Back in my early teens, I felt a strong pull toward deviance that went back further than my memories. It’s funny to think about now because it wasn’t like rebelling by vandalizing cars or talking back to adults. I didn’t really challenge authority figures, but I did question the rules of society. Once I started exploring BDSM, sadism, and various fetishes, I got a bit frightened, thinking I might be heading for trouble.
Even at six years old, I liked being tied up, having my nudity enforced, and exchanging control—whether it was happening to me or others. Now, I can confidently say I am a sadist. I enjoy using other people for my own benefit and have always enjoyed watching others suffer, even if I wasn’t the one causing it. By fourteen, I felt somewhat monstrous. I became more introverted, spent more time at home, and developed skills to hide what was really on my mind, including ways to deceive people through physical actions.
Questions raced through my head daily about who I actually was. You might be wondering what my point is in all this rambling. I used to worry that I lacked empathy and would grow up to be some dark creature lurking for victims to satisfy my increasingly demanding urges. At seventeen, I sat down and decided to write out my morals as logically as possible, keeping in mind that I knew early on I wasn’t religious. If I don’t believe something is watching over every move I make, and if I don’t think everyone gets their karma whether they are good or bad, why bother? I’ve seen terrible things happen to wonderful, selfless people, while great fortunes fall to selfish individuals. Irony is amusing. I am the only one in my family who has never smoked, drunk alcohol, tried drugs, or even taken pain medication; I quit soda too—yet still got cancer. So why care about others? And, stripping away bias, why not be a bit terrible to people?
I think when you boil it down using logic and math, we have to accept certain premises as true without proof. Nobody can prove 2+2=4, but we accept it anyway. From there, we build knowledge. For logical arguments, we cannot verify every single premise; some information must be taken at face value. Where do morals fit in?
It took me a year to find solid ground for why I should care about anyone else. “Because it’s the right thing” wasn’t quite my answer. Instead, here is a humbling thought: for several reasons, I would amount to nothing without others’ help. Beyond just my parents and the doctors who saved my life once before, beyond their education, we are all accepting more premises as human society advances. Medical science doesn’t have time to re-research everything from scratch. There’s no real need to reinvent language or understanding. My point is that we are all helping each other. Because of farmers, I eat. Thanks to early engineers, travel is better; thanks to schools and books written by people like us, I can learn quickly if I choose.
With all this giving and receiving, especially in cities, how could I just take without wanting to give back? Wouldn’t that make me a weaker link in society’s chain for relying on others? Personally, I value independence. I’ll accept that as a given for now.
Why stop there? I’d rather be one of the strongest links, giving more than receiving. This ties into why it feels better to brighten someone’s day than ruin it. It seems easier to make someone sad or angry than to bring them joy and gratitude. So why not take the easy route? It takes less energy, and indulging in self-pleasure feels wonderful. Although I don’t always get the best rewards by taking the easy way out—in sports, business, and friendships—hard work usually pays off more than laziness. I prefer to try being one of the best at what I focus on.
So yes, I can be quite competitive. Whether it’s evolutionary pressure to stay ahead or personal motivation for determination, that drive is there. How does this connect to kink?
I think kink is just part of that bigger picture. I carry these attitudes with me whether I’m a student, worker, stranger, family member, or friend. When I turned eighteen, I started meeting more serious people online. Even though I am open-minded and identify as straight, I felt like an outcast—like a naked man gasping for air. For me, opposites don’t necessarily attract in every case. I wanted someone who shares my interest in sadism and thinks similarly to how I do: a sadistic Mistress. Someone whose sadistic thoughts mirror mine because the more She uses me for Her pleasure, the more comfortable I feel with myself and my emotions. It also helps me learn to be selfless, strong, and give back more than I expect from others. My sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain if they build a stronger connection that one day we can share. If I could bring a smile to Her face, see Her eyes light up with amusement, hear Her breath quicken with desire, or witness the pleasure on her beautiful features, I’d know I succeeded. I gave back and found normalcy with Her in our own special way. The harder it is, the more of an achievement it feels. I will always cherish that being a submissive male isn’t easy; if it were, it would lose its appeal to me.