The Paradox of Hedonism

Sex has been my obsession ever since I discovered the missionary position. It’s intense. It’s raw. It’s where I become free. Even when I was a bumbling 20-something, it could melt away my shyness in under 20 seconds. I went from a submissive Cinderella to a sluttish vixen the second my clothes came off. Kink became a way to amplify the intensity and find sexuality’s many alter-egos.

Kink was scary and delicious. It turned a simple act into an adventure, so of course I fell in love with it. The things that terrified me compelled me the most, but they also made me feel more distant from my partners. Romance disappeared, and sex became ugly and dark.

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My first encounter with BDSM felt like being dropped into a pool of lust so hot I couldn’t move. It was one of my life’s most unforgettable moments, and it came with kinks that had no ugliness or distance at all. Power exchange was as romantic as any fairy-tale. It intensified closeness instead of destroying it.

My response to power exchange was intensely sexual. I will never be one of those bottoms who can accept a flogging from someone she’s not attracted to. It would be too much of a mind fuck for me because BDSM will always be about sex for me. I’ll be begging for it 10 seconds before that toy even touches me.

I don’t get a philosophical kick out of obedience or submit because having my life managed by a dom makes me feel safe. I can’t respect myself if a man is managing my life. It would snuff out my very soul. I submit because I find it to be sexier than any other kink. If that makes my role a shallow one, that’s okay with me because I’m not here to make the peanut gallery happy. I’m here for love: for a partner and for myself.

Fetlife has come a long way since I joined three years ago. Back then, you could expect K&P chaos if you described your submission in less than subservient terms. Sex was a solemn business, and if you didn’t fuck right, you were destroying The Church of BDSM forever. These days, I see the boundaries between one label and the next melting away. People experiment with any kinks that compel them, regardless of which side of the slash they fall. And so, today, I get to define what power exchange means to me without getting my bruised ass handed to me.

Maybe I’m not a sub at all. Not in any traditional way, but neither are you. Every relationship must settle into itself uniquely or there will be no meaning in it, and I’m finally good with that because this is meant to be fun. Surely?

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