Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?
I was never into foreplay. I always just joked that I was “impatient” or “just too fucking wet to wait.” It never went beyond some tongue teasing and a hand down the pants because 1. I rarely get off when someone besides myself finger fucks The Duchess, and 2. Most men don’t know where the fuck the clit is anyway.
I’ve always been a dominant person. I like to take control of situations, whether it be on a set or at work or even just choosing the fast food joint we should hit when we’re stoned. I like to know what’s happening, when it’s happening, and how it’s going to happen. I like things to be right and I figure the best way to be sure of it is to just do it my fucking self. It goes without saying that the partners I sometimes preferred were submissive – they didn’t mind my controlling tendencies and, even better – they did whatever the fuck I said. Make me dinner. Change the channel. Fuck me now.
But then I met Nigel.
And after being with him I was introduced to patience; to the tease. He never gave in, didn’t give me what I wanted… not until I fucking begged for it. And even then, he’d just yank my hair, “Nope, not yet.” Before I could beg some more – “Fuck me, just fuck me,” he’d shove a finger inside of me and I’d moan before I could even say please. He’d tickle my nipple rings with his tongue, pulling at them with his teeth. I’d moan as he finger fucked me harder and faster until I was just about to cum and then WHAM – he’d jump up, shoving my legs apart and forcing himself inside of me. His cock would enter just as I’d clench up for an orgasm; the arrival of my climax was only the beginning.
So it’s pretty clear that Nigel likes it fucking rough and I had never experienced sex like this until I was with him. He liked to beat my ass while fucking me from behind; to yank me towards him by my hair, wrapping one arm around my throat as he reached for my breast. I’d choke, losing my breath while he demanded that I beg for his cock. And to my surprise, I liked to submit to him. I liked begging. I liked being slapped as he stood before me, shoving his dick in my mouth and fucking the back of my throat ‘til I gagged. I liked being pulled up from my knees and shoved over a desk to be spanked just before being fucked. I quickly learned that I liked it fucking rough, too.
During my time with Nigel – at the dawn of my interests in BDSM – I did a ton of reading on the subject. I wanted to know more about what I was getting into, and I also wanted to know why. I thought hitting someone was bad – so why the fuck did I wanna get slapped in bed? Turns out that a lot of what we’ve pent up comes out when we’re immersed in a primal act, especially during sex. With that in mind, I’ve reminisced about my childhood and teenage years only to realize that my kinks were vaguely visible years before I’d even let a dick near me. I’d regularly roam suburban malls with my army of pre-teen Goths, decked in a cheap corset, spiked collar, and a bondage skirt. I’d drag a friend on a leash that was connected to their collar, also black and spiked. We’d pierce ourselves and each other. I’d play boot camp with my friends, giving myself the dominant role, yelling orders at my soldiers during recess. Though these behaviors were completely innocent and totally unrelated to sex, I obviously derived some sort of pleasure from it and it’s just really fucking interesting to connect my kiddy interests with my adult desires.
It’s been about a year since Nigel and I last fucked. Whatever emotional connection we had has been long gone, but I’ll always miss him because, in a way, he was a first for me – my first really rough fuck. If he hadn’t exposed me to rough sex I’d have never gone on to explore the multitude of pleasures I’ve found in BDSM. Nigel – I owe you big time. I’m officially granting you a lifetime supply of blowjays.