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Poll--Were you raised Catholic?

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Perhaps years ago, dear Eul, I gave in this forum information about my roman-catholic youth with severe schools and powerful religious teachers (brothers and Jesuits). Often I will forget to speak about my past but then suddenly I remark myself to write again.

That means: "So you educated so you stay, lifelong."
 
For the statistics of the forum :) : I was raised, what they call, in an agnostic way, by parents who had been raised catholic and I grew up in a catholoc country and society. I consider my self as an atheist. Religion cannot seduce me (but I am well aware of the impact of catholiscism even on my way of life and the culltural heritage it has left). Growing up in a catholic country made me belong to some 'minority' group and made me some rebel. At school, some of our teachers told us we had the duty, yes the duty, that was the word they used, to protect and preserve the ideas of the Enlightment and the French Revolution. They strongly influenced my thinking and made me sometimes contemplate : how far would I go in that?
What is the relationship with my dark fetish? Basically nothing. I was born with that. I knew I had that long before I heard the first time of Christ (a rebel in his time :)). And at this point my rebel attitude and my fetish converge after all. Although the message, the content of religion does not appeal to me, the idea of dying , and specifically getting punished or executed for an idea, for an opinion, continuously sparks my fetish-fantasy.
 
As I have mentioned before, I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools and was even a member of the boys choir. I have a reoccurring fantasy that at the beginning of choir practice the priest/ director calls me up in front of the group and announces that he has learned that I have been guilty of serious sins that require a special penance. He then orders me to strip naked. Then I am hung by my wrists and he proceeds to whip me all over. At the end I am left hanging in front of my friends until the end of choir practice. I have had this fantasy for years but don't know why.

Just yesterday I learned that, as part of a court settlement, my local church published the names of the priests who had been accused of molesting boys. And the name of the choir director was on the list. So now I am wondering if I have suppressed memories of being abused by that priest. And which of my friends was abused. Maybe that's why I'm all screwed up sometimes.
 
That is very strange. I remember choosing an avatar for you ages ago. It's a pic from Whipping Sunday which is uncannily similar to your "memories". Your dreams however are probably the result of some little thing you felt guilty about many years ago. Loads of people confess to crimes they never committed because they feel a need to be punished to put things right. I wouldn't worry about it.
 
melissa said:
That is very strange. I remember choosing an avatar for you ages ago. It's a pic from Whipping Sunday which is uncannily similar to your "memories". Your dreams however are probably the result of some little thing you felt guilty about many years ago. Loads of people confess to crimes they never committed because they feel a need to be punished to put things right. I wouldn't worry about it.
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Yes, Whipping Sunday was a good choice for my avatar because it is one of my favorite stories here. Some times I am watching the girl getting punished and sometimes I am the one in front of the crowd receiving my punishment. Depends on my mood.
 
LTLFTP (Long Time Lurker, First Time Poster)! For me, being raised Catholic was a big part of discovering my kinks, especially crucifixion. I remember some time around sixth grade I got an illustrated book of the lives of the saints. It didn't have anything particularly lascivious in terms of the illustrations, but some of the female martyrs pictured were beautiful to me. Then I would read about the terrible agonies they endured, usually in defense of their chastity and, well, that woke up something in me. I wouldn't say that it caused the kink, rather it gave me a lens through which to see it for the first time. I know this is an old thread but I thought it would make a good first post especially since I have been thinking about it a bit lately.
 
Good to hear from you Hagbard - what you describe seems a familiar pattern,
of course none of us can be sure whether we'd have developed the same kinks
if we hadn't been exposed to such influences, maybe they were already there
for other reasons, understandable or wholly mysterious, waiting to be 'triggered'.
 
Hagbard said:
it gave me a lens
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I love this phrase.
It succinctly and completly sums up my early experiences (before age 12) of images and stories from various media in the '50s.
Like you I don't think it caused the kink, merely channeled the existing desires into something the brain and body could more easily process.
 
Psychological pressure or even indoctrination can change human's mind so that he forgets what has been true.
Earlier Catholicism was such a character-mutilated milieu esp. by weak youngsters.

Now other religions have take over this practice, cultivating anxious men, fear for honor killing.
 
Eulalia said:
While we're in autobiographical mode, here's a little piece I wrote recently that adds to what I said above:

Girly Games​

Little girls' games – in Scotland and England, and surely bairns all over the world play the same! – often involve one girl being picked to kneel in the middle of the ring while the others mock her. Other girls used to hate it when they were picked, but this one used to hope it would be her! She loved chasing games, too, being hunted like a deer through the woods – she always loved it when she was the one counted out to be chased.

We used to play 'slaves' on our way to and from school – one girl had to carry everyone's bags, while the others smacked her and prodded her and shouted to make her hurry. Again, other girls used to moan, but this girl would say "Let me be the slave, please!"

Around puberty, of course she became more aware of her body, how she looked, what parts she should display, what parts she should hide. She wasn't a 'sexy' teenager, a little Lolita, she didn't try like some girls do to attract male attention – she used to hitch her skirt up over her belt on her way to school so the boys (and, she knew quite well, male teachers too) could get a good view of her nice legs, but all her friends did that too, and she just liked (and still likes) the feeling of cool air on her skin.

