Secondary School: My First Sadistic Girlfriend

Little Did I know...

At age seven all boys share the same opinion about fire trucks and girls. Fire trucks are aaawesome. Girls are boooooring. Fast forward ten years and fire trucks are still cool, you know like really cool. Girls meanwhile have been promoted to something so much more than interesting than fire trucks. No guy ever saw that coming when he was seven years old. I certainly didn't.

No 17 year old boy has ever combined these two in his mind (Image: Crushing Mania)

Half a Boy, Half A Man
At age 17 boys are beginning to learn about sex. Girls have captured their imagination and the single best place to meet those amazing creatures that love the colour pink - a fact still very much unexplained, even after all those years - is secondary school. I know, kind of surprising, isn't it?

Apart from falling in love, discovering the magic that is girls, is perhaps the best thing in any man's life. It certainly is for me. Most of us had our first kiss a few years before. With hindsight, kissing, not sex, is the most intimate act between two people, but chronologically kissing comes before sex.

You slowly start to understand how the sex thing works - kinda - but girls remain a mystery. Even if you don't understand them, you start to recognize the type of girl you are attracted to. In my case boooooring has been a red flag throughout my life. Some things never change.

By the time you are 17 years old - think Mr. Raging Hormones - the classroom has turned into the single most dangerous place in the world for a boy. It certainly was for me.

The secondary school I visited was one of those "achievement is all that matters" type of schools - for which I am still grateful. At the end of the year we received our report cards during a ceremony. Students whose grade average was cum laude, summa cum laude or magna cum laude were called to the front. The vice-principal handed them their report card while the rest of the school applauded. No need to say that if your name wasn't on one of those list, it was a bad thing. That year my GPA got me no further than cum laude, something I was told of for by our vice-principal. Seriously.

All Girls Are Magic
In my defence, I had discovered girls! I really did. Can't remember what I did that Summer but in September it was back to school. On the first day students got paired on a class by class basis. Usually it was same sex, but in one class I got paired with a girl instead. I already knew her and even though we had different backgrounds we got along fine. Sometimes my secondary school forgot about academic success and opted for money instead. Well, her parents had lots of it and her attitude showed.

Technically, we were the same age, but age's just a number. Even at 17 she was the kind of woman, men go to war over and she knew. Yes of course, I let her copy my homework. Pay attention: boy, hormones, 17 years old, beautiful girl. Do I really need to spell it out?

We were both kind of bored in class, so you know what happens. Out of teacher's sight we had a little fun, talkin' about music, movies and whatever else teenagers talk about that both highlights and downplays their mutual attraction.

As a little boy I enjoyed playing cowboys and Indians. To be honest, I am not cut out to be a cowboy. Nothing made me happier than being captured and tied up by the Indians, who were without exemption girls. The men had gone to Mars, Venus or whatever. Frankly who cares? Just remember, I was born kinky.

As weeks went by, we both started looking forward to our class together. Still nothing happened, I was 16 or 17 at the time and when it came to women I was at a loss. Honestly, I haven't made much progress since then.

I think it is her, who introduced me to the duality of kink and love. On the one hand, she fancied me. At the same time it gave her immense pleasure to tease me. She understood the power she had over men - and especially over me, like few women ever will.


Certain Magical Girls Are Also Secret Sadists
Imagine this: teacher asks me a question, a simple one. As I start to answer, she puts her hand on my left knee, so I begin to stumble. Next, our teacher asks someone else a question and I turn my head and look at her, only to see her smile. Huge smile, sparkle in her eyes. She put her hand on my knee a few more times, but the effect started to fade and one day - I expect her to place her hand on my knee - she moves it halfway instead. I didn't see that one coming, not in a million years and I cannot answer the teacher's question. Trust me, at age 17 that hand there is better than being sole heir to the Playboy Mansion. This time the sparkle in her eye was much bigger.

She tried it a few more times but every time she did, my ability to answer teacher's questions increased. Something she clearly didn't like. Unfortunately she had gotten ill and skipped a few classes. At 17, I hardly knew what sex was or what I was doing, but my schoolboy crush was off the charts. I was infatuated and class without her was torture. It had gotten to the point where my rebellious 17 year old began to counter teacher's questions with questions. Somehow he stopped asking me.

After about a month she returned and I had my first heart attack. I had become the quintessential love sick puppy and couldn't stop asking about her health and if she would be OK. She'd missed me too. Nothing more complicated than a teenage love affair, especially when two people are unaware of the hidden chemistry that fuels their deviant sexuality.

With the teacher passing me over for questions, her ability to tease the hell out of me in class had disappeared. She didn't like it and had to come up with a new plan. Without realising, neither did I, but I honestly didn't know what I was doing or what was going on. I was just happy to see her and know she was all-right. She lied, she wasn't. That hurt. Not for me, but knowing she was not.

One morning, our joint class was the first one of the day. As she came in, she looked gorgeous, as always. Still, this time perhaps a little more gorgeous than usual. I remember smelling her perfume as she sat down. Class started and we got into our usual routine, discussing anything but the topic at hand. At some point, as I was paying attention to the blackboard, she called out my name and I turned my head towards her. As I did so, I felt a burning sensation on my left cheek. Turned out, while calling out my name, she held one of her bright red nails so close to my cheek, it scratched the skin and left a mark. Did it hurt? I don't know, nor did I care. It was surreal. I loved it, I enjoyed it and when I saw the look in her eyes, I enjoyed it even more.

After she'd tricked me - the visual results were impressive  - she took care of her handy work right there in class. If I wasn't born kinky, I would have signed up for the program there and then. The balance between being cruel and caring, in such an intimate way is one of the founding principles of my kink.


Destined At Seventeen
At the age of 17, a boy's life is ruled by the four F's. Football, Fire Trucks & Females. To other boys, it doesn't matter what you look like or what happened, if you can reasonably explain it by any of the four F's, you're a hero. Still, I never heard an explanation that included a fire truck. Hmmm.
But wait, isn't that three F's you say? Of course but Females stands for Femme Fatales. Pay attention, it's been my destiny since birth.

At the time I could not understand why a girl alternating between sweet, fun and lovely and being a bitch, was so intoxicating. It took me a few more years to discover there was such a thing as BDSM. When I finally found out, I was not surprised, it was more like: "Oh that's what it is."

In many ways it was the perfect introduction to kink. I really don't care for out of control women, whose idea of dominance is to call everyone else a looser. The kind of kink I enjoy is one with a healthy balance between the various elements in a relationship. For me BDSM is not the dominant form of communication in a relationship. I am just not compatible with those who need that.

Sadly, my 17 year old sadistic girlfriend soon fell ill again and didn't return for the rest of the year. We never met again. I've wondered about the why and how and if there are invisible clues that bring people together. Do we secretly send out signals that tell those who can read them, we are into BDSM. Even before we know what it is? Or was it maybe my usual lucky self?

Perhaps it was life's warning not to get lost? If so, it didn't help. Just look at the name of my blog. Trust me that one was even more overwhelming. She didn't even need her hands. Just her eyes and her smile. Life's lesson was lost upon me and it made me all the happier. I wonder what's up next.