I have identified as a ‘submissive’ since I entered the public scene. It’s a catch-all term, a word that was the easiest way for me to explain the pleasure that I felt kneeling in front of Sir, of having someone I care for use me how he sees most fit and gaining pleasure from it. It was the easiest term to use as the flashing neon sign next to my Fetlife tag. “Use me. Please. For your pleasure and mine. Mark me. Claim me. Want me.”
For as much as I’ve played and explored, I clung to that title above all others. I’ve identified sides of myself that are little, masochistic, a wee bit switchy at times, hedonistic, damn slutty, and bratty to name a few… and it was easiest to just throw them all underneath the submissive umbrella. All were components of my service, and service meant submission, right? Different ways, different times, but everything I did was to serve my partners and bring them as much pleasure as possible, which in turn gave me pleasure. A great deal of it.
Very rarely are the right paths the easiest ones.
I am going to start with two short stories that seem unrelated, but then combine into one. One is that my primary has told me, from the beginning of our relationship, that regardless of whether or not we work out he’s determined to see me a better person as a result of it. He pushes me, not hard enough for me to ever come close to breaking, but hard enough that I question myself in a healthy way. If I say self-demeaning comments, usually out of complete reflex, he will catch me on it and ask me why I say that. He peels back layers I have safely hidden behind, my armor that keeps people from getting too close and knowing too much, and waits. Waits until I trust him enough to give him a straight answer which then unravels my behavior… And yes, I love him for it. I love him for his patience with me, for being understanding, and for being there to stop the negative spirals when it seems I’m falling too fast or too great.
And now, story number two. Not so long ago, Sir and I met a couple. We were at Master’s Den, one of my favorite events both for high protocol it is and because he doesn’t work..and so I get to play. Before Sir and I played, we watched this particular duo. The female, small yet incredibly mighty, took quite a lot from her Master in the exact opposite way that I do. I’m… vocal. Very. I will stay mostly still but I scream. She danced, and jumped, and wiggled, but remained silent. After their scene, Sir approached them both and asked permission to play with miss Small yet Mighty… Which led to a scene, and more scenes, and talk of photoshoots and friendships…
And thus, with a couple beatings, began a bit of a learning experience for me that I’m honestly still exploring. The couple have become fantastic friends, with an incredibly energy about them both individually and together. Watching them I was surprised at some of the similarities between their dynamic and my own… The fluidity they had between strict protocol one moment and laughter and giggles the next. The sassy playfulness. The respect all around when respect was due.
She was his slave. He was her Master. Two titles I had never considered in relationship to myself.. and yet…
I was always afraid of the label of ‘slave’. I was taught, early on, that slave’s were not allowed to say no. A slave gave up their safeword. A slave was used whenever, wherever, with nothing off limits.. As much as I’ve explored, and as much as I want to please, I do have limits.
…But I’ve also never let a man push my limits as much as James has. I’ve never trusted someone so completely to know my limits, and to listen to me when I express that we’ve reached one.
The lovely slave and I have met up a couple of times on our own and talked, about our relationships, our pasts, our current friendships..and the parallels continued to tweak in my mind an identity I had been so set on.. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know for sure.
And so, I did what I knew to do. I asked James.
We were driving back from an event earlier in the night..and I love those car rides, because we talk about everything from childhood road trips to future naughty plans to what he plans on doing once the car is in park… In the dark, uninterrupted, with no one else around and with a great night behind us, I asked the question that I had been asking myself for a couple of weeks.
“Do you think I’m a submissive or a slave?”
I got a raised eyebrow and a volley of questions back and forth as he searched for the origin of my question and why it was brought up. He answered some of my questions..and dispelled the last of my fears. Slaves, just like submissives, can say no. They can always stop it..and he will always respect my limits. And so, I asked again what my Sir thought I was.
“I don’t know.” Pause, a smirk, a raised eyebrow. “What are you?”
I didn’t think about my answer. I didn’t pause. I didn’t have to. It came out on its own.
“I am yours.”
He chuckled. “Well that answers that question, now doesn’t it?”
And it did.
Hello, my name is Rene. I’m a 24 year old kinkster living in the Bay Area. I enjoy submitting to people and playing in all manner of fun ways, from impact to sensation to fire and wax. I am polyamorous, though lean more to the realm of poly-play than poly relationships… I am a lover, a girlfriend, a little, a partner, a pixie, a squeaky toy.. And I am a slave. I am owned by an incredible man. I serve him happily.
As it was in the beginning, it is even more so now.
I am his.
And I am happy.
“So, what are you doing for the three day weekend? Anything exciting?”
“Oh, nothing too exciting.”
Just, you know, getting fucked by an attractive British Dom on Friday and going to a play party at a dungeon Saturday night. You know, normal stuff.
“Awe. Well a calm weekend can be a good thing from time to time.”
