Fetishes come from somewhere real, somewhere hidden, some place that needs the sweetness of our sexuality to dilute the bitterness of its darkness. It moves first through the filter of our sexuality, into our periphery. From there we can choose to bring it into the foreground or let it dance in the corner of our eyes forever.
Luna & I had an amazing session this past week with someone who had been bullied in High School. He wanted us to dress like bratty teenage girls, teasing and verbally humiliating him while we deprived him of oxygen and spit in his face. There's a big difference between a contrived fantasy and a deep kink. Both are lovely, the later is breathtaking to witness. I knew how to exact the difference out of this submissive, I asked "What did they call you?" His immediate look of shame and down-cast gaze made my eyes dilate like a predator that just caught a glimpse of it's dinner. That weak spot. That dark place. I'm in.
We proceeded to have an awesome session, genuinely making each other laugh at this guys expense. We even waited until mid session to "steal his lunch money" aka the session fee. He bounded into the other room so fast to grab his wallet, Luna & I howled with laughter.
After he left, I got a nice text from him saying that the whole session was amazing but his favourite part might've been standing at the elevator afterwards listening to us burst into genuine laughter down the hall after he had left. These are my favourite kind of sessions.
Lovely, little sadist living in Toronto, Ontario. This is my journal, where my brain gets to play.