I was asked the most basic of questions today:
“What do you enjoy?”
And I realised I have no fucking idea.
I don’t think the gentleman who asked the question realised that it was possible for me to have no fucking idea and it threw him for a loop.
So he rephrased the question in a way that he thought would make more sense to me:
“Surely there are things you like and things you don’t like. You have a list of stuff that is off the table as far as play is concerned, don’t you?”
So I started thinking about things I’d rather not have happen like have needles stuck into me or be licked but I couldn’t decide whether they were things I hated or things I liked hating.
That’s the thing, you see, when you have an endurance kink. Having things you hate doing and having to do them anyway feeds your kink. But it’s really hard to ask for things you hate. It’s hard to ask to be forced to do things you don’t want to do. And believe me when I say I really don’t want to have to do these things…but at the same time I do.
I don’t know how to explain that to someone. Someone who thinks choice is very important and that everyone should enjoy what is happening. My world is not quite like that.
So I said something that I thought might explain my reluctance to rattle off my imaginary list of likes and dislikes:
I haven’t really been in a position to choose what has happened to me.
And he gave me a look that made me think, holy crap, so that’s what this slavery thing looks like from the outside!
He is not a vanilla person and has a very deviant mind, but he’s never been down the path of ownership or slavery and while he enjoys a mind-fuck as much as the next person, he probably doesn’t realise what years of choosing not to have a choice does to you.
And seeing myself through his eyes today made me realise for the first time that I’ve had some conditioning done upstairs and rewriting that might take a while.
Actually, if I’d been paying attention, I would have realised that my inability to fill out my fetlife profile with an extensive list of ‘into’s and ‘like’s is because all of those things are just things that happen to me and my choice not to have a choice precludes having a list of likes and dislikes.
But I decided to throw him a bone.
I like bondage.
With what? Rope? Leather? Metal? Cuffs? Wooden restraints? With what?
It’s all fine.
And then what? Flogging? Crops? Canes? Whips?
They all hurt.
And what else? Oral sex? Anal sex? Butt plugs? Fisting?
Well, it’s all stuff I’ve done.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I don’t like anything and that’s exactly how I like things to be.
But after pondering my seemingly noncommittal answers he said something that threw me for a loop.
“You need to give yourself permission to enjoy the things you like.”
But doing that means giving up control and I don’t think to this day, after 9 years and 2 M/s relationships, that I’ve ever really unwound that tight little string I have tied around myself. It’s the string that for some reason doesn’t think I’m worthy of having enjoyment of that kind and keeps me in that state of not wanting to react, not wanting to give in and enjoy.
But I wonder if that string is actually how I do give myself enjoyment. Is it wrapped around me to feed my need for endurance or did I develop the endurance thing because the string was there and there was nothing I could do about it?
Chicken or the egg? Kink or the string? It’s all swings and roundabouts.