I was once accused of being ‘addicted to my own vulnerability’. It was an insult, meant to wound me. If you open yourself up, you’ll be destroyed. Everyone knows that. What I have come to understand about myself is that my willingness to express vulnerability is not the liability that I thought it was. My vulnerability is not extreme, nor is it exceptional. It is, however, a stark contrast to the self preservation I also practice.
To know me is to know the bodacious, silver tongued harlot and the shy, earnest ingenue. One is a steel trap of a woman; cool to the touch and locked down tight. The other is more like a violet pressed betwixt the pages of an old book, delicate and fragile, hidden from sight. One can break you with a glance and thrill you with a smile, the other crumbles at the slightest touch. Both make up the woman, both make up the truth.
“Switch” is the term we know and use in the kink world to label a person who oscillates between Dom/Top and sub/bottom, but to suggest it’s like a switch, that one turns off while the other turns on, is a misnomer; at least it is for me. For me, both exist, simultaneously, but one or the other will be drawn out by different people because my sexuality is highly responsive to whomever I’m with. You could say I’m just easily influenced, but it’s deeper than that; it’s a need to be complimentary to my partners, to interlock, to balance one another. If we are balanced, there will be harmony, and harmony vanquishes hurt. In kink circles, this makes me a switch, but really it’s more about currents of energy and how that energy is exchanged. What energy I’m open to at any given time can change and flow. I have been deeply sadistic, I have been a dumb mindless doll; I have been a ferocious brat, I have been a stern and unyielding dictator. All of these energies or roles have been the foils to my partner(s). Change partners, change roles. As a bisexual, polyamorous, switch, that’s a common and fluid occurrence, unto itself. I used to be frustrated by the breadth of my appetites, but I have come to embrace them and that it’s okay to change, to “go through a phase”, to test the waters. I have one kink life to live, and I intend to drink in all I can.
If we are balanced, there will be harmony, and harmony vanquishes hurt.
Maybe it’s just been awhile, maybe I can blame springtime, maybe it’s only a phase, but I find myself inexplicably submissive and positively aching for structure, discipline and focus. Perhaps it’s the state of the world or my tendency to need control, maybe I’m just tired and need to let someone else drive for awhile. Whatever it is within me that is pressing forward into the primordial pull of submission, it’s growing.
I am not without submission in my life. My Evergreen love, Ralph London, is very much my original kink partner and has been for a long time now. We keep kink behind closed doors, as a bedroom only arrangement. We’ve tried 24/7 and it wasn’t the right mix of things for either of us, and after some time, we have landed on rough sex that makes me feel safe. It’s comfortable and safe and so very loving. It’s also hot as hell. He’s a perfect balance of heavy handed and big-hearted. It works for us, and it works very well.
But sometimes Little girls have great big needs in their great big Little hearts. Enter: Daddy.
He is a complex individual. He is kaleidoscopic in his tastes and interests, he is steeped in ethics and has a quiet stoicism to him. He is a loving leader with a flair for creative sadism and a penchant for personal growth. Love and understanding go a long way for both of us.
What this dynamic has done is allowed me to embrace the obedient slut within as well as the playful Babygirl, both of them facets of the rest of who I am. The need for submission outside the bedroom has lay dormant in me for a while, quite afraid to peek out, too shy to proclaim what is needed and desired, until I saw my submission reflected in his eyes and we fell into step. Where this stroll will take us, no one knows, but for now, I am brimming with gratitude and thriving under the gravity of his praise.