When I look at my bedpost, and I see the various chains
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.