My Stalking Kink Part 3: The Origin

Stock image of a pink and orange explosion on a black background.

Content note: This post refers to being groomed and sexually abused online and briefly makes mention of the death of a parent and emotional abuse by father figures. Feel free to give this one a miss if any of those things will be hard for you; your wellbeing always comes first <3

My stalking kink is one of the few whose origin I can easily identify. It’s a two-factor thing, but this blog post is going to have three sections: fiction and culture, wanting to be wanted, and whether we should care about the origins of kinks at all.

If you haven’t yet read the other parts of my Stalking Kink series, part one, The Abstract is hyperlinked here and part two, The Paradox is hyperlinked here. If you’ve been avoiding this series for any reason (it doesn’t interest you, it freaks you out, you know all that there is to know on the subject of stalking kinks already…) then don’t worry, because this is its final instalment – and next week, we return to our regularly scheduled smut.

  1. Fiction and culture

My stalking kink blossomed organically alongside my adolescent sex drive. You see, when I first started exploring sexy things, I began with fanfiction, like many teenagers (especially assigned female ones) did and do. I already identified with the characters at hand, so smutty fanfiction felt more emotionally intimate than your typical PornHub fare, and reading it rather than watching it made it feel, among other things, more intellectual and less conspicuous than video-type porn.

However, I first started reading (and getting off to) fanfiction in around 2011, which was near the peak of the popularity of one hugely influential young adult novel series: Twilight. I was mostly reading fics from the Harry Potter and Kingdom Hearts fandoms and I regarded Twilight with disdain, so never actually interacted directly with it or the fanfiction it spawned… but the same can’t be said for the authors of the stuff I was reading. Twilight introduced, or at the very least fuelled, a trend of passionate romantic and sexual desire being conflated with possessiveness and, yes, stalking in young adult fiction. Even if I wasn’t reading it, I was reading things influenced by it, and I too was absorbing the message that stalking was a valid expression of desire.

I naturally moved away from believing that on a conscious level as I gravitated towards feminist media and feminist media criticisms. Feminist YouTubers and essayists convinced me that stalking and possessiveness were dangerous and abusive behaviours which often escalated and which were not remotely romantic, a belief which my Logic Brain still holds. But in repeatedly wanking to fanfiction where possessiveness and stalking were plot devices used to convey desire, especially in the formative years of my sexuality, I created a Pavlovian association between stalking and arousal.

A good eight years later, the thought of someone stalking me still gets me hot under the collar.

2. Wanting to be wanted

Fanfiction wasn’t the only thing that shaped my adolescent desires. When I was 15, I was groomed online by someone older than me. My first ever orgasms were achieved through his instructions. I explored my sexuality almost exclusively under his guidance.

He used the common abuse tactic of going “hot” and “cold” on me, sometimes showering me with affection and compliments and other times ignoring me, implying I was needy or otherwise putting me down. It left me confused and wounded and always striving to be “good enough” to meet his unknowable and impossible standards.

You can see where this is going, right?

On top of the borderline personality aspect of my mental illness, the fact that my dad didn’t stick around even before he drank himself to death and the typical teenage fear of dying alone, I was convinced I was unwantable, undesirable and unlovable. It is a conviction that has stuck with me, even now I have three loving partners and some admirers besides. I know for a fact that a lot of my stalking kink is rooted in a desire to be wanted at any cost and to the point of dysfunction.

3. Should we care about the origins of kinks?

Put simply: it depends. It depends on a number of things, including how problematic a kink’s origin is, whether using a kink to cope with its origin is preventing us from finding lasting closure, and how much we’re enjoying the kinky practices that have emerged from dubious origins.

In this case, I think it kinda matters. The fiction and culture aspect is more interesting than indicative of any real problems, but the part of my psyche that still sort of wants to be good enough for my abuser, even in a roundabout way, is a part that I’m wary of feeding. I don’t want to reinforce to myself that I have to be sexually or romantically desired to be a worthwhile person, or that sexual and romantic desire only manifest themselves in the dysfunctional ways that my stalker kink wants them to. It’s important to my long-term healing to maintain an awareness of those things and to avoid slapping the band aid of kink onto the psychic wound of being groomed and sexually abused. That isn’t to say that I can’t explore this kink at all; it just means I have to explore it carefully, and make decisions that take into account my emotional, psychological and physical safety rather than just ones which will fulfil some aspect of my stalking fantasies. I have a responsibility to myself and to the people I play with to be self-aware and cautious with something so psychologically charged.

