I’m kinky. I know it sounds like a sordid confession, but really, it’s a plain and simple fact. I’ve known for a while that I’m kinky, I enjoy a wide variety of activities that make most “vanilla” people look at me like I’m off my bloody gourd when they find out. The thing is, where is the line between vanilla and kink? Is it bondage? What about anal sex? Is any position other than missionary kinky? I’m not quite conservative enough to believe that last one, and I’m pretty sure my love of taking it in the ass isn’t what makes me kinky, although my kinkiness might play into it a bit. The thing is, kink is like the Matrix, when you’re in it, you don’t really see it. You become desensitized to things that the vanilla world might find shocking, and that’s okay. So, why don’t I tell you about some of my more memorable kinky experiences, and let you decide how far into the Kink-Matrix I’ve fallen.

My first experience with pain and pleasure was with solo blood and needle play. I cut myself, always in areas that were safe to cut in, always with a sterile blade, and never beyond the first layer of skin. It hurt, which for me felt incredible. I’m a masochist to the core. It wasn’t a cry for help or an attempt at suicide. I was careful. I won’t go into the reactions my self-harm got from those around me, but I will say that from that experience, I learned to be careful who knew about my kink. Blood play was my first form of masturbation, because manipulating my own genitals never really did it for me, and cutting myself did. Beyond the knives, I also included sterilized sewing needles in my solo-kink. I’d line them up in rows through my arms for the pain and the visual appeal.

For me, kink has always lined up with art in a way. Although the pain is what I desire, I find the visual reminders of that pain to be intensely beautiful. From the bloody lines of a knife stroke, to the red welts left by fingernails or flogger, I can’t help but admire the marks our play leaves on my body and my lover’s. I love beauty in my pain, but I also have a kink for pure art, things that are visually appealing can be a massive turn on for me, even when not much else is. I love how paint on skin looks, when it’s there to be beautiful. A haphazard splash of paint, on hands, face, or body can catch my eye like nothing else. It says, “this is an artist.” I look at the smooth expanse of my lover’s back, and I can’t help seeing a perfect canvas for my paint or my nails. A good tattoo can tempt my hands and my tongue to worship it. Art and the creation thereof, no matter if it’s traditionally considered art, or just beautiful nonsense, appeals to me.

Sometimes the kink is unintentional. Once I was with my lover on a cold night. We’d been outside, and I’d been drinking a cold soda on top of that. One thing lead to another, and we ended up fooling around. But instead of having me warm my hands up before I touched him, he asked me to touch him with my hands still icy cold. The entire thing degenerated into a temperature play scene from there, and although I already knew he liked cold sensations, I learned exactly how much.

I’m a masochist through and through. Perhaps one of my most memorable kink experiences was when my lover was learning to use a crop and a flogger. Our mentor showed him how to use each one, then gave them to him to use them on me. Before that, he’d been afraid to try impact play beyond using his hand on my ass, because he was afraid he’d do me harm rather than cause pleasurable pain. It didn’t take him long at all, once he figured out what he was doing, to pick up the proper technique for using each implement of pain. By the end of the night I had welts, bruises, and enough orgasms to leave even me sated and sleepy. He’d gotten me so deep into sub-space I probably would have done anything he’d asked at the drop of a hat, but he never asked anything unreasonable of me. For that, he has my trust.

Just as good as being flogged myself is flogging him. I like to have him bound, so he can’t move while I work on him, even if that binding is just my command to not move. It’s best when his hands are spread above his head. The noises he makes when the flogger strokes his skin are music to me, and the trust he places in me is perhaps the greatest rush of them all.

We’ve also taken turns with a knife, or at least what the other believes at the time to be a knife, tracing patterns on each other’s skin. There’s an inherent thrill to the danger, or perceived danger, presented by a sharp blade that close to your skin.

I’ve been bound, both with simple bindings and elaborate rope work, and I’ve had my lover bound. We’ve done sensation play scenes where one or the other of us is bound, blindfolded, and the other is free to use any toy in the box on them, from vibrators to folding lace fans.

Then there are scenes that push the boundaries of normal behavior. I’d be a liar if I claimed I didn’t enjoy a little force fantasy from time to time, although ours tend to run closer to the “forceful seduction” end of the spectrum than the violent force end. The particular scene I have in mind started as a battle for dominance, progressed through him pinning me and touching me until I gave in, and ended with me begging him to fuck my ass.

Besides all that, I’m also into being a human animal. I like being kept on a leash and given commands; I like to leash him and command him, and I also like it when he is an animal with me. I like to nuzzle, lick, purr, growl, bite, and nicker. I don’t really identify with one single animal in this headspace, it’s more like a mix of animals that I feel a certain kinship to. Sometimes it’s nice to not have to be human with all the messy expectations that entails, though. To be able to play and fuck without letting the human mind get in the way, just for a little while can be a wonderful kind of release.

So there’s a little glimpse into a few of my kinks. In the interest of keeping this article from running away with me, I’ll stop here. So, how far into the Kink-Matrix have I traveled, would you say? Am I fairly vanilla, or super kinky? Or are you so far into the Kink-Matrix you can’t tell either? There are all kinds of people out there with all kinds of kinks, so I guess it’s really difficult to tell.