Kink?

What does it mean? The word, what does it mean to you and what does it mean to me?

But before I say anything about that I will say sorry for not blogging so much. My mind seem to have been occupied with other things and I have not really known what to blog about. I guess that such is life, but I do feel a little bad if some of you have been waiting for something to appear here.

And I will be disappearing again at the end of this week and won't be able to blog until August. The upside is that I think it is good to stay away from computers at times and I think I need that. I have found sitting by a monitor all day long quite stressful lately. Just to let you know.

So, back to kink. The dictionary speaks of knots or bends in a rope, something that is no longer straight. I suppose it is that meaning that leads to the idea of the sexual perverse. Yes, I use that expression because so does Oxford English Dictionary. Furthermore it mentions homosexuality. I am not saying this to rant about stuffy old lexicographers. It is just that it seems as if the meaning changes and most likely is quite individual.

No one in their right mind would say that being gay is kinky. Not in this day and age. So the focus changes. But what does it mean? Is it kinky to be aroused by push-bikes? I don't know.

I think, for me, there has to be this edge to it, the addition to if being bad. When someone says kink I think of spankings and being tied up, dominance and submission, arrogance and cruelty. (No this is not the time for the discussion whether submission and dominance as such have to be bad...it can be bad and that is enough for me at the moment.)

Kink for me doesn't just mean the 'sexually deviant' (had to put the quotation marks there...smiles) but it means something that is bad and, thus, problematic.

Hope you are with me still. I am not saying people who spank each other for mutual pleasure are bad. I am saying that spankings, originally had a place in a society that oppressed people and that it was used for that purpose. Same with slavery. I am sure you see the pattern, none here would say that slavery is good but still we can find the idea of slave markets, being chained on a podium, put up for sale, to be immensely exciting.

I guess, for you, as for me, the word has taken on a more positive value than it had originally. I think people in general proudly speak of their kink when they embrace their lifestyle.

This brings me to another thing I wanted to write about. I feel, sometimes there is a kind of cosiness about kink, that people who have admitted to themselves they are aroused by things that some others would consider perverse, seem to work hard to normalise their kink. There is, almost, a political, perhaps even personal need to make kink acceptable.

Believe me, I am all for that. I really think that anyone should have the right to indulge their love for push-bikes or whips as long as they don't harm anyone. I agree completely with the politics in it.

The reason why I rant about it here is that I still, after all this time, find it problematic to admit that I do find the idea of being humiliated or whipped arousing. To me it still stands for something bad, something I don't really want happen. I can't just say: 'Hi, I am Janice and I am spanko, I would really like you to smack my bottom'. Simply because I would most likely not want it. It hurts, after all, and I am not that keen on pain.

Had I found it just an expression of my personality, a part of my own sexuality I was truly happy about I wouldn't be blogging. It is the very fact that I have mixed feelings that makes me write. I think.

So, thank you for listening and if I don't blog again this week, see you in August. Take care and be kind to yourself. Embrace your kinks and be proud of who you are. I am trying to do that myself.

Yet Another Spanking Story

Hello, I am back. It was nice to be away from computers but I would have wanted it to be more relaxing. I still need a holiday. Just a short spanking story. This one is written from the point of view of the spanker, not usual in my stories, nothing special though, just some smacking of bottoms.

'You know what this means?'

'No, please,' she said. She looked scared.

'Get the strap.'

'No, please, I didn't mean to, it was really out of my control.'

'I don't care.'

'Please.'

'Get the strap.'

Sophie sighed and rose to her feet. I watched her as she walked over to the cupboard and got the strap. It was made of thick, heavy leather, four inches wide and half a metre in length. It had a wooden handle which made it easier to swing with good effect.

Sophie moved softly as she returned to me and gave me the strap.

'That strap hurts.'

'I know,' I replied, 'I know.'

I pointed to the armrest of the sofa as I rose to my feet. Sophie took a step closer to it and leaned forward.

'Sophie!'

'Yes?'