On the other hand, even kinks with deep and complex origins like my Daddy kink are psychologically safe for me to practice. Yes, I grew up with one dead father figure and two abusive ones, but nothing is going to entirely negate my need for the approval of nurturing, authoritative older men, especially whilst society operates as a patriarchy. As long as I choose Daddy doms based on whether they’re safe, kind, caring people to play with, rather than simply for their Daddy-ish qualities, and as long as I acknowledge that this kind of play is no substitute for introspection or therapy, I consider it to be safe and even healing to explore my need for male approval within the framework of kinky roleplay.

I wholeheartedly believe that it’s the responsibility and choice of every kinkster to decide how closely they want or need to examine their desires, and to make choices from there about which ones to act out within kink. I’m a fragile person with a complicated past, and I don’t want partners to do me any unexpected harm that might in turn worry or harm them, so I’ve done a lot of introspective work to ensure that I know why I want to pursue kinks and whether those whys are healthy. I don’t believe in the implication drawn from the motto “Safe, Sane and Consensual” that kink has to be sane, or practised by sane people, but I do adhere to the “Risk Aware Consensual Kink” model, and I consider psychological introspection to be a part of making sure I’m aware of the risks of a scene or dynamic.

I really hope y’all have enjoyed this miniseries on my stalking kink! I recognise that it might be a little obscure, but I love hearing about kinks that aren’t my own and I know that other people feel the same.

As always, I always want to hear your thoughts in the comments or elsewhere, and I’ll see you all next week for Smut Saturdays #12!

Finding Your Kinks: A Case Study

Power Exchange

When I first started intentionally seeking out things that gave me sex feelings, as a teenager with a shiny new laptop all their own and a burning curiosity about that burning in my loins, I started with guy-on-guy fanfiction. I was already deeply invested in the Kingdom Hearts and Harry Potter fandoms, and it seemed like erotica about characters I already cared about would be far more engaging than poorly-lit heterosexuals having bad sex on Pornhub. Whilst in a lot of ways not ideal (riddled with misogyny, fetishisation, abuse apologism and deeply questionable grammar), so-called “yaoi fanfiction was the first patently sexy thing I ever engaged with. As well as helping me to realise that I was nonbinary (because I identified so strongly with masculine-of-centre protagonists, regardless of the sexy fictional characters they were boning), my fascination with erotic fanfiction unlocked a number of my kinks before I’d ever even been naked with another person. The Off The Cuffs podcast refers to things like this as being one’s “radioactive spider bite”.

Guy-on-guy fanfic, and especially guy-on-guy fanfiction written by misinformed teenage girls who have never spoken to a gay man in their lives, features power exchange all over the damn place. Teenage girls apparently still haven’t received the memo that gay sex is, y’know, gay, which means that you don’t need a dedicated dick recipient and a dedicated dick deliverer like you do when having hetero PIV. Spreading a misconception like that around isn’t great, but it did mean that there was very often a struggle for dominance taking place before or during sex scenes. I found myself re-reading passages which featured characters being pinned down, lovingly bitten, or otherwise physically overpowered – sometimes more often than the passages which featured actual genitals doing actual fucking. By the time that I was talking to other people about sex (and doing sexy text-based roleplay things), I thought you pretty much had to be a top or a bottom, and by extension, either dominant or submissive. I was taken aback when I learned that some people weren’t into “that kinky stuff”.

Being the nerd that I undeniably was and still am, I took to Google to investigate “kink”, and from there “BDSM”, and from there all sorts of resources that were much more fact-based and accurate than fanfic written by virgins. Erotica was my gateway, sure, but it didn’t tell me how to compose a Yes/No/Maybe list, or what aftercare was, or that wanting to be tied up and gagged while your partner hits you with a flogger does actually count as straying off the beaten path. (Get it? Beaten path? I’ll see myself out.) I found things that made my cunt drip on, but I didn’t know how to apply any of them in my own sex life until I did further research.

The Daddy Thing

You know that text-based roleplaying I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it turns out that when you identify as a girl (which I mistakenly did until my very late teens) and your nerdy online guy friends find out you have a keen interest in sex stuff, they fall all over themselves trying to add you on Skype. Skype, of course, facilitates more than text-based roleplay. You can video call people.

Enter Blue (not his real name, obviously). Blue was a li’l older than me (eighteen when I was sixteen, an age gap I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about), he rocked a dark beard, and he showered me with attention while I went through a messy breakup. (All the breakups that sixteen-year-olds go through are messy. I was not good at communicating, and I still thought I owed it to boys who’d hurt me to let them down gently.)  We had a couple of chatty, fully-clothed video calls before things escalated, and then we were having Skype sex.

