December 6th, 2012
I love you, Grandpa.
December 3rd, 2012
“Behind every great man, there’s a great woman.” Or reverse that, if you’re the other way around. I’m not a leader. I don’t play the politics game. I am a follower, an organizer, a communicator and a peace-maker. I stay behind the scenes, quietly helping things run as smoothly as I am able.
This community of ours is large and quite diverse. I am lucky to be a part of a local community with so many active groups that I’m not sure I can even name them all. And in a kink community, with so many alpha(Dom) personalities, it really takes something to be a leader. It takes something I don’t have, and I’m very grateful to those that do.
It isn’t even just about running one of the many group meetings or parties. These leaders bring together people from all walks of life, with kinks as varied as the stars, and they create community. They create spaces where everyone can be their true selves without fear. They lead by serving, always active in their events, and in the events of others. They also mediate disputes, with fairness and understanding. They stay true to themselves and their agreements with the community at large, to keep everyone safe. Even when doing so makes people unhappy. You can’t make everyone happy all the time, especially if you’re a leader. Sometimes you have to put the group above the individual. Even if you care for the individual very much. I couldn’t do it, and I’m so very grateful for and proud of those that do. And do so with discretion and care for all involved.
Well, that was not what I had intended to write. But since it’s what came out, it probably needed said. I was going to write about community. What does community mean to me, was the question I was asked. So, let’s go from there.
Community is a group of people with a common interest (most dictionary definitions stop there, but I go further), who come together to support each other and share with one another. In the context of this blog, that common interest is Kink. We are a group of people whose sexual expression is outside the societal norm. We come together to learn and share and protect each other. Not to mention meet each other, it is harder to be kinky alone, though not impossible. Self-love, after all, can be quite fun, too.
So, what about this community I call home?
I love it. We have big groups that host amazing events. We have little groups that have dinner together. We have a couple groups that focus solely on rope. We have groups that teach a wide variety of topics. We have groups that throw parties. We have a group that goes to hookah bars. We have a group that goes bowling. We have a group for littles, groups for FemDoms, and one for photographers. And as mentioned above, I’m sure I’m forgetting some others. (Oh, yeah, there’s a poly group, too.) It is amazing the wide variety of options available here.
And yet, we are still one big community. People can attend nearly every single one of these groups, and quite a few do try. Most days, you can find a kinky gathering going on, and often, if you can’t, someone creates one, even if it’s just a movie night or a game night or a thrift store trip. Weeknight events can gather 30-40 people, play parties upwards of 100, and the big events 300+ (often limited only by the space available). It is incredible the joy, energy and caring that comes together in this community. And once again, a shout out in gratitude to the folks who make these groups and events happen.
So, what does the local community mean to me?
It means acceptance, understanding, strength, growth, learning, sharing, and caring. It means a place where I can be myself. Where I can serve and love, learn and teach, scream and cry, giggle and chatter, fly and space out. It is a place where dreams come true, and reality is even more exciting than fiction (and yes, stranger, too). It is also a place of humanity. Where people make mistakes, where bad things happen, where relationships don’t always work out. Where people fight, spread rumors and believe half-truths or all-out lies. But it is also a place where people can learn from the bad, where we can grow beyond our mistakes, where the end of a relationship, doesn’t have to mean the end of a friendship. Where truth can cut through the rumors, and bring healing, in time. Because we are here together, to share and support each other. If we didn’t, it’d be a pretty poor community, and we would not have anywhere near the strength that we do.
November 22nd, 2012
Thanksgiving. A day for gratitude and over eating. What am I grateful for this year?
I am grateful for all the people who love me, and whom I love. I have a life full of loving, and caring individuals who support me. Whether they live with me, in the same town as me, in a different state or even in a different country. I have a wonderful network of friends, family and chosen family. And I am grateful for them every day of the year.
I am grateful that I was born in the USA, with it’s freedoms, democracy, and wide diversity of beliefs, people, opinions, and opportunities. So much of the world is drowning in poverty, oppression and war. I am grateful that I have so few barriers (and those mostly internal) to following my dreams.
