I was beside my sister-in-law in her car some years ago when she made the comment that she wished she was 'straight'; that being gay had caused her many problems in her life, but she was who she was. That was all there was to that.
It was a piece of 'evidence' for me that being gay was not a choice because growing up I'd heard the opinion voiced many times over that gay people were often choosing to be gay. My sister-in-law's sexuality was never an issue for me, though it was cause for concern in her own family. I wonder if, subliminally, I related to her sentiments. It was before I had comes to terms with my own sexuality really but I still understood what she was saying.
I sometimes do have the thought that it would be easier to be non-kinky. I had it this morning. I happened to be on Facebook and a friend had posted a photograph of her oysters and champagne happily sitting on a table on the veranda of her holiday home waiting to be devoured. I thought, 'Wouldn't it be easy to be like her. I could get my kicks out of things like that and never have to visit the dark side again. Life would be one long party and I could be frivolous and think everything was "gorgeous"'.
However, that's not me. I didn't choose to be kinky, but I am. My spirit flies free when I am contained, instructed, corrected, spanked and used. When I am not particularly happy the reason is that this didn't happen any time recently. Sure, there are other reasons why I might be out of sorts with my world but so long as I have such experiences, I can cope. Life doesn't get me down for long so long as my submissive nature can soar.
My husband and I went away this weekend on our own and that has been a very rare thing for us, especially this year. It should have been lovely from the outset but the truth is that there were some tense moments. "Oh boy, you really need a fuck!" he said to me yesterday when my responses weren't too flash.
This morning he said, "Let's work in the garden for the first part of the day and if you're a good girl I'll fuck you in the afternoon." "Okay," I replied.
At lunch time it was time and he led me into the bedroom. He caressed me and blindfolded me; put my mouth gag in place. I started to relax. "Feeling better?" he asked. I nodded I did. "Now be a good girl and bend over the pillow for your spanking." Bimbo didn't hesitate.
He was using a paddle and he'd been using it for some time when he said that if I wanted more all I had to do was raise my bottom. No response. If I wanted to do that I could do that any time up until the count of 10. I raised my ass at 5. "Oh, you are hungry today."
More pain. More struggle. Some caressing. He repeated the instruction. Bimbo panted through to the count of 8 and raised her ass again. "Oh, you really are a little pain slut, aren't you?!" he said.
This time he thrashed. Ten hard and fast whacks of the paddle that had me screaming through the gag.
Part of him likes to think he hasn't been subverted; that he does it for me. But, he was aroused by the activity. There is no doubt about it, because after a long lovemaking session he bellowed like a bull and filled me with his semen; something that he hasn't done in a while. It pleased him and relaxed him in full measure.
I am sitting here now on a bruised and mark ass and loving every minute of it. I feel my old self. I feel...happy. Yes, the oysters and the champagne and the freshly mowed, immaculate looking lawn at the oh so perfect holiday house looked inviting, but I wouldn't trade it for satiation of my kink on any day. It's that important to me.
It was a piece of 'evidence' for me that being gay was not a choice because growing up I'd heard the opinion voiced many times over that gay people were often choosing to be gay. My sister-in-law's sexuality was never an issue for me, though it was cause for concern in her own family. I wonder if, subliminally, I related to her sentiments. It was before I had comes to terms with my own sexuality really but I still understood what she was saying.
I sometimes do have the thought that it would be easier to be non-kinky. I had it this morning. I happened to be on Facebook and a friend had posted a photograph of her oysters and champagne happily sitting on a table on the veranda of her holiday home waiting to be devoured. I thought, 'Wouldn't it be easy to be like her. I could get my kicks out of things like that and never have to visit the dark side again. Life would be one long party and I could be frivolous and think everything was "gorgeous"'.
