move, but it doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.” I also learned about the fetishization of disabled individuals and the complete disregard for their sexual agency as many explained that they lost their virginities quite late or under horrific circumstances. Due to these forums, I knew there were others like me and that we were all striving for the same thing: sexual agency.

I learned through many online discussions how trapped and stagnated members of the disabled community feel with regards to their sexual desires and identities.

I broke up with both of them in August of 2015 and moved to Long Beach. It was many years of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, NLP workshops, and participating in supportive communities before I had finally repaired all the emotional and mental damage my ex had done. I also bought myself an IUD for my birthday which liberated me from the biblical “sex for children” guilt I hadn’t realized I still carried with me. I was still physically recuperating with daily yoga exercises, weekly acupuncture, consistent chiropractic visits, and electro shock to help the muscular dystrophy that my body had suffered.

I was reborn on my 30th birthday thanks to a redhead named Chris. A southern boy with Spanish descent who was an aerospace engineer. He was shy, timid, and gorgeous. He fidgeted with anxiety as we finished our second drink and I asked, “It’s my birthday today. Want to come back to my place and celebrate with some birthday sex?” His eyes widened. We paid and went back to my apartment.

Chris was a good partner. I tested his obedience, tolerance, and thresholds. Though it was the first time I grasped my own sexual agency, there was no hesitation or uncertainty in my movements or decisions, but it was quite frustrating when my body was incapable of doing so. There were quite a few moments where Chris and I would have to stop, and I would contort myself into some yoga position to try and alleviate a muscle spasm that could continue for seconds, minutes, or hours. Yet there he would sit, bound up, and patient, though I never allowed him to witness the worst of it.

Chris was above all obedient. I could twist and torture his body into a position and leave him for as long as I wanted as I sat in the other room waiting for the feeling in my legs and pussy to come back. After a while, I would come back and beat him for his impatience or sexual urges and our play would continue. I exposed my sexual agency, my dominance, my queerness, my power, and he only flinched when I wanted him to. He helped me find and release the floodgate of repression as we created a refuge of suffocating pillows and twisted sheets. By torturing his body, I could once again feel my own.

By torturing his body, I could once again feel my own.

To this day, I still have problems due to my injuries, but most partners pay no attention as my presence overpowers my limitations. I think they also enjoy all the extra toys. I sincerely thank all my communities for truly seeing who I am and for helping me find solace in a body that constantly experiences pain.

“A woman’s life is pain, that’s all there is to it.” And in its acceptance, we find sanctuary.


About the Author

​Allia (A.E.) Sadeghipour is a QueerIranian-American Surrealist, humanist, writer, teacher, punk and poet. She is the Vice President of the Women* Writing Berlin Lab (WWBL) and teaches workshops for GLADT and Feminist film organizations. She won the Sherry Debrowski Prize for Best Feminist Multi-Genre Fiction writer in 2009 and has not stopped since. Most recently, her work has been featured in: The Bear: Favorite Storyteller (2018 & 2020), KCRW and the Goethe Institute (2018 & 2020), The V Series Poetry Anthology (2019), Berlin Untelevised (2019), Coven (2019), What’s Afghan Punk Rock Anyway?! (2019), The Ghosts of Berlin: Der Geister von Berlin (2019), Literarische Diverse (2019), Teach the Rainbow: Insights from LGBTeachers about Queer Visibility (2020), and much more. She has had the honor of performing for GLADT, Wicked, Nightschool Berlin, Viva Con Aqua, the IDP Collective, and the Iranian Re(connect) Festival. By sharing her narratives and perspectives, she hopes to reach out to the world and introduce them to hers: www.awerfjil.com.

Follow on IG: @awerfjil |


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