I am grateful for this blog. I have this space where I can speak my mind, openly and without fear. I can share it with people or leave it to be discovered. I occasionally get comments, publicly or privately, that encourage me to continue. I am grateful for a place to share my journey with others.
I am grateful for the little things. For a hug when I need it most. For a whipping when I need to break. For knowing I’ve only cracked and pushing harder. For a bed to crash in. For smart ass jokes. For pictures of fire. For kitties. For a puppy curled up in my lap. For apologies. For thank you. For space. For closeness. For believing. For listening. For asking. For silence. For music. For a phone call. For a text message. For I love you. For mindless movies. For chocolate. For cooking lessons at 2am. For running out for take out. For comments, likes and loves. For comfy couches and fleece blankets.
Speaking of which, I have to be at work in 7 hours. Goodnight folks.
November 4th, 2012
This story starts with an elderly gentleman buying Fifty Shades Darker from me yesterday. He told me that he really liked the first book. I told him that others had said the books each are better than the previous. He gave me a disbelieving look/sound, and said that the last one is called Freed, how could that be better than the other two? I checked myself from going too deeply into it, and said, that while I had not read the books, “freed” didn’t necessarily mean the relationship ended. He nodded, but I don’t think he understood what I was trying to say. No, I don’t really want to know if the relationship ends in the third book, and they get “free” of each other. But I do think it’s important to understand that freedom inside your relationship and inside your kink, is a great reality, regardless of whatever fantasy you’ve built up in your head.
Onto another fantasy. Interrogation. I mention it here and there, I write fantasy ones. I get worried that I’ll never get an interrogation scene. I talk about why not. But this morning, it occurred to me that it’s a fantasy that doesn’t mesh with my reality. I don’t really want an interrogation scene. I mean, sure, it’s fun to fantasize about, and write about, but what is it really? A stranger trying to torture information out of me, without a care for me, my safety, my sanity or anything but getting that information. Again, a sexy fantasy, of complete loss of control.
But where’s the reality, what is it that I really want out of such a scene? What I really want and enjoy in extreme scenes, is the challenge, the push, the seeing how far I can go. I recently read a summary of a biography written by a woman with dwarfism. It was a teacher that first called her a dwarf and asked her what she could and couldn’t do. The summary says she has spent the rest of her life pushing herself to do more and more. I was diagnosed with RA in HS, but in college, when I saw the fencing club, I decided to do it. So what if I couldn’t straighten my right arm, or if my left knee didn’t bend or straighten fully? I would push myself to do what I wanted to do. My kink is similar, I love to push myself, to see how far I can go, what I can do, in spite of assumed physical or mental limits. Most importantly, I love doing so with him, because he loves me, cares about me, but is also willing to push me further than I think I can go. A lot further. And still knows how and when to stop. Not some random fantasy stranger who I don’t know and wouldn’t play with in any case. Reality is much better than fantasy.
There was a third part to this topic, but I’ve lost it in the football game.
October 27th, 2012
Two nights of fun, friends and insanity. Trauma is always a great time, with great shows and (mostly) good music. This year was no exception. We had a crew of 20+ each night up in our side of the balcony, running suspension, drumming, flogging, violet wand, and fire cupping scenes all night long. Over the course of two nights, we had nearly 350 sign ups to play with us. And for the first time in my tenure at Trauma, all our violent wands stayed alive for both nights, all night. Thank you to our fearless leaders who fixed them all up Thursday afternoon. Also, big thanks to the four people we recruited just a couple weeks ago to help out electric, I would have been sorely overwhelmed without them. The club even gave us our very own security guard this year, to mind our roped-off entrance. They were both incredibly helpful and freed us up to do our thing, and not worry so much about the surging crowd, or the drunk assholes.
I don’t watch many of the performances, but there was the usual mixed bag of tricks. Anna and the Annadroids were amazing as always. The crowd loved the flesh-hook suspensions. Even Magic Nate was entertaining with his slight of hand. The DJs always end the night with a good dance mix, though I could do without the heavy smoke. I didn’t make it to the other rooms this year. Not one for navigating crowds while wearing high heels, unless I have to. Though, I will say, the stairs were far less of an issue this year than they have been in the past.
