The Mind’s game…
Now it’s known, BDSM makes everyone curious and creates addiction, once you’re in it. Heart and mind work in synch once you try it.
During the years, I found out the BDSM world is moving towards something more and more physical, where there’s the “Master” that’s in charge and the “Slave” that does anything her “boss” wants. I’m talking about physical, with spanking and other practices.
But, as I’ve said thounsands and thousands of times, without using your mind there can be no belonging.
I firmly believe in the power of words, mental pleasure before the physical.
There’s no mental pleasureif there isn’t something strong, it being a relationship or a feeling.
I pleasantly remember a situation, a very interesting one where you needed really little to create pleasure.
I believe it was 2015, I was a real-estate agent.
She was a costumer looking for a home, an avid traveler, known for her important working position. The usual North-European girl. Light eyes and blonde with a very strong personality.
She had this very strong Milan accent and whenever she called me she started with a warm and intense “Good morning!” that gave me the chills.
She asked me to go visit a house, downtown. We met up in front of the Broletto, known interest point in Novara, usual greeting rituals and we head off to the apartment.
Going u the stairs she was telling me about her job and how important it was for her to have an extra room for her projects. And I as a “lying real-estate agent”, praysing the apartment, I remembered how I absolutely wanted her to see that last floor apartment because she would’ve loved it.
We got to the front door of the house, keys in hand, I start opening the door with the keys, and I gladly noticed she was looking at my hands, as if she had a sort of perversion.
I open the door, slowly and let her in, closing the door right behind her.
I turn on the lights and we start the house tour.
Kitchen, living room, hallway and night space.
We get into the bedroom, she looks around and sees that up on the ceiling there’s a hook, and being a very vintage room of the “old” Novara, there were probably sausages hung up there.
She suddenly turned to look at me and told me: “Now I got why I should like this”.
I, a little imbarrassed by the situation, stuttered: “I dont understand!” with a classic awkward move, scratching behind my head.
“I’m not stupid, I feel it on my sking that you do something I really do like, and you took me here for this”.
The truth is I’d never seen her before and this was making me uncomfortable, in the first place!
“Oh, yeah? So if I did this…” and getting closer I started touching her shoulder, lightly touching with my fingers.
Her astonished face will be stuck in my mind for years.
“No, please, no!”
I asked her to sit on the bed and getting close to the dresser I touched it soflt, running my fingers on every angle of the upper part of it.
I saw her eyes closing as a sign of pleasure, as if she couldn’t wait to be touched, grazed.
But we were there for something else…
“You liked the house” “Yeah…”
I closed the door, looked at her straight in her eyes and left her my business card.
I saied goodbye to her and went on to my next appointment.
An hour later she texted me on Whatsapp: “Hi, I’m Christine, thegirl of the apartment.”
I invited her out for a coffee, in a coffee shop on Roma avenue, in Novara and the thing was so exciting that I decided, for that day, to surprise her.
I brought her in a house, in the Saint Paul area. I closed the door and started stimulating her mind.
My hands, my words whispered in her ear and her, still, with her eyes closed, standing with her hands on the wall.
Her mind was a hurricane from which, getting in, I didn’t want to come out of.
And my mind, was that girl’s bestfriend, spicy but really exciting. I saw her 2 more times, after that she got into a relationship with a younger boy and I decided to let her be. Her mind was too busy to play with me.
Concluding… Mentalism? Yes! It’s fundamental.
And it needs to be nurtured, or it’s like having a dead plant in a flourishing garden.