30 Posts of Kink – first kinky experience

Today’s topic is to write about my very first kinky experience, or if I haven’t had one, to write about one I’d like to have. I can speak to experience. I can’t remember my first one with the Husband, because we’ve been together for a very long time, almost half my life, and that’s a lot to think back on. I can remember my introduction to impact play with Pet, because that was very recently, so I’ll write on that.

We went to a party at a couple friend’s house at which “play” is accepted and often happens. The lady of the house, for lack of a better term, is an experienced kinkster and a skilled instructor. Pet asked her for some guidance and assistance, and she took us into a back room and had her service girl get out all of her impact play toys. She demonstrated them one by one, telling me about each one and how it feels to the bottom. After taking a few strikes of her own (on Pet), she handed the tool to me and encouraged me to try. I learned that night which tools I liked and didn’t like, and which tools Pet liked and didn’t.

That night was illuminating for me because I learned so much. It seems like a simple thing, the fact that this woman took a half hour out of her night to teach me, but my confidence grew and the things I learned have brought Pet and me closer together.

Do you have any kinky experiences to share?

30 posts of kink – Early experiences

What are some early experiences that hint at my kinkiness? It’s hard to separate this one out from the previous post, but I’ll do what I can to isolate one or two events.

My favorite story to tell in response to this question takes place when I was about seven or eight, I think. I’ve told this story so many times that I’m sure it’s not a surprise to those of you who know me in person, actually. I’m not sure why it comes up so often – maybe it’s the weird crowd I run with.

In any case, I remember being quite the rowdy tomboy as a child, and I was also a bit of a loner – not something that made for a lot of girl friends. I was a weird kid, basically. I was also bossy, which didn’t go well with my other personality traits, but serves me nicely nowadays.

I was at my babysitter’s house. We were playing a game based on the movie Sleeping Beauty. You know how kids do – lots of pretend play. I really wanted to be Prince, but since I’m a girl, I wasn’t allowed. I was given the role of Beauty, which I guess isn’t so bad, except in the part we were playing, Beauty was pretty useless. In fact, we were playing the big climactic scene where Beauty is tied up and Prince slays the dragon. (See why I wanted to be the prince?) I actually don’t remember anymore if Beauty was tied up in the movie. It’s been a very long time since I saw that particular Disney film. In any case, the boy playing Prince tied me to the banister and left me there to run off and slay the dragon. I wanted to be outraged, but the fact was, being tied up didn’t bother me so much. It wasn’t sexual to me, at least not at the time, but I felt a thrill, being tied up. Something exciting could happen at any moment. I didn’t mind being Beauty after all.

Now that I think of it, I should really have my characters tie each other up more often. What a basic kink to explore.

The other story isn’t so much a story as a personality trait. Remember when I mentioned that I was bossy? Well, I was. I liked to play pretend a lot (roleplay, to the grownups), and I liked to insist that people do exactly what I told them to do. Not just in the “Let’s play this game” kind of way, but more “You do this or else.” My ultimatums were pretty weak as a preteen, but to my grown up mind, looking back, the seeds of being a good, solidly bossy Domme are there. Too bad I’m not so great at tapping into that side of myself these days! It’s the life of a new found switch, I guess.

I can also remember early experiences with masturbation, though I didn’t recognize them as such. I was probably as young as six (maybe younger, I’m not sure) when I started touching myself, knowing it felt good but not knowing why or what that meant.

So those are basically my earliest sexual and kinky experiences in a nutshell. Anything you’d like to share about early experiences?

Challenge #11 – Endings and Beginnings

Today’s challenge is to write about whatever’s on my mind. That happens to be endings and beginnings. I know that it makes logical sense to put beginnings first in that series, but in some ways, I think endings are easier, and so they come first.

Endings can be brutal. They can absolutely gut a person. They can be beautiful. They can leave the door open for the future. Endings are wonderful, terrible things. Surprise endings can be nice, or they can be nasty. Endings can leave a person feeling fulfilled or empty inside. I’m talking about two kinds of endings here – book endings, and real-life endings. (Incidentally, the word “endings” is starting to sound funny in my head, I’ve used it so much.) Endings bring about an opportunity for new beginnings, of course, but on their own, endings can be a relief or can be impossibly difficult. Sometimes we don’t want to let go, and we fight to keep things from ending. Sometimes things don’t want to let go of us, and we have to fight to move on.

My favorite book is like this. The ending wasn’t a surprise – it was an inevitable conclusion, and the book was a slow march toward it. But that didn’t make the ending any less gutting. It still brings me to tears, even after multiple readings. In fact, it’s been too long since I’ve read that book, and just thinking about how it ends makes me want to read it again.

Writing endings is difficult for me. It’s not that I can’t think of a good ending (usually, I can), it’s that I don’t want to let go. I never like to leave a character behind, particularly if there’s more story to tell (and unless the character dies, it feels like there’s always more story to tell). Maybe one day I’ll meet a character who lets me go, but until then, I’ll always wonder what else I can do with the ones I already know.

Beginnings are tough in their own way. They’re scary. Terrifying, in fact. I hate beginnings. Beginnings are like stepping off of a precipice into the unknown, and praying that something, someone, will catch you while you fall. Beginnings can be tied to endings, of course, but typically, they come on their own. I like to skip to the middle. There’s a book I adore that I’ve read so many times that I no longer read the beginning. I just skip to a random chapter in the late beginning/early middle of the book, so I can avoid the heartache of the back story.

In relationships, I find beginnings equally hard. Beginnings can be hot – passionate and thrilling – but they similarly can be awkward, uncertain, and fumbling. Some people enjoy that awkwardness. I do not.

I hate writing beginnings, too. That fumbling awkwardness always comes around in my first draft beginnings. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy flash fiction so much. I don’t have time to screw up a beginning, just march right on to the middle and the end, because I only have 500 words to do it right. I’m currently toying with an office romance story and the beginning just isn’t coming to me. One technique I use to get past this is to write a middle first – a sex scene between the two characters, typically – just to get a feel for who they are, and how they fit together. This can help drive my beginning.

Endings can be hard; beginnings can be hard. Nothing in life is easy. We just keep trucking the best we can.