Thank you to everyone who works hard each year to put on this incredibly event. I hope everyone had as much fun as we did. I’ll see you all next year.
October 26th, 2012
One night of Trauma down, one to go. Last night wasn’t overly crowded, I think tonight will be insane. After-action post to come this weekend.
October 20th, 2012
Sorry about the late post this week. Work is killing me with these full time hours, grateful, but so very tired. Friday night started the Halloween line up of kinky events. We had a belly dance class and our usual play party. He was feeling ill, but still managed to zap and dragon tail us quite thoroughly, as well as the other two scenes he planned on. We ended the event in a giant cuddle pile of awesome. I might have even fallen asleep on his chest a little bit. My new dress was all shiny and red, and sometime in the near future, the awesome seamstress lady will make me one that fits better. I handed out tons of Trauma fliers to everyone there. And he, the engineer and I had a good cuddle sleep together and a very nice morning.
Today there is a wedding and then two parties. Trauma is this coming week, two nights of insanity with the general public in outrageous costumes. There’s a Halloween party the next night, but I don’t think I’m going to make it. The following week we are back at the club again for a party on Halloween, and then another party that Saturday, too. My parents are visiting some time in November, I should really sort out when. I’m guessing Turkey Day weekend. Oh, and Modern Dungeon Quarterly’s fourth issue, featuring COPE and AIS Kink Labs, comes out November 1st. So, that’s my life right now, but what do I want to write about?
Have I mentioned how much I love Fearless Press? So many good articles on relationships, sex, kink and spirituality. You should totally go there and read through the current selection. I think my thoughtful post will be about labels and active D/s, but right now I have to get showered and dressed for the aforementioned wedding.
October 11th, 2012
Some unusual (for me) conversations this week. It started on Monday, when I was accused of making light of rape culture and slut shaming because I was joking about my rape fantasies. Having never heard the term “slut shaming,” I gave the person opportunity to explain it to me, and after a bit of agreeing that society is full of stupid people, we let the matter drop. Tuesday there was a discussion about the differences in age of consent and what actually qualifies as statutory rape, and the double standard between men and women. Yesterday, there were conversations about gender inequality, repression of women, sexism and dressing sexy. I say unusual conversations, because I’m not a particularly politically active person. These are not the types of discussions I normally get into, I’m not a great debater of social issues. I generally think society can go fuck itself, and I stick to having friends who are not idiots. But with all the discussions, and some of the stupidity this week, I am feeling a bit ranty.
Let me start at the top and work my way down. I tend to avoid discussing rape fantasies in public. The horrible reality of rape is a dividing line for many people. Some of us have the fantasies, others find it unthinkable. For me, it took me a long time to admit to having the fantasies. It felt shameful, wrong and terribly inappropriate. But they were there, from my earliest fantasizing, they’ve always been there. To deny them, is to deny a part of myself. Coming to be a part of this community, has involved a lot of getting to know myself and getting comfortable with myself. Learning to stop denying who I am and what I like. And I still find it hard to admit at times. But Monday, I felt I was in a safe place, and was a little offended by the accusation that I didn’t take the issues of rape culture and slut shaming seriously just because I was talking about my rape fantasies. They are power exchange fantasies, not an actual desire to be violently violated by a stranger. And certainly nothing that supports sexual violence against anyone.
So, let’s move on to those things. UpsettingRapeCulture.com defines rape culture this way: In a rape culture, people are surrounded with images, language, laws, and other everyday phenomena that validate and perpetuate, rape. Rape culture includes jokes, TV, music, advertising, legal jargon, laws, words and imagery, that make violence against women and sexual coercion seem so normal that people believe that rape is inevitable. Rather than viewing the culture of rape as a problem to change, people in a rape culture think about the persistence of rape as “just the way things are.”
