KindLadyGrey
Posts: 358
Joined: 11/6/2007 Status: offline
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My worst experience also turned into one of my best ones. Stay tuned, because this is one of the first times I'm talking from a sub's POV on these forums. Also, forgive me if a M/f story is out of place in this section of the forums. The question was worded generally, and since I am a bisexual switch I have experiences all over the map. Long ago when I was just a baby in the lifestyle, I met my first sadist. I had pretty much figured out that I was a masochist by that point, but I wasn't sure whether my extreme fantasies were really something I wanted to translate into reality. But, as sadists and masochists do, he and I got pulled together like magnets and started pushing each other's limits almost immediately. It turned out that I could take on all of my fantasies and more, so I pushed, and I pushed, and I pushed. One night as we were engaged in some sadistic beating and sex, I started laughing at him because I KNEW it would drive him over the edge he was already on. Well, it did. He slapped me and beat me, and then he wrapped his hands around my throat and started squeezing. I was completely fine with all of this, by the way, really grooving with the scene. But after a short while he leapt up and ran out of the room. I figured he'd gone because I was pissing him off or because he was going to get some implement to use or maybe just to leave me abandoned and wanting. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And when I heard the shower turn on I knew something was wrong. I got up immediately and went to see what was going on and I found him curled up on the floor of the shower sobbing. I'd pushed him too far, and he'd scared the crap out of himself. He said that he'd really wanted to strangle me and that he had to stop or he was afraid he would have killed me. Really freaked out does not even BEGIN to describe his state of mind. Obviously, I felt terrible and horribly guilty. (In retrospect, it was probably the only lesson I've ever needed about why topping from the bottom is a bad idea) I spent a lot of time doing Dom aftercare for the next day or so, and apologizing. We were both new at it, and still working the whole thing out. The good news is that we continued to do so together, and he became the first (and last) person I ever called "Master." We did a lot more talking about our boundaries and our needs and eventually settled into a pretty healthy D/s relationship. Our relationship ended eventually, for reasons unrelated to bdsm, but I still have some very good memories and I like to think he does too. Still, that first time. . .it was really scary. There is nothing in my mind that could be worse than finding him curled up on the floor of the shower crying because I'd pushed him too far. Even if someone someday hurt or assaulted me, I still think that memory would hurt more.
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