When I was going through puberty, my sexual frustrations scared me. Not only was my libido extremely intense, so were my sadistic cravings. The two needs went hand-in-hand. Of all my friends, it seemed like I had the highest sex drive. Of all my friends, it seemed I was the only one aroused by the idea torturing someone. I was rather cruel to a couple of boyfriends, because I would build up their sexual frustration. I know now that the term is tease and denial, but I didn’t then. I have always loved arousing my partners and then not allowing them release.
(Fun fact: All of my high school friends told me I’d be a dominatrix when I grew up.)
Pubescent me got off on the idea of controlling my partner’s sexuality. Pubescent me got off on the idea of restraining my partner and having them as a fuck toy. Pubescent me got off on the idea of all the nuances of being someone’s Master, although I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I was weird. I thought I was perverted in a bad way. I thought if I showed my true sexuality and dominance, I would scare people away. Now add in all the sexual abuse I endured growing up. I wound up being very skittish about my sexuality. I wound up doing my very best to bury my sadism. I tried to be normal. Oh, what a mistake that always is. But it was my mistake to make, and I’m stronger and more appreciative of my Renard and my lifestyle because of it.
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 19. The boyfriend I lost it to had little sex drive. I practically had to convince him to do the deed with me. I was so, so careful. I wanted so much more than he gave. He was so indifferent that my first voluntary sexual experiences left me even more worried about how much of a deviant I was. I felt even worse about my sex drive and sadism.
My second sexual partner, though… He loved being marked. He loved being bitten. He loved bruises and scratches and roughness. He loved that I wanted my hair pulled. He loved when I spanked him. It was incredibly liberating to have a partner that wanted to take almost everything that I wanted to give. I didn’t feel like a freak when I was with him. I didn’t feel like a sick fuck. The relationship didn’t last long, but it was a turning point for me on the road to accepting myself.
I’ve definitely come a long, long way since puberty (don’t most people? Heh.). I acknowledge and accept that I am a pervert and a sick fuck to some people. I temper my perversions and my sadism with control, knowledge, and compassion. That has to be enough. Sometimes it’s a tight rope to walk, but I love myself for all my kinks. I trust myself to be responsible and knowledgeable, and that makes all the difference.
Pubescent me was lost. I am no longer lost.
My Renard is a virgin. His first partnered sexual experience was with me. Renard and I are not normally sexual with each other. He was misbehaving. Renard is a brat. Like most submissives, he likes to test his Dominant. I personally think that it’s a healthy thing to do. I think pushing a dominant’s buttons is a good way to test just how good a dominant they are. To a certain extent. There is a fine line between being a playful, bratty, limit-testing submissive, and being disrespectful. Very few things get under my skin. Disrespect is one of them. Suffice to say that Renard was not heeding me when I repeatedly addressed the issue. I was kind. We were both new to our roles, and there’s always a learning curve. I understood that. However, after multiple conversations and repeated infractions, enough was enough. After nearly two months of trying to verbally rectify things, it became apparent that my words were not enough. And so, after another discussion, I told him that he would be punished.
Punishment is a delicate thing to me. Even though I am certain of my role, my control, and proper procedures, I never ever want a punishment to come off as abuse. I think part of this sentiment is growing up in vanilla culture. Inflicting pain and suffering is seen as abuse to vanillas. My mother was very verbally abusive to me when I tried to get into the Scene after I graduated high school, which has definitely added to my wariness of punishments. However, part of being a dominant is enforcing your dominance. I loathe doing punishments, but sometimes they are crucial in establishing respect and ensuring that your roles are maintained. My Renard was not respecting me. He wasn’t taking my dominance seriously. He wasn’t understanding how much I was holding back, how careful I was being with him. He didn’t understand the extent of my sadism.
My Renard likes chastity devices. The day of his punishment, I gave him the first blow job of his life. It lasted half an hour. He wasn’t allowed to cum during it. He wasn’t allowed to cum the day after. No, he wasn’t allowed to cum after his first blow job until a week afterwards. And even then I let him know in no uncertain terms during that week, that I could extend the week-long punishment if he was bratty to me in any way during that week. The results were marvelous. He came so hard that he passed out when I finally let him have his release. He was much more respectful after that. Yes, there were other punishments along the way, but this one and one other showed the most progress.
I fucking loved controlling his release. I loved knowing he was in sexual agony. I loved how much it agonized him to not know whether or not I would stick to a week or not.