Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

I don’t want this as a gift

I’m a switch. Right now I’m feeling very top-y, and perhaps because I haven’t visited this headspace in a while I am feeling particularly hungry in it. However, this is an issue I can only write from the bottom perspective because that is where I have experienced it…

I was reading Maymay’s blog and something he wrote struck a cord…

“When you beat me, I want you to like doing it. When you hurt me, I want you to want me to hurt. When we play, I want to feel us both acting from instinct, not from expectation. I will simply make no room for spurious things in my sex.”

I like pain, but I only like it when my partner truly relishes hurting me. I don’t want kink as a gift. I refuse to apologies for my sexuality, and I do not want to be loved in spite of my desires. A large part of why I play has to do with connections, with finding someone who wants this as much as I do and who understands why it’s so important to me. I need a partner who understands to some degree why I want to go into those scary messy places, and who actively enjoys taking me there. I appreciate that when my vanilla partners try something kinky they are doing it because they care about me and want me to be happy, but I’m afraid that misses the point.

I do this not just for the pain but because of the sense of belonging that comes with it. I get off on other people’s pleasure too – if my partner is hurting me out of guilt rather than an intense desire to watch me suffer it doesn’t work for me. And then of course there is context. Pain without context is scary. Bad scary. I know logically that my partners aren’t out to get me, but if I have not already put them in the context of kink in my mind I can’t relax and go with the scene. My play partners come to my bed with a lot of shared expectations and experiences. This is not a replacement for communication, but it is a basis for it. In my scenes there is a beginning and an end, there are guidelines, safe words, and more often than not, years of practice with those very scary looking toys. My vanilla partners come from a different place and with different assumptions. There is a difference between hitting me because I begged you to and hitting me because you know, in some abstract way, that I enjoy it.

These things are hard to say, and I’m not entirely sure why. It’s not often that expressing an opinion about my sexuality leaves me feeling small and vulnerable. Perhaps it is because I was raised to be grateful for all gifts, and I hate to turn down the people I love. Perhaps because it means I have to think about all those scary emotional things that lie beneath the sheer joy of masochism. In any case, I suspect that this post strays from the context of Maymay’s words, but that’s life.

Written by kinkinexile

June 21, 2007 at 4:06 pm

Posted in headspace, personal

5 Responses

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  1. One of my character flaws is that I am incredibly harsh with other people, even (perhaps especially) with those I love. I appreciate the generosity someone might show me in giving such gifts, but that does not obligate me to accept them. And there’s no reason for me to feel bad about that.

    It’s too bad you’re all the way over there, so far away. I would have liked the chance to get to know you better in person. In the mean time, I’ll just satiate my curiosity with your blog. 🙂


    June 22, 2007 at 4:15 am

  2. It’s a small (kinky) world.

    I’ll have to introduce you two when you come back to the U.S. of A. You’ll probably like each other


    June 28, 2007 at 4:10 pm

  3. I’ll have to introduce you two when you come back to the U.S. of A. You’ll probably like each other.

    Well, Calico, a little over four years later, I’m glad to say I believe that we do. Very much.


    September 3, 2011 at 9:11 am

  4. […] four years ago, still true today.  Maymay commented this morning on a post I wrote in 2007 about not wanting kink as a gift.  At the time I was writing as a bottom (and as I later discovered thanks to a wonderful workshop […]

  5. […] Friday, I got to get femmed up, and Platonic Husband took me out for a fantastic dinner.  I also got to practice some of the rope work I’ve been thinking of getting back into.  Wanna know why the lovely and amazing C is my platonic husband? He wasn’t into that at all… […]

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