Me and BDSM

Well, to be fair, there is no - me and BDSM. I know very little about the lifestyle other than what I've read. I've never dabbled in it, been to a club or even spoken to anyone who's into it. But I have read a lot about it and I've read a few novels where it was the theme. After I'd read the books, I came to the conclusion that I don't like BDSM between a guy and a woman - which probably accounts for the reason I haven't yet read 50 Shades - though I've been told it's not real BDSM anyway. There's something that makes me very uncomfortable reading about a man tying up a woman and doing things to her - yes, with her consent but maybe it's because I don't want to even imagine those things being done to me. It never interests me or turns me on.
BUT - BDSM between two guys - er - yes, I do like reading books about that. I find it fascinating- the power play, the control thing, all of it. So why? Why with MM and not with MF? The characters of the Doms and subs are very similar regardless of their sex. I have to assume it has something to do with identifying with characters. I'm safe in an MM book because I'm not a guy. What happens, isn't happening to me. But with a MF book, if a woman begs to be spanked, beaten, whipped, punished - I don't want to be that woman. But is it as simple as that? I have no idea. I wish I was a psychologist!
I do have a few BDSM scenes in my books - a bit at the start of An Ordinary Girl, (two guys), a section in Fight to Remember ( two guys - well not human but male) and a little more than normal in my latest WIP - tentatively called - With or Without Him.

A snippet from my new one - not out until December.  (Unedited too)

More and more people were gathering around the platform in the center of the room and as Haris watched, a heavily muscled Asian man, his chest and arms smothered in dragon tattoos, hauled the St. Andrew’s cross into the air until it rested at an angle. A naked guy with black wings hung from it, his wrists and ankles secured by rope. Lines of metal clips ran from his nipples to his hips and his balls and cock were smothered in them. The bound man lifted his head and Haris froze. Shit. He sucked in a disappointed breath and turned away. Tyler wasn’t the guy he hoped for. No need to stay longer.

One last look.

 He swiveled round and Tyler lifted his head again, scanning the crowd with his wide-eyed gaze, a ball gag distorting his mouth. Haris released a quiet groan. Unless Tyler was a very good actor, not only was he not enjoying this, he was terrified. Haris curled his fingers into fists. The problem was—what could he do about it? Interfering in someone’s bondage play was frowned on and unwise unless it was an emergency. This wasn’t an emergency. Tyler had to have voluntarily let himself be tied and gagged, so had things gone too far or was he just pretending? He seemed distressed and frightened, but didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. Even so, the look in his eyes unsettled Haris to the point that he couldn’t walk away. He moved closer.

The Asian rigger crouched with his back to Tyler, chatting to a guy on the far side of the platform and Haris bristled. Someone should be monitoring the sub at all times, checking he could breathe, making sure his hands and fingers weren’t losing sensation. Anxiety coiled like a snake in his gut. Tyler’s eyelids fluttered, drool seeped from around the gag and even above the ambient noise, Haris could hear the muffled sounds of his misery.

  He pushed through the last onlookers to stand in front of the rigger. “Take his ball gag out.”

The bastard laughed. “You want me gag you instead?”

“He’s having problems.”

The rigger walked back to Tyler and ran his hand over a line of clips. Tyler squirmed and gave a muted anguished groan. Haris clenched his jaw.

“This BDSM,” said the rigger. “This what he want. This what they want.” He gestured to the watching crowd.

Tyler shook his head, more saliva trickling down his chin as he struggled. His gaze locked with Haris, his eyes desperate, his breathing frantic.

“Did you check it was what he wanted?” Haris asked. “With that gag in, he can’t tell you.”

“He brat. Talk too much. He give sign if problem.” The man shrugged. “No sign.”

What fucking sign can he give you when he’s bound and gagged? Or when you’ve got your back toward him?