A Glimpse into Conscious Kink

This past weekend, I engaged in an erotic immersion of heart and body with a lover. We got to spend three solid days of undivided time with each other, exploring our love, our desires, and our arousal.

He is significantly older than me (a fact that we love teasing each other about), and our chemistry is palpable, and deliciously so.

Throughout the course of our relationship, which has been on and off again for the past year, we have seductively joked and jibed about daddy daughter play.

This has always been a place of turn-on and arousal for me, and while I love getting off on it in theory, there has also been something incredibly confronting about the idea of truly bringing it into my sexual experience.

The thing that I’ve always felt about any type of kink or role play, is that often it can feel like just that — playing a role — and I’m only really interested in playing if I truly feel that I can drop into the embodiment of the desired archetype, as if it truly were real.

Same with dom-sub play. I don’t want to “act” like I’m being a sub…I want to be so bought into the dynamic between my play partner and I, so devoted to and captivated by the energy between us, that my being can fully immerse in the experience.

That’s where the turn on is — and anything less than that, I’m not interested.

So we were at the aquarium yesterday, flirting, making out in dark corners amidst otters and jellyfish, teasing about he being my daddy, and I being his daughter.

Each of us getting closer to bringing this story into the bedroom, me feeling the aliveness of it in my body.

So this morning, upon waking up, I could feel the desire arising in my body as I slowly caressed his body with my hand, feeling his erection and arousal engage against my thigh.

I felt myself choosing to opt into my desire, to taking the lead, to taking command of what I wanted, climbing on top of him, inviting him to touch me with his full presence and devotion.

He began to stroke me, gently with his finger, pressing into my luscious wetness or pressing forehead against his, with my head turned slightly to the right.

As I writhed rhythmically against his regal touch, I conjured my willingness and whispered in his ear, “yes daddy, please touch me just like that”.

I could immediately feel his body electrify and engorge with a new level of awareness and and lean in. Yes please, more of this.

He whispered back to me, with pulsing breath, “you’re being such a good little girl”.

Mmmmmm, yes, this place, more of this place please.

There is a deep surrender in allowing myself to be a man’s “little girl”. In a world where women can fight so ferociously for their definition of equality, their right to independence with men….

…it can seem really fucking ironic to not only allow myself to be objectified, but to request and be turned on by it from a full-bodied empowered place.

And the truth is, I can only really do it with a man who I know worships the ground I walk upon. I can’t give myself to a man who doesn’t know the gift I am to have me in the way that he does.

It has taken me a very long time, to learn just how deeply I must be devoted to myself, in order to surrender my body to someone else.

And I am still learning, everyday — I am just graced and blessed to have men in my life who remind me of how much I am worthy of, for those moments where it can be easy or convenient to forget.

I often say to men, when we are talking of my particular flavor of arousal…”Once I know that you truly respect me, then I will beg you to objectify the fuck out of me”.

There is a fine line between surrender and self-abandonment, and the defining feature I find is whether or not my primary commitment is to my own heart and truth, or to gaining the love and approval of another.

I am finding myself in a level personal mastery, which is a constant evolution in process, a game that will never end, with more work always to do….

…that I know myself enough play to consciously in the realms of taboo, because there is something in there that is for me. There is something in their that nourishes me deeply.

And ironically, somehow, in allowing myself to surrender into the role of another person’s little girl, I can feel myself more connected to my embodied woman, more than ever before.

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