In any situation, really, where story-telling is involved, it seems that the best place to start, unless your main goal is to thoroughly confuse and frustrate your audience with cleverly-laid flashbacks and time-jumps, is the beginning.
Well, the beginning of the story, anyway. Not The Beginning -- that would make for a rather long, convoluted, and altogether unnecessarily intricate tale.
For our purposes, the story here will be that of one person's journey into the land of Kink, from which there is no fool-proof escape, and within which multitudinous roller-coasters of emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual awakening twist and twirl over fields of oblivion and self-knowledge. Rather like "normal," vanilla life, really. Here, one can grow, or not, one can explore, or not -- but should one choose to make the most of it, a journey here is an irreplaceable, and truly enlightening experience. :D I can say this, and I've only just begun!
My first relationship was entirely vanilla, as are most (especially if they blossom during one's experimental high school years...). When I was 17 and he 18, we'd been together for about two years, and he, the more well-read of the two of us in these matters, asked me the question that started it all: "So... Do you have any fetishes I should know about?"
He asked rather playfully, over our dinner-for-two during a class day-trip to see Shakespeare.
"Fetishes?" I'd never heard the word before.
"Yeah, you know... like, feet, bondage, spanking, talking dirty, etc..." he flipped his hand in the air as if listing off book titles.
My body knew immediately, and shockingly, for at the very moment he'd said the word 'spanking,' my body had gone all tense and warm, my center had fired up, and I could feel the flush running through every vein and fiber of my being. But it didn't dawn on my mind right away. Had I eaten something funny? Was it about to be that time of month? What had just happened?
"No, I don't think so..." I'd answered truthfully, still confused at what had just taken place inside me, not connecting it yet to his utterance of that highly provocative and confusing word...
But as that day wore on, and I began thinking about it, thinking back to my childhood, remembering my early fascinations with cartoons that involved some naughty young character finding their way over an authority's knee, or the countless nights I would lie awake day dreaming about school children caught in petty wrongdoing, or the odd and wonderful attraction I'd always had to certain stories of Roald Dahl's... The connection began to form, and by the time we were heading back home on the bus after the play (a very rousing rendition of Taming of the Shrew, which served only to solidify my now boiling suspicions), I knew very well that I did have a "fetish," and that it did have something very much to do with "spanking."
A while after that, I did decide to confess to my then vanilla boyfriend, the first love of my life, and although he was open to experimenting and did try, I know now that it would never have worked, even if our relationship had lasted beyond college.
As it was, we drifted apart after four years, and by my sophomore year of college, at age 19, I was ready and raring to find some sort of satisfaction for this life-long fascination.
Or at least, I thought I was ready. :D
It didn't take long to find out that the road is long and winding, and that although there are many fabulous, helpful, joyful, entirely wholesome people in the world, there are deviants along the way as well, waiting and willing to reel in their next catch.
Please excuse the elaborate metaphors -- it's really not all that bad. The point here is simply that you must be careful, please -- have your wits and your wants about you, and don't let anyone take them away. No matter how charming, no matter how reassuring, no matter how enrapturing. The one who is right for you will never take away those things that make you who you are, your essence, your nature, your love for life.
A friend of mine from teenage years once gave me a very valuable and it turns out extremely helpful bit of advice when dealing with relationships of a dominant/submissive dynamic... She said, "If you have trouble looking at yourself in the mirror afterwards, you shouldn't do it." If the relationship is taking you places you didn't want to go, end it and get back on the horse in another direction. :D Know what you want beforehand -- have a clear image, so that when you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know what to do, and what is true to you.
Anyway, after that span of about six months succeeding my first break-up, which involved far more rapid and tumultuous a BDSM experience than I ever could have wanted or needed, I took time to heal, before falling in love, again, with a different kind of predator.
A wonderful year went by of utter bliss in my first what-seemed-to-be healthy, spanking relationship. It was during this time when I experienced my first 'real' spanking (which I may detail in a later post), 'real' here referring mostly to the physical position, mental preparation, and emotional connection, rather than the physicality of (what I now know to be) a REAL spanking... A lot of first experiences came out of that relationship while it lasted, and for that reason it was very valuable, despite it's abrupt and rather emotionally jarring cessation.
Since then, my roller-coaster has taken on a life of its own and the breadth of my experiences has grown exponentially, though of course, still with plenty of room to keep growing -- I'm still a newbie in many, many, many ways :D
Thus, a two-year, rocky-road beginning, minus a few details (to be saved for later), which has a happy ending. A happy end to the beginning. And what comes after the beginning? I guess this is the perfect time to find out...! :D
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