Was That Her Story or Mine?

So, I just finished reading a book called Carrie's Story. And I find myself a bit disturbed, in that pleasant, tingly kind of way. When I started my journey into kink 6 months ago, my Yes/No/Maybe list had (what seemed to me to be) a ton of hard limits. Some of them are definitely sticking around. Others have not only gone but become some of the things that I'm enjoying the most. Master/slave play in particular is hitting buttons I didn't think I even had, and hitting them hard.

Now I read this book about a girl who decides to become a slave, and placed throughout the book are vignettes about pony play. Some of my most severe limits were about being owned, being treated like an object or an animal, being dehumanized, for Pete's sake. And yet, reading this book, it sounds... appealing. Natural, almost.

I'm not even sure exactly what I like about it. Being able to let myself go, to not have to be present as me in my own head is a part of it. Being treasured and cared for, definitely. But I think some of it is that I think I can do it, and do it well, which seems to be reason enough in and of itself. All I know is that part of me just wants this. Sees it as correct.

The problem is with the other part. The socialized part. You know, the one that never shuts up or lets you think. Or maybe that's just me.

Now you don't know me (yet.) But I have never in my life been a weak person. Even at those times when I didn't like myself all that much I never wanted to be someone else. Or wanted to be caused pain. Or made to cry, or kneel, or any number of the things that are giving me so much pleasure. Or so I thought. So it's interesting to me to look back along the course of my life so far (all 26 years of it) and realize that this is a place I've been coming to for a long time. And also to realize that I'm coming to this on my terms. This is not something I'm doing to make anyone happy but me (although I love that other people seem to be taking as much joy from my growth as I am.)

But there is that part of me (damnable socialized consciousness) that wonders just how far I'm going to go down this road. I've changed dramatically in 6 months. It's been amazing: I'm more confident, outgoing, I take way less crap, and I feel genuinely beautiful for the first time in my life. And yet that part of me just keeps asking 'Is this lifestyle an answer, or an evasion?' What will I be like in a year? Two? Ten?

But you know what? I can't wait to find out.