It has been a while since I wrote. Not because I didn’t want to write, or because there was nothing to write about. I just didn’t write.
But then I read this:
*Things vanilla folks just won’t understand.
Vanilla folks like to joke about imagining what someone’s “O” face would look like well there is a difference with us kinksters. We like to imagine what someone would look like with mascara and tears streaming down their face. Wanting to see their face red from a hard slap, terror in their eyes as they are begging in hysteria. Get the distinction or how about I give you a little personal taste?
What it is like to wake up with pieces of candle wax from your play the night before wedged in your ass crack and under your sheets…”how the…?” Or finding that lost toy in between the couch cushions, freezer or in the silverware drawer. Like I said “how the hell….?”
Laughing at yourself because every time someone happens to say “Red” in conversation it makes you immediately stop what you’re doing. Pay attention to those who react like this however so slight and you have caught a kinkster by the toe. Sometimes it is amusing to fuck with each other when out of play. ” Red this, red that. Oh like my red dress….?” Instant catatonic look every time….GRINS lol Oh yeah.
How intensely erotic it can be to have your Dom glare at you to stay silent with a finger to his lips as His boss rings over the speaker. All the while you’re trying not to scream out in pain every time you move thinking in your head, “Holy shit! Holy shit, better not fuck this up!” Or on the flip side being the Dom trying not to throw a kanipshin while your boss calls and interrupts what was coming to the juicy part of the session…fuck!
Trying to contort your body in unnatural ways to get a good picture for your Dom because the lighting, mirror, camera is not obeying you and can become down right comical….take note Hollywood! Hoping you don’t throw out your back, and thinking, “ugh this isn’t sexy,” but cross your fingers you capture it!
Or how about no one tells you how frustrating it can be as your running to plug your phone in before you lose power because the task must be done NOW! Running around the house in a naked frenzy with nipple clamps, plugs, lube, clothespins, hooks, wax and hopefully all sharp objects in their rightful place can become cumbersome. I can’t say how many times I have jumped like a jack rabbit thinking somebody is coming home!!!
Smiling at the bruises, marks, scratches, bite marks, burns, holes, aches caused by the One you adore and serve so proudly. Nothing feels so good the next day to know you have been used for someone else’s pleasure and that is indescribable elation.
You can never imagine the highest of the highs and the nightmarish lows you will feel in D/s. You will not only FEEL things you never thought possible before but also it makes you stop and ponder about yourself, your Dom, others, your dreams and bettering yourself. If you are some one squeamish of self-reflection or shy away from intensity…this is not for you. Get ready for the biggest fucking microscope as you bare all for the other bound to you, there is no hiding those intimate tid bits from them or yourself.
It is all about perspective and discipline not just raw sex. It is amazing what you can condition the mind and body to accept in play so it is a sensitive issue for us. We are NOT uneducated, mindless, back-alley spooks. Uh…nope. We do NOT rape (non consenting) women, exact senseless violence (pre-negotiated thank you!) on each other and we DO kiss our children goodnight. We do think through our play times, its not all wild orgy shin digs, sorry to disappoint. Just because you happened on it doesn’t mean it was planned accordingly. Nope! We take pride in our skills and techniques. More to it then getting kinky laid and notches on bed posts.
Explaining to your nosy in-laws why you own a 6ft. jump whip with no horse, loads of medical equipment when your an office clerk, a locked room no one has been allowed in or why you have a trunk full of men’s size lingerie and shoes that don’t fit you….
They don’t understand that pony and pet play is good for your animal and that they need to go for walks, loved and be trained too! Be a good pet parent…adopt a rescue. lol
Everything is seen through the lens of a kinkster even my kid’s children’s programs become sources to snicker about…”Mommy why does Bert and Ernie have a whole mariachi band in bed with them” or “Mommy Elmo says to bend over and touch my toes?” I’m going to go to hell for that one…
Trying to get the kids to sleep so you can try to do that session with your sub or Dom at the appointed time can be a harry exercise in itself! Or how about having to decide that the person not tied up or indisposed today gets to answer the baby’s cries. “Safe, not it!” lol
Watching forensic and detective shows make you snort your tea out of your nose and double over on the floor. Giggling at how much they get the kink community wrong when referenced. Love it when the in laws (gasp) try to talk about the kink community not knowing I could give them personal insight if they wanted to truly understand it lol. You also ask yourself, “what was so bad about being beaten with a club and tied to a fence?….or even better, “wow I did that last weekend, not so bad!” You begin to realize you own some of the same items you see in Dexter’s collection, fantastic coincidence!
People start to complain about missing household items that have become part of your stockpile of sexual deviant implements. “Hmm, that cat scratching board made with twine is an awesome paddle, who would have known!?!”
