Kink is my Mindfulness

Today I had to go to a “mindfulness” group. We are all sat on chairs in a circle, like an AA meeting. The group leader says to sit still, close your eyes, and slowly goes through a script, which he knows off by heart. Concentrate your mind on a certain type of feeling, a certain type of sensation, or a certain body part. Try to declutter your mind, to free your body. It all feels a bit silly at first.

Mindfulness is a sort of meditation almost, thinking yourself calm as things around you go belly up. Every time I go there I get asked “how did home practice go?” and I say something evasive like “ohh, I forgot” or “I just did mindfulness in the bath” when what I really want to say is I kinked the hell out of it.

One of the exercises we often do is called a body scan – this is a slow meditation thingamybob where you almost over concentrate on your breathing, your movements, automatic sounds your body makes – almost to the point of ignoring everything but the instructions on the script (or app, or podcast or similar). That is how is supposed to be done.

What we do….

I will tell my Husband I want kink time, maybe directly, maybe by being bratty. Either way, it’s ending up in bondage, impact play, role play or some other kink. More often than not, impact and sensation play. Instead of laying on my back on a yoga mat pondering why my leg hurts, I’ll be laying front side down on my bed, knowing exactly why I am feeling that. The script is my master’s voice “well done Wife”, the gentle caress before a spank, the whispers near my ear to check I’m listening. The firm grip on my wedding hand to remind me I’m loved.

My normal vanilla stresses are pushed aside whilst he’s in charge of my body and mind. For all I care there could be a hurricane outside, I wouldn’t hear. He makes me laugh, wriggle, talk, cry, smile and so much more.

I wish I could recommend kink to the mindful group, but I suspect I’d be considered a freak. I mean, why would a seemingly strong woman WANT her Husband to hit her? Believe it or not, it’s about controlling my own life, not being controlled by him, which is often the assumption if folk ask why I wear this chain around my neck, this padlocked collar. I am going to suffer everyday, the exhaustion, all over pain and everything else that goes with my illness wether or not I want to. Yet when he spanks me, or runs a pinwheel across my skin, that is the only part of my body I feel.

Obviously, I am not saying kink cures illnesses, it so doesn’t. But when I’m in his loving hands, my normal pain melts. Just us in the room, just us in the universe, and nothing else matters.