'Trousers.'

'You didn't say.'

'I didn't say you could keep them on.'

She sighed and unbuttoned her jeans and wriggled them down from her hips. She turned to the sofa.

'Knickers.'

'Please, it hurts enough as it is.'

'That is what I want.'

She pulled down her knickers to her knees as I watched her. She stood for a while regarding me, her jeans and knickers around her knees.

'Please, you don't have to do this.'

'I think I should.'

'It hurts.'

'It's supposed to hurt.'

'Please.'

'I will give you extras now.'

Sophie sighed and turned to the sofa. She draped her body across the armrest, knowing exactly where to put her bottom. She arranged herself so that her bottom was sticking up in a good angle, easy to reach with the strap.

The room had changed. It had been inhabited by two people, sitting in the sofa, talking. Now everything was different. One of them was lying, face down, over the armrest, jeans and knickers around her knees, quite bared. The other one was standing besides holding a tool of shame and pain.

I cherished this moment. There was something immensely cruel about it. The difference between us couldn't be greater. Sophie was lying down, bottom towards me, unable to protect herself. She was not just quite helpless, she was also exposed, her skin bared to make it even more vulnerable.

And there I was, standing, the threat of pain in my hand, intent on using it on her, letting the leather make painful contact with her exposed skin. I was in power, she was exposed to that power and the cruelty was that I was using it to make her suffer.

I enjoyed it. That was the naughty and cruel part of it. I enjoyed it, and relished the power I had, and the fact that I was going to use it.

Sophie jumped as I let the heavy leather strap hit her naked skin. The sound was tremendous, a sharp report that seemed to penetrate our ears.

I thought to myself: 'how can I be so immensely mean as to hit this sweetest of bottoms, this sensitive skin, with this hard leather?' I hit her again and this time I saw her body shiver as she tried to overcome the sensation of pain. 'How can I enjoy it?'

Sophie was moaning after the third smack had hit home. Her bottom was beginning to show signs of the spanking, pink against the fairer skin, the affected areas showing sharp and straight edges.

The mood had changed when the spanking began. Sophie was lying still, obedient. There was no pleading or protesting. There was no groaning and crying for shows. She was just lying there, shivering, breathing heavily, taking her spanking.

I knew there was no reason, no crime, no punishment. This was different. I wanted to spank her. Sophie knew that, I knew that. It was just me wanting to spank her, me wanting the pleasure of seeing my strap hit her tender flesh, seeing her jump with the impact, knowing she felt it in her body.

She was immensely sweet for me, lying there, vulnerable and beautiful. Spanking her was cruel but I wanted cruel. I wanted to see the impact, the effect it had on her. I wanted the power.

I gave her three quick ones and Sophie started to wriggle her body and turn in agony. I stopped and let her collect herself. Then I smacked her again. She jumped.

I began a long series of ten or twelve smacks, some seconds in between, but hard. She gasped and squirmed but kept her position. She indulged me.

I gave her a smack on her thighs and she squealed. She didn't protest or sound angry, just couldn't hold back.

I gave her a series of quick hard smacks and Sophie had a hard time staying down. She moaned and squirmed as the strap made contact with her now pink and red bottom.

I was done with the strap. Sophie was still, not daring to move. I went to the cupboard and got myself a stick, a bamboo stick. It was vicious.

'You remember I promised you extras?'

'Yes,' she replied, her voice muffled.

'Here they are.'

I let the stick fly through the air with a hissing sound and hit her across the buttocks. Sophie cried out and tensed her body as the stick drew a red line across her bottom.

The bamboo was mean. I knew that. Sophie felt that. Still I gave her five more.

The red marks of the stick stood out against the pink that was left by the strap. I was done.

'That's enough, on your feet.'

She rose and turned to me. Her face was flustered but she smiled.

I held out my arms and she came into my embrace. She kissed my cheek.

'You bastard,' she whispered softly.

'I wish I was.'

She moved her head back and looked me in the eyes. Then she kissed me.