CaringandReal
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Joined: 2/15/2008
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quote:
ORIGINAL: AIH
As I am new to this and very unsure, I would really like to hear about other´s experience of their introduction to this world.
I would like to know, how you found out you belong here; was it a process? If so, how did it begin? Have you always known? Did you just wake up one day and then you knew where you belonged?
I would be very grateful for all answers.
It was and is a process for me.
I think I was born with a predisposition to be submissive and that predisposition was encouraged to flower by certain events