However, that's not me. I didn't choose to be kinky, but I am. My spirit flies free when I am contained, instructed, corrected, spanked and used. When I am not particularly happy the reason is that this didn't happen any time recently. Sure, there are other reasons why I might be out of sorts with my world but so long as I have such experiences, I can cope. Life doesn't get me down for long so long as my submissive nature can soar.
My husband and I went away this weekend on our own and that has been a very rare thing for us, especially this year. It should have been lovely from the outset but the truth is that there were some tense moments. "Oh boy, you really need a fuck!" he said to me yesterday when my responses weren't too flash.
This morning he said, "Let's work in the garden for the first part of the day and if you're a good girl I'll fuck you in the afternoon." "Okay," I replied.
At lunch time it was time and he led me into the bedroom. He caressed me and blindfolded me; put my mouth gag in place. I started to relax. "Feeling better?" he asked. I nodded I did. "Now be a good girl and bend over the pillow for your spanking." Bimbo didn't hesitate.
He was using a paddle and he'd been using it for some time when he said that if I wanted more all I had to do was raise my bottom. No response. If I wanted to do that I could do that any time up until the count of 10. I raised my ass at 5. "Oh, you are hungry today."
More pain. More struggle. Some caressing. He repeated the instruction. Bimbo panted through to the count of 8 and raised her ass again. "Oh, you really are a little pain slut, aren't you?!" he said.
This time he thrashed. Ten hard and fast whacks of the paddle that had me screaming through the gag.
Part of him likes to think he hasn't been subverted; that he does it for me. But, he was aroused by the activity. There is no doubt about it, because after a long lovemaking session he bellowed like a bull and filled me with his semen; something that he hasn't done in a while. It pleased him and relaxed him in full measure.
I am sitting here now on a bruised and mark ass and loving every minute of it. I feel my old self. I feel...happy. Yes, the oysters and the champagne and the freshly mowed, immaculate looking lawn at the oh so perfect holiday house looked inviting, but I wouldn't trade it for satiation of my kink on any day. It's that important to me.
I so agree with you Vesta, and I am speaking as someone who thought I was weird for years because I hadn't been able to explore my kinky side. For me the romance side was always lovely (when it happened), but I was often left thinking now what? I'd go for your weekend anytime!
ReplyDeleteI'll take the oysters if Sir has me tied up and hand feeding them to me. Plus, pouring the champagne on His cock, which descends into my mouth (He has done this with wine).
ReplyDeleteAgain, great post. I like the way you work this subject - I am kinky, I did not choose this; but that is who I am and I like it.
ReplyDeleteI can relate. The first time I wished to tie the neighbor girl up was when I was 8. I felt like there was something horribly wrong with me, and that I was an evil person. It was not until many years later that I was at ease with myself. So, I know what you mean.
The other part of your post is also great. I liked the little story with your husband and you. Simple and hot.
Another excellent post
ReplyDeleteThat was "gorgeous." : )
ReplyDeleteSusan aka July Girl
Joolz: Thank you for leaving this comment because it gave me an opportunity to have a look at your journal, and, of course, your explorations are of great interest to me. I actually think, and I'm sure you would agree, that romance is an important aspect of many D/s relationships. Even in those relationships where it is all protocol and romance seems forbidden, there is this deep sense of wanting to please one another which is rather romantic, I think. And, let's not forget those delicious moments when decisions are taken out of our hands, such as in a restaurant. That's a lovely blend of D/s and romance.
ReplyDeleteHis Slut: This has to be one of my favorite comments of the year. It's definitely not an either/or situation as you so rightly point out. The picture you paint is absolutely delicious.
David: Eight?!?! I'm laughing. I was deviant in mind even before this age, which provided me with a degree of trauma. I was pretty sure the other girls weren't thinking these thoughts and I was terrified that my mind could be read and I'd be in big trouble!! It's nice to know that you have come to terms with your deviant nature and now think of tying girls up day and night without thinking you are "evil". LOL
Siranneal: You are most gracious.
Susan: Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed the read.