Kink: Not Your Typical Extracurricular

FEATURE | ISSUE ELEVEN | MAHIMAHI / SEX

Written by Froth (any/all) | Contributing Writer

Illustrated by Tashi Donnelly (she/her) | @tashi_rd | Editor-in-Chief

Kink. There are many different perceptions of that word. Some see it as a BookTok staple: muscular men in scream masks pinning you down. Maybe it’s something to try out on an adventurous weekend. Others see it as taboo, “weird sex shit.” Personally, kink is a staple part of my life and of my identity. It isn’t a hat I put on and take off willy-nilly, and it isn’t just something to do when I’m bored. My dynamic is 24/7; my kinkiness is carried with me everywhere I go and into everything I do. It’s what I bring to the table even in my vanilla life. It’s how I’ve learned to communicate so clearly across contexts and why I’ve grown so much more confident in advocating for myself and what I need.

Every morning I wake up, roll out of bed, same as most students. But before I get dressed for the day, I pick out two jumpers and ask my D-type to choose which one I will wear. (Within a kink relationship, also known as a dynamic, a “D-type” or “Dominant” is typically the person who consensually leads the power exchange, holding authority that the submissive willingly gives them.) My socks, shirt, and pants are up to me. But it’s her job to pick my jacket and shoes. My accessories are the same every day, but nestled amongst the rings, bracelets, and jewellery sits a collar. It’s covert enough, a pretty band of dyed leather made by my D-type that, to anyone in the know, is a symbol of our dynamic. When I get compliments on my outfit, I smile and say thank you. I obviously won’t expose that stranger to the kink aspect of it all, but on the inside, I am buzzing with pride knowing I can report back to my D-type that someone complimented her choices.

It’s these small routines that keep our dynamic alive amongst life, school, hobbies, and other play partners. I know that when I wake up, she’ll pick out my jumper and my boots, just as she knows I’ll wear them when she tells me to. This trust and type of relationship is the culmination of years of hard work and an incalculable amount of communication. It’s something we grew into together, and it’s not for everyone, but it works for us.

I’m quite an anxious person, and I usually have a minimum of five programs running in my head. What assessment is due next, what prep do I need to do for my next class, how many revisions I need to do and when I can schedule them all in, what groceries I need to buy, budgeting for gas and food, that fucking Triple Dent Gum jingle, doctor’s appointments and health problems all at the same time. But when I sit down on the floor for a scene, I’m not a student, or a friend, or even a person, really. My job is not to plan for tomorrow or what we’re doing over the holidays. My only task is to do what is instructed of me. To “sit there and look pretty” as I kneel and wait for the next command. To “make a mess, drooling everywhere” with a gag strapped around my head. To be “so quiet and well-behaved” in a way I never am when I’m fully there.

It feels warm, and fuzzy, and free. All the stress and worry feel washed away from me, like a factory reset for my brain. It’s this time of pure connection beyond all other responsibilities. I find this deep peace in the emptying of my own mind. Some people are into meditation; I’m into degradation.

When we wrap up and start our aftercare, lotioning my knees if I’ve been kneeling a while, eating snacks and huddling under no less than three blankets, that warm fuzzy feeling doesn’t go away. It stays with me, with both of us, for a few hours to a day. I carry it with me to classes, to hangouts and study sessions.

Because school is busy and stressful, it can sometimes be a struggle to find time. Between study, responsibilities and the various assorted extracurriculars inherent to today’s society, it’s not always feasible to set aside several hours, sometimes late into the night, where we can scene uninterrupted. But it’s in those hours between dusk and dawn, when I get to reset myself and reinforce the relationship behind the rituals, that I have the peace to take a deep breath.

I can’t have that calm and that deep, deep level of connection with me every day, but I can have a hoodie, a collar and shoes. When I take a sip of a caffeinated drink on my way to class, or at a café with classmates, I can harken back to how it’s these small rituals, little moments of belonging, that keep the dynamic strong through busy weeks and months.