Oh yeah..calm. Calm’s one way to put it…
I’ve finally delved into the world of BDSM outside of just hiding at the local kink cafe when I don’t want to go to my apartment. Fetlife has proven to be an.. interesting tool that has led me to a whole mess of events, chats, munches, etc, and some interesting people as well.
Over the past week my life has fallen into a relatively normal rhythm; work by day, kink by night (of some sort). Which is odd. I work in a profession that..well.. it wouldn’t be the best if people found out what I do in my spare time. My job is pretty open minded, and tends to be inclusive of all types of people. They have no issues with my piercings, or my dyed hair. But I am new at it, and I don’t like taking risks I don’t have to when pay checks are on the line. And I LIKE making big girl paychecks.
So.. my kink world, which is increasingly taking up most of my social life, is kept pretty quiet in my vanilla world, outside of my roommates and some close friends.
The first time I really discussed the idea of anonymity it was at a poly discussion/support group a week ago. A teacher was there, one with a very strict admistration, and she talked about the fear of running into one of her students at something, or worse a parent. It was brought up that if someone went to an event they then wanted to be seen at that event; they’ve opened themselves up to that. That doesn’t help with reactions into the vanilla world, however.
My coworkers must think I’m incredibly boring. Every time they ask what I’m doing for the evening it’s either “Oh, just hanging at my favorite coffee shop to chat with some people” or “grabbing a bite with some friends”. I’ve made myself sound incredibly vanilla… which is probably for the best, because I’m slightly struggling with this split world.
I was involved in the Craft community for a very long time, to the point where I had some damn good connections back east. However, for a very long time of that I existed under this split personality that seems to be forming with my kink life now. In the Pagan/Craft community there is something commonly known as a Craft name, a name that someone was known as in circle, or ritual, or when they went to certain events and socialized with certain people. Their mundane name wouldn’t exist there. I had my Craft name for a good five years, balancing the mundane with magickal training and trying to get my first degree. I wanted to be a high priestess, to teach, but after a while I was so lost in separating the two worlds that they both began to fall apart. I ended up leaving the coven that had become like family to me on bad terms (see previous blog post) and got rid of my Craft name completely. It wasn’t as simple as saying “I’m not known as this anymore.” It was going through and changing Facebook information (Yes, I had a Facebook profile for my Craft name. It still exists somewhere, under the changed name.. I just haven’t gone on it in about two years), going on forums and changing “about me”s, or just deleting everything all together. It was deleting an entire identity, a large part of myself, because I was determined to instead mesh that part of myself with my mundane self and be one awesome magickal person, open about my faith and proud.
Well.. it didn’t exactly work that way. I still very much identify as Pagan, but my practice has been… lacking since I moved out here, for many reasons. But my personal faith is a separate journey in and of itself, this is supposed to be about kink.
Why I ended up going off on this tangent is because I’ve started seeing similarities between my old Craft community and the kink community I’m diving into. Some of the people I’ve met are fucking fantastic, others are eh… but it’s like that in any community.
The big similarity is the cliques, and the incestuous behavior inside of the cliques. Everyone is sleeping with EVERYONE. One group will trash talk this Domme or Dom while another will hold them up on a pedestal. Go to this event, such and such is running it and he’s fantastic. NO don’t go to that he neglects his bottoms and always ends things like this. The same trash talking would happen between high priests and priestesses in different groups back home. It’s why I pulled away from the east coast Craft community, because of the ego trips becoming suddenly more important than the magickal working. It was all about social climbing.
I suppose the ego trips, the cliques, the gossip, they are a part of all of this kink scene. People want to protect partners, either by sending them to good people or sending someone away from another they are trying to protect. Navigating this community may end up making my brain explode if I let myself dive too far in.
I want to meet people, I want to learn, but I have no desire to have it be my only social life. That’s what the coven became, and that wasn’t healthy when I was in it. Replacing that with kink isn’t healthy either. I think.. for now I will be skidding just on the surface of this community. I want to meet and get to know and explore, but actually getting involved with people?
I’ve played a little bit.. it was nice… but it’s hard for me to believe in no strings attached sex. Get deep enough into this community and the strings attached are the chain of command, of the Dom’s other sub who has a sub who has a lover who has a Dom who has a slave…
Head hurt yet?
I need to figure out how much of myself I’m willing to reveal to this world, how much I can combine my vanilla life with my kink life. That will take time.. I want a “normal” kink world, a pattern, a group of people I know and am comfortable with before I fully dive into doing this. I don’t want to always have to be a secret agent Sub, splitting her life in two. Vanilla by day, kink by night.
So, that means more munches, more events, and being careful about who I consider playing with. This means more talks with Sir and trying to understand this world more and more. It’s certainly one that I want to learn to be a part of. I just don’t want to become part of an uberclique.
It’s a definite learning curve. I have to say though, it’s nice to be doing and seeing; nice to find out what’s actually out there, and start thinking about what I would like to be a part of.
Time to go off and do some vanilla activities with my (mostly) vanilla roommate 🙂 We’re off to the museum today!
More later, as always