Kinky Bliss : Three Stages

I spent much of my youth expecting to become a physicist specializing in either cosmology or quantum mechanics. (My was that so long ago.) The kind of nerdy boy who teaches himself calculus and read science books for fun.

That probably partly made me an analytical person. I think it mostly gave me intellectual tools, particularly mathematics. The great determinant was seeking - not that I understood this - insulation from what I didn’t like about my life through a quest for objective truth.

Interests change, cultural and life experiences are acquired. More tools, ever mounting piles of data.

I became one of those people who think about what - why - they are thinking about how they think. Circular, sort of. Painful, not at all. All that is part of my sense of who I am. Doing it is as automatic as breathing.

Over the years I’ve gotten not half-bad at it.

Clarity is a big help but it isn’t often anesthetizing.

You never succeed: faulty perceptions present themselves steadily. You catch yourself fibbing to yourself once again.

Naturally all this applies to my kink life. There are moments when I fear the perpetual probing will kill it. That makes me think of a certain species silly old science fiction novels. A man from our time awakes in the future only to discover that everybody has become effete intellectuals. Of course he teaches these advanced folk that what they really need is testosterone, sweat and fear. Bah!

My libido and heart have kept my brain from spoiling the fun.

Oh! The the special moments I’ve had with Alexandra. There are what I’ll call three levels.

Humility

I’m never troubled by the experience but I have moments when confessing it publicly makes me look the fool. I’m too long gone in these confessions to let that fret me.

When I kneel before Alexandra feeling humble and subordinate it is a delight. This submission is a tender, happy form of aesthetic bliss.

The Trance

Falling down that far doesn’t happen as often as I wish. When I enter what we call the slave trance it is as if she is wired into my autonomous nervous system. Her will be done. Obedience - emotionally if not physically - is without effort.

Epiphany

There’s been only one instance so far where I felt as if I were lifted outside the space-time continuum and hurtling into the heavens. It was a very long night of her torturing my nipples with her heels. It started in the living room and ended in the backyard. I was edging every more closely to admitted that she’d passed my limit when - Allakhazam! - the bond between brain and body seemed sundered.

This started as a comment on Maymay’s “Flying, the kinky sex orgasm, and the lack thereof” but got out of hand.