I was already okay-ish at Skype sex stuff, having been in a long-distance thing and blossoming into an exhibitionist before making friends with Blue. I wasn’t surprised when he told me to say his name as I orgasmed, or when he wanted me on all fours, or when he wanted me to do things to my nipples. I was, however, surprised when he gasped, “Call me ‘Daddy’!”

I knew that that was A Thing People Did, but only because it was joked about in movies and on TV. I’d called people ‘Sir’ before, and in the moment, I thought ‘Daddy’ was pretty much an equivalent. So I did as I was told, and Blue was very pleased about it.

Later, I returned to Google. I found the term DD/lg, which stood for Daddy Dom/little girl, and I fell down the Tumblr rabbithole. Initially, I was spooked by all the photos of skinny white girls in nappies (I wasn’t that tiny, and I wasn’t – at that point – into watersports in any sense) – but I was drawn to the sheer perverseness of it, the fact that it sent a “This is weird” tingle straight to my clit. I was fascinated by the idea of roleplayed innocence being “corrupted”, and by the idea of being so irresistible that a Daddy figure had to have me even if it was very, very wrong. I also immediately noticed that self-identified ‘littles’ had a great deal in common with me, like a fondness for colouring, a need to be looked after and nurtured, and a desire for power-exchange-filled sex with older, bearded guys.

I was full of trepidation. I had grown up without a decent father figure – my dad died when I was three, after doing the Hokey Cokey in and out of my life for years, and the two partners my mum had after him were evil bastards who shaped me into the people-pleasing, needy, somewhat traumatised kid I was at sixteen. Did being into “the Daddy thing” mean I was fucked up? So many littles on Tumblr were insisting that their kink wasn’t rooted in “Daddy issues” – what if mine was? Would it be unethical to pursue my interest in it? Would it damage my psyche even more?

My advice to you, dear reader, as well as to Past Morgan, is – worry less. You should definitely proceed with caution if your kink has ties to a complicated past or a mental health issue, but don’t fret if your kink doesn’t originate from some vacuum, devoid of any complication or relationship to real life. Most kinks are tied up in psychological weirdness – is it okay to be turned on by being humiliated, when so much of sex positivity discourse revolves around empowerment? (Answer: yes.) Why are people, especially women, turned on by being called sluts in the bedroom? (That’s different for each individual, but it’s basically inextricable from society’s slut-shaming bullshit.) Do women want to submit to men partly because the patriarchy says that they must? (Kate Sloan, of the Dildorks, remarked that in a patriarchal society, most people have Daddy issues of some sort.)

After things came to a messy end with Blue, too, I met another guy, and I explained in full my interest in DD/lg, and my chequered history with actual father figures, and we decided we were going to give the Daddy thing a whirl.

Now, four years on with a different partner, I own a multitude of pacifiers and I sit in my Daddy’s lap to watch cartoons. My kink isn’t entirely detached from the lack of paternal love and nurturing that was present throughout my childhood – but it’s healing, and sexy, and that’s okay.


My relationship with pain has been as complicated as my relationship with dads and Daddies. I have a long history of deliberate self-harm, but none of it ever turned me on. The idea of masochism, of having a pain kink, mystified me more than the whole Daddy thing did.

Until I tried it out.

The first time I really enjoyed pain was pretty much an accident. I’d been fucked, hard, by my boyfriend at the time, for maybe the third time ever. When the fucking was happening, I was preoccupied by what was happening to my G-spot – but afterwards, I noticed a deep, bruisey, delicious soreness.

I mentioned it to him over text the next day, and he apologised. I reassured him that I wasn’t complaining – I loved the reminder, the regular ache that whispered “You got fucked yesterday,” deep in my battered vulva. He was turned on by that, though he never identified as a sadist – and we started exploring more by way of hickeys, spanking during sex, hair-pulling and more.

This is probably the most straightforward of my “core” kinks in terms of how I discovered it – it happened sort of by mistake, I liked it a lot, and so I tried different things along the same lines. Still, I grappled with similar doubts to the ones I had about CG/l stuff – what if this was somehow too close to self-harm? What if this made me a “bad” kinkster? Eventually, I came to the same conclusion, too – that kinks can never exist in a vacuum, and that as long as every participant was safe (psychologically and physically) and having fun, I could do whatever I liked with my body – including allowing other people to hurt it.

How did you discover some of your favourite kinks?