She remembers becoming very aware of her vulnerability, how the bare skin of her legs, back, waist – whatever parts were exposed, especially in summer, could be gazed at, touched and even whipped: yes, by 11 or 12 she was excited by whipping! In Scotland until very recently it wasn't unusual for girls to be beaten with the Tawse, a leather strap, on our hands, legs or buttocks – in England, where she went to secondary school, only a slipper was used, and less often. Still, this girl was regularly beaten on her bum wearing only thin cotton gym-knickers, for messing about in the changing-room!

But she wasn't frightened of being vulnerable, or even of the Tawse, she found it thrilling. It was this delight in being naked and vulnerable that made her like to sleep nude, no matter what her parents said to try to stop her – and she still does! So she enjoyed any activities where she could change into light clothing – shorts, briefs, leotard, swimsuit etc. At the swimming pool, for example, she'd get her friends to make her a 'human sacrifice', leading her ceremoniously up to the diving board and throwing her in!

And a bit later she discovered the story of St. Eulalia in a little book of saints belonging to a 'churchy' great-aunt. The idea of a 13-year-old girl like herself being scourged, racked, torn with Hooks, and tied on an X Cross to be roasted to death, while she went on being spunky and cheeky to her Tormentors, filled her with delight!

Stories and pictures about Classical women facing exciting fates, invariably more or less naked, also fed her appetite. She loved to imagine herself in such situations, e.g. leaning her bikini-clad body against a rock on the sea-shore, stretching up her arms to an old mooring ring, being Andromeda watching the waves and waiting for the monster who will come and devour her (she didn't want Perseus turning up to 'rescue' her and spoiling her fun, she wanted to meet her monster!)

There was a path on her way home from school that passed through rough woodland, where the bushes grew dense in summer. A gang of boys used to hide in there sometimes and ambush us girls, leaping out with long, prickly bramble-stems and wrapping them round our bodies and legs – it hurt like hell, and if you struggled it only made it much worse, so you were trapped, and they wouldn't let you go until they'd searched your bag and pockets for sweets, crisps or anything else they fancied for 'ransom' and you'd earned your freedom with kisses! You could go round another, longer way to avoid this trap, but if you didn't want to be teased and called a wimp, you just saved up the sweets and crisps your mum had put as treats in your lunchbox, hitched up your skirt, and walked bravely down what we girls called The Martyr's Path! Your slavegirl got 'captured' several times – it didn't upset her, she found it quite exciting, hurrying through the woods wondering if the boys were waiting for her, and when she was their captive they said she was 'good sport', 'cos she always made sure she'd got plenty of 'ransom' for them, and when they'd helped themselves to that she'd kiss them 'properly' to earn her freedom! The sight of brambles when she walks in the woods still sends a shiver up her thighs!

So, by the time she was entering adolescence, there's no doubt her true dharma, the most right and natural way for her to live, was emerging: to be naked and vulnerable, to be whipped and tortured and crucified, to be a victim – but not a pathetic one, she's a brave, spunky kid like St. Eulalia, she's eager to face monsters naked like Andromeda, she's 'good sport' for her captors.

But of course, the 'normal' expectations, of parents, teachers, peer-group, hemmed her in and forced her to try to suppress her real slave-self. It didn't work, it only made her unhappy, depressed, impossible to live with. Boyfriends, and later male partners, found her hard to understand – though she loved trying to please them, they either found her submissiveness irritating or an excuse to abuse her. So it's not surprising that she experienced a series of increasingly disastrous relationships. She felt there was something wrong with her, she felt guilty and ashamed. Yet she knew in her heart that it wasn't wrong, it couldn't be, it was – and is – her true self.

And at last she's discovered on Crux Forums a place where she can explore and express this important part of herself without feeling bad and screwed up about it. Through her poems, stories and fantasies, she can be her true self, and if they give pleasure to her friends and visitors on the Forum, that makes her very, very happy!
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I used to play cowboys and indians with the boys
i was the indian they took into the old air raid shelter
and tied up, i loved it, but could never understand the
funny feelings i had when they played with me
Happy Days
 
I was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school all the way through high school. All those Sundays my parents made me go to church, staring up at that big crucifix, that's where this started. I grew up with all that Catholic guilt drilled in my head and certainly didn't feel good about the fact I somehow turned a symbol of faith into some weird sexual fetish. I quit going to church years ago, but that's a whole other discussion. When I think about it now, I think the fact that it was something that felt so taboo and scandalous to me is exactly what made it sexually exciting. I mean, how dare I, as a good little Catholic angel, be so sinful as to sexualize our symbol of salvation. :devil:
 
DarkAngel said:
I think the fact that it was something that felt so taboo and scandalous to me is exactly what made it sexually exciting. I mean, how dare I, as a good little Catholic angel, be so sinful as to sexualize our symbol of salvation. :devil:
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Look at it this way: Why do you suppose the symbol of salvation was painted so often and so lovingly and sensually by so many Catholic artists? ;)
It's not called the passion of Christ for nothing.
 
Jollyrei said:
Look at it this way: Why do you suppose the symbol of salvation was painted so often and so lovingly and sensually by so many Catholic artists? ;)
It's not called the passion of Christ for nothing.
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That's an interesting way of looking at it lol.

I don't worry about it anymore from the standpoint of thinking I'm going to be smitten by God or anything like that, but I've never shared that I like this kind of stuff with anyone before I found this forum.
 
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