explanation of hedonism: pleasure is my kink




noun: hedonism

  1. the pursuit of pleasure; sensual self-indulgence.
    the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life

Some say their kink is pain.  Whipping.  Impact play.  Rope bunny.  Me?  I say pleasure can be a kink.  I wonder if I’m alone in this, but I don’t believe so.

I’m a pleasure slut.  My kink is  French cooking.  Simple, intense, and leaves you needing a nap afterwards.  I want to feel the pleasure run through my body, my mind, my soul, insomuch as I believe in a soul.  If it brings me pleasure, I want more of it.   If it doesn’t do anything for me, I’ll abandon it.  If it doesn’t make my body shiver, shake, convulse, I eventually stop seeing the point.

I want orgasms.  Simple as that.

I am not aesthetic.  I need touch.  I need you with me.  I don’t want to tied up and suspended away from you, though I may enjoy the feeling of rope on my skin.  I don’t want pretty, purple bruises.  I don’t want to be photographed, unless it’s for a particular occasion and I spend extra time executing the design.

My skin, say my friends and occasionally near strangers I allow to touch me, is extraordinarily soft.  I make the most of this.  The slightest touch can send me into convulsions if my mind is properly placed.  I almost always ask for less.  I enjoy the very lightest of touches. I once used a violet wand on the lowest setting, which created an effect where the person’s hands conducted the electricity and it “massaged” my skin when they ran their fingers across my shoulders.  Or a mild tap of the riding crop (okay, a little harder!  but, no, not much).  I love to have my feet played with, every bit of my skin massaged and scratched, each nerve stimulated.

Warmth and cold.

I love fire and ice.  Hot wax dripped, ever so gently, only a bit, on my back.  Just a dash of fire dropped on my body.  Then a metal flogger, drenched in ice water, dragged across the cooling wax.

I prefer mental domination. I like games. Actual, fun games.  Not silly, so-called romantic games (pretending that I don’t like a guy to make him more interested in me), but a complete take over of my mind? A game that draws me into the person? Yes, please.

I do not always need an orgasm to experience warmth and tingles.  Women often don’t, and that includes those of us with a stronger feminine side.  Oh, I wouldn’t believe the woman who says she never needs an orgasm, not without gentle, er, probing.  It’s only that sometimes she sincerely means it when she says she just wants to feel good, but not necessarily pushed over the brink.

I used to feel a bit of a fraud, because of it, but I like what I like.

I am not fond of bruises, whips, floggers, and rope suspension— but I believe shooting fireballs along my inner thigh counts?

I don’t need to “prove” my kinkiness by pushing beyond what will ever be what I want. I don’t need to be swung around, beaten, and whipped with pins stuck in my nether regions 🙂

My kink is pleasure, and I shall indulge freely.

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