Discovering My Passion For Bondage

I suspect I’m hardwired for kink

For some reason, the act of bondage has always excited me. In my sexual explorations, I’ve discovered this mentality behind being restrained — a vulnerability that sets my heart all a flutter.

It makes me feel sexier — seriously desired — and sends an adrenaline rush from my heart to my…well, you know where.

As a modern and self-sufficient woman who’s fairly ambitious and prefers to be in control outside the bedroom, I admit there’s a romance to sensual bondage. In my partner’s domination of me, sexually. In my submission to him. In giving up my control.

It can be something as simple as him grabbing my wrists and throwing them above my head, my back against the wall as he’s kissing me, pressing himself into me before we’ve even had the chance to remove a shred of clothing. There’s something there that just lights up all of my nerve endings. All of them.

Despite how self-conscious I sometimes feel in my body, I’m pretty much a sex goddess at that point. I’m ravenous for pleasure — both vulnerable and somehow more confident at the same time. I go from zero to eighty in about two seconds flat.

I start to forget myself as the high takes over me, making my pulse race and my core wet.

And, if he keeps my wrists pinned above my head in one of his hands, trailing the other down my body, over my breasts, underneath my skirt and into my underwear — he’ll find me primed and ready to climax beneath his fingers, my hips thrusting into them, eagerly chasing my pleasure.

And that’s just the light stuff.

Hardwired for Kink?

So where does this desire come from? I’m a writer, a curious creature, and that goes hand in hand with my love of exploring sexuality and psychology. Human nature fascinates me, especially when we consider our complex and varied sexual predilections. And when I think of my own preferences, I’ve often asked myself: Why?

One of my most vivid second grade memories is of a little boy chasing me on the playground. He’d catch me, take me to a corner not visible to the teachers, and wrap a rubber snake around my wrists, making me his “prisoner.”

I would be his captive for a few quick seconds before escaping, then we’d start the game all over again. I’m sure others have had similar experiences, but they may not have found it as exhilarating as I did.

Pair that with my childhood Peter Pan obsession. I watched the Disney movie over and over again. Along with the old Mary Martin stage production.

Not only did I wish I could fly, but I yearned to be taken to Neverland. I wanted Peter Pan to wake me from sleep and bring me to a world where we’d have some dangerous adventures with, you guessed it: pirates!

I sometimes had dreams where I was kidnapped, manhandled, and tied to the mast of a ship, a white gag over my mouth — and it absolutely thrilled me.

Not every girl’s fairytale fantasy involves the handsome yet boring prince.

You could call this an early encounter with kink, and it’s not uncommon. In Psychology Today, Michael Aaron, Ph.D, interviews Samuel Hughes, whose research on the stages of kink identity includes “early inklings towards kink, typically taking place before the age of 10, where kinky people experience an attraction, draw, or fascination with a kink or fetish interest, often without the words or concepts to understand it, and often without sexual arousal.”

Before I even knew what sex was, I knew I was into being bound. I didn’t know why or what it meant. And I certainly didn’t know that one day it would become a sexual thing for me.

Exploring Submissive Scenarios

I’ve enjoyed light bondage, but I’ve yet to explore it with a partner as much as I’d like. I’m pretty much a beginner, even though it’s appealed to me since before I knew what kink — or even sex — was. I also want to meet like-minded people I can learn from.

Who is to say how my tastes might shift and develop? But for now, I think I prefer the lighter side of it. No need to suspend me from the ceiling, slide a hook in my ass, and secure it with a rope to my ponytail.

Sometimes less is more. Sometimes subtlety can be way hotter than all the theatrics. I’d happily enjoy the following with my partner, without necessarily instructing him to do so (aka, topping from the bottom):

Hold my hands behind my back as you thrust into me from behind, and grip my shoulder to keep me in place while you’re at it.

Straddle me as I lie on my back. Remove your belt, loop it around my forearms, and pull it tight. Tug the other end of it above me as you slowly enter me, and place your lips on mine when I gasp at the pleasure and excitement of being controlled.

Handcuff me, and then guide my lips to your hard cock. Control my speed and build the pace until you come in my mouth. Then it will be your turn to make me come, and believe me, by that point, I’ll be ready to do so.

It’s also nice to get creative outside of the bedroom. Take off your tie and wrap it around my wrists. Secure the end of it to the leg of the table, or maybe your desk, then shove my legs apart before fucking me in rough, quick bursts of energy.

Bind me with my scarf. My stockings. The sash of my dress. Or a pricey pair of nice leather cuffs.

Muffle my moans with your hand over my mouth, or use a gag (though the former is, for some reason, more intimate and exciting).

Circle my neck with your hand and squeeze.

Pull my hair.

Push me to my limit.

Take me gently. Take me roughly. Make me the object of your affection. Desire me to the point of obsession, then ask yourself: Who is really in control?

Mental Stimulation

Why does restraint intensify foreplay for me? And sex? And orgasms?

I’ve often spoken to girlfriends about it. We’ve enjoyed our fair share of analyzing our sex lives over sweet lattes or wine. One friend had a few experiences with light bondage and hated it. She couldn’t stand giving up her sense of control, and she felt claustrophobic.

I love that variety abounds, regardless of gender. If everyone only got off on being restrained, then who would cuff my wrists and ankles to the bedposts?

There is also the fascinating paradox of power exchange to consider. As someone diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, I can tell you that a lack of control in a stressful real-life situation is one of my biggest triggers.

But in the bedroom (or whatever fun locale my partner and I decide to play), I’m thrilled to surrender control. Not just to give it as a gift — because it is a gift, one that involves some serious trust — but to have it taken from me.

Not coercively, but consensually, of course.

Madame de Staël — French-Swiss author of letters, political propagandist, and conversationalist — once wrote: “The desire of the man is for the woman; the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man.”

This speaks to me when mentally dissecting my love of bondage. If my sex partner is so enamored of me that he feels the need to take control, to make me his own in one of the most primal and instinctual ways possible, to keep me “captive” for the sole purpose of delivering pleasure to me both mentally and physically, then you can pretty much guarantee I’m going to come sooner, harder, and for longer.

But perhaps the Madame’s advice oversimplifies things a bit. Because even if his wanting me is a huge turn-on when we get going, there’s still going to be that moment when the teasing is over — when I desire his hands against my skin, his mouth on my lips, his cock inside me.

In summary, I want to desire my partner as much as he desires me.