There are times when I wish I’d been cursed/blessed with an altogether different kind of kink. You know what I mean, something socially acceptable and possibly income accruing, such as a fetish for flower arranging. A subject you could openly discuss in front of your sisters without fear of being shunned or being locked away in a secure unit.
“And what did you do over the weekend L?”
“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, I just visited a special friend for a discipline session…would you like to see the cane marks on my bum?”
Loud thud as sisters keel over in a dead faint.
Honestly, they have no idea. No one in my real life has a clue about my interests. At school I was voted person least likely to be kinky. You can’t explain the spanking kink to someone who just doesn’t get it. If a person isn’t wired that way then no amount of explaining will make them understand. It’s a waste of breath. Leaving aside the ‘light hearted’ connotations of kink, it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with my predilection and I don’t feel guilty about it anymore. I embrace it in my fiction, and occasionally in real life.
I need discipline in a pure sense. It isn’t a prelude to sexual activity. It’s a psychological thing. Sometimes only extreme pain can give me the release and emotional peace that I crave. I have two Dominants that I meet with, maybe once or twice a year (separately I hasten to add, I don’t go in for group therapy) they’re both male, one is younger than I am, the other is older and they’re both gentleman. Both understand the need for discipline. Both are sane and responsible and neither one of them has ever tried to take advantage of me in a sexual sense. I trust them, and that’s important. They know when I’ve had enough, even when perhaps I don’t and that’s important too, in order to avoid serious injury. It’s not just the physical discipline that counts. I like the element of control, the structure and the sense of giving myself into the care of another person, relinquishing personal control. For me a successful discipline session is almost like detox and I feel on a high for a few days afterwards. My mind is brighter and I’m more alert and attuned to the world. The worst part for me is usually two to three days later, and that’s when I get the shakes as my body uses its energy to heal itself. I feel a bit depressed, as the endorphins fade away and all I’m left with is the physical discomfort. That’s when I’d really like to have someone around to cuddle me, to hold me, someone I can emotionally relate to, someone I suppose who will take care of me. That’s the appeal of the stories I write, the submissive characters have someone there 24/7, someone who understands their needs, someone who loves them (let me hear a romantic sigh)
I’ve been told that my stories don’t contain enough sex and they’re not erotic. For me discipline (and it doesn’t have to be physical) is the element of erotica; it’s the sensual, sexual, emotional and psychological feed to the relationship of my characters. That’s what interests me a writer, why people might have a need and desire for discipline, why they might choose to incorporate it into a relationship and what form it takes, and what needs it fulfils. It isn’t all about sex.