Just a note before my regular entry to let you know that I’ll be attending South Plains Leather Fest from Thursday, March 21st through Monday, March 25th. I doubt this will impact next week’s entry, but there’s a slight chance my next post may drop a day or two late. If anyone is headed to SPLF this year, let me know! I love connecting with readers!
For many of us, kink is liberating and empowering. In kink spaces, we feel as if we are able to be our “authentic selves” and “walk in our truths.” I remember the time I attended my first large, national kink conference. I walked into the largest dungeon space I had ever seen, and it if felt like walking into Willy Wonka’s factory. I felt like I was “home.” I’d felt that in smaller dungeon spaces, but never at this magnitude. It was inspiring and intensely powerful.
If we’re fortunate enough to have consistently good kink experiences, that feeling of “home” intensifies and becomes more complex – and hopefully you find a larger community that you can support and be supported by. You volunteer. You teach. You learn. Instead of just getting the endorphin hits of singular scenes, you find a deeper sense of satisfaction and belonging. And If you have the privilege of being in a good kink relationship, that feeling increases even more. When the relationship is authority based, the structures of protocols and service further intensify feelings of authenticity and belonging.
When these relationships work well, it seems as if we have cracked some kind of code that eludes “the vanillas” or the “norms.” We think we’ve “solved” something because our communication is open and transparent, and because in our negotiations we have created what, on the surface, seems to be a deeper trust than what seems to be the case in either vanilla relationships. It’s a tempting opinion, really, especially when you’re in an authority-based relationship. It’s easy to fall into a feeling of superiority, forgetting that vanilla is a flavor, too; and also forgetting that what often burns brighter, also burns faster … requiring a lot more fuel to keep it alight.
The fact that kinky relationships are not mainstream makes it easy to fall into an exceptionalism that can skew our perspectives, tempting us toward all kinds of fallacies, and not realizing that kink relationships are actually more work than vanilla relationships, or that they don’t require a very special kind of attention and care to thrive. No deep, lasting relationship with any level of intimacy can simply fly on autopilot. But in authority-exchange relationships, the existence of regular protocols, and the natural rhythms that develop from them, can often lull us into inattention in the guise of repetition and routine.
We can’t put D/s, M/s, or even DD/lg relationships on autopilot. They require cultivation and regular self-check-ins to make sure that things aren’t stagnating. If love is involved in our authority exchange, then we have to be even more vigilant that we’re not taking our partners or the power that’s being transferred/exchanged for granted. We have to make sure that there is a center – a core – that guides what we do.
Of course, not every kink relationship needs the deepest introspection. There’s room here for casual play partners and/or those with whom we negotiate on-the-fly in pick-up scenes. Sometimes you just want to flog or be flogged. Sometimes you just need that rush of the new and spontaneous. Sometimes you just need to fuck. And that is totally fine (and in my opinion, healthy). But if you’re committed to another kinkster for the long haul, when words like “Master,” “slave,” “Owner,” “owned,” and “property” enter the mix, you’re signing on for something that transcends those titles, and the roles that we associate with them. Otherwise we’re simply play-acting and role-playing at the very least; becoming co-dependent at the worst.
The long-term (ones lasting several years) M/s and D/s relationships I’ve had the privilege of witnessing have withstood the test of time because the individuals within them have committed to something higher than their kink. That is to say, they have not made kink, leather, M/s, D/s, or any other authority-based variation into their identities. Their egos are not wrapped up in — or been assimilated into — the title, role, or kink they’re involved in. There is a higher purpose to what they do that is deeply personal to them. Their kink is an aspect of that higher purpose – or a vehicle through which it may be achieved, but it is not who they are.
Even for leather or Gorean folx there’s something deeper than just the labels, protocols, hierarchies, and roles. I’ve been to plenty of leather conferences, and the “we are leather” vibes are strong. But after befriending many in the leather community, and watching how they – how we – create a certain kind of chosen family, it becomes clear that the core of what has been created there is transcendent. The pomp and ceremony, those structures, the titles, the language – all of it – is a means of outwardly acknowledging and paying homage and tribute to the higher ideals and deeper values that are part of each family, each house, and the larger community. The traditions become a means of remembering and acknowledging the history that has come before and the people within, to their camaraderie and to their values.
But it does make sense how outer trappings and the intensity of the feelings they evoke can tempt us into making [insert your kink here] into a kind of panacea or “solution” to issues we may be carrying. Even those of us – like myself – who see kink (particularly M/s relationships) – as a spiritual exercise, can be tempted to lean on the rituals, protocols, or service as answers rather than vehicles toward a higher purpose, one that you hopefully share with your partner(s).
Being a “Master” or a “slave” or a “Big” or a “little” is not a replacement for being a “partner.” Those roles, titles, protocols, etc. are all aspects and dimensions of our partnerships, and ways for us to grow closer and evolve. Your partner – be it in a kinky or vanilla relationship – is not responsible for giving you a personality or a core set of values. Even in total-power-exchange (TPE) relationships, all parties involved have arrived there with a shared set of values. The property may have given up all its claims to any kind of autonomy, but it didn’t arrive there in a vacuum. It was called to do so, just as its owner was called to take on and care for it. You can be someone’s Master, slave, Owner, property, little, Daddy/Mommy, but those roles and responsibilities that go with them do equal a self.
If you’re lost, your kink is not going to bring you back to yourself. It won’t save your relationships. It won’t “fix” you. Your Master (or your slave) is not your therapist. Yes, kink can be therapeutic, but is it most definitely not therapy. A scene will not “put you right” if something deeper is wrong, rotten, or otherwise unstable.
Most experienced kinksters can recognize when they shouldn’t engage in a scene. If one is physically impaired, or is angry, or is simply not in the right “headspace,” we will most often — for the safety of ourselves and others — refrain from playing until we’re in a better space. We know the difference between “disciplining” our submissives or slaves and being angry at them; and, hopefully, we won’t play with them when we’re in an angry space that might affect our judgement. We refrain from play in these circumstances because we know that we don’t have the wherewithal to be “present” either topping or bottoming. We recognize that we don’t have a stable enough base to keep us steady.
We can apply this common-sense approach to scening to the broader context of kink relationships in general. No, we need not be completely self-actualized or otherwise enlightened to play. Our kink can actually become an aspect of what gets us to those states. But we do need to be on solid footing, at least, to engage in the journey. We need solid ground on which to stand if we intend to lift ourselves, our partners, and the relationship we build together.