I take very seriously, the problem of sexual violence, and find it abhorrent that even some of our laws are written in a way that casts blame on the victims. That “she was asking for it” is ever an acceptable response to rape, is disgusting. That not only men, but some women believe that we shouldn’t wear short skirts, because that only tempts men to rape us or exploit us, is insane. That’s going down another point that I’ll catch back up to later. The point for now, being that rape is one of, if not The most horrible crimes a person can commit upon another person, and it’s terrible that society as is stands, generally accepts inappropriate sexual advances as normal. That sexual violence of any kind is acceptable, is something we seriously need to change if we ever hope to be an evolved and enlightened society.
The FinallyFeminism101 blog defines slut shaming this way: Slut-shaming, also known as slut-bashing, is the idea of shaming and/or attacking a woman or a girl for being sexual, having one or more sexual partners, acknowledging sexual feelings, and/or acting on sexual feelings.
This concept is not new to me, Americans live in a society that was founded by Puritans. Women are socialized to be chaste virgins until they marry, and then be faithful to that man forever. Naming the problem slut shaming or bashing, seems to me, to only perpetuate the problem, but then, that’s a matter of linguistics, and focus. We are socialized to be ashamed of our sexuality, I am still fighting my way past that ingrown shame. And negative comments only make it all that much harder. But it’s once again a matter of being able to say fuck society, I am strong, and healthy and my desires are natural. This is not an easy thing to do, but we in the kink community do it all the time. This is just one more step, don’t make it harder for those around you, just because you’re jealous of their confidence or partners. And if you see others doing it, stand up for each other, show them how strong, confident and sexy we really are.
So, age of consent and statutory rape. The discussion Tuesday began with a relationship between a17 year old boy and his 27 year old teacher. Obviously, a pairing that violates the ethical code of said teacher’s contract, and all the things that go along with it. In whatever state this was, the age of consent is 16, and the parents of the boy approved of the relationship. However, the teacher was still being charged with rape, among the other counts against her. It was the general consensus that some case-by-case common sense should be shown and the rape charged left out of the legal proceedings. The conversation then moved on to a discussion of the double standard that older teenaged boys don’t need protection against older women, but girls of the same age need protection from older men.
As I understand it, every state sets their own age of consent, to me, this is the first problem. As I said, I’m not big on politics, but it seems to me that a national standard would serve everyone better than a different standard every few hundred miles. Some common sense wouldn’t hurt in setting it either. High-schoolers having sex with each other, in many states could lead to a rape charge and that person will be stuck on the sex offenders registry. I’m not even going to pretend I have the answer, or the perfect age, or the right rules for this, but it just seems something we ought to be consistent about. And I think, once we figure out what age we are all comfortable with, consent should matter. Charge the teacher with breach of contract, take her license, whatever, but if the 17 year old is old enough to consent to sex with her, do Not charge her with rape. And, as a woman, who honestly feels that women biologically mature faster than men, let’s not have a double standard for consent. If a 16 year old boy can consent to sex, you better believe a 16 year old girl has the same ability. But girls need protected from predatory men? Then prosecute them for rape if she’s said no and he didn’t stop. Protect them from the predators, but not from their own freedom of choice.
On to the last bit, the wearing of sexy clothing and the objectification and exploitation of women by sexist men. Dude(tte), you need to get out more. A lot of women wear sexy clothing because they want to, because it makes them feel good. Because they enjoy receiving compliments from men who appreciate their beauty. None of this means that the woman is objectifying herself, or that the men giving the compliments are objectifying her. It is about feeling good about yourself, and loving yourself, and not being afraid to be who you are, if that’s a sexy girl in skin tight latex, or a stunning woman in a business suit. If you’re only being viewed as an object, you need to get new friends, get out in the community where the delicious mind is appreciated inside every body. The enjoyment of sexy clothes does not detract from the desire for intelligent conversation. Yes, there are sexist assholes in the community, too, they’re everywhere, but we don’t put up with them for as long as the general public. Deciding that women should wear long skirts so that men aren’t tempted, is sexist in both directions – repression of a woman’s choices and sexuality, and lack of faith in men.
