Ethics in Erotica: Incest Hard No ©

Rated R for Subject Matter. Caution: May trigger some readers.

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Erotica covers many taboo subjects. I’m a fan of many of them, however, I have a list of hard “No!”s. My #1 hard no is incest. I find it viscerally revolting. This isn’t a safe subject for role-playing. I believe most erotica writers who choose to write about it have no experience with incest in real life; thank God.

I am beyond fortunate to come from a loving family with appropriate physical boundaries. I was affectionately held and touched with respect by my mother and father. They nurtured me. I felt safe in their hands growing up. It’s one of the myriads of reasons I became a Professional Therapeutic Massage Therapist specializing in injury work.

In massage school I had two very close friends who were both victims of father/daughter incest agree to work with me on my table to practice. I’m honored they trusted me to facilitate sessions with them. I can’t tell you the specific logistics of when and how their fathers broke their safety seals, but it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter if they were 3 or 13; their fathers stole their innocence. While most fathers were busy protecting their daughters, their fathers were penetrating them.

I met one of my friends from the club where I dated Lighting Guy, my ex friend with benefits who inspired In the Electric Closet Part 1 and 2. I’ll call her Club Girl. It had been a few years and I hadn’t seen her, but Club Girl remembered me, “you and Lighting Guy were always so cute together.” she told me.

Club Girl and I reconnected in a gym several years later when we were both in a much healthier place in our lives. No matter how old Club Girl will ever be, she will always shine bright. While I won’t describe her physical attributes, I can tell you she’s drop-dead gorgeous and that even when we’d go out for a walk in sweats with no makeup guys would stare and admire her. She’s one of the most exceptional women I have ever met. I only hope my retelling of her tale on my table does her justice.

Club Girl was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, formally called multiple personality disorder. She had a great therapist and was doing everything she could within her power to heal herself from her traumatic past. Club Girl and I were both aware that she needed different boundaries on my table than I had with anyone else. She needed to be and feel in complete control over her treatment. And Club Girl was. I made sure of it.

We talked about her receiving a massage from me weeks before she got on my table. She talked to her therapist about our upcoming session. While my massage therapy assignment was usually based on practicing a technique to work with a specific muscle group, I threw that out the window completely. Her session was all about her being safe and allowing herself to become open to receiving therapeutic touch.

We discussed how she would be lying down on a table, and that even though I was her close friend and cared about her, she might have a flashback. We discussed at length that if she had a flashback I would abruptly stop the massage and activate safety protocols.

Club Girl decided she felt most comfortable wearing a sports bra and shorts. She felt comfortable lying down with her head in the face cradle and a sheet draping her. I was only allowed to touch her exposed skin and I needed to keep checking in with her. I did everything I could to make sure she felt safe. During our session together my dear friend had a flashback, so I calmly talked her through the following protocol:

1. I took my hands off her immediately.
2. I covered her up with the sheet.
3. I had her sit up so she could see exactly where she was and that I was there for her. Sitting up, being able to see each other eye to eye, I was no longer viewed in a position of power over her.
4. I grabbed a big blanket and wrapped it around her.
5. I picked up my cat and had her hold him.
6. We talked while she pet my cat and she drank a glass of water.

While that was the only massage I ever gave Club Girl, she was proud of herself for just being open to receive a session. She adored my cat, and years later she told me how he calmed her down immediately. I am positive that no matter where Club Girl is she is shining and spreading her light as we speak.

During this time, I had recently met a friend who was a nanny, so I’ll call her Nanny Girl. Nanny Girl was diagnosed with OCD. She was wonderful at taking care of the little girl of the family she lived with.

Nanny Girl took to massage like a fish to water. She was able to relax and let go on the table. She became a regular massage practice partner. I really enjoyed working with her because my hands could feel how well her muscles were being re-educated working with me. When Nanny Girl moved it was obvious she felt better in her body.

One day we went to Nanny Girl’s parent's house in an idyllic suburb for her to pick something up. I felt so sick to my stomach inside the house I had to lie down on the grass to release whatever toxicity bombarded my body. I can’t begin to explain how revolted and infuriated my body felt in that house. I will never be able to forget this horrific experience.

I only spent 10–15 minutes in that house and felt this way. I can not begin to imagine what it would be like to grow up in that haunted house. We usually think of ghosts stuck between realms haunting houses, not fathers violating their daughters and having their mothers look the other way. Yes. Nanny Girl’s mother was still married to her father and never addressed the desecration of their daughter.

Club Girl moved states away from her family before I met her. Nanny Girl was still tied to the toxicity of both her parents. Club Girl and Nanny Girl both had very different responses to receiving massage. However, one thing is clear: Club Girl’s inner strength is palpable. While Nanny Girl was able to receive massage sessions with me, she was still tied to her parent's truly toxic relationship. I pray that Nanny Girl is free from the ties that bound her. I pray any human being who has experienced incest is free from the horrors they endured.

Incest is a disease that does NOT belong anywhere near the word “sexy”. It is revolting. It is toxic. It is inhumane. While I understand that some erotica writers might find it alluring to write a taboo tale about incest, I’ve experienced 2nd hand what incest feels like and see no reason to write about it.