“Darling, do you ever wonder if we two could both slip under?
Learn to sink and learn to swim and breathe again and breathe again?”

Waiting Under the Waves by Kris Delmhorst

I woke up this morning, checked vanilla Fet and then Fet proper. The first thing I read on Fet was a post by Malachi, a friend in the kink community, called “I want you to wreck me.” It’s still taking my breath away for the power of it, and also how it nearly perfectly encapsulates one of the things I’ve been searching years for. Two decades. NBD.

This line reached out and grabbed me and told me that I wasn’t going anywhere, not the shower, not work, nowhere, until I read the entire piece and let it reverberate in my bones:

“I can’t transcribe what I see in my mind, but god, I ache for it nonetheless.”

I said almost exactly that same thing two days ago. It was eerie to see it in print this morning. And helpful to know there are other people out there who understand.

And this, this is the part the cracked me open:

I want you to wreck me, by which I mean, I want it to hurt and I want it to go far beyond the point where I am done and I want to shatter, over and over until I am shards of a body languid and unconstrained and spilling out and over, drenched and raw and whispering pleas the sky whose desire drowns out these feeble sounds and starts pounding again until I scream for mercy.

And then, more.

I don’t know if they mean sex or kink or yes but holy fuck, it honestly doesn’t matter. This is what I’ve been trying to articulate. I got some of it out earlier this week with a friend who understands better than most I’ve met so far.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to do traditional scenes. Negotiation, parameters, start and finish points, safewords. All are important, especially for beginnings. I believe in those things to build a scene. I enjoy scenes where there is a goal, a Thing We’re Doing.

For example, I’m a rose flogger. Sometimes, if it’s within the bounds of the scene and negotiations, I’ll bring in other toys or use my hands. But the rose flogging is the point.

What I’ve been finding hard to articulate are other desires I have…the clawing urge for edge play, the primal ache that’s been thrumming beneath the surface of my skin for years…this week has been one for igniting the fire under my ass in terms of looking for, asking for, actively seeking what I want again. And this time, I’m doing it without a specific partner.

I used to think I needed a D type or M type in a long term Relationship to find it, but now that I don’t have that and things are still happening, still possible, I’m realizing that maybe this isn’t a partnered journey. At least not right now. I have a few friends that I might could explore some of the more extreme areas of play that I’m into, though, and that’s helping.

The kind of play that tears away the veneer of careful control I keep over myself. The restraint I put on myself on a regular basis.

After reading Malachi’s post, I just kept thinking “I want to be untamed.”

The name wildswitch bloomed inside me from there and here we are. I’ve been needing to create this blog for a while now and it finally came to fruition.

See, thing is…I’ve been trained. I know how to keep pace with someone a step behind and just off to the side and constantly be aware of changes in direction, desire, pace. In fact, it’s what I default to and have to correct myself when with vanilla people or people I’m not actively serving. Which…I also know how to serve. It brings me joy to learn what a D type or M type likes so I can make it for them or give it to them. I can take pain for a D or M type. I am obedient. History has shown that when I am told to bend over by my D type, I will stay there until it is clear that I can move. No matter how long it takes. No matter what’s going on around me. And there’s so much more. Being collared. Honorifics. Protocol. Rituals. Punishments. Assignments. I’ve done it. Not the full gamut of each one and not all perfectly, but we’re all human. I’ve learned. I know better now who I am than I ever have. All these experience were important and I’m glad I have them…but…

I want to be untamed.

I want to throw that all out the window, at least for a few hours.

I’ve gotten close with a person or two. Once, a friend told me that the eye fucking that a now ex and I were doing at a party was making said friend horny by proxy.

Malachi also touches on that, talking about “smoldering eyes and mischievous grins.”

YESSSSSS. But that’s just, like….the gateway. I have been under that arch, so many times, aching to go forward and still…haven’t been able to fully do it.

Fucking hell, I want to go forward. Through the gateway, dodging the sphinxes shooting laser from their eyes, tumbling, panting. I don’t know how the pain will come, but I know it will. I’m waiting for it. I can taste the blood, the metallic-tinged liquid seeping from a torn lip, the seering sting, the panic, the pleas. The actual fear…I can only think of one time I was actually afraid during a scene and in those moments, it was close to that place. But there is more. I know there’s more. I can feel it, a breath of possibility away. With certain scenes, or in a fleeting moment, a specific way someone’s eyes flash…

It’s a dark place to play. CNC (Consensual Non-Consent), edge play, things that can mar your body and mind. Going to places that you wonder about coming back from. I’m a proud R.A.C.K. player (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) but finding people that also are AND also that I vibe with can be challenging.

The thing is…I’ve spent so much time trying to be okay, show that I’m fine, in so many fucked up situations. There are roughly three people who can look at me, see a calm sea on the surface but know the tsunami that’s raging underneath. That there’s a storm there that needs to be unleashed.

And I don’t know how to get there. I have vague ideas. I’ve heard about ordeal tracks at kink events and I think I might need to look more into that. But I’m not sure how to go about that with people I don’t know. And also, there isn’t a specific blueprint to being broken, shattered, finally being able to scream NO at the top of my lungs, openly cry, actually fight back and not pull punches and gain the upper hand and bounce back and forth between spaces….know that it…whatever it is…isn’t going to stop. Not yet. Not until there’s more. Not until I’m a fucking mess. Not until it’s gone primal and words dissolve into growling. Not until all the layers have been pried open, peeled back, exposed, and finally…finally allowed to breathe.