Perverted: characterized by sexually abnormal and unacceptable practices or tendencies
I like the thought of being perverted. It turns me on and I suppose that is all the proof needed that it is a good fit. I don’t take it as an insult or as being a bad thing, more it has connotations of being naughty and adventurous in a sexual sense. The definition of perverted – characterized by sexually abnormal and unacceptable practices or tendencies – would probably be an accurate description of my sexual self. And although the things that we do feel normal and acceptable to us, I know that in the wider world they would not be seen in this way.
This leads to a bit of a conundrum sometimes because it is hard to feel kinky when the things you are doing are the things that you always do. Doing them a lot does normalise them, as does writing about them for an audience who takes an interest in them and seem to approve, and talking about them to friends who want to do them too. The fact remains, however, that in the other world, these practices and tendencies are not seen as being normal or usual, in fact, far from it.
Why being perverted turns me on
The thing for me is, the fact that part of me still sees them as weird and taboo is what makes me want to do them. That is what turns me on. That is the thrill for me. It is the thrill of the shame of doing the things that I don’t want to want. It is the excitement of knowing that I have been perverted in a very consensual way. This conflict between the way I appear to others and the way that my reality shows me to be deep down, is what causes a cognitive dissonance.
That is, my brain argues with itself and moves between the me I have presented to others all my life, and the me I want to embrace in this very moment. It swings between being good girl me, and perverted me. I am not an out and out pervert you see. I am a closet pervert. I am only out here, but there, it is my dirty little secret, and the secret of others who know the real me of course. And this, my friends, is at the heart of my kink.
Being perverted together is hot
Not only does the word pervert sort of turn me on, many of the other words given as alternatives or synonyms also spark something within me: unnatural, deviant, warped, corrupt, twisted, abnormal, depraved, perverse, corrupted, debauched, kinky, pervy and wrong. It turns me on that my husband is all of these things, as well as sadistic and evil in a sexual sense. I love to look into his eyes and see the darkness that is there within them, a darkness that only I can see and that we see in each other.
We are not bad people. We are kind and caring and loyal. We work hard and will put ourselves out for others, so this is not to do with personality types as much as what appeals to us and what is at the heart of us as sexual beings. These things are things which we recognised even before our relationship had begun in that sense, and like taking a bite of the apple, once seen, there seemed to be no going back.
Being a pervert allows me to be free
For me, the fact that I am ‘made’ to be all of these things allows a letting go. I can throw away everything that holds me back, all the self-control and self-regulation I use in order to fit successfully into my other life, and I can just be. It is a process of course. A slow and careful undoing. A breaking or shattering of all the protective layers that life has built around me to allow me to keep the appearance up. It is about pushing me to acknowledge what I really am, about exposing me to myself and to others.
I know, of course, that for others these things do not always cause the same internal conflict. And it isn’t that I see them as taboo for other people, more that I see it that like that for myself. This is the thing. I need to see them like this in order for it all to work. If I were accepting of my own desires and wants and needs there would be no space for the humiliation in having them exposed. And without that, I would not be able to break free of everything else.
Understanding the conflicts
It is such a conflict of ideas and so difficult to explain. It seems to argue itself off the page whenever I try to write it, because the whole thing revolves around such contradictions. I use humiliation to face my biggest fear of rejection, whilst only choosing situations where I know that I will likely be accepted. I twist and squirm at the risk of being ridiculed, whilst at the same knowing that ultimately I will be seen at my worst and will probably still be wanted.
It is more than that though, because afterwards, when I have been exposed fully, seen at my worst, and hopefully desired anyway, I pack my protective layers back on, with the full knowledge that someone has seen much more. I switch my head back to the way it was before, adopt that former self-view, despite the fact that we have acknowledged another side. This gives me a vulnerability which plays into my submission and it means that I can begin the whole delicious process again and again, as if it were new each time.
Pervert me again. Please?
To quote F Scott Fitzgerald, “I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again”. And that is how I feel about erotic humiliation and how it works for me. It allows me to keep shifting between these two worlds and between my two self-views, the public and the private, the seen and the hidden. I don’t want to fix it, I need it in order to feel the way I want to. I need to be a pervert or to at least be perverted on a regular basis. I need that over and over again, because at the end of the day, I like it. I really, really like it.
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