Read My Kink

This past Friday, as I was perusing several bondage videos, when I heard something that struck me.  In this video, about 15 minutes in, Berlin (the lovely woman with the red hair) is asked what is running through her mind.  Her answer is simple, a mere three words:  “let it be.”  She describes how she stops fighting with the pain, the pinching, the tightness of the ropes, as she’s tied in suspension, and just allows it to happen to her body, to endure it.  This little phrase, “let it be,” spoke something to me, because I often struggle with letting go of my control. I made a mental note to try to let go over the weekend, on a session I had scheduled with a playmate.  It would be hard, but the least I could do was try.

As Saturday morning rolled around, I went through my normal routine.  I showered, got dressed, made my bed, had a bit to eat, and then watched a small part of that video one more time.  At around 11:00, I went down to meet my friend, Wolfgang.  He was right one time, as usual, and after helping me with my laundry, we departed for his house.  This weekend was to be devoted to running through a couple of scenes that he had already planned out.

After doing some grocery shopping, we arrived at his place.  I got changed into my costume for the day – schoolgirl skirt (that I made myself), fishnet stockings, and a pair of talish leather boots.  I lined my eyes with black liner, and gave my lips a layer of cherry Chapstick.  I was ready for whatever scene Wolfie had in mind.

As I walked out of the bathroom, and into the master bedroom, I was thrown down onto the bed, by what appeared to be my angry “daddy”.  He slapped me a couple times, hard, and started yelling at me about how  should be wearing a proper school uniform and how he had gotten a phone call about me passing notes in class.

As the scene progressed, I could feel my ass getting hotter and hotter, each slap becoming less bearable than the next.  He eventually pulled out a new flogger – one that I had picked out, as well as a cane – one that I had bought for him.  I was being tortured with the very same implements that had seemed so appealing on a shelf in the store.  I felt the burn of the cane, etching into my skin, like a line of hot lava, the flogger stinging me as he flicked it at the same spot, over and over again.  And yet, I almost managed to find a sense of calm in my mind.  Let it be, I told myself, just let go.  I didn’t even notice when Wolfie unzipped his pants and shoved his cock down my throat.  I didn’t even resist when I started gagging.  I simply went to work, sucking and pleasing him, like a good little slut.

This whole “let it be” mentality was going well, until the time came for Wolfie to cum on me.  I’m not quite sure what it is, but I have always had a strong discomfort towards bodily fluids, in particular, semen.  To work on this, it has been decided that every time I play with Wolfie, I will get jerked off on.  Well, this idea was good, and it worked for the most part, but something last weekend made me freak out a little.

I was kneeling in front of Wolfie, watching his hands move at a rapid pace, anticipating a load of thick, white, spermatozoa-filled liquid to come squirting out.  And when it finally came, I screamed.  Normally it would’ve been over and done with in about 5 seconds, but this time, it just kept on spraying.  It felt like an eternity before it stopped, and even when it did, I wasn’t allowed to wash it off for 30 seconds.  I don’t know why, but even after I had scrubbed and washed and scrubbed and washed, I still felt dirty.  I suppose it’s going to take some time and getting used to in order for me to conquer such an irrational fear.

We decided to go on another grocery trip after that little incident, except this time, I had to go in my costume.  Now, I wouldn’t normally do it, but I was in love with my new boots, and proud of the skirt I had sewn, so I agreed, and we went.  This next part is, by far, my favourite part of the night.  As we stood in the check-out line, a woman glared at me with piercing eyes, eyeing me up and down with the most judgemental, sour look.  It took all the restraint in my body to keep from letting out a giggle, as Wolfie and I just stared and smiled at each other.

A year ago, I would’ve been deeply embarrassed to be caught in that outfit.  I would’ve feared judgement.  I would’ve broken down and cried.  Last Saturday, however, I felt none of those negative emotions.  I almost felt proud to be strutting around in what I would consider and awesome outfit.  It was almost satisfying to see such disgust and disapproval in the eyes of that woman.  It was from that experience that I realised that I have truly  learned to let things be, that over the past year, I have grown and matured as both a submissive and as a woman.

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