justjenn
Posts: 9
Joined: 10/30/2005 Status: offline
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I think it was always there, just without a label. I always tried hard to please my parents and grandparents. I rushed to the door when my dad got home in the evening to help him take off his work boots. I made sure I got good grades, because I needed the praise when they got my report card. The worst punishment I ever got was my grandmother telling me she was disappointed in me - that hurt more than my father's belt ever did. When we played cowboys and indians, I was always the indian. When we played cops and robbers, I was always a robber. Whatever it took to get myself tied up. When puberty started to set in, my girlfriends and I would experiment on each other - sometimes we'd be tied up, sometimes not. We played with ice, with soft brushes, with feathers. Sensation play combined with bondage is still my idea of heaven. When I was 14, I was raped by a close friend. And as much as I hated him for it, I hated myself for enjoying it, too. When I was 19, I got married, because my dying mother wanted to see me "taken care of". It never occured to me to say no. I lost everything in that relationship - my friends, my family, even myself, because that was what he expected of me. Eventually, the relationship fell apart. I had nothing left to give him. I still had no clue. But a friend who was in the lifestyle recognized it in me. He asked questions, drawing the answers out of me. He made suggestions, he steered our conversations, he proved his points to me over and over. Once I had a clear vision of who I was, he gave me the label. It was a wonderous thing.
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