Part of these conversations came out of discussion of women in the media, on tv, video games, movies and the like. And some of that is a problem, when the woman is only there to be pretty and do nothing else. To be the damsel in distress who must be rescued, because only men can do things in life. Yes, this is a problem, so don’t watch those shows, don’t go to those movies, don’t support those products. Watch the ones with strong female characters, buy the DVDs with the intelligent men and women working together to save the day. Buy the products that show women as powerful. But judging a show by how a character is dressed, and not by how she acts/is presented, is just sexist. Isn’t that what you accuse men of doing?
September 27th, 2012
I don’t think I did justice to the topic of my journey into submission in my long rambling post. Not sure I really did justice to any of the topics I covered, but this one struck me especially. I talked more about my development over the last few years, mixed with a few popular questions of the day, around the cyclical nature of D/s and how a strong woman can be submissive. All those thoughts about control came much later, when I finally got the language for it. But how, exactly, did the submissive grow within me to start with?
Early desires, and my most guilty pleasures, revolve around over the knee spankings. I don’t know why this came about, but it started as early as grade school with an unhealthy(or so I thought) enjoyment of the poem The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. And in middle school blossomed into school girl fantasies that I very much enjoy to this day. With stops along the way to incorporate a Newsie spanking fantasy or two, as well.
This is where my submissive side started. A desire to bend, or be bent by, a person of authority. I was a good girl, I didn’t like causing real trouble, never got a detention, though I came close once, only got grounded once, I don’t even remember ever being spanked as punishment, though I’m sure I was when I was very young. But in these fantasies, I would get into mild trouble, and the person punishing me wouldn’t actually be angry, they’d simply be teaching me a lesson, usually in private. Punishing me for being “bad” or “naughty,” but without the public humiliation of being paddled in front of class, or others. And after I became a bit more sexually mature, I would always thank them for this lesson.
In grade school, we had a hierarchy among my friends. The one at the top of the pyramid could still the rest of us with a look, and usually a smile. I never wanted this power, but I certainly respected it. And fantasied about it. To be quelled and cowed with just a look. It made me shiver, it aroused me. It took me years to understand why. We gave him that control, and he used it, without abusing it, so he got to keep it. He ruled our part of the playground, but he was always kind and always fair. He took care of us, so we followed him. That exchange of power, so simple on the playground, and so much more powerful in a relationship, has always thrilled me. And for those who can express it with just a look, it still makes me shiver and smile.
I comment in the long rambling piece about meeting “strong men,” but what I really meant was strong dominants. Men can be strong without being sexually/kinkily dominant. And I met a woman, as well, who fit this role. I had a few boyfriends that were tops – we played physically, the only power exchange being that I was physically submitting to having things done to me. Usually things like biting, spanking, pinching, pressure points.
Then I met a couple of friends online, who, when they were dating, adopted me in a non-kinky RPG we were all playing. I still call him Daddy, or my Aussie Daddy, to this day, though it never was kink-related. When I lived with him for a (US) summer/(Australian) winter, he preferred Sir in our play. They taught me about what power exchange really felt like. I loved it, though many will say online isn’t the real thing, it was where I was first able to explore it. And explore it I did, in role play, in cybersex chats, in long-distance telephone calls. When I went to Australia, Daddy wasn’t active in the community, but we made the best of our time together. Our kink relationship was mostly physical, but I also enjoyed the bits of D/s we tossed in here and there, as well.
It was a long while before I found that again. Hubby, a sensualist, enjoyed the physical play I asked for, but D/s was not something we managed to figure out on our own. When we found the community, our explorations took different paths, as I found two dominant men that I was drawn to, and he found his own path to kink.
This blog tells the story of my journey since then, for the most part. Exploring different types of D/s and the different ways to submit and serve, learning about taking and giving control. I have tripped and fallen many times. I have had high expectations, and been crushed by reality. I have lost sight of the path and been shown the way back. I have run headlong into the darkness, and survived the fall. I have been taught, guided, chided and chastised. I have been cared for, comforted, crushed and rebuilt. I have been programmed and reprogrammed. I have experienced amazing scenes, awesome service, and incredible love, trust and understanding. Submission has always been inside of me, and these last four years have made it a rich part of my life.
