August 18, 2014

I’ve Been Into BDSM Since I Can Remember

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image - Flickr / Timothy Wells
image – Flickr / Timothy Wells

“You’re very interested in punishments, aren’t you?” my mother observed in bemusement when I asked her why the twins in the original Parent Trap were forced to wash all the dishes at their summer camp. I was embarrassed that my secret was obvious, without knowing why it was embarrassing.

I was fascinated by punishments.

I punished my pets. I punished my friends. I punished myself. I imagined punishments I would inflict on my future children. (Thank God I learned to channel my desires more healthily long before I got to that point.)

Maybe it springs from never having been spanked as a child. The only punishments I received from my parents were the handful of times I was sent to my room to “cool down.”

Once, when I was about seven, I told a play-date, “I have to go punish myself.”

“For what?” she asked.

“Not playing the game you wanted to play earlier.” It was my house and as the hostess, I should’ve done what she wanted to do. (Instead of God knows what twisted shit I’d wanted to do.) Therefore, to remind myself to always be courteous in the future, I shut myself in my bedroom and spanked my bare bottom with the flat of a shoe. No wonder everyone thought I was weird…

Since I didn’t understand my kink, I had to justify it as a moral obligation. I was a Puritanical pervert, punishing to enforce discipline and good behavior. My poor hamster (RIP Barbie) got the worst of it.

I didn’t kill her or anything, but I did once spank her forty or fifty times in one day. Hard. Always with “just” cause. I’d tell her, “Don’t go over there,” and…she’d go over there. So naturally I had to spank her. That night I asked my mom whether hamsters understood English, and when she said no, I felt absolutely terrible.

That day haunted me for years until I finally told my parents. My story was muddled and told through sobs, so the way my parents understood it, I had hit my (by then dead) hamster once, after she bit me. They never would’ve imagined their sensitive little girl, who cried when the other kids stomped on ants, had a sadistic streak. They talked me through it, took me to Confession so I could unburden my little Catholic heart, and the matter was put to rest.

Now I’m 21, an atheist, and I don’t believe in hitting children or animals or any other non-consenting beings. I still enjoy being hit and punished, and occasionally if there’s no one else to do it, I’ll hit myself. After years of getting my thrills looking up the word “spank” in the dictionary, I now know about novelty handcuffs and FetLife and other people who like the things I like. Despite my early experiments with sadism, I consider myself a masochist (but only mildly) and a submissive. Maybe that has something to do with the way I’ve been socialized – internalization of gender roles and all that.

If I hadn’t grown up in a society where BDSM (at least my brand of it) was widely known about and fairly accepted, what would I be doing now?

Still making up excuses to spank my dog?

Becoming an abuser or the girlfriend of an abuser?

Just going through life having vanilla sex, thinking there’s gotta be a way to spice this up?

Or would I end up on one of those reality shows with people who eat soap?

Lucky for me, not only are my particular deeply rooted fantasies pretty socially acceptable; they’re coming soon to a theatre near me! (Yes, I know Fifty Shades of Grey is problematic and also shit. No, that’s not going to stop me from seeing the movie. Judging by the trailer, the Cute Guy and the Kissing alone will be worth the price of admission for me.) TC mark

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