Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

Stream of consciousness

Funny how I spend hours procrastinating on one bit of writing and am then moved to sit and work on something entirely different despite the fact that I intended to make dinner an hour ago.  This will be stream of consciousness; forgive me.  While procrastinating I sat and read the casual encounter posts on  More specifically I did a search for men who want to clean women’s houses for fun.  I don’t really need any cleaning done, it’s just that those are the best to read (and we all know the gays have nicer things than we do so if I don’t filter for men seeking women I get depressed).  I got to grab a fist full of hair and pull a man’s head back by it the other day…it made me hungry.  You would think that a submissive man would be relatively easy to find.  If you are as picky as I am you would be wrong.  You see, I want someone who can rub my feet while talking about microwave background radiation.  I want someone who will not set off my anarchist child panic buttons by mistaking protocol and rules as sexual props for protocol and rules as The One True Way.  I want someone who, well, someone who is a human being first and foremost, then has some hobbies, and only after that kneels next to my desk and devotes an afternoon to making sure I have a hot cup of tea by my computer.  

I wonder if the problem lays in service being a more intimate thing and me looking for, well, a casual encounter.  The problem I’ve run into in the past is that I am expected to provide sexual favors in exchange for service.  I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way for me.   I provide the opportunity to serve in exchange for service…if you aren’t cleaning women’s houses for fun why are you doing it at all? 

Some days being a switch feels kind of odd.  Like when you want everything all at once.  Or when something gets flipped in your head and all of a sudden you want to beat the hell out of someone with a glorified metal stick. 


So I got to back to the US on December 30th, and within 48 hours had attended two play parties.  I find it really strange that with the exception of a slight bit of residual modesty, which should pass with time, I had no culture shock issues at the play parties.  I’m just as surprised by how much culture shock I’m experiencing within the rest of my life.  It looks like everyone is rushing around without any real goal to rush towards, and most people seem like they are unhappy with their lives but making no real effort to change them either.  I feel like I am walking through the world desperately trying to preserve my sense of openness and vulnerability while the people around me try for all they’re worth never to appear vulnerable all the while having more at stake than I can imagine being attached to.  I sat on the subway today and wondered if the people around me were actually dead, they certainly looked that way.  I’m not sure the convenience of safe drinking water is worth institutionalized depression.

Written by kinkinexile

January 4, 2008 at 3:03 am

3 Responses

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  1. Service is very tricky for so many people.

    I’ve never provided service to someone I was into sexually so for me it’s a no-brainer that service is for service sake. I have had someone try to “pay” me for service and I felt guilty that they would even ask. Didn’t they understand that it wasn’t about my pleasure but about me pleasing them?

    Service touches a part of me that casual play cannot. Since I’m not in a relationship I find that service makes me feel useful, submissive and it helps me remind myself that I’m not just someone looking for kink, but someone that prefers to be submissive and to please a woman in every way.

    But then again, I am a bit of a romantic.


    January 4, 2008 at 3:39 am

  2. if you aren’t cleaning women’s houses for fun why are you doing it at all?

    That’s a great line!


    January 4, 2008 at 8:19 am

  3. the majority of us americans are rather desparately seeking happiness through stuff, aren’t we?


    January 5, 2008 at 2:52 am

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