An explanation, then. A mission statement. This blog is here to follow me into the first relationship I've ever had that contains solid components of BDSM. I don't wish to mislead; this is not to say that I have never been involved in BDSM before, that I've never been part of a scene, that I've never experienced the dynamic. However, in my personal past, kink and relationships--or even kink and sex--have for the most part remained separate entities. For the first time, I am integrating. And, for whatever reason, I have decided that this is an experience to be shared.
It bears mentioning that the intent of Kai Under Ground is not to be a source of erotica. Rather, it is a chronicle of events, philosophies, and experiences. Perhaps this is something that doesn't need to be said. Can't hurt, though... saying "This is not porn!" from the get-go means I won't have to say it later. In theory, anyway.
But for this to begin properly at all, I need to set down a history. People are, after all, a sum of their past experiences, and things I do now can only make more sense in light of things that have already happened. I started learning about kink in my first year of college, as part of a kink/BDSM club on campus. I didn't really know what I was doing there, but I went with a friend who really wanted to go, and for some reason or another it clicked. Not right away, necessarily... more like winding a clock, where it takes a little while to get it going, but once everything is aligned correctly it runs. This is where I picked up the essentials of play: setting down ground rules, setting a safeword, trying new things responsibly, where to hit and where not to hit. To use paraffin wax instead of beeswax so that I wouldn't get burned. To make sure I could move all of my joints when I was tied, so that I wouldn't lose circulation. To trust my partner.
The club was a discussion group of equals (more or less), some of whom had more experience than others, some of whom were more interested in learning than practicing. They threw invitation-only play parties on a few occasions, and other friends of mine threw their own even more selective parties in their dorms. I had a few play partners during those four years, none of whom was a significant other. We laid a lot of ground-rules, and in most cases the play stayed relatively non-sexual as we were not in sexual relationships with each other. This was all right for me. At the time, I considered myself a switch who just happened to spend all of my time on the submissive end of play. I figured this to be true because I did not consider my non-play personality to be particularly submissive. I wouldn't say that I was particularly dominant in the day-to-day either, but I liked my control and I never felt like submitting to my partners overmuch outside of our scenes. I was very careful, particularly in my first year, to delineate: play is play... everything else is separate; I will not submit to you outside of a scene, and you will not expect me to or ask it of me.
Perhaps it is also of significance that until I had been at college for the better part of a year, I didn't like to be touched by people I wasn't very, very comfortable with. This has changed since then, but probably wouldn't have if it weren't for garnering a very physical group of friends who taught me to do things like lie in a big pile of people on the floor and give thoroughly unnecessary amounts of hugs. In play, it was a rule of mine for a long while that I had to remain fully clothed below the waist. I was a virgin who wasn't good at the whole dating/relationship thing, and the way I played with my friends--even after they trained a lot of the physical apprehension out of me--strongly reflected that.
I said earlier that kink tended to remain separate from sex and relationships, which is perhaps the most important thing I can say in this history. The play partners I had in school were not the people I dated or the people I slept with. In fact, my first college boyfriend had an extremely strong aversion to BDSM activities--even just light bondage--and in the years after graduation I never once ended up with a sexual partner with any kind of tangible kink side. In a nutshell, I would ask the person I was with if they had any kinks or fetishes, they would shrug and say that they didn't, and I would let it lie. I didn't *need* kink in order to enjoy sex, and so I filed it away in the part of my brain that had to do with things-from-college-that-were-fun-but-are-no-longer-relevant.
And then my current partner brought it all back.
He is, as it happens, someone from my college years... but not someone who was at all affiliated with my kink circle. I didn't learn until years later--when I was on the other end of the world, no less--that he even had an interest, and our "innocent" conversations about sex toys and BDSM gear made me realize suddenly that I missed having it in my life. Sure, I didn't need it, but having it re-framed and re-presented to me made me wish that I could have it back. He asked if when we saw each other again I would like to scene with him.
I don't think either of us expected me to say yes.
Shows how much we knew.
So here is where I stand now: I am a submissive. For the first time in several years, I have a boyfriend. He is also my dominant. I am learning, somewhat slowly, what it means to not only maintain a single play partner (as opposed to playing with someone new each time), but what it means for that play partner to also be one's significant other. (I am, for that matter, learning what it means to maintain a boyfriend, as this has been neither a trend nor a strong point for me in the past.) He has had D/S relationships before; I have not. He has a deeper history with kink than I do. And... here we are.
This is Kai Under Ground.
(For those who wish to follow my partner as well, take a look at his blog over at http://deepthoughtsandjournies.blogspot.com/)
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