A Beginner’s Guide to Kinky Sex

If you’re turned on but intimidated by the complex lingo, etiquette, and array of fetishes out there, let us gently domme you through the basics.

A lot of time can pass between the moment people discover they’re turned on by kink and when they actually act on that. I should know: In high school, I avidly read smutty BDSM fanfics on Tumblr, and it emboldened me to ask the very first guy I had sex with to choke me in bed. He said no, fearing he might “crush my larynx.” Bummer.

For six years after that “no,” I tried to forget I was into kink for a few reasons: I didn’t know how to find people who would choke me, plus I felt some basic shyness about getting into a scene with intimidatingly complex lingo, equipment, and social codes—especially when that scene involved scary-looking floggers and chains.

It took the boredom and voracious horniness of Pandemic Winter 2020 for me to live out my submissive fantasies. I started talking to a guy on Instagram I had mutuals with, but had never met. He sent me spanking videos, and after some back and forth, he invited me over to do a kink scene. I wondered whether this spelled murder, especially because I’d be going to his literal basement but, touch-starved, I said yes. (And then changed my mind and said no. And then said yes again.

I hadn’t even asked around about him, so I was very lucky he was a chill, respectful person and a hot partner. That first time, we explored sensation and impact play. As we kept seeing each other, he taught me more about kink, like how to figure out the specifics of what I was into and safely practice BDSM. But there was still so much to learn.

For newcomers, it can be tough to figure out the rules and etiquette of kink, especially if you’ve mostly encountered it in porn and the occasional Instagram infographic. But through communication, practice, research, and building a kink community, I started learning the ropes (kind of—I only bottom during rope scenes), and the more I learned, the more I liked what I was doing.

Kinky sex simply requires more thought and planning than vanilla sex. But don’t worry—now I’m here to help you get freaky, too. Learning about the basic tenets of kink will help you have the best possible time when you (finally!) decide to try it out for yourself. OK? Say, “Yes, Mistress.” Just kidding—I already told you I’m a sub.

What is kink?

“Kink” covers subcultural sexual practices like BDSM, fetish play, and role play, as well as the lifestyles and social groups related to them. That’s pretty broad, so here’s a basic—and not at all comprehensive, don’t @ me—list of tastes, terms, and phenomena that are fairly common in the wild and vast world of kink.

BDSM. This acronym, which you almost certainly have heard before, refers to “bondage and discipline, domination and submission, sadism and masochism.” A dominant (which, like “domination,” is sometimes capitalized depending on people’s preferences), is a person who exerts control, like by ordering around their partner. A submissive is a person at the other end of that power exchange who willingly gives up their control. A sadist gets pleasure from inflicting pain, and a masochist likes receiving pain. To read more about BDSM, check out this blog post by one of my faves in the kink scene, Venus Cuffs, whom we’ll hear more from in a bit.
A top is a person—not necessarily a dominant—performing an activity: They’re usually the one tying the ropes and spanking the butts. A bottom is a person—not necessarily a submissive—having an activity done to them: being tied up, getting spanked. Switch/vers refers to someone who both tops and bottoms or can be both dominant and submissive. These terms are used in many contexts outside of BDSM too, particularly if you’re queer—read more here!
A scene refers to a kinky experience or session, which you can have more than one of during a given encounter or party. If you got spanked for 20 minutes or tied up and teased with a sex toy, those things would be considered scenes.

Let’s talk about some common fetishes. This is a fun A–Z list of kinks and fetishes. It’s not all-inclusive: Any hot thing you’re fixated on can be its own fetish, so don’t despair if yours isn’t on that list or the one included just below. It’s just good to have a place to start in terms of what you might come across as you go.