September 27th, 2012
Friends of mine have been talking/puzzling about their lives not being what they expected them to be. For some, this is causing great distress. So, I decided to take a look at the question.
Growing up, what did I expect out of life?
When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut, doesn’t everyone? The stars held me in thrall. Then I found out that astronauts didn’t get to visit the stars, and sometimes their ships blew up, and I thought maybe I’d stay on earth til they got those things worked out.
Then I wanted to be a teacher. Until I found out that kids are cruel, and rude, and unmanageable sometimes. I thought maybe that wasn’t the best place for me, and maybe I didn’t even want to have my own.
So I turned back to the stars. I wanted to study them, from here on earth. Look out into them, and find the mysteries of the universe. Find other life. Figure out how life formed here. I was again in their thrall. But then I went to college, and calculus and E&M defeated me. So I turned away again.
To writing. I loved to read, it kept me entertained as a child, and I loved to write, to express myself in words, because my voice was so soft, and no one could interrupt me when I was typing or writing by hand. I could speak for myself in text, say anything and everything through writing. And I love it.
I work in a bookstore, because I love books. I love sharing knowledge, and helping people find the same joy in it that I did. I don’t teach, but I help them get the information they want. I do not go to the stars myself, but can help other people get there.
But those are only jobs and vocations, those are what I do. What did I expect out of Life?
Growing up in the church, I expected to stay in the church. I expected to be a good little UM girl all my life. To get married to a nice UM boy, and worship every Sunday, and be a part of projects and work groups. And then I got older, and there were politics, and other view points, and intolerance, and hate. My faith became more personal, less contained in a building, less constrained by specific doctrine. I still consider myself a Christian, because I feel I live by Jesus’s overriding message of Love. His words of love still speak to me, and I do my best to follow his example. I didn’t marry a nice UM boy, or even a nice Christian boy. But I did get married to a very Loving man. And to me, that is what is important.
But where did all this poly stuff come from? Surely that wasn’t “in the plan.” No, growing up, I expected to have a husband, forsaking all other so long as we both shall live. It was even in our vows. Promised before family and god. But that doesn’t seem very loving to me. To Forsake others? I didn’t date anyone in High School, but my college relationships were rife with flavors of poly. Not my first, he was a good Christian boy. But most of the ones after that. I didn’t have the understanding, let alone the language for it at the time, though. My second, still in love with his HS sweetheart, cheated on me and left me for her. I often played with him after that, even with a third friend sometimes, and still love him, though not in a romantic way. My third, had a ‘zip code rule’ that I always rolled my eyes at, but he and I had off and on things, despite his other relationships. My fourth, well, he was an odd bird, and I was trying to get back with others during that time as well. Hubby came into play that year as well, as someone I loved, but couldn’t be with. Then my fifth and sixth, openly admitting to love for hubby while dating them. Playing with others while things with hubby went up and down and round about. But things were so messy, that when I got back with Hubby after college, I made the mono-demand.
Which lasted just over three years, until we both started falling for others. My experiment exploded, so I returned to a state of poly=pain, and agreed to swinging. That didn’t go very well, either, and then we found the community here, and I softened and fell, back into poly, where I truly belong. This time, with resources, and language, and experienced people, who taught me to communicate, and to thrive in this lifestyle. Oh, it still goes up and down and sideways, but I am far better equipped to deal with it now, and far more able to accept the bumps and bruises, and keep on swimming.
That was the important lesson to me. It isn’t about trying to keep my head above water, that’s just a lot of thrashing around to keep from drowning, but you never move forward doing that. I’ve learned to keep on swimming, forward, through the waves, and tides. The only way up is forward, and it attracts fewer sharks if you swim fluidly forward than if you thrash around hoping to be rescued.
So, was this what I expected out of my love life? No. But it is certainly what fits me. Love, and plenty of it. To keep me going along my way.
But life is not just job and relationships. What about this kink stuff that fills my waking hours? What about the natural world and the stars I loved so much?
