I know I said in my last entry that I think Miranda only showed me I wasn't alone, that I think I always would have ended up this kind of a person, always had a draw to kink. I mentioned that I had a fear I would have ended up denying a core part of myself if I hadn't had that experience with her. In truth, I think if I look back, there's plenty of experiences in my life that foreshadow the person I would later become, and am still working on becoming today.
Growing up I had to deal with a lot of violence. I'm not saying my parents beat me or any of that. I won't lie, my mom did strike us, but I don't think it was any more than any other average kid. It wasn't to the point where I'd say my mom beat me or anything. It's more that we would get our asses beat when we crossed too far beyond the line, and in a way, I kind of understand. But no, that's not the kind of violence I mean at all. Most of the violence in my life came from other sources.
The biggest source of violence in my life was my sister. Though I was older by a year and a half, I was definitely smaller. I've always had a small frame and a very slight build. I've never been overweight. In general, I'm quite petite. My sister, on the other hand, was taller than I was, a very heavy-set girl, and a bit on the chunky side. When we had disagreements, it usually ended up with her attacking me. We both did it to each other. She threw me into a radiator and a closet door most notably. I antagonized her into putting her foot through a bottom pane of a French door. I can't even begin to count the times she'd hurt me, hit me, and attacked me. I even remember a day when she actually got in trouble for hurting me. She grabbed onto my arm and bit down so hard she drew blood.
My sister wasn't the only source of violence either. I had a cousin that was quite the violent sort too. Of course, he was his own special case and I'm sure I could write a book on the issues that have come from him if I sat down with a decent counselor to get help on figuring out the truth versus the fantasy in my own mind on that one.
As I got older, the kids in school didn't help. For my first three years in Catholic school, I was apparently quite the bully. The girl who egged me on eventually left the school, so our little band of bullies fell apart. The other girl went on to be a popular girl and I took to crying because it was better than getting in trouble for hurting people. Thanks to my early experiences in life, I had quite the violent temper. Crying was a much less violent way of releasing all of that anger and frustration. Better to cry than to have yet another trip to the principal's office for violent behavior. Because I chose to cry, the other kids would torture and humiliate me until I couldn't control it anymore and would break down, then they'd call me a cry baby and torture me some more. I hate to say it, but even the teachers would be in on the humiliation act, making me stand up in front of the class and announce, "I chose not to do my homework", when in reality, I didn't do it because I really didn't remember I had an assignment at all. I would be humiliated by the teacher for every little thing I did wrong, and to this day, I still can't stand humiliation or embarrassment of any kind. Of course, all that humiliation only gave them more reason to tease and torture me.
Being always the victim under those who were stronger, in more power, or in larger groups than I was enraged me. I wanted to turn it all around. I'll admit it, a part of me was pretty damn power hungry. I had these fantasies of how I would make them all suffer for torturing me the way they did. It was never like any of those serial killer fantasies. It was more along the lines of putting them in their places, finding a way to humiliate, embarrass, and degrade them all to the point where they felt my pain, where they could see what it was like to be on the butt of all the cry baby jokes and all the rest. I wanted my teachers to understand what it felt like to be forced to say something that was simply not true because it was embarrassing and gave me a power trip to make everyone see them as the fool and me as the one who was pulling all the puppet strings. I wanted my sister and my cousin to know what it felt like to be powerless over me, not that I wanted to do to them what they had done to me, but simply make them understand what it feels like not to be in control of the situation. I wanted the power. I wanted the control. I wanted to retaliate.
Of course, I never would. I knew I never would. I'm not a cruel person. I'm not heartless. Actually, I'm quite the opposite. I'm a very sweet person. I'm kind-hearted, and I couldn't hurt a fly, quite literally. Yes, I actually ask other people to kill bugs in my house, or better still, just relocate them outside for me. When I had a snake that would only take live feed, I would make someone else feed her, and I couldn't be in the room to watch. The snake I have now thankfully eats frozen and thawed. I'm not the kind of person who would be able to kill, even in case of need, which is why I've never gone into the military. When I took martial arts, I found myself apologizing if I accidentally hit someone to hard, which seems kind of contradictory to the point of learning a technique for fending off and hurting other people. In case you haven't gotten the picture yet, I'm in general a kind of goody-goody that's too nice and gets taken advantage of more often than not because I have a big heart. I hate confrontation too, so more often than not I find that Catholic school really did rub off and I'd rather turn the other cheek than defend myself most days. I'd rather just suffer through than actually deal with the problem because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. I've always been that way.
Still, those urges, so contrary to anything I'd ever do, should have been a hint of what would later come in my life. They've carried through even to now. A part of me is absolutely delighted when someone is put in their place. A part of me wants to be strong, powerful, in control, and not showing any weaknesss that might be exploited and used to knock me down.
Another part of me that hints at my current kink side is my love of being pampered. I'm not talking about a manicure and pedicure kind of thing. I'm talking about being absolutely lavished upon. I want to be treated like a queen, to want for nothing and to be absolutely spoiled. I've always delighted in rich fabrics, soft furs, and the feeling of cold metal draped upon my body. I've always loved the smell of candles and new leather. I've loved vibrant, dancing colors, sound and music, and everything else that could delight upon my senses. It shouldn't be surprising that I still have a delight in the elements of sensation play. For me it's a way of being completely and totally indulged on, and that playful teasing with various elements of texture, material, and temperature are all just another way of spoiling me with lots of attention, and lots of things I find lavish and delightful. The more the setting is complete, with sight and sound and feel, the more delighted I am.
Finally, there was the good deal of shock I was met with when I was first introduced to a riding crop. The man who threatened to smack me with it looked quite shocked when I told him it was "nothing I hadn't felt before". I'd told him earlier that I'd known nothing about the fetish lifestyle and community, yet here I was confessing to having been hit with a riding crop. I guess he didn't know I had spent a lot of my school life riding at an English style show stable. Riding crops were just as much a part of the setting as the little black velvet helmets and riding breeches. My friends and I often delighted in having sword fights with riding crops and that sort of thing, chasing each other up the hay bales. I was caught pretty hard with one more than a couple times. Of course, what I didn't mention is I took even more delight in cracking the other girls with the crop, just for the wonderful way they would jump and cry out at the shock of impact. Looking back now, that probably should have been a sign, but then I didn't see it as anything more than victory in our riding crop battles. It wasn't because I liked seeing them jump like that...though I did...it was because that signified victory, and I always win.
Taking a step back to look at my life, I really should have seen this turn coming. It shouldn't be shocking that I ended up where I have, and as much as Miranda was my gateway into the lifestyle, I honestly think it would have been haunting me in the back of my mind regardless. I think it was just destined to be.
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