Returning to Kink and Choosing to Trust Again

It’s not hard to go back to a more vanilla life. It’s not hard to have wonderful sex with your husband that still fulfills you in so many ways, even if it’s not kinky. It’s not hard to have to ask lovers to be choked, to have your hair pulled, or to be smacked around.

It’s not hard to accept that your lover is calling you a good girl, or telling you that you should cum for them, mainly because they know that you like it. And you liking things gets them off, even if it’s not really their normal go-to activity in bed.

It’s not hard to live with less kink, less surrender, less power exchange. Life goes on. Kinky relationships can turn from lovers into friends. My intimacy level with Harvey is nowhere near what it used to be, but I’m still so grateful for those approximately 6 years and how he started me on my submissive discovery and sexual awakening. The same goes for my other kinky relationships. They were great while they lasted, and then they stopped, and that’s ok.

Everything sort of ended at the same time. The Boy and I fell apart and then everything else was just sort of … done. My romantic life (outside of my happy marriage, of course) was in flames and it meant that I barely noticed when submissive Samantha and I parted ways. Living without her became normal.

I spent so much time in my cynicism and depression that the idea of trusting humans again for things as simple as dinner dates seemed hard enough, never mind the idea of surrendering my control to a person who was inevitably (in my head, anyway) going to discard me when they felt I no longer served a purpose in their life. I grew comfortable again in my vanilla-ish life, noting, of course, that when I say vanilla-ish, it’s still much less vanilla than your regular vanilla, and also noting, of course, that there’s nothing wrong with any and all types of vanilla.

On my second date with Ethan in February we went to Oasis. I put his hand on the back of my head and made him squeeze. It was the first time in months that I had felt any real desire to have somebody dominate me. He took to it so easily and so wonderfully, his intuition kicking in and showing me what a wonderful lover he could be (and still is), that I started to feel that I could trust again, while I also told myself that I didn’t necessarily need to in that way.

I told myself that I didn’t need kink, because in the majority of my life, I don’t really. I can still function easily in life without being told I’m a good girl. I don’t need a dominant’s praise to do my jobs or get shit done. I always get shit done. I’m a woman with a million projects on the go, and I don’t need to be told to do things to please anyone else. I do things because they please me. I enjoy making other people happy because I’m good at it; I’m a facilitator of good times and I genuinely give a damn and that makes me happy.

I don’t need kink, right?

… right??

Well, let me think about this. I also don’t need to wear nail polish or wear my eyeliner the way that I usually do. Of course I could function normally in society without them both. I would be a perfectly fine human if my makeup was different or I never wore gold glitter on my ring fingers. I could wake up in the morning and make it through my day, and the world wouldn’t fall to pieces. I’d still accomplish things and have a good time.

Though, here’s the thing, I’m happier with ridiculous colours on my nails, wings on my eyes, and a hand on my throat. I’m lying if I say that I’m not. I’m lying if I say that life isn’t just a little bit easier when I know that I’m making a lover proud. And not in the same wonderful way that I make my husband proud. Not in the way that I make my friends proud, if that’s even a thing that happens. But, in a way that connects deep down to the girl I am in my most vulnerably strong state.

Because in that state, I can let go. I can stop worrying about details and projects and even whether or not I’m happy (though that’s always a consideration at the back of my mind). I can simply focus on the space I am occupying with my lover. I can focus on nothing more than their words, their breath, their touch. I can surrender to the trust that I feel, and am constantly building, with them. I can stop asking myself if they’re a good partner and respecting my needs, and just shut down all those inner voices that are constantly wondering, constantly analyzing, and constantly driving me crazy. After so many years on this planet, I’m a good judge of character and I know and have to believe that. I choose to believe that.

They will listen to me when I tell them things that are important to me. They will consider my wants, needs, likes, and dislikes to be important. They will know when I can be pushed and am only resisting the challenge because I’m feeling more vulnerable than I’m currently used to, and they will know – or at least will listen to me when I tell them – when I can’t go on any more. They will let me break and help me back up because it feels good and that’s enough of a reason.

They will let me worship them because I want to. I want to embrace how ridiculous, yet sexy, it feels to follow another person’s instructions, from the complicated or challenging to the most mundane and simple. I want to not worry about anything else besides doing a good job with their cock in my face, or paying attention to the words that I use, because we’ve decided in our little world together that this is important.

And they will take care of me and treat me as their own because it makes them feel special to make me feel special, whether that’s with cuddles and praise or punishment and pain. It’s a back and forth. A beautiful dance that we do together, playing off each other’s strengths, sharing our weaknesses, the dominant taking care of the submissive, while the submissive in turn takes care of the dominant.

One doesn’t work without the other. And, as far as I’ve been concerned in the past few months, Samantha the submissive hasn’t even existed. She’s been put away in a box in the basement, hoping to be dusted off should the opportunity arise, but accepting that she might just stay down there forever.

Until now.

Until one short, but perfect okCupid message got my attention in the middle of a crowded sea of “Hey how are you?”. James comes with a catch, a glaring and obvious downside, but the new man in my life has rescued me from the basement. He’s showing me that it’s ok to trust my submissive self to make decisions again. That it’s ok to surrender control occasionally / sometimes / always. He knows how to make my body buzz with anticipation for days and says the most genuine, heartfelt, and sexy compliments, that sometimes I can’t even breathe. I can’t breathe because suddenly the side of me that I told myself I could live without? She’s back. She is as much a part of my being as the vanilla powerhouse that tries hard to ignore her presence. And in only a week, he’s offered me so much potential that I’m ready to jump.

I’m ready to choose to trust again, and, while I don’t think that it will be, I acknowledge that it’s entirely possible that my trust could be broken down the road. Should that happen, I will deal with it. I haven’t known James long enough to know if trusting him is wise, based on experience. What matters now though is the freedom I’m feeling to make that choice. Allowing for the surrender. Welcoming the possibilities. Awakening my sexuality at its very core, an action that is spilling over into my interactions with all the lovers in my life.

I’m ready for the vulnerability, the praise, the punishment, the training. I’m ready to fuck up simple instructions and get them wrong, even if I might think those instructions are silly when in a non-submissive headspace. I’m ready to do them well and keep trying to do them better. I’m ready to be two normal, goofy humans one second, and a stern Daddy and eager babygirl the next.

I’m ready to admit that living without submissive Samantha was easy, but never complete. I’m ready to be whole again.

*Addendum: As you may have read in a more recent post, things with James have ended and transitioned to friends. But someone new has picked up the kinky baton. And life goes on. 🙂