I think I was always destined to find my way into kink, it just took a lot longer than I would have liked, for various reasons. I remember being 16, exploring sexuality for the first time, losing my virginity to a boy I thought I loved, and wanting so much more than just the traditional vanilla lifestyle he seemed content to thrive in. I wasn’t even sure what I did want, only that it was far from whatever he could offer. What he considered passionate lovemaking bored me to tears. I wanted to be broken, he thought that meant I was.
I understood that monogamy was the norm, yet the idea of only being able to share intimate experiences with one fellow human was far from romantic, it depressed me to the core. I knew I didn’t want to marry him, have boring sex in missionary position twice a week, and live happily ever after in a house in the suburbs, surrounded by a white picket fence.
I didn’t know quite how to explain this in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings. I suggested that he try seeing other people, expand his experiences (secretly hoping that maybe if he fucked enough people he could get better at it), but he wanted only me. It made me wonder if I was selfish, or cruel, or simply incapable of love, at least the sort that everyone else seemingly wanted.
When I eventually grew tired of pretending, and broke his heart unceremoniously, it felt like I had set myself free. I rushed to seek out new experiences with others, and in my eagerness to do so, inadvertently broke his heart a second time. I wish I could have known better. Years later when a boy finally shattered me, a part of me believed it was redemption. Ah, so this is what it felt like. I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry.
It’s hard to explain why I’m utterly enamoured by someone who loves to mark my body with bruises. It was different this time, he wasn’t a boy cautiously testing the waters, weary of hurting me. He wanted to hurt me, and he knew how to do it confidently. I don’t like to submit easily, which makes the power exchange all the more thrilling for the both of us. I was no longer shamed for my deviance, he cherished and actively encouraged my perversions. When I expressed my desire to be tied, he had no qualms with me exploring the wonderful world of shibari with others.
This is what I had always known that I wanted, all along. A trust and connection so deep that didn’t feel threatened by other meaningful experiences. Someone who understood me and my desire to grow beyond the boundaries of our own intimacy. It takes time and faith to build the sort of trust that allows for such a bond, and I’m still always torn between wanting to share this aspect of my life and feeling like I should hide it from the world, as if it could be used against me in some way. But I like the life I’ve built, the friends I’ve kept, and the past no longer haunts me.
I am bound to him, yet I am free.