Kinky thoughts came to me completely naturally and unprovoked as a child. I'd see a scene in a movie, or read a few lines in a novel, or overhear someone say something and I was instantly aroused. No-one else was involved in this response. That is to say, I wasn't attempting to please a partner or to follow him along a particular path. My mind was aroused by the scene and that was that.
It is said that we fantasize within very specific parameters about our kinks. If it's a school disciplining scenario we might have in our mind's eye very particular details such as the type of dress or the type of instrument; perhaps a wooden stool in involved or there is a particular cupboard where the canes are stored.
It's fascinating and troubling at the same time that these scenes never really grow old. I happened upon a school disciplining scene in the past few days - one that would be grotesque in real life, utterly barbaric - and I slipped right down the kinky rabbit hole as if I were 15 all over again. My body will never stop being instantly aroused by particular scenes, done in a particular way. That is to say, the girls have to be helpless and at the mercy of the disciplinarians, and the disciplinarians have to be ruthless in the discharging of their duties.
The girls have to cry and howl and beg at the same time that they know they must do everything possible to hold their position. The masters and mistresses have to turn a blind eye and ear to the ministrations of their charges and go about their task in a professional manner. There is a clear demarcation of who is in charge and who has zero power and everybody in the room knows their place.
To analyze it a tad, there's complete helplessness on the part of the girls and total power in terms of the rights of the masters and mistresses to uphold the sanctity of their contract to educate the girls to particularly high standards. Let's be clear. If the girls had behaved well, none of this would have been necessary. Under normal circumstances those who watched over them would have kept a tight ship but not a particularly onerous one for the girls, for there is only one rule at this establishment really - to follow the rules and to do as told. Simple.
It's interesting (to me at least) that I have been prepared to follow through with this thought in other ways; ways I wouldn't have thought of as a child and which I didn't even necessarily know much about as a fully grown woman. I 'got' on some subliminal level that my kink was about 'place' and that meant that I moved quite effortlessly from having a spanking kink to a kink that related to whatever it was that I was presented with. The proviso was that I really did need to feel that the contract - obedience - was at the heart of 'it'. I really did need to feel an abiding affection was at the heart of everything too. This could make it complicated.
Nowadays there is no sense of a contract in my life. Put more bluntly, there is no contract. I'm a free agent in that sense. This means that I am not likely to experience the mind blowing highs of the past but nor, logically speaking, am I likely to experience the downs, and there were downs, for complicated reasons which not everyone has to go through.
There is, of course, always 'play'; the sort of play where a partner suggests a spanking. But, for reasons as explored above, unfortunately that doesn't do it for me. In essence, I like the idea of a contract; not the one with lists that you tick, but the sort of contract where roles are clearly designated, understood and embraced, not just for three minutes but innately. I guess what I am saying is that either it is authentic and I feel it down to my toes, or I'll see through the veneer and it will do nothing for me. Either it works for us both or I think it's best we do what we do rather well, just be ourselves.
I can almost hear you asking...but can you separate your kinky self from your self? I'm not sure I know, or ever knew the answer to that. It's sat in my being all my life; that girl who is so deeply aroused by certain situations not well understood by nearly anyone. An exchange of power with a partner such that this part of me that sits bubbling below can find expression was far more elevating and satisfying than I have ever been able to express in words. I remain forever grateful for those experiences. I'll cradle them in my old age.
But, there's a lot more to me and to my mind than kink, and somehow, maybe, just maybe, now might be the right time to fully explore if I can put it away in a box; not in some dusty box in the darkest and deepest recesses of my mind never to see light again, but far enough away that I can get on with life without pining for what I once had in the lusty May days of Camelot. There is a season for everything. I had my time and now there is a new time.
It is said that we fantasize within very specific parameters about our kinks. If it's a school disciplining scenario we might have in our mind's eye very particular details such as the type of dress or the type of instrument; perhaps a wooden stool in involved or there is a particular cupboard where the canes are stored.
It's fascinating and troubling at the same time that these scenes never really grow old. I happened upon a school disciplining scene in the past few days - one that would be grotesque in real life, utterly barbaric - and I slipped right down the kinky rabbit hole as if I were 15 all over again. My body will never stop being instantly aroused by particular scenes, done in a particular way. That is to say, the girls have to be helpless and at the mercy of the disciplinarians, and the disciplinarians have to be ruthless in the discharging of their duties.
The girls have to cry and howl and beg at the same time that they know they must do everything possible to hold their position. The masters and mistresses have to turn a blind eye and ear to the ministrations of their charges and go about their task in a professional manner. There is a clear demarcation of who is in charge and who has zero power and everybody in the room knows their place.
To analyze it a tad, there's complete helplessness on the part of the girls and total power in terms of the rights of the masters and mistresses to uphold the sanctity of their contract to educate the girls to particularly high standards. Let's be clear. If the girls had behaved well, none of this would have been necessary. Under normal circumstances those who watched over them would have kept a tight ship but not a particularly onerous one for the girls, for there is only one rule at this establishment really - to follow the rules and to do as told. Simple.
It's interesting (to me at least) that I have been prepared to follow through with this thought in other ways; ways I wouldn't have thought of as a child and which I didn't even necessarily know much about as a fully grown woman. I 'got' on some subliminal level that my kink was about 'place' and that meant that I moved quite effortlessly from having a spanking kink to a kink that related to whatever it was that I was presented with. The proviso was that I really did need to feel that the contract - obedience - was at the heart of 'it'. I really did need to feel an abiding affection was at the heart of everything too. This could make it complicated.
Nowadays there is no sense of a contract in my life. Put more bluntly, there is no contract. I'm a free agent in that sense. This means that I am not likely to experience the mind blowing highs of the past but nor, logically speaking, am I likely to experience the downs, and there were downs, for complicated reasons which not everyone has to go through.
There is, of course, always 'play'; the sort of play where a partner suggests a spanking. But, for reasons as explored above, unfortunately that doesn't do it for me. In essence, I like the idea of a contract; not the one with lists that you tick, but the sort of contract where roles are clearly designated, understood and embraced, not just for three minutes but innately. I guess what I am saying is that either it is authentic and I feel it down to my toes, or I'll see through the veneer and it will do nothing for me. Either it works for us both or I think it's best we do what we do rather well, just be ourselves.
I can almost hear you asking...but can you separate your kinky self from your self? I'm not sure I know, or ever knew the answer to that. It's sat in my being all my life; that girl who is so deeply aroused by certain situations not well understood by nearly anyone. An exchange of power with a partner such that this part of me that sits bubbling below can find expression was far more elevating and satisfying than I have ever been able to express in words. I remain forever grateful for those experiences. I'll cradle them in my old age.
But, there's a lot more to me and to my mind than kink, and somehow, maybe, just maybe, now might be the right time to fully explore if I can put it away in a box; not in some dusty box in the darkest and deepest recesses of my mind never to see light again, but far enough away that I can get on with life without pining for what I once had in the lusty May days of Camelot. There is a season for everything. I had my time and now there is a new time.
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