The Ultimate Guide to Kink (43 page)

I have a friend who uses a wheelchair who shocked the hell out of a roomful of jaded perverts by enacting the victim in a scene where he was kicked out of his chair, dragged around, degraded, and humiliated with all manner of shocking epithets and completely inappropriate language. Yeah, that is pretty fucked up. But the point is, he wanted that experience in order to feel that he is a survivor. From the ashes of such debasement he can rise and feel even stronger and more empowered than before. Once you’ve had the snot beaten out of you and been called a “crippled faggot gimp” and survived, it can be very empowering to take back the power of those words over you.

Revealing your dark fantasies is risky, yes. But if you do not, you all but zero out your chances of realizing your desires. I struggled for years with memories of a cacophony of conflicts after I discovered my curiosity about pushing the boundaries of sexual consent. As I embarked on a quest to explore my demons, I had to scrape off layer upon layer of guilt and shame before I was clear enough to free my own mind. For me, daring to stare into the face of racism, classism, and sexism and discover why they tripped my erotic triggers was the key to finding a profound level of personal authenticity.

Let’s be honest: the majority of us struggle, at some point, with self-esteem. It can be crippling to have our fears reinforced by hate. Suppose you were in a scenario where a partner is belittling you for being Mexican, or queer, Irish Catholic, or Muslim, or short, or fat, a redhead, a Jew, a man, a woman, intersex—for being
different
just because you are you. But what if you realized that these words didn’t have the power over you that you thought they did? What if you were able to weather this abuse, this ugliness, and walk away unscathed? Or stronger? What if you were able to look upon your abuser thereafter with compassion instead of rage?

And for those who might take up the mask of the evil villain, think how liberating it would be to revel in those wicked thoughts—thoughts that all of us have entertained. It is not acceptable, in our current social climate, to judge people based on their appearance, to want to take them down, dehumanize them, plunder their body, feed off their fear, consume their energy. But through taboo role play you can. You can let this demon out to play, and acknowledge that these thoughts and feelings do not, in fact, make you a monster. They make you human. You can view yourself with more compassion, knowing that this wickedness is not the totality of your being, even when you indulge your terrifying fantasy.

The first time I negotiated and participated in a scene that explicitly included race-based abuse, my main fear wasn’t for my safety. It was for the safety of my partner, who was my friend. I wasn’t certain how I would react, whether this would be okay, and mostly, whether I would fly off the handle and try to rip his face off. The scene progressed from casual physical dominance to verbal humiliation, racially tinged verbal abuse, and finally a complete onslaught of overwhelming physical force, invasive sexual aggression, and scathing racial slurs. I panicked for a moment, lost and unsure of why I was here, why I’d permitted this terrible thing to happen. I stared up at him with shock and real fear mingling uneasily in my gut. He eyed me with a lustful disgust that froze my skin. Then he leaned in and asked me,

“Are you wet?”

My mouth dropped in shock. There was no way I—

“Because everyone knows how you nigger cunts love to have the shit kicked out of you. And you know I’ll have you begging to take my white cock in your mouth, up your ass—anywhere I want it. Won’t you.”

I started sobbing, confused and crushed and unable to fight anymore. He shoved me harder against the wall, one hand sliding down over my belly and stopping just short of my pussy. I remembered to resist again but this only evoked a tightening of his hand on my throat.

“Let’s just see, shall we? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you aren’t dripping wet and ready to beg me for it. But I doubt it.”

I was
certain
I wasn’t physically aroused
at all
. I was enraged, terrified, scared, yes, but it was impossible that—

A sharp inhalation of breath into my lungs was the counterpoint to a contemptuous exhalation of breath from his as his fingers slid effortlessly inside me, twisting with a punishing roughness that blurred my vision as I kicked my feet against him. The look in his eyes was fearsomely cold, and for a moment I was not at all sure where my friend had gone.

“Go on, come like the dirty groveling black bitch you are.”

And, gods help me, I did. Shocked, overwhelmed, and completely undone. I orgasmed violently as he stared at me impassively.

In the aftermath of the scene, I was truly shocked at how I had reacted in the midst of what seemed like an impossible situation. Several days later, when I could finally talk to my friend again, I told him about the moment when he seemed
really
into it. He smiled “Well, weren’t
you
?”

Indeed.

Is
it wiring? Are those of us who crave dark play simply different? Or are we just whistling in the dark as we play with our demons, courageous enough to exploit them for our own pleasure and pain? Ultimately it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have the freedom to make choices—that I have the ability to make a decision to live according to my desires, even if they terrify me.

I encourage you, you with unsettling dreams who find your minds slipping into crevasses when you contemplate devious scenarios: let go of judgment. Get dirty and see who you are on the other side of that darkness. The answer might surprise you.

Endnotes

1
As in my previous chapter, I deliberately use the plural pronouns
they
,
them
, and
their
to refer to singular persons of any gender, in place of “he or she,” “him or her,” “his or her.” Although this is nonstandard grammatical usage, the traditional forms reflect a gender binary to which I do not subscribe.

CHAPTER 19

THE DARK SIDE

JACK RINELLA

Nearly a year ago, a guy from New York cruised me online, seeking to be imprisoned in my dungeon for the rest of his life. He sought degradation, abuse, humiliation, and (to put it mildly) escape from his current reality. In the ensuing months, he and I maintained a sporadic but ongoing dialogue via email.