Impact play is focused on a top striking a bottom’s body with their hands or implements like canes, paddles, floggers, or whips. Here’s a guide to safety during impact play.
Rope bondage refers to the practice of restraining or binding someone with rope, which is not necessarily always Shibari (and doesn’t need to be). Shibari refers specifically to a type of rope bondage which originated in Japan. I highly recommend researching Japanese Shibari educators and practitioners to understand how to respectfully engage in Shibari. Whatever you’re doing, read up on rope safety practices first.
Sensation play is when the goal is arousal or stimulation through senses (like playing with ice, Wartenberg wheels, or hot wax). Seek out a safety guide for whatever you’re doing—you should look for sources that outline actual health risks, not just, “Here’s what feels good and what doesn’t.”
Sharps play involves, well, sharp stuff like needles, knives, or scalpels. Obviously, you’ll need to know a little more about mitigating risks if this is what you’re into—start with this Healthline guide.
Breath play involves restriction of oxygen. Look up how to minimize risk before choking of any kind.
Edge play refers to especially high-risk play of any kind, like rope suspension, knife play, or needle play.

How can I find out more about what kinks I’m into?

People get into kink through porn, social media, sexual experimentation, fanfics, and beyond. There’s no shame if you read or watched 50 Shades of Grey and got curious! (Just know that the books and films are filled with inaccuracies about BDSM, consent, and safety practices.)

Reeru, a 32-year-old sadist top in Brooklyn, found out he was kinky when a partner used restraints on him. “I was teased until I couldn’t take it anymore,” he said. Reeru freed himself from the restraints and took the dominant role, which he said “awakened that part of [him].” Afterwards, he sought out kink more straightforwardly.

Like Reeru, you might come to kink through sex, but plenty of people also (or exclusively) consider kink a form of self-expression. Venus Cuffs is a New York–based dominant working in nightlife who uses she and they pronouns. Cuffs uses kink to subvert society’s racist definitions of her. “[In my daily life,] I was expected to be angry—to be a mammy, take care of everyone, be submissive, and be a servant. To never truly have any power,” they said. Through BDSM, she said, they’re served and honored by men instead.

To investigate what makes you feel turned on or otherwise piqued: Read books about kinky sex and see what makes you horny as you read. Watch kinky porn. Go to an event to watch kinky performances. Finally, taking the famous online BDSM test can point you toward what you might like—it’s kind of cringe and hilarious, but I don’t know anyone in kink who hasn’t taken it at least once, even just for fun.

How do I find kinky people?

Plenty of people enjoy kink with their usual romantic and sexual partners. But you can also look into dedicated communities if you’re hoping to dip your toes (or whatever body parts you like) into local and online kink scenes.

Many people recommend starting by exploring FetLife, a kinky social network. Some disclaimers: It’s not very user-friendly—its interface looks and is almost charmingly bad—and, as on any platform, some users are rude or bigoted. Still, FetLife is the only platform of its kind, and it remains one of the better ways for newcomers to find people and events.

For one-off encounters, dating apps can be useful. Feeld, which is marketed to people seeking group sex, is particularly kinky compared to other apps, but you can find potential partners on the more general and popular apps. I’m currently in my “off again” phase with apps, but this is usually my bio (go ahead and roast me): “I’m a non-monog masochistic bottom looking for new connections. Into impact play, plants, my cats, police/prison abolition, and bruise pics.” Feel free to adapt it based on what you’re into.

How do I vet partners?

Remember how I turned up to a stranger’s basement with no idea what I was doing? Don’t be like me! I’m lucky everything turned out OK, but kink can be physically and emotionally risky. Look into potential partners—and, ideally, meet in public—before they tie you up and spit on you (or vice versa).

When I’m talking to new people about playing together, I ask them how long they’ve been doing the activity at hand and what their skills are. Understanding more about a partner’s history and qualifications can help prevent mistakes and injuries—for instance, a top should be able to tell you how they plan to keep you both safe. Exploring with an inexperienced partner who wants to learn can be OK, but less so if you learn they’ve never tied anyone up before when you’re already suspended from the ceiling.

I ask people I’m vetting how they define consent and to describe their risk profiles (this is a common kink phrase covering how intense a person is willing to get during rough play). If that feels right, I check their social media accounts for red flags—have they posted about having no limits or hating safe words?—and I ask my community members what they know about the person. Ideally, I’m able to speak with a previous partner to confirm that things went well. (That’s right—I ask for kink references, and you should, too.)

