An unfortunate kink

Where it began, I'm not really sure. I guess I must have always found on-screen scenes of men physically attacking women stimulating, even as a child - (I know I wasn't supposed to see such things but I got away with it with my folks by pretending I wasn't really watching). Besides, I was frequently seeing boys being rough with girls at school. I never indulged in that sort of behavior myself because I knew deep down it was more naughty than I had the nerve to try; but it still kind of thrilled me to watch. Nothing really bad ever happened, but the mere possibility that it might one day was enough to keep me interested.

With the onset of puberty, the situation changed dramatically in that for me, girls seemed to grow into a completely different animal. They rapidly developed into wondrously shaped, irresistibly attractive but emotionally unnerving creatures that scared the shit out of me. I felt a complete idiot in their presence. For a start, I couldn’t even talk to them, I hadn't a clue as to what to say and on those rare occasions when I did pluck up the courage to try and talk to a girl, only embarrassing incoherent jibberish seemed to come out of my mouth. I just couldn’t see how I might relate to them and they to me.

Then, one blessed night on tv, a man strangled a woman to - and all became clear to me. It was in a play and I knew it was all pretend. The scene only lasted for a hundred wonderful seconds or so, but it immediately became indelibly imprinted on my mind. The determined expression on the guy's face as he approached the woman; I liked that. The look of terror on her face when he put his gloved hands around her neck; I loved that. I found the way the woman sobbed and begged him not to kill her and her powerlessness to prevent him doing so a complete turn on. The series of destressed and pained expressions her attractive face assumed as he started to squeeze set my heart pounding in my chest with excitement. The feminine sound of her , plus the way she struggled and writhed so sexilly were for me, pure heaven. After a few moments of this entrancing piece of choreography, the woman fell to the floor, where she lay on her back, all red faced, , shaking and utterly helpless. The man looked down at her for a moment as if he was admiring the view. (I know I was). Then he knelt down beside her. The woman's head and shoulders were out of shot now but very much in-shot were the woman's shapely, stocking clad legs, kicking and failing about (with plenty of thigh showing) to indicate that her was still very much in progress. We weren't shown the moment of her but there was a very nice final shot of her corpse, taken from above. Her unblinking eyes and exposed legs arranged to suggest she died in a violent struggle were affectively staged. They certainty affected me for I was never the same again. The mere memory of that scene was sufficient to give me an erection everytime I thought of it, and I thought of it very, very often.

So what had I learnt from all this? Truth to tell, I wasn't really sure. Was it that I found scenes of women being strangled sexy, or more sinisterly, was it because I found the idea of strangling girls sexy? Should I be horrified by the way my juvenile mind was working regarding this subject or excited by it and embrace it? Clearly this little kink of mine needed to be addressed, one way or another, if I was ever to know any peace. The mere fact I couldn't wait to get started indicated that in my heart of hearts, I'd already made my decision.

My smartphone gave me ready access to violent porn and so I spent many pleasant hours at a time watching drop dead gorgeous, convulsing, naked women slowly to . Such scenes never failed to sexually arouse me and get me masturbating. In fact, they became my entire sex-life. Over time, I came to view females as natural prey for predatory men and saw myself as every inch a predatory man. Where most guys my age were checking out girls as potential sexual partners, I was checking them out as potential victims. I started to stalk those I found most likely to make a good victim; the one's clearly smaller and weaker than me; in particular, the loners. I started secretly taking their photograghs and forming dossiers on them. I even tested various types of cord to see which of them would be easiest for me to work with as a garotte. I bought surgical gloves to protect my hands from being scratched by a girl's fingernails as she abortively fought for her life. I found myself looking for locations suitable for killing women in and their proximity to where individual 'victims' either lived or worked.

At first, I told myself this was just a hobby, a passing phase I would grow out of, but as more and more time passed, it became clear to me that this was no mere hobby, this was my life, my destiny. It was what I was naturally born to do. All I needed to do now in order to fulfill my destiny as a man was find myself the right girl at the right time and in the right place; then experience the divine thrill of overpowering her and enjoy the exquisite rush of all those perverted sexual sensations I knew lay in store for me as I strangled her.