His communications by email, chat, and phone intrigued me, and I sought to understand where the guy was coming from and how serious his search was. I found him erratic and ambivalent, and he demonstrated cyclical behavior that told me something was wrong. I finally figured out that he was a drug addict who engaged in episodes of physical abuse every four to six weeks.

His mode of operation was to deny his feelings for about a month, until he could no longer resist them. At that point he would get some recreational drugs to boost his courage, find a man or two to abuse him badly, and then slink home. When the drugs had worn off, he forsook such activity until the cravings slowly reentered his mind and he repeated the cycle.

By the time I had figured this out, my curiosity was at a high point, and I wanted to know more about others like him who wished to be so degraded. To be honest, the controlling and sadistic sides of me were aroused as well. What would it be like, I wondered, to own a subhuman creature like this?

I spent many months researching the profiles of men on various online kink networking sites who sought to serve the darkness. Though they used a wide variety of terms, they all wanted one thing: to become objects of degradation and intense control. Their posts included the words
dark
,
satanic
,
objectification
,
filth
,
permanent
,
mutilation
,
scat
,
worship
, and
incarceration
. These posts are examples of what I mean:

Sick twisted filthy sewer bottom, ashtray, doormat, gutter rat, barn hand and kennel keeper seeks a perverted sewer top.

Filthy, perverted, twisted, brutal, sadistic, nasty, top, dom, master needed for sewer pig, gutter rat.

Looking for noose Master, gloved hands or maybe garrote and KO Master. Also into racial play and religious play.

There was, too, another aspect to my curiosity. In recent years I have been struck by the increasing presence of edge play in our BDSM subculture. Everywhere I turn, I see, hear about, or read about another seminar featuring blood play, highly risky behavior, and taboo-breaking practices of all kinds—public fetish behavior that would have been frowned upon 10 years ago has become almost commonplace.

I wondered what it means that our community is becoming increasingly more inclusive of the darker kinds of play. Where does it lead? Where does it end? I found that I couldn’t resist exploring these questions, knowing that there were aspects of myself that sought the same darkness, even as the PC Jack resisted such an admission.

So I posted a new and relatively anonymous bio from an invented (though not really far from reality) persona called the Dark Lord:

Experienced Lord and Master seeks additional property. I seek to be obeyed and worshipped. My primary fetish is control, which I exercise both sexually and sadistically.

I have an exceptionally high libido and the primary objective of my search is to find men who will be used to satisfy my every sexual desire, without limit or hesitation. I seek to transform you into another toy for my pleasure and sexual gratification.

About you:

You seek a relationship where you will experience slavery to the utmost, becoming the subhuman property of your Lord and Master.

You know you were born to suck and get fucked regularly and thoroughly. My semen is your food; my piss your drink.

You desire to be subjugated, degraded, dominated, humiliated, and violated so that you thoroughly realize your authentic low-caste self.

You have the courage to experience this abject state, if only for a weekend.

You want to confirm [or deny] through actual experience your inner conviction that you were born for life in this abject state and nothing else will satisfy you until you are completely controlled by your Lord and Master.

You will obey and surrender. Resistance on your part will be met by punishment.

I approach this process as one of testing your suitability to serve me. Show yourself serious and worthy of my attention or go chat with some other poser. Serious applicants may begin the interview process with a message to the Dark Lord that includes an email address, a chat ID, and a phone number. COMPLETE DISCRETION IS ASSURED.

This enslavement may include: Anal penetration and violation, Ashtray slavery, Ass fucking, Begging & pleading, Behavior modification, Bacchanalian celebration, Blasphemy, Bloodletting, Branding, Breath control, Chastity, Chores, Clamps, Cock and ball torture, Cock sucking, Confinement, Crucifixion, Cum control, Cutting, Degradation, Dehumanization, Demasculinization, Deprivation, Dionysian initiation, Domestic service, Encasement, Enforced exercise, Face fucking, Filth, Flogging, Groveling, Hobbling, Humbling, Humiliation, Idolatry, Inferiority, Isolation, Light deprivation, Long-term bondage, Marking, Milking, Nakedness, Obedience, Objectification, Oral invasion, Orgies, Ownership, Pain, Phallic worship, Piercing, Pimping, Piss, Praise and adoration, Predicament bondage, Prescribed dieting, Public display, Punching, Punishment, Raunch, Restraints, Rimming, Scheduling, Sex magic, Service, Shit, Silence, Slapping, Slavery to the Dark Lord, Smoke, Snot, Spit, Subjugation, Submission, Surrender, Suspension, Sweat, Tantric training, Total Control, Violation, Whipping, and Worship of the Dark Lord.

Over six months, I received numerous hits on my profile and a large number of “cruises,” where members signaled interest in serving me. To those who did so, I wrote back asking if they were interested in “serving my dark desires.” Many replied yes and were invited to apply.

Applying became the standard for evaluating their interest. I asked for their email address, chat ID, and phone number so I could contact them off-site. About 120 men responded with contact information, and it is on my communications with these men that I base the following reflections. (If you were one of these men, let me assure you that my interest was, and still is, genuine. It was more than just a research project.)