The First Kink
Why I crave giving up control - Sub Stories
I hear the sound of heels on the floor.
It’s not for lack of trying and research.
I saw plenty of magazine level fantasies written up or shown on TV.
I saw plenty of magazine level fantasies written up or shown on TV. The high powered executive who runs a company but secretly goes to a dungeon 3 times a week on lunch and gets whipped while being called a little piggy. He’s caught in a police raid, his wife cries, and the police detective says “what a weirdo!” But the firsthand experiences I saw didn’t reflect that reality. The people in the kink community weren’t a monolith. They came from all walks of life. They all wanted something different. Some were working through their trauma. Some just had fun. But the one thing they all had in common was the backbone of kink: trust. They had found a group they could trust with their secrets, with their pleasure, with their journey. And that just felt so appealing to me.
And so I started looking. By happenstance, I found some friends who were already involved in the lifestyle. But any playtime was not to be had. They were good friends and already in a committed relationship to each other. It wasn’t a complete loss. I now had someone that I could talk to and ask questions, rather than anonymous online sources.
But what’s kept me from finding a match for all these years?
Shame, embarrassment, and trust.
It sounds cliche, but I was raised in a religious household. I’m not the only black sheep in the family who turned away from a religious life, but some things stick deep.
My dad found one of my porn magazines once, and it just happened to be the first kinky magazine I ever bought. Although the term kinky is doing a lot of heavy lifting. The extent of the kink in this magazine was women posed in leather corsets and fishnets. But that was enough to warrant a stern talking-to about how sex is a beautiful thing, but I shouldn’t let something like a dirty magazine spoil it. Rather than taking the advice to heart, I instead resolved to never get caught again. So I learned to hide my desires and predilections. I kept them as my little secret. I lurk on alternative profiles on social media, but I never follow or interact with the posts. What if someone sees that I responded positively to something like that?
If I want to break away from my upbringing, remove the stigma and shame, I’m going to have to find someone who I can trust.
Here lies the problem
To build the trust, I have to get over my anxiety. To get over my anxiety, I need to find someone I can trust. And so my search continues. Online dating in my hometown is difficult enough before I add in having some general standards, and that doesn’t even begin to get into talking to someone about kink. It’s not something you bring up in the first conversation. “Hi. What do you do for fun? Would you like to tie me up and flog me?” There are dedicated social media sites for this sort of thing, and while I have dipped a toe, the blessed anonymity of being able to speak freely with like minded individuals also sparks the damned anxiety. How can you know who you’re really speaking to? How can you know that you’ll be able to build trust with them? Yes, there’s public meet and greets. But what if I see someone I know? Once again, the anxiety makes everything more difficult. And so, I continue on, searching for a match, exploring, learning, opening up where I can, when I feel safe.
I know one thing for certain: when I finally do find a match and can arrange with someone I trust, I’m going to be one of the most well read perverts out there.
