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30 Days of Kink: How Did You Discover You Were Kinky?

May 22nd, 2013

30 Days of Kink

For the rest of this series, and links to others who have participated, click here.

Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?

There were multiple indicators that my sexual appetites were a bit different than those of the vast majority of my peers. From fantasies, to putting clothespins and barrettes on my nipples, to binding my boobs with rubber bands.

When girls my age were hoping their crush would hold their hand, I was pretending mine had pinned me down in a field and ravished me until I begged him to stop. When they were fantasizing about their first kiss, I was imagining a man I’d never met kidnapping me and taking me away to his home to keep me as a sex slave. When they were talking about who they’d give their cherry to, I was hoping I’d lose mine to a heavy-handed stranger.

I used to watch Lifetime movies with my mom and wish guys like the ones they portrayed would leave the girls who weren’t interested in their kind of loving alone and come be with me. I’d fantasize about how I’d do things wrong just so they’d hit me. And how I’d take such good care of them otherwise. And how they’d never know I was enjoying what they were doing to me, so they’d continue to do it.

When my dad gave me my own Yahoo account, I figured out how to make another one, and lied about my age, so I could go into the roleplaying chat rooms and look for a vampire to own me. It wasn’t so much that I wanted someone who called himself a vampire, as I wanted someone who would force me to do their bidding. Truth be told, I thought the vampire part was a little silly.

But it wasn’t until my mother and I watched Exit to Eden together that I realized there were other people out there like me. I mean, they made a movie about it, which was based on a book, and if there’s a book about it, there has to be people like that, right? Shut up. Even if it is false logic (e.g. vampires, hobgoblins, fire-breathing dragons), it turns out I was right. There’s tons of people out there kinda like me.

I still didn’t think I was kinky.

At the time, my interest was more in the power play than any of the rest of it. While it was hot to see people who enjoyed pain being tortured, the thing that really turned me on was watching someone go through paces at the command of another. Even if it was just writing a paper or fetching a drink. But the most fun were the submissives who were made to stand at attention, and prance around on show, and do tricks. The pony boys and girls, and the slaves kept in high protocol, and the ones made to hold a difficult position for a long period of time.

I don’t know why I didn’t consider that kinky.

Maybe because of my father’s military background, and the high protocol in our household. I mean, I was never made to dress like a pony, or put on display (unless you include their insistence on me doing well and winning awards), but I was required to respond to barked orders with “Yes, Sir.”, while I was moving, and without hesitation. Something commonly heard in our home was, “If I say jump, you ask how high on the way up, understood?” And while I always rebelled against my father’s iron fist, the idea of my husband controlling me in that way really appeals to me.

It appeared for a brief moment in my teen years,and early twenties, when I was involved with my ex. He was a gangster held in high regard. And in many gangs, men own their women, even once the relationship is over. They don’t all call it that, and some will deny it. But it’s there, nonetheless.

I was still confused about what I was looking for. I thought his power, and the fact that, while it might not ever be spoken about, his crew would consider me his property, were the things I was looking for. They were certainly intriguing, and more than a little enticing. And it wasn’t long before I was punch-drunk on the high of being in a relationship with a man like him.

Before M, I’d never let anyone spank me, really, except for the occasional times when it didn’t come up in conversation beforehand, and it was thrust upon me without warning. If anyone tried to get near my throat, or even accidentally got near my throat, I would sort of flip on them. Face-slapping was out of the question. And if I said stop or get away from me, you could be damn sure I meant it.

I’d dabbled in pegging my boyfriend, though that was mostly because he made me, and I wasn’t really into it (though I can’t wait to peg someone in a less threatening environment and see if my aversion was just cause I was forced). I’d been tied to a bed, and participated in roleplay, and dressed up in sexy little costumes for various partners. I lusted after leather whips, and owned a pair of handcuffs, and fantasized about when I’d be able to use them. But I still never really considered myself kinky.

It wasn’t until I met M, and we spoke in length about it, and he showed me a whole world of other kinky people on line who also participated in kink in real life, that I understood what kind of power exchange I was really looking for. And that’s when it clicked.

Shit, I’m kinky after all.

Originally posted at EdenCafe.com on September 2, 2010

  1. May 22nd, 2013 at 08:27 | #1

    Rayne: 30 Days of Kink: How Did You Discover You We’re Kinky?: For the rest of this series, and links t… http://t.co/x3Owrp3Qen #slave

  2. May 22nd, 2013 at 21:03 | #2

    Right now I’d say I’m a pretty solid sub, but I think that someday I could be a switch. I just don’t feel old enough or experienced enough to really make that leap yet. Plus, I can’t particularly imagine dominating my current partner, my lover. Though it might be a fun way to play at one evening… Or maybe dominating another girl in a threesome… But those are other stories.

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