I grew up loving the outdoors. Going camping, going hiking, stargazing. Sitting by campfires, singing songs and exploring the woods. It is still my refuge. When things get too much. When I need to unwind. When I just need to get away. I go to the woods. I walk through the forest, I lie in the grass, I sit by the brook. Nature is still in my veins, but people now fill my heart.
I didn’t have a lonely childhood, in my mind. I had friends, I enjoyed school. I went to parties. But I didn’t have a Lot of friends, I didn’t do the social butterfly thing. I had a couple best friends. That I would spend most of my time with. I never expected this to change, and it hasn’t. I have kept my best friends, from HS and College, but they are far away. I have made a few more since, but not many. And it is with these friends that I spend my time. It is kink and poly that brought me to these new friends. And geekdom. I still do the geek-thing, gaming every week, and a group that goes to geek conventions and throws parties monthly. But the latter are also a part of my poly and kinky circles, too.
I’ve always had a kinky bone in my body, though, I didn’t know it at first. Or at least not what to call it. I found it fairly fast, though, when I got old enough. Kink, I discovered, made sense to me, and was something I wanted in my life. It became part of my regular life with my second boyfriend, growing with my fifth, and really expanding when I met daddy online, and then in person, though I didn’t find community until nearly a year after hubby and I moved back here, only just over four years ago. I tried once, just before we go married, but a missed connection kept us at bay for four years, due to moving out of state after the wedding. Kink, though, once I understood what it was, has always been an expected part of my life. And I am grateful for the people who have guided me, advised me, played with me, and taught me. Navigating the kinky community, and one’s kinky self takes a lot of work and skills that are not necessarily the norm in regular society. And it has also given me an outlet for my early desires to teach and my later desires to write. These things are a part of me and kink keeps them in my life.
What about submission? How does that fit in with my life expectations?
Did I grow up thinking about how wonderful it would be to be controlled? How much I wanted a man to tell me what to do? How much I wanted to serve him? No. I grew up learning to be an independent, free-thinking, self-reliant woman. I went away to college, I went to Ireland alone, I went to Australia to meet daddy. I moved out of the house when I got back. I found a job, I supported myself. Sometimes I fell down, and needed some help, but I was mostly independent of my parents. I got married and moved away. No longer singularly independent, but still in control. In charge of my life, working now as a couple, to be successful. So, where did this submissive desire come from? How does it fit into my life expectations?
In my kink, it has always felt like the natural role for me. At first, it was a desire to be done to, as I think it usually is. I wanted to receive all these sensations, I desired to be spanked, to be pinched, to be bitten, to be held down, to be bound. So in control, so strong, so independent. I wanted it to be taken away. At first, I wanted to know that these things were okay. That I could still be strong and independent, and in control, even though I wanted and liked these things. I didn’t have control over what turned me on, but I wanted to know that I was still in control of myself and my world. My body, my RA, took some of that control away from me, so I gained a desire to control the pain I experienced. I wanted to have the pain that I wanted, not that my body just threw at me. These things came first.
Then I met strong, dominant men, and it wasn’t just about play anymore. It wasn’t just about top and bottom. It was about Dom and sub. It was about being able to give up control, giving them control, and the freedom I found in doing so. Not just in giving to them, but in receiving as well. The give and take, the cyclical relationship, that requires love and trust and work to maintain. It feels good to submit to those I have chosen to submit to because they chose to dominate me in return. One-sided relationships happen, but they are not fulfilling in the long run. The joy and fulfillment I found in submission, blossomed from curiosity to expectation and is a part of my life I do not ever want to be without.
Expectations change as life changes us. But once we find those things that make our lives wonderful and whole, it no longer matters what we once thought we would be or do. It is what we are now, what makes us happy and fills our lives that matters most. No use worrying about what we thought would be, stay in the present, work for what you want now. Not what you thought you should have. If I’d stuck with my original plan, I’d be pretty much out off luck now, NASA’s ended the shuttle program. Expectations are helpful, but don’t let them stay stagnant while life changes all around you.