Black kink.

[Solaxiom]

I love the art of BDSM. The ritual. The power play. The language of dominance and surrender when it’s done with care and intensity.
But as a Black writer and reader, I find myself frustrated by how quickly the genre turns predictable. Start exploring BDSM with Black characters and 9 times out of 10, you hit the same dead ends: race play, skin fetish, or some flattening of identity that turns melanin into a kink instead of a backdrop.
What I want to see more of? Everyday people of color stepping into these spaces without being targeted or tokenized. Characters who get to be submissive, not because of their skin—but because they choose to give up control.
I’m also fascinated by the idea of submission without destruction. So much of the “breaking” trope leans into violence, humiliation, or even slavery-adjacent dynamics. But what about power that doesn’t rely on force? What about someone submitting because they can’t help it—because they’re seen, understood, and undone from the inside out?
How do you write or explore submission that isn’t violent, but still overwhelming?
What does it look like to dominate someone without ever raising your voice or lifting your hand?
How can Black kink stories center choice, not control?
I’d love to hear from other writers or readers who are exploring these ideas. If you have stories, headcanons, or personal insights, please share.
Let’s talk about submission that seduces—without stripping identity. This is my first try.
https://www.literotica.com/s/the-unraveling-of-lena-james

 

[Shaglus_Ziegler]

I’ll check it out! Cheers

 

[Solaxiom]

I’ll check it out! Cheers

Thank you. I like any feedback you can give.

 

[StrongMaster7]

Your post made me think about the racial aspect of erotica (porn). As an old, liberal, white guy, who has written dozens of stories for Lit, I don't think I have ever written about ethnicity or race. And yet, different people have specific feelings for or against various ethnicities and races. For instance, I fear that in describing a black woman, even in the most poetic ,loving, sexual manner, something I might say with no disrespect or malice could be found objectionable. But there must be a way to express a positive thought about the ethnic or racial aspects of a character.

I'll give your story a read. Cheers!

 

[Solaxiom]

I find porn to be white centered. And erotica. There are specific black spaces identified in tone. I wholeheartedly understand being nervous as I find myself nervous to discuss things from a woman's perspective. Cause I only know what I believe it to be. It is fun to learn and try it out. I suggest you give it a whirl. Might be fun.

 

[liqueur]

I'm so sorry I missed this when you posted it. I want to boost it any way I can. I have spoken out both here and on FetLife about the racism inherent in raceplay and race-fetishization. But as I am speaking as a white man, I feel both unqualified and largely unheard.

There is a certain kind of willful blindness among fetish-owners, whenever it's pointed out that a certain fetish might be problematic. “Don't kinkshame me” and “your kink is not my kink and vice versa” are the worn-out responses that these people trot out whenever it's pointed out that there might be a problem with a certain kink. They are so certain that these lazy defenses demolish your “

the same dead ends: race play, skin fetish, or some flattening of identity that turns melanin into a kink instead of a backdrop.

This is so, so exactly right. (“You cannot add qualifiers to superlatives”, an old writing teacher used to tell me. But I have to, because the importance of what you say here cannot be overemphasized). Even if there were no racism at its roots (impossible to imagine how that could work), this “flattening of identity”, as you so perfectly describe it, results in deadening the writing. It becomes 2-dimensional, like a comic book.

What I want to see more of? Everyday people of color stepping into these spaces without being targeted or tokenized. Characters who get to be submissive, not because of their skin—but because they choose to give up control.
[...]
How can Black kink stories center choice, not control?

I've never written interracial stories, because they're simply outside my experience. I grew up and lived most of my life in northern rural areas that were vastly white. I have had 3 relationships with black folks, but they were brief and I've never felt qualified to write about them.

But I've always believed that if I were to write an interracial story, the only way I could handle it well would be by not mentioning race at all. As with all writing, “show, don't tell”. Let the race become gradually evident only by way of physical description, and in so doing, create an unspoken contract with the reader: “race is incidental here; it's not central to the story.” Reading I've encountered by good writers (with no kink involved) has seemed to confirm this. Of course, when racial difference is central to the story— as ultimately happened in 2 of my own 3 interracial relationships— I have not yet found a way, and feel unqualified, to write about it.

I hope to hear more of your own thoughts on this question, and I will read the story you've linked.