Specified Kinks

Today, I had a chat with my best friend W about highly specified kinks. Lately, I’ve been pondering a lot about the question why certain things kick while others just don’t. For example, black, white and pink stockings really excite me, while red or blue ones don’t speak to me. But they are all stockings, so where does this preference arise from? It’s just the same with a lot of kinks like black vs. neutral rubber, rope vs. bondage tape, the Birdlock vs. other devices or men in suits vs. men in shorts.

I know most of my kinks are connected to the abuse I experienced during my childhood, but obviously not all of them. For example, I have never had contact with stockings until now! I don’t think I’m especially into stockings, but they serve a purpose when I’m dressed up like a sissy. When I’m into that Ginny-mood, they speak to me, when I feel more like Blaubeermann, I know they exist, but the mere thought of them does not get me going. Something else with the collar John presented me with. One thought of it is enough to wake my interest. Why is there such a difference?

W suggested viewing myself, my soul and all the experiences I make as a web. Everything is connected and everything is remembered on a certain, but not neccessarily conscious level. Moreover, he believes that we still remember occasions, tasks, preferences and aversions from former lifes, again not on a conscious level (most times). I don’t really manage to get into that reincarnation-thing. Of course I hope there might be something more than just nothing after I did my last sniff, but I’m not sure about it. That’s a bit poor for someone connected to Lord Shiva, I guess, but I grew up hoping that death may make an end to my father’s games. If I had thought I might be reborn, there would have been no solace at all.

Anyway, actually I wanted to write about boobs. I’m quite flat-chested, though putting on some weight and working out regularly has done something for me. But no boobies, of course. When being sissified, I have started to miss boobs recently. I used to stuff my bras with some handkerchiefs, because I do not even fill an AA cup, which is quite small, but that does not provide John or me with a realistic feeling of boobs. To be honest, both of us did not really know much about boobs until we had a nice encounter with a she-male in Switzerland when we visited Leo. She allowed us feeling them up which made me a bit nervous, because I quickly found out how much I like them and how much I’d love to have boobs when being Ginny. Well, and that’s the point where reality and fantasy mix up. I’m quite convinced of the fact that I do not want to live as a she-male and that I’m ok with being a male, but as soon as I’m aroused and we get into sissyfication, I fantasize about undergoing forced feminization, including the forced intake of hormones in order to shrink my cock and well, develop natural tits. The aspect of force is very important to me. The thought of being forced to become a she-male totally freaks me out. And I know if John would only be pushy enough, I would do it, no matter what about my health. In my clear moments I think of these feelings as alarming and stupid, but most times I really like the thought. But there are other possibilities we have talked about. First of all, silicone boobs to stuff my bras with. I have ordered two different sizes. Not too big, I like a more natural but nevertheless slutty look. Really looking forward to receiving them. Well, there are other thoughts, but I don’t want to tell about it here.

And one last thing. Love has presented me with a little capsule to be hung on my collar. Usually dog owners write down their adress on a piece of paper and put it into that capsule, but John wrote down that I am his property and in case of loss shall be returned to him🙂 That’s what I wear at the moment. Loving it.

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