I enjoy hurting, because I enjoy being in my subspace, and because I enjoy not being in control. I adore the feeling of being helpless, of knowing that my well-being is in the hands of my Master. I love the fear that grips me when his hands wrap around my throat, and the sinister gleam that crosses his eyes as he watches me turn red, my fingers trying to pry myself away. I also enjoy being humiliated by my Master. I could attribute my desires to a lack of direction in my life, but I like to think that I’m just trying to connect with myself on a deeper level. After all, does there have to be some deep-seeded meaning to our dark desires?

“It’s a symptom of your disease”.

I was physically and sexually assaulted before I first became consensually sexually active. Which means, in his eyes, I am diseased apparently. I hate that I will never know if I am kinky because of my history, or if they are two entirely separate things that exist within me. That being said I did not begin to explore any inkling of my kinky desires until I had begun to open up about my assault. I could not understand why I was feeling these things and chalked it up to my brain processing my past and avoided talking or acting out on them until I was about 20. Which ended badly.
I believe that I would have discovered my kinks earlier, had I known that my thoughts and feelings were carnal in nature, not a scarred brain trying to make sense of what has happened to them.

I asked his name (his cloven hooves cracking on the pavement)….he smiled and said: “Well, I’m Ronald Regan, son!