When I look at my bedpost, and I see the various chains, cuffs, belts, restraints, straps and everything hanging off of it, I can’t help but ask myself why I still think of all this, why it all holds such fascination for me.

There’s a show on TV called Kink, and it’s an exploration of the bdsm scene, although most of the scenes I’ve watched have focused more on s/m than anything else. In any case, it jogs my memory, quite often.

When I first moved to Toronto, about a year ago, I met up with one of my old online buddies from the #femdom channel. We sat, chatted, reminisced older times, and discussed the current state of the scene, as it were.

Even online, when we chatted a few days later, he jokingly introduced me to people as the kid who snuck into the channel when he was fourteen.

It amazes me that I’m still drawn to it, that it’s still under my skin.

I forgot what subspace was, I think. I forgot the mindset, the desire to serve, to please, to do anything but be in control, be responsible.

I forgot what it’s like when your back stings, when your breath is forced out of you with a hiss.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s still in me, if I still need it.

It’s not like being bitten by a bug, I don’t think. It’s not a fetish for me, it’s not a kink. It’s a very real, very powerful part of who I am… And I’ve lived the last few years without that part, I think. Without thinking about it, without feeling it, without indulging it.

I think I would like that to change in the near future. I’m not certain. I think I owe it to the sixteen year-old I used to know, though.