The emotional downside of kink.
Since the erotica novel Fifty Shades of Grey continues to soar in sales and in the imaginations of many women and their men, I thought it might be interesting to share a man’s perspective, this man’s perspective on the issue of dominance and submission.
My previous article on “The Ravish Me Fantasy” provides a more psychological exploration. This one is a bit more personal. And it comes from my experience of being with a woman who wanted to be dominated, not from a man who necessarily wanted to dominate, at least not full-time.
It’s been well over a dozen years and I playfully think of this woman as my tie-me-up girl. I don’t mean offense or to be disparaging, it’s just a nickname. And girl seems to fit the rhythm of the name more than woman, though she was all woman, believe me. (The topic of nicknames for current and, perhaps more interestingly, previous relationships might make another heated topic for a later post.)
This woman was intelligent (in a doctoral program), sharp, beautiful, had an accent and lived on the beach. So far, so good. Nice qualities and a few extra perks.
We dated, seemed to have good chemistry and then one night on her sofa, things began to get a little more heated. It definitely felt like the night we would make love for the first time.
There weren’t many clothes left on by that point as best as I can remember. The interesting thing to me was that she continued to turn her back to me, waving her ass in my face, rubbing it against me.
Personally, I like to look at the person I’m having sex with more often than not and certainly during our first encounter. Nothing wrong with different positions, just my preference, at least when I’m first getting to know someone.
Not that the view of her rear wasn’t awe inspiring. She really did have a lovely ass—she bicycled around the beach all the time and it definitely showed on her firm posterior .
She began to encourage me to be a little rougher, first by thrusting herself against me firmly and then with pleas to “smack my butt, pull my hair, grab my arms and hold them behind me in your big hands, wrap your fingers around my throat and tell me what you want and you can have it. Anything. Anywhere.”
It was incredibly arousing, intense, powerful, passionate. It was also a bit of a challenge for a man with only two hands and one penis. Fortunately I’m somewhat ambidextrous.
During later times together, she introduced me to some of her more interesting restraints and toys and I came to understand a little bit more of the intricacies of the bondage and domination subculture. Alas, I was never going to truly master it (pun intended).
This post isn’t a Fifty Shades of Grey story however, and while my erotica writing skills aren’t bad for an amateur, I won’t go further into it here. Consider this a teaser.
Suffice to say, my perspective of sexual intimacy was widened. There was just one problem, a fairly big one. This was the only way she wanted to make love, the only way she could enjoy sex.
And for me, while it was an interesting adventure and learning experience, it wasn’t my particular flavor of kink. After a few weeks, it became arduous, tedious and rote. Now I’m not judging those who are into this, I’m only saying that I discovered that I wasn’t. Now and then, sure, but it wasn’t the steady sexual diet best suited for feeding my soul.
I learned a great deal about myself during the process of our relationship. I got in touch with that part of me that wants to dominate and be in charge. I felt the power of it and was completely enraptured with it. I lost myself in it for awhile and that was both an enriching and terrifying experience. Is this the real me? Or just one aspect?
The real perk was that I got in touch with a deep part of me, my repressed anger. In mutually consenting sex play, I got to work out some of that anger physically, which was extremely powerful. Not to be too Freudian, but I believe that I came face-to-face with some of my mother issues, some of my deep resentments from childhood.
And once I connected to that and released a chunk of the past, I lost interest in the dance of domination. And since that was what my partner needed more than a life partner, we soon went our separate ways.
There was one thing that she shared that I will always remember. It was extremely insightful to me and perhaps it may be helpful to others who read this compassionately. She was extremely bright and self-aware.
She remarked one night that she knew that being tied-up, being submissive, being physically vulnerable created a false (her words) sense of emotional intimacy and connection with her dominating partner. And like all of us (my words), it’s that intimacy we are ultimately craving.
After we broke up, I heard of her through the grapevine from time to time, though the news usually saddened me a bit. She still danced to the same tune. She seemed to have needed to escalate into higher and higher risk behaviors to keep the intimacy going though.
It’s her path, I do my best not to judge it. I’m here to figure out how best to live my life and so is she. I learned a lot about myself from her.
Thank you so much, my tie-me-up girl.
~Editor: Lori Lothian
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