You go shopping with a wicked grin on your face as you push a naughty evil cart full of needles (pushing old ladies out of the way),candles, fish hooks and weights, lbs. of ginger, latex gloves, enema kits, icy-hot and a jug of milk for the kids. You know who you are….
Once you peg a man you just don’t look at them the same every time they bend over in your presence…like the grocer picking up apples you imagine how well they’d take it for you. Hey! You have to find the kink in every opportunity you can squeeze out of the mundane. Its how our brains are wired, how we keep the cogs lubricated.
When your in the coffee shop you look around to figure out systematically who would get tied up first and how. Muttering out loud, “Oh my god why am I doing this? I’m not even fully awake yet!” Or trying to gauge what D/s orientation a person would fall into in the kink world and how far they would go.
Well placed disguises and composure could fool you unless you have that sixth sense. That business man in the tailored suit has an anal plug in his ass and that mother with the three children fawning around her….yeah she cages her pet dog submissive when she goes out. Key point vanillas: we are everywhere. Sometimes it is even hard for US to recognize another standing next to us too.
The things we do to each other, even the painful degrading stuff bonds and creates such intense intimacy that you just can’t substitute in a vanilla dynamic. Case in point, would you let your vanilla partner take your life into their hands with complete trust to bring you to extreme limits and pull you back out. Do this without you going into shock, mental, emotional and or physical damage? I didn’t think so, so please don’t whisper behind closed doors about what makes us satisfied because it is more personal then you could imagine.
The most important thing vanilla folks won’t understand…we NEED this like air to breath. It can’t be removed and cut out like an obscene infection, discarded as waste or forgotten. This is who we are and it fulfills us closer to a completeness we would find hard pressed to get any other way.
- Tammi Byrum
It resonated with me.
Those last two paragraphs, the truth of it brought tears to my eyes.
It is hard for me to communicate things. Very hard to communicate the WHYS of my need for kink. Especially to those who don’t understand.
I want to be degraded. I want to be slapped, spit on, and called mean names.
I need to be hurt. Physically hurt. I want to be made to cry, tears and snot running down my chin. The sight of a mascara streaked face after a good session makes me go goey inside.
I like to be tied up. Forced to do things I would never do in a million years.
I want to feel hands around my throat, squeezing until I see spots. I find the idea of waterboarding hot.
Cut me. Punch me. Kick me. Flog me. Tie me up and smack me around.
All those things just flat out fucking do it for me. They make me squirm and want to do bad things to myself.
The person I want to do this with? I don’t want them to love me enough to do it for me. I need for it to be something they crave as well. To willing put my life in the hands of someone, who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, wants to do bad things to me? Yes please.
I seem to fall into what some might call “edge players”. I don’t do things “safe sane and consensual”. I prefer “Risk aware Consensual kink”. Where I am willing to have the limits of my body, mind, and soul…. tested. Poked. Prodded. Sliced. Broken through and then celebrated as a new personal best is achieved.
I am a firm believer in consensual non consent. Giving my prior consent, knowing that I may be asked/made to do something I don’t want to do. Even better: being forced to do something while I’m struggling to run the other way. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. Any or all of the above.
Everything I want and need? Depends on trust.
I need to trust that, whomever I give my self to: the one who (even for a moment), holds my life in their hands… I need to know that they know what they are doing. I need to be able to trust myself. To be able to decide when something isn’t right for me, and say so. To trust that, if I let myself fall down the rabbit hole… there will be a way to find myself back. Or rebuild. Or move forward. Whatever it is that is needed right then.
I need to know that the one I am doing theses things with can help me with that. But I need to know that of they can’t… I can find my own way.
Scenes done in play parties; at events and workshops; demonstrations in public; have a safety net. It may not be fool proof but it is there. We have people who monitor the play. Make sure limits are respected. That things aren’t done to the extent of irreparable harm. There are guidelines to follow.
It is safer. Safer than running off with someone you barely know. Though its not safe. Its just safer.
But deep down… that place in me that cries out for attention? It doesn’t want a safety net. Doesn’t want, or need, the watchful eyes of sanity. It wants the most depraved of things – and it doesn’t care what happens afterwards.
So yes. Yes I DO need to find someone who wants to hurt me. Someone who’s sadism connects with my masochism. Who finds the idea of seeing me with a face streaked with mascara, drool and snot, as hot as I do.
I have recently had someone dear to me tell me what I need to find. I respect that, what they say I need, is what is right for them. What they feel they would need if they were me. But they are not me. I don’t need the nice, spiced with some naughty. I need the depraved spiced with nice.
My kink, though often sexual (for me) – does not begin and end in the bedroom. It is my whole being. Every thought, breath, action. All of it- needs a different kind of loving.
*I have no dea where this came from. I read that post… had some conversations… and it had to be said.
Could I live without all my needs being met? Yes. Would I be happy? Maybe. But I would never, really be content. It is almost a deal breaker for me.