Confession Time: My Family Knows I’m Kinky – Plus Three Times It Saved My Ass, And Three Times It Didn’t!

It’s a really daunting thing, isn’t it? The idea of your family knowing about your love life. I’m not sure if you’d call my predicament strange or if you’d call it lucky, or maybe even both -strucky?

The thing is, kink was never just me. Actually, for whatever reason, I seem to have had an almost genetic disposition towards it! I’ve never forgotten the conversation;

“Your Mum is a a masochist” my Dad uttered softly during a family workout sesh. It might seem odd to most people, but as part of a family fitness regime, we’d all workout together and chat quite openly.

“What does that mean?” my brother asked inquisitively.

“It means she’s a pain junkie.”

My brother, about fourteen at the time, was horrified. Me, about sixteen, was intrigued.

From then on, many of my masturbatory fantasies revolved around kink and BDSM. I fantasised about being tied up by older boys and being used and abused in the woods. I developed internet relationships with online strangers who would be willing to call me and “play doctor” on the telephone. Each night, most nights, I’d have a stranger call me and get off with me once my parents were in bed. All of my childhood fascination with being captured and mistreated finally, finally made sense.

I was kinky.

At eighteen, my parents were kind enough to take me to my first munch. I feared seeing people in leather and whips and gimp masks, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everyone was so kind and so welcoming, and I was a really welcome part of the Bristol BDSM scene.

For it’s part, kink isn’t something my family talk about particularly openly. I mean I know my parents were kinky, and I know my Mum was submissive and serving someone who wasn’t my biological father, but that was it. That was all I needed to know, all I chose to know. I didn’t need to hear any more of it. I knew him, he knew me, but he was merely more of a family friend to me than anything untoward or strange.

People also knew me and my family in the local community, and many people were completely fine about it. Sme were fascinated, and others stayed away. People looked out for me, people wanted to know me like they knew my parents, and I flourished because of them. I’m not just their legacy, but also their BDSM legacy.

As we were related, we sort of had to make up the rules as we went along. There were three golden rules. First of all, no sharing partners, ever, that’s just wrong. Secondly, and for that time only, I could call my parents by their first names and not “Mum” or “Dad”. Finally, we had no involvement with each other. Like duh! That’s just wrong on every level. Also, if my parents were in the dungeon area then I didn’t go in, and vice versa. It was tricky because of the unusual situation, but I think we managed it quite well.

As I explored the BDSM scene more, my parents became two of my utmost greatest supporters. They became my mentors and helped me find my way around the sensual scene. They introduced me to Preaching to the Perverted which became one of my favourite films. They helped me in times of need and lectured me on health, consent and safety. I’m sure my Mum would follow my blog today if she still had any interest in the BDSM scene, but alas, in 2007 and at the beginning of my grandmother’s ill health, she retired from it all.

So how has this helped me at times, and what are some of the times it has been a hinderance? Here are my top three of each below.

  1. The non-consensual sadist

In the very early months of my newfound freedom in the kink community, I got chatting to a young man who wanted to consider owning me. At first, we got along very well and we agreed on a lot of things, then he told me that if I wanted him to own me, I’d have to agree to wear a permanent collar and have a VCH piercing with a tag with his name on it. It was okay about a collar, but not about the piercing. No matter, he became abusive and started telling me that I was a timewaster and a waste of space. I was really upset and started to believe that the BDSM community wasn’t right for me. My mother messaged him and told him that I’d decided I wanted nothing more to do with him and told him that some of the vitriol he’d thrown at me and the way he’d spoken to me wasn’t the markings of a true Dom. Served!

