Profound revelation causes anxiety attack
About a month ago I purchased a set of real handcuffs. They weren't the cheap, flimsy metal ones you find in dollar stores. (Those barely fit around my wrist.) These are the ones that you have the privelige of wearing if you ever get detained by the police. They're black (I don't go for that shiny chrome shit), they double lock (meaning they can't get tighter or looser), and came with two regular handcuff keys. I also purchased a "tactical key." A handcuff key is about an one and a quarter inch long (a little shorter than a house key) and is somewhat difficult to use while wearing gloves. The tactical key is about three and a quarter inches long with a semi-abrasive feel to it that makes it way easier to grip. The length also makes it easier to use when you need to get out of the cuffs by yourself.
Anyway, last night I decided to go to bed wearing my month-old indulgence. (Because I'm kinky, that's why.) I wrapped my wrists twice around with a self-adhesive ace bandage. (Because some of my students are really fucking observant and I don't want to have to explain why I have a red mark around my right wrist.) I then spent the next five minutes adjusting a cuff on my left wrist; making sure it's not too loose or too tight and that the key hole was facing out toward my hand not in toward my body. Adjusting the other cuff onto my right wrist took about two minutes. Usually, when I attempt to go to sleep around 1:00am in the morning, I lie awake, tossing and turning until about 1:55am when I finally get tired enough to drift off. That wasn't the case last night; I immediately drifted off into one of *the* most restful sleep periods I've ever experienced. I don't remember any dreaming, but I do know that it wasn't anything bad. I woke up around 8:40am and I felt great... with this underlying feeling that I couldn't quite place. After taking the cuffs off (which was no trouble thanks to the length of the tactical key), I started analyzing the unknown feeling. It was a feeling of contentment that I couldn't quite quantify or put into context. It felt like chatting with a friend you haven't seen in a while and, when you're about to go your separate ways, you get this nagging sensation that you forgot to tell them about some monumental event in your life. That's what I was going through. About thirty minutes later, it hit me: I felt like I was in a mild form of subspace. (That's the euphoric feeling submissives usually get after a scene.) The problem was, I didn't do a scene last night... (Ding!) but I did sleep in handcuffs. I am constantly amazed at how such seemingly small events can cause big reactions with me.
Unfortunately, the feeling didn't last. I realized that BDSM will always be a big part of my life, even if it doesn't mesh with my future career in education. This epiphany didn't cause my "euphoria" to depart. It was the thought that popped in a few seconds later. I wondered if I could be outed or discovered by a fellow educator or, infinitely worse, a student. When I was at UCSC, I read up on some education horror stories of how a few teachers were observed by students "partying hard" at clubs, raves and other such events. When the rumors flew at school the next day, those teachers were called in and were chastised in the best case scenario and asked to resign in the worst case scenario. My problem with this was that *nothing* was done to the students. No one questioned what *they* were doing at the clubs, raves and other such events. It's like there's this double standard in schools that forces teachers to be upstanding role models at all hours of the day (even when they're off duty), while students can do whatever the fuck they like as long as they don't get arrested or bring any bad publicity toward the school. Someone tell me why I want to be a teacher.
Anyway, last night I decided to go to bed wearing my month-old indulgence. (Because I'm kinky, that's why.) I wrapped my wrists twice around with a self-adhesive ace bandage. (Because some of my students are really fucking observant and I don't want to have to explain why I have a red mark around my right wrist.) I then spent the next five minutes adjusting a cuff on my left wrist; making sure it's not too loose or too tight and that the key hole was facing out toward my hand not in toward my body. Adjusting the other cuff onto my right wrist took about two minutes. Usually, when I attempt to go to sleep around 1:00am in the morning, I lie awake, tossing and turning until about 1:55am when I finally get tired enough to drift off. That wasn't the case last night; I immediately drifted off into one of *the* most restful sleep periods I've ever experienced. I don't remember any dreaming, but I do know that it wasn't anything bad. I woke up around 8:40am and I felt great... with this underlying feeling that I couldn't quite place. After taking the cuffs off (which was no trouble thanks to the length of the tactical key), I started analyzing the unknown feeling. It was a feeling of contentment that I couldn't quite quantify or put into context. It felt like chatting with a friend you haven't seen in a while and, when you're about to go your separate ways, you get this nagging sensation that you forgot to tell them about some monumental event in your life. That's what I was going through. About thirty minutes later, it hit me: I felt like I was in a mild form of subspace. (That's the euphoric feeling submissives usually get after a scene.) The problem was, I didn't do a scene last night... (Ding!) but I did sleep in handcuffs. I am constantly amazed at how such seemingly small events can cause big reactions with me.
Unfortunately, the feeling didn't last. I realized that BDSM will always be a big part of my life, even if it doesn't mesh with my future career in education. This epiphany didn't cause my "euphoria" to depart. It was the thought that popped in a few seconds later. I wondered if I could be outed or discovered by a fellow educator or, infinitely worse, a student. When I was at UCSC, I read up on some education horror stories of how a few teachers were observed by students "partying hard" at clubs, raves and other such events. When the rumors flew at school the next day, those teachers were called in and were chastised in the best case scenario and asked to resign in the worst case scenario. My problem with this was that *nothing* was done to the students. No one questioned what *they* were doing at the clubs, raves and other such events. It's like there's this double standard in schools that forces teachers to be upstanding role models at all hours of the day (even when they're off duty), while students can do whatever the fuck they like as long as they don't get arrested or bring any bad publicity toward the school. Someone tell me why I want to be a teacher.