My Life BK (Before Kink)

For me, there is no zero year with my kink. Just as in the transition from BC to AD, my life pre-kink stopped one moment and my life with kink started the next. There was not gradual wading in of the waters until I became fully submerged. There was no lengthy transition from one paradigm to another.

One day I was vanilla. The next? Not so much.

When I look back at my life BK (Before Kink), it was a pretty typical vanilla life for a housewife and mother. I was a stay at home mom with little ones. We went to Church, I did class projects with the kids and new the Martha Stewart mantra so well I could recite it in my sleep. I baked (holy shit did I ever bake).. I could sew.. and I could even crochet and knit. I positively loved caring for my children and my family. I invested myself fully in caring for them.

My marriage was really dissolving though around me. In all honesty, it had been for some time. The Little Suzy Homemaker in me thought I could just hold it together til the kids were grown. Naive? Hell to the yes. My exhubby and I rarely fought - very, very rarely. Maybe if we had, we would have communicated our needs more clearly? Maybe.. maybe not.

There came a point though when we were were surviving in the marriage just so it would survive. Neither of us was really actively participating in a relationship with the other. I joke sometimes and say he had the penis falling off disease.. you know, where his weiner would just fall off into whatever vagina was standing still long enough near it. The truth of the matter is this - if our relationship were truly solid, he wouldn't have wanted that.. There was just something missing.

There was a point in time (I think when his mistress was calling the house and I was taking messages from her for him) that I realized just how anesthetized I had become to the emptiness in my relationship. I realized that I had gone so far as to realize my husband having a mistress blatantly didnt bother me so long as he didnt want that affection from me. That was when I knew.

We separated shortly thereafter. That was such a scary, nervous time for me. He had been my guy since I was 16. We got our driver's licenses together. He hassled me at my first job. I was the one that told him his father died. He taught me how to drive a stick shift and to race a car. I taught him to enjoy jazz and old films. We just grew up together - and now he was gone.

During the WK (With Kink) years, there are things he has done that were hurtful, disappointing and made me outright angry. But still, when I see him, I think of us as kids. I think of him with those goofy ass glasses and that cowboy hat on. I think of riding with him in that 69 GTO and.. actually riding him IN the 69 GTO (although, anymore, I really try to not think about that part).

Shortly after we split up, I met a man. This man said I was very submissive. I took that to be an insult and we had words. Who did he think I was exactly? I had spent so much of my life merely surviving, I didn't see my submission for the act of submitting. I didn't see my very nature was to serve the ones I loved.

But he did. In fact, he planted a seed that day. That was the moment whether I knew it at the time or not. I despised that man for saying I was submissive. Nonetheless, I kept circling back to investigate him. I would swoop in, deny-deny-deny and then run away. In hindsight, he knew exactly what I was doing. I think somewhere in my brain there was this notion going on that if I just denied hard enough it wouldn't be so.

He would say brutally hurtful things to me. They would enrage me and fill me self-righteous indignation. And while the things he said were way over the top, there were tiny little morsels of truth in them. Tiny little nuggets that festered in my brain. (Isn't this where we touch on female emotional masochism???? Yes, but I like my clit. Just sayin.)

My conversations with this man began to shift the ground under my feet like loose sand. The harder I tried to maintain that measure of personal space, he eroded it. I kept trying to keep my stance and my back straight, but each conversation shift level until I was on my knees.

The funny thing is.. he wasn't particularly nice to me. I think that if he had been, I'd have disregarded him immediately. I needed sincerity. I needed honesty. I didn't want (not really now either) that feeling that this is ass kissing with an agenda. He felt I was too willful.. too self centered..and rude.

And I was (some might say, and that's changed???).

He had a cure though in his mind. The instruction would ring out - bark for me five times.

No.

Do it girl.

Hell no. (start back at the beginning now)

Our conversations did that type of dance for months. He was so doggedly persistent. So was I though.. I had absolutely not a single, solitary intention of EVER giving that man the satisfaction of even thinking I would do that for him.

Hell to the no.

And then, I did. I did it because I had a need. I had had that need since he planted that seed whether I wanted to or not. I did it because keeping that strong willed son-of-a-bitch in my life became more important than my own ego. From there, everything changed. Or well, I thought everything changed. Every last thing changed after the infamous closet time but that was still six months out.

And so, my life WK continued at least so far as I was aware of it. We'd been in the WK time for quite a bit even though I was oblivious to it. There were tasks and assignments none of which I liked. None of which I had any desire to do whatsoever.

But I did. I was possessed. He had managed to put a stranglehold on me in a way that held me confined within his grasp and I liked it. From there, I would never be able to successfully go back to vanilla again.

From there, my life with kink began.