It’s not possible to do this deep of a dive at parties, but before tying with a rope top at an event, I ask what they know about preventing nerve damage and where and when they learned to tie.

If I’m comfortable with their answers, we keep talking—most of the time. Sometimes nothing comes up that’s a problem, but something you can’t quite put your finger on gives you pause. Trust your gut! If someone feels off, they might not be dangerous, but they’re probably not for you.

What if I’m looking for a professional to teach me about kink?

People explore kinks with professional dom(me)s, submissives, and fetish providers for a low-stakes way to get a little experience before seeking out unpaid partners. Mistress Danielle Blunt, who is a professional Dominatrix, said, “Hiring [a professional] can be a great way to explore kinky desires for newbies, because it takes the pressure off having to navigate something that can be scary or feel shameful with a partner.”

Some people, like me, just prefer working with pros. Bottoming for rope can be dangerous, and since I’ve researched the risks, I almost exclusively tie with people who get paid to know what they’re doing. Knowing I’m in good hands, I can get into a juicy, wonderful space when I’m being suspended—one that feels full of catharsis and release.

People can hire pros for so many things: A client might want someone to top them in spanking scenes. They might want to learn how to tie rope themselves, or for someone to teach them proper ball-busting technique. Whatever it is people are doing while working with professionals, they’re expected to be respectful of their boundaries, time, and rates.

How can I tell if a kink event is safe?

First, let’s talk about what kink events and parties even are. Events aren’t always orgies. You might also come across performances, workshops, mixers, classes, and play parties.

When you see parties advertised online, look for two acronyms:

RACK, which stands for “risk-aware, consensual kink,” and means all parties agree to understand and consent to the risks in any activity.
NMIK, which stands for “no minors in kink,” as in, don’t engage in kink with minors or let minors attend kink events!

Before any kind of party, organizers might throw “munches,” which allow you to meet people in expectation-free settings prior to partying together. Munches can happen just before an event that includes touching or sex, or completely separately. They generally occur in public places (or virtually) and people attend without their whips, and with clothes on.

Whether you’re at a munch or looking into an event independently: Ask organizers about consent practices. A zero-tolerance policy for violations is great, but get specific. What happens if someone reports that happening?

Reeru suggested more questions to guide your decision-making about event safety:

“Are there dungeon or consent monitors present and easily identifiable?” (“Dungeons,” by the way, are established BDSM spaces.)
“How do you vet performers, professionals, and guests?”
“Are people using drugs or alcohol?”
“Are safer sex practices being observed?”
“Are vaccinations mandatory?”

If organizers don’t have good (or any) answers, steer clear. However, if you mostly like an event, but notice something is lacking or vague, bring it up! If they’re amenable to making changes to prioritize people’s safety and comfort, that’s a really good sign.

How should I act at kink events?

The first way to fit in at a kink event happens before you get there: Follow directions about what to wear. Generally speaking, jeans and a T-shirt are too casual. Think more Euphoria vibes. Many, if not most, parties require you to turn a look within dress codes like fetish gear or formalwear—I’ve seen a Moulin Rouge theme, and people love latex-and-leather parties. Check with coordinators or reread the description to make sure you’re dressing the part.

As with their dress codes, each event is going to vary in terms of what’s socially expected and acceptable. If you have questions about what is or isn’t OK, ask an organizer.

One thing holds true everywhere you go: Behave respectfully. As Venus Cuffs said, “BDSM does not exist without consent, which should be the foundation of all your play. There are no exceptions to this rule—without it, it’s abuse.” This is true of all kinds of kink.

Ask before touching anyone or any toys or equipment. Don’t interrupt while people are mid-scene. Keep a safe distance when watching a scene so you don’t accidentally get hit or make anyone uncomfortable.

What does “negotiating a scene” mean, and how do I do it?

“Negotiation” is a before-scene discussion about participants’ needs, wants, and limits. (Yes, another one!) This conversation varies depending on the scene and partner. If you’re new partners, a negotiation might be extensive, since you’re learning about each other for the first time. If you’ve already been together, you might ask fewer questions or just make sure what you discussed last time still applies.

