Once You Go Kink, You Never Go Back?

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Yesterday, one of my patients coded in an ICU room one floor above my granny’s own ICU room. I was on hour 14 of my work day. My body was tired and my mind was fried, racing with random stressors… you’ve lost one grandmother this year already, it’s too soon to lose another… stop to pay the deposit on the graduation venue tomorrow after work… compliance training is due tomorrow, final warning… where is your period? Oh. The patient.

This script has been on a cruel, everlasting loop in my brain for the last couple weeks. Emotionally, I’m fragile. Sexually, I’m frustrated.

I need relief.



Image: David Lytle via Flickr


I need to take a day off and go shopping. Spend some time at the spa. See a movie. And maybe round out the night having drinks with my girlfriends.  to be bound by the hands and feet, blindfolded, held against the wall by a large hand around my neck… and assured that I have absolutely no control over anything that’s about to happen.

I have always been kinky. I have not always been as “out” with the full range of my kink, but I’ve been kinky since about age 18. It was really only a confirmation of my deepest suspicion which I had carried around for at least 4 years before that: When I start having sex, I’m not going to be able to stop. That same year, asphyxiation, masochism, and what I now know to be fire play, entered my world. Then I met and fell in love with my ex-husband a million different times for a million different reasons. One of the reasons was because he was the first man to not find me sexually… deviant.  He never said “What’s wrong with you?” like other men. But he was also not very kinky. The day I decided to marry him, I gave up kinky sex for very consistent, safe sex… a choice ruled by my nympho self.

Then he left.

And, well, she just came barreling right back out like “Girl, what took you so long!? I was dying over here!”

To be clear, my ex-husband was an excellent lover. Orgasms were my norm. This is important because the height of orgasm is one of the few instances where my mind goes completely still. There’s no thinking, and no decisions to make. But those orgasms were short-lived and, though nearly daily, still relatively far apart for someone like me. Plus, let me tell you… the standard orgasm has nothing… absolutely nothing… on rolling orgasms caused by a deluge of stimulation, not the least of which is pain. Those orgasms leave you mentally… gone (thanks to the physiological manifestations of subspace)… for an extended period of time. Non-kinky men have tricks up their sleeves, too, to be fair. They will choke you, smack your ass, and pull your hair once you tell them they can. I promise you it’s not the same. Being thoroughly devoured by a safe, sadistic Dominant with some experience in his pocket can leave you confused about your own life and how you came to live it without this in it. Once you’ve become accustomed to sharing the blissfully wicked bits of yourself, your desires, sans judgment… and accustomed to actually having those desires met, enthusiastically? Well, I’m not sure you can ever go back to what you knew before.  Who else will understand that to be marked in bruises is what will excite you for the next three days? Or “Hey babe, the last time you choked me, I never even came close to fading to black, can we work on that?” They’re simply not going to understand (not to mention have the education or skill to be able to take you there without killing you!)

And that’s just the sex.

What about non-sexual mental release? I mean, we can’t spend all day screwing each other’s brains out (until we win the lottery.) We still have responsibilities to fulfill. I spend all day making decisions at work. I am a leader who doesn’t like to lead. I find it utterly exhausting. By the time I leave, I’m trying desperately to turn my brain off… by whatever means necessary… and usually, sex is my number one way to do that. But what if there’s more? What if orgasm isn’t the only way to quiet the spinning of my mind?

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