I used to think I wasn’t. And maybe, on my own, I’m not, at least in the traditional sense of someone who likes to be watched. I’ve always known I was an emotional exhibitionist: that is why I am here, why I write in a blog online instead of in a paper journal, why I share so much of myself with the world.
When I say “share myself,” I’m not talking about the pictures I share here, although that plays a huge part in it now. It didn’t always. As that very early post can attest to, I have had an uneasy relationship with photographic images of myself for a long time. Even now, while I acknowledge that I enjoy the way that W uses photographs as part of our kink, I am still not always comfortable with pictures being taken of me. Sometimes, yes, I even ask for them, but many times, it is the act of being forced to have pictures taken that drives my enjoyment of them: I am exposed and vulnerable. That is how I feel when I share my innermost self with the world here in my blog: my rawest self, the one inside, all my emotions and thoughts and fears and hopes and needs and dreams. There is a kind of ecstasy in it, and I recognize it as a kind of exhibitionism: emotional exhibitionism. And in a way, because I feel compelled to share myself through my words (and W expects it of me, and we use it as a communication tool) it, too, has a feeling of being made to do it. Made to write these words to bear witness to myself, to my journey, and to share that journey here.
Physical exhibitionism is another thing (and the one that pictures falls under.) My first exposure to it was at my first kink party with the Ex. I don’t think he realized that he had hit on a (good) trigger when he took me up on the stage and scened with me. He’d actually said that he wasn’t going to play with me that night. He’d said he wanted to get a feel for things before we took the plunge into public play. I was shocked, highly self-conscious and nearly terrified when he abruptly took me by the hand and (literally) dragged me up on stage. And all that contributed to an intense high, like an endorphin rush that settled into a floaty kind of subspace as I realized I had no choice. I carried that high with me all through that first scene, and for a long time afterwards.
It took me awhile to figure out why it had affected me that way, but of course now I recognize it in many of W’s and my interactions: I am not a natural exhibitionist, but the vulnerability that comes with forced exhibitionism is one of the strongest highs I get in kink. That is why I love when W decides to play with me in a public venue. I phrase it that way deliberately – when W decides to play with me – because, as with most couples that have played together a long time, many times when we play (and even sometimes how) is a collaborative thing. I oftentimes will ask for play or even say I want a certain kind of play at a party. Those scenes are good, and they meet all kinds of needs, but usually not the deeply emotional one, the need to feel vulnerable, in the way that forced exhibitionism of that sort – of being “forced” to play intensely and even more-so, sexually, in public – does for me.
We also play differently in public than at home. Our scenes at home are…quieter, if that makes sense. Closer. Not quieter in sound, not necessarily closer physically (tho there is that too at times) but…emotionally. We connect deeply at home (unless he is doing a scene for Bondage Demons, which then becomes – again- exhibitionist, but in a whole other way.) Our public scenes have an energy to them, often with me openly challenging him, that our scenes at home usually don’t. I feel our hearts touch, our emotions merge, in scenes at home; in public our spirits soar and tangle, there is fire and red energy. That is, until he conquers me, and I fall into him, quiescent – and vulnerable – at last. This is not how it always is, we often move between the two “types” of scenes interchangeably at home and in public. But that is how it tends to go.
Interestingly, we have both said many times that in the midst of a public scene, we lose track of everyone else, no matter if the audience’s energy influenced our scene and emotions in the beginning.
Recently we started playing with public exhibitionism that wasn’t forced, and in fact has been driven and often choreographed by me. I am talking about the Rope on the Run, Scavenger Hunt, Calendar Game, Alphabet Challenge and my latest, Boobies & Bondage Across America, of course. But although they most certainly are exhibitionist, these don’t resonate with me the way the others – my blog, the pictures, the public play – do. They are fun, but they just don’t trip my trigger that way. On the other hand, scenes that we end up doing for the Picture Requests we get, most certainly do. I’m not sure why. (So, you know, help a kinky girl out and keep them coming!) ;-)
That said, I’ve decided that for this week’s Kink of the Week I am going to post a new Scavenger Hunt, Alphabet Challenge, Calendar Game or Boobies and Bondage photo essay every day for the rest of the week. Look for the first one tomorrow, when I play with Marie’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, “Warning Signs.”
New to Kink of the Week? Trying to figure out what it’s all about? Read about it here, then check out this week’s prompt and link your own post to it! It’s a great way to get some additional exposure for your blog, and it’s also an awful lot of fun. :-)