Kink wherefore art thou?
Perusing some of my good reads lately, I noticed a number of writers talking about the dichotomy they feel in allowing themselves the luxury of enjoying their kink. I’m not going to embarrass anyone by linking as admitting to a secret shame is not something I would betray (even if it is in a public blog).
But it got me musing...
Somehow, along the convoluted skein of life experience, I missed the knot where it said I was supposed to be ashamed of my sexuality.
In the scheme of thing (or at least in the context of the times and the environment in which I grew up), I wasn’t particularly promiscuous- in fact, probably the opposite. I was fortunate to have (despite some brutal self esteem issues about looks and abilities); enough sense of self to not feel compelled to fall prey to the self-serving interests of adolescent boys.
Yet it wasn’t a matter of not having a sense of sexuality nor feeling urges; the opposite in fact. For as long as I can remember I was aware and enjoyed the pleasures of my body. In hindsight, meditation for selkie has always involved a complete surrender to the immediate “now” of the body; from stretching my legs out when racing as a child, to the hot slick feel of sweat and swish of tire when I cycle, to the sweet deliciousness of my hand between my legs in my bed....
Even before puberty, I remember pleasuring myself, finding myself entranced and delighted by what my wandering, curious mind and clever fingers could induce.
And when I discovered what it could REALLY do, I was hooked.
And didn’t feel in the least embarrassed or hung up or conflicted, nope, not even a little.
And this was way back when I believed in the guy in the sky; but the way I reasoned, is he GAVE me this body? Right? With all the bits that when touched this way, and pulled that way, and rubbed here... well, just WORKED ... so where’s the sin??
And when I made the decision to widen the scope of possibilities with D., I still didn’t feel any guilt or regret... nope, not even a smidgen. I know that was partially because the time chosen was on my terms and not through coercion, guilt-induced capitulation or a need for affirmation.
And my delight in my body just increased exponentially as how the two of us connected simply exploded into 30+ years of explosive sexuality (with a few hiatus and false starts with other explorations in my earlier years after D.’s initial introduction).
Again, in hindsight, from the beginning, there was a certain flavour of kink involved; not named or labelled, but very much there, that in my innocence I saw simply as a deliciousness of emotion and thought and feeling and perception engendered, simply and fully, because that is what happened between two such as we and in all honesty, I had very little experience against which to measure my explorations!
Once embraced, I accepted my sexuality and its exploration with an exuberant, no-holds-barred delight that was (he later told me) a shock.... a delightful, eagerly accepted, indulged and enjoyed one, but a shock nonetheless.
And then, years later, we recognized and labelled our dynamic, and in doing so, opened ourselves to the exploration of so much more, and in the discovery found a level of sensation and an intensity of awareness that soared into the realm of spirituality.
It’s sometimes difficult to see a situation in which one is involved, with a measure of rationality and without the intrusion of conscious and unconscious prejudice, so with that in mind, these are my perceptions (and mine only) of the way in which one does or does not embrace the full spectrum of your sexuality.
I know that I had absolutely no brakes on when it came to exploring the limits of sensation with him. There was, of course, first and foremost, an intrinsic (and I thought unbreakable) trust; I knew he would never go beyond what he thought my body, mind and spirit could tolerate (and in fact, sometimes not as far as I would like, my yearnings, when induced and in freefall, were probably not entirely best left to my discretion as all sense would sometimes escape as I sought nirvana).
And truth be told, I have had a voracious delight in pushing the level of sensation experienced beyond the point of no return. When one doesn’t see the harm in exploring the limits of mind and body, then there is no need to limit oneself if the trust is there and the safety guaranteed.
It is my nature I have learned, that to focus on the immediate, I need grounding; grounding achieved through physical means... from the simplicity of yoga to the focus engendered by his hand on my bottom, the sting of falls against my back, the sharp, sweet nip of clamps or his fingers around my neck and the achingly erotic constriction of breath....
Only then, brought to the edge, focused on the immediate and the now, have I been truly able to soar, to let go of the stresses and worries of an anxious nature, to in short, release my will completely and inexorably into another’s hands, his hands.
And the reality that sometimes it took pain to bring me there fazed me not in the least. I never once felt odd or twisted or disgusting. In fact, I gloried in the sensations and found it entrancing that we had been so clever to find this path to full sexual expression.
But part of being a submissive is often having a hyper awareness of the other’s level of arousal, his peak of excitement, what engenders for him the commensurate level of delight and in so doing, in those moments of knowledge, I found some measure of the shame, the secret embarrassment spoken of by some of my blogging friends.
part two to follow