2. The birthday present (aka the latex enthusiast pt. 1)

I met T online and we decided to meet up for drinks. He knew of my love for (medical) latex gloves and decided to bring some with him. I found it a bit too much and a bit too intense but I was able to push through it. Before he let me go home, he made me put a latex glove in each cup of my bra and one in my panties. Looking back now, it was a violation of my consent, but I was young and naive and not fully aware of my rights to say no as a submissive. He asked me for my address so that he could send me a “birthday gift” and I, trusting my new Dominant like I should, agreed, so I gave it to him. About a week later, three large packets of brand new latex clothing came through in the post. I tried some of it on, but it was far too tight (he’d bought the sizes he wanted me to be, not the sizes I am) and it made me terrified, it also made me not want to be with him because I felt like I’d failed him, My Mum messaged him and explained that I was very anxious, but that she’d meet him to return the latexwear. He agreed, they met and she returned it all to him.

3. A hidden agenda (aka the latex enthusiast pt. 2)

After the latexwear incident, T and I carried on chatting. I slowly warmed to him again and slowly accepted him after he said that I didn’t have to do it, that I could just send him photographs of me wearing latex gloves instead, so I agreed. About a month later and my Mum and I were talking about him when she revealed that he’d wanted to play with her in a session. Surprised, I revealed to her that he’d been asking me for these photos all along and that I thought he was still interested in me, so we were being played for fools. He was made aware of the golden rule but he’d fancied his chances anyway. I mean, as long as he wasn’t physically seeing me, right? Wrong. My Mum arranged a bar meeting to him to which we both went to. She returned her collar to him and quit their dynamic then and there. I also blocked all contact with him for good measure. Rules really is rules.

4. A change of heart (aka the latex enthusiast pt. 3)

In a sudden change of heart, my mother decided that maybe it was okay for her to get involved with the latex enthusiast if I was no longer interested. It was in the car that I even heard her speak of her joy for her next session with him!

5. A family heirloom

When my mother quit the BDSM scene in 2007, she came into my bedroom with large holdall and told me that I was welcome to it all. In it were floggers, paddles, clothing and harnesses, cuffs and an inflatable dildo that I was reassured had been cleaned. Yes, I may be kinky, yes, it may be odd for it to run in my family, but no daughter wants her mother’s inflatable dildo. Even I have some limits!

6. Tough love

Okay, confession time – my husband and I really love playing rough -biting, scratching, you name it. My husband also loves pinning me down and claiming me, and let me reassure you, I , too, am seriously, seriously into it. The trouble is, for whatever reason, I also bruise like a peach on my arms. So when my mother saw all the little bruises from him gripping me and claiming me, she was none too pleased about it and pointed out that it looked abusive. Granted, my husband and I dubbed them my “sex bruises” for the next two weeks.

After Dad’s passing, Mum is beginning to become aware of her old kink self again. She’s not fully there, but she is aware. Neither of us go to events anymore, but she is aware that I still participate in kink. We talk about kink, but almost as friends, not mother and daughter, She is more than my mother, she is also a fellow submissive friend with thoughts and opinions of her own, and I love and respect her for them, just as much as I love her for being the worrywart mother who bosses me.

Now that I’ve grown up, explored and learned for myself, we also agree on one fundamental thing when it comes to stress management:

That a flogging on the back is much, nuch more effective than a shoulder massage.

16 thoughts on “Confession Time: My Family Knows I’m Kinky – Plus Three Times It Saved My Ass, And Three Times It Didn’t!

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    1. Thankyou!! It was definitely helpful at times and certainly in terms of dealing with difficult situations. Also, when I broke up with my submissive boyfriend-turned-stalker, I was able to candidly tell my Mum that he was a submissive and he was besotted with me without it being awkward, though for obvious reasons, we never told the police that part! We just said we met online.

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      1. That’s awesome. My first dom was in England… online/phone thing. We had some very differing kinks and he wasn’t the best for me. I talked to my mom about him and i got the shame talk for the kinks as being dangerous and sick instead of he’s not good for YOU and what you like. i’ve had a couple of guys take advantage of my submissiveness before i really had words for it that went pretty badly. Being able to talk to ANYONE is important. i think that’s one of the reasons i’m so open about my kinks and submission. perhaps someone will see my posts and be willing to ask questions or get involved in a community where they can learn safety. ♥ the part about your mom’s blow up dildo was hilarious!!! i almost spit my coffee out!!!