Lots of negotiation questionnaires and sheets are available online, but these premises are usually part of all of them:

Soft limits are acts and types of kink that you generally don’t want to do, but could be flexible about with the right person, at the right time. One of my soft limits is needle play, which can involve being pierced with gauge needles. I don’t usually want to do it, and I would never do it during my first time with someone—but I’ve tried it, and I would again under proper conditions.
Hard limits are definite nos. One of mine is race play: Under no circumstances will I engage in kink based on racialized power differentials.
Safe words are codes that can pause or stop play. Some people don’t use “no” or “stop” because it can be part of pre-negotiated play to feign resistance (hot), and you don’t want someone to actually stop when you’re having a good time (not hot). Like many newcomers and experienced people alike, I use stoplight colors: “yellow” to indicate I’m approaching my limits, and “red” when I need a full stop.

People can have intense reactions during scenes, even if they think they’re ready for what’s coming and have safe words in place. Sometimes, things can become triggering, or people can become non-verbal. Talking through this in advance can prevent harm in the moment when emotions are high. For example: If you start crying, is that an automatic end to the scene? Is it OK for your partner to just check in?

Mistress Blunt suggested trying these questions as you negotiate:

“What does aftercare—what people do to ease out of kink and into the regular world—look like for you?”
“Do you like to be checked in on after a scene?”
“What makes you feel safe? What makes you feel unsafe?
“What should we do if something goes wrong?”
“Is there anything I should know about your body or mind?”

Negotiation is just as much about talking through what you like and want to do, which is also really fun. Once you’ve got the above information in place, be sure to focus on pleasure for a while.

How do I reduce physical risks?

Before trying out a new kind of kink, you absolutely have to do your research about the risks involved and best safety practices. Look for both guides and medically sound information about physical risks—you might search online for terms like “how to safely spank someone” or “what are the risks associated with rope bondage?” Read as much as you can, and err on the side of credible medical and health information websites rather than forums or blogs.

If you’re doing a rope scene, learn to identify the signs of nerve damage (even if you are bottoming and don’t know how to tie). If you’re planning to do impact, learn how not to get hit where there are vital organs (avoid the lower back and protect your kidneys).

Before each and every scene, all parties involved should be able to check in with themselves about those risks to see if they are in the mental and/or physical place to engage. Even if some of us are bimbos who like to be degraded, bottoms aren’t just passive participants. Ebibex, a Baltimore-based rope and sharps bottom who’s using a pseudonym for this article, said, “This idea that bottoms are interchangeable bodies, who just ‘look pretty’ in rope, or unskilled recipients, is both harmful and insulting.” In good kink scenarios, bottoms will be as much in control of being safe during a scene as tops are.

You can also reduce harm by choosing not to use drugs or alcohol before and during a scene. This is ultimately up to you, but at least starting your kink journey sober is usually a good idea.

What is aftercare?

Aftercare is the time following a scene when people are returning to “normalcy.” Some people like physical closeness and snacks. Others might shower together or give each other massages. Some people might not want to spend time together at all. That’s all fine, as long as it’s discussed beforehand.

Aftercare doesn’t have to end directly after the scene. Many people like hearing from their partner a day or two after a scene. Ebibex, the said she likes “talking to and debriefing with anyone I’ve played with—what we liked, what could be different.” This can also mitigate “drop,” which refers to negative feelings that can arise in the days following an encounter. Drop isn’t always preventable, and that’s OK! I receive incredible aftercare and sometimes still drop. In those times, I eat chocolate and watch feel-good movies. I also reach out to my top and let them know I’m feeling bad, and talking often helps.

Postgame communication can help people deal with consent violations or injuries, which can happen even among the most well-intentioned or experienced players. Part of harm reduction is to be prepared for these scenarios, and to know what to do after something has gone wrong. If you’ve gotten hurt or had your consent violated, what do you need or want from the other person? If you hurt someone or violated their consent, how will you show up and respect their wants and needs?

Even when a scene goes perfectly, it’s good to check in and to feel that your safety—and your pleasure—is valuable to your partner, and vice versa.

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