If I were to tell someone new to kink and kinky exploration just one thing, one tip, one suggestion to help them on their journey, it would be to keep an open mind. I don’t mean being open minded about new ideas and not yucking others’ yums, that is the price of admission to the kinkster community. I mean staying open minded about yourself.
I recently opened up about some changes and realizations in my own kink odyssey and it has been wonderful to let go of my FemDom self that I struggled with so much. I haven’t made her disappear entirely, but she’s been put out to pasture indefinitely while I nurture some other parts of myself. It’s wonderful to explore in a safe and fulfilling D/s partnership in which I am on the right hand side of the slash. Having been in the kink world for over half a decade now, I am familiar with how things can ebb and flow and I’m also more than aware of how challenging and painful that growth can be. For me, part of that discomfort and pain has been related to my natural propensity for identity seeking. For a number of convoluted reasons, self identity has been very important to me, and is an existential thread that weaves itself through everything. I have a clear sense of my most inner self, but what remains mutable is which side I outwardly identify with in this community and how that fits into my life, hence the disproportionate hesitation about sharing that I could no longer identify Dominant.
But even with that self knowledge, even with the support of an intelligent and thoughtful Dom, sometimes we surprise ourselves. Kink, as we know, often channels deep seated desires and latent needs, which is a huge part of what makes the concept of kink and BDSM so frightening to the uninitiated and the closed minded. There is an inherent “darkness” there in most cases which is not at all a bad thing, because often with that darkness comes light – there is freedom in sexual expression, being seen and understood and accepted for your desires, not in spite of them. My personal “WTF?” moment recently was the realization that submission ties a line to something primal in me. I’ve been thinking of it as a regression, not to a former personal state, but more to a former incarnation or buried part of myself. The rabbit hole of submission seems to hold many truths and experiences for me that are not just freeing and arousing, but darkly erotic and linked to the concept of my essential self. There is primordial knowledge here, waiting to be unearthed. I’m finding that the more I trust to let go, the more clear that primordial vision becomes, the more intense the desire and the greater the freedom.
There is catharsis, there is lust, there is insatiable craving, but not for the hunt or the chase, but for the feast. I dream of a still and chilling moment of nothingness, a cool suspension of thought and action, the shrill screech of Hitchcock-esque violins – clear, present and inescapable. I want to be so whole in that space that I can be taken apart, limb by limb, thought by thought and come back together when it’s over. Safe, whole, and more me than before we began.
“One mustn’t underestimate the primal appeal—to lose one’s self, lose it utterly. And in losing it be born to the principle of continuous life, outside the prison of mortality and time.”
– Donna Tartt, The Secret History