Men know me by different names.
I prefer to be anonymous.
I am married to a very nice, sweet but very vanilla man. I have a small child. I am 29 years old.
And I am a submissive.
I’m not new to kink. When I was a young teen, I read one of my grandmother’s bodice rippers. In it, the man (a poor excuse for a pirate I believe) kidnaps a young maiden and has his way with her. I remember being oddly intrigued and definitely aroused. My first thought was Holy crap, this is hot. My next thought was Huh. I don’t think I should think this is hot. I wondered briefly what was wrong with me but the desire to read more about this power exchange (because the maiden was definitely enjoying being taken) was stronger than my worry over my odd sexual taste.
And I went through life. With my odd tastes. I was always attracted to the young men who made me submit. My first extreme bout of lust came in the form of a boy named James. He was a ladies’ man in high school–conquering young girls’ virginity like it was sport. And he enjoyed teasing me. Geeky, busty, acne prone, gangly little ole me. His voice was deep and he would call me late at night, growling at me through the phone, making my panties wet. He would push up against me in the hallway, forcing me to lean into my locker while he ground himself on my ass. He would give me a sly smile as I stared, breathless, at him as he passed me by in class. He amplified my submissive nature, but I didn’t realize that it was called that at the time. All I knew was that I wanted to give myself to him.
But of course, teenage crushes rarely work out. I was no exception.
And so I moved on. I grew older. Went to college. Worked two jobs to put myself through. Encountered older men who seemed intrigued by me–my firm body, my baby face, my witty tongue. But those older men, the men who leered at me and seemed to see right through my clothes, scared me. And besides, I was dating the man who would later become my husband. And while we dated (long distance) I put my nose down, buried my libido and focused on getting through school. The boys in my college didn’t want me–I was a tomboy. And I was miserable. I was not interested in the old perverts who viewed me as a sexual conquest.
When I graduated, I moved in with my husband and we settled in. I was on birth control and my libido was basically nonexistent (because they never tell you that it kills your libido). My husband every few weeks or so would badger me enough to force me to consent to having sex, but it wasn’t anything special. It was normal sex. Vanilla. Enough.
I eventually figured out the birth control was damaging my sexual drive and giving me depression, and flushed them down the toilet. And my libido came raging back. Unfortunately, my husband was not up to keeping up with me.
I’ve spent five years chasing after my husband. Five. Years. During that time we had a baby–and while I (and apparently a bunch of other men) loved my changing body, my husband didn’t give me a glance. He refused to touch me outside of checking on the baby. I became invisible. And for a year (from conception to three months postpartum), I was not a sexual being to him. Post baby, my libido was raging. And 2 years prior to the baby, I had discovered the BDSM world. I had discovered I was submissive. There was a name for my sexual fantasies. I was not abnormal after all.
I tried to get my husband to read the articles, watch the videos, showed him Fetlife and Dominant Guide, and Taken In Hand. I wrote blog posts, and talked and talked and talked…not confrontational but just casually. He agreed to read the articles and watched the videos and we talked about setting up rules and punishments…but he never would follow through.
One particular night, we were snapping at each other. We were exhausted. I tossed his phone at him and it landed on his stomach too hard for his liking.
He hit me. Hard. Twice. On the arm. With enough force that my arm was numb for quite some time after.
I told him that I was taking off my wedding rings and I was done trying. I was done trying to be a good wife. I was not accepting his apology.
That night, I went to one of my favorite erotica websites. I was just going to do the usual–read a couple of stories, wish that they were me and then go to bed. But that lonely night, I decided to that I wanted a friend. Someone to talk to. I logged into a chat room and watched, amused, as fellow kinky peeps chatted with each other.
And then a separate private chat popped up. We started talking, and very quickly our talk became kinky play. It was intense. Powerful. He was saying things to me that turned me on, not only instantly but with a force that was scary.
May I cum sir? Please!
Say it slave. Who do you belong to?
You Sir. I belong to you.
It was the beginning.