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      2. Sadly, there are definitely some bad eggs out there. My mother was brilliant and my goodness she’s a role model. She’s a brat too and we have a very similar psyche. To meet us, most people wouldn;t think of us as sexually submissive women. My mother can make a salesman tremble and I met with a lawyer and realised after I’d sat with my fingers steepled (big power move) the whole time – whoopsie!. I stood up to my headmaster aged 14 and made HIM back down, I am definitely, definitely not a submissive woman in my everyday life lol. The idea that being submissive is bad for you is wrong in and of itself. We all have kinks and turn ons. If you’re interested in psychology, I strongly advise you to read some of the works of Carl Jung, a truly inspirational psychologist. Jung wrote about the “shadow self”, the idea that our “shadow” is almost the flipside of ourselves. When we look at this in terms of BDSM, what do you notice about a lot of good Dominants?They work very civilised and “normal” jobs. They aren’t freaks and monsters of society, they are office workers, salesmen, firemen, people with jobs who don’t typically carry a lot of authority. Now take me, and maybe this is true for you, too, authoritative, takes control, typical type A personality, but sexually submissive in he bedroom. This fits perfectly with Jung’s model of the shadow self, and there is absolutely nothing wong with expressing your shadow self, as long as it’s with someone who wants to see it 🙂

        Whew that was a long reply 😀

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      3. I got my BA in psychology and worked in the field for 15 years before settling down to be a housekitten. I love all that stuff. 😉 I miss it sometimes… the intellectual challenge.

        My mom was simply an extremely vanilla person who thought that anyone who was kinky (on either end) was sick. One of my favorite personality traits in the joy of shock value. LMAO Who’da thunk?!?!? Stunning my mother was one of my favorite things in life. 😉

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      4. Interesting! I went through CBT for “OCD traits” before I started getting more stuck into it. I only quit therapy for two reasons. First of all, my therapist was very interested in my past with my mother, who has always insisted that I’m autistic (not even my therapist would hear that one, nevermind my doctor lol). She wanted to meet my mother and I refused because my mother has threw a book at my sociology teacher over disagreements in the way I was raised and I didn’t fancy witnessing the formation of a therapist-shaped hole in the wall lol. I also thought my therapist was onto me and I didn’t want her judging me for what I do. My OCD isn’t cured, but it is managed and when the therapy stopped being about the OCD, I decided there was no point in continuing with the sessions. Of course I can’t write from a professional standpoint, but from experience, I have plenty to share 🙂

        Shocking the vanillas is always fun. People look at me and think I’m as sweet and nice as they come. Ooh if only they knew!! The funniest one was watching Fifty Shades of Grey with a few mates. I just stretched and said “cute, but nothing I haven’t done in a night”. I had to help them pick their jaw up off the floor after that one 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      5. LMAO!!! I have a great 50 Shades story, too. I was renting a space room in my house out to a young couple… both of them were 21 and me in my 40s. They invited me to see 50 Shades Darker with them. I declined telling them my sex life is way more exciting than that movie. 😉 The girl never looked at me the same again! The shock on both their faces was fucking awesome!!! 😛

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      6. One of the funniest moments I’ve ever had was one of my brother’s friends who sold Ann Summers products. Knowing I was in a relationship and newly engaged, she offered me some toys as an engagement present, including some fuzzy handcuffs. I took one look at them and said “oh no, thankyou. I’ve already broken a pair of those”. Priceless!

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      7. Handcuffs are a no-no for me, because of my chronic pain, Anything pressing on the outside of the wrist joint is major ouchie, so handcuffs are off lol. We have velcro cuffs which are a lot softer and can sit above the joint, which is more comfortable as long as they are tight enough that they don’t slip around and rub. I don’t know what’s next on our list but next Friday is my.. ahem.. “birthday celebrations” for just Sir and me and I think he has quite the impact play session planned lol

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Ohhh RAWR!!!!!!!!!! I don’t think I’d like real metal cuffs, but maybe a nice pair of fur lined leather would do me well? We’ll see….

        Happy birthday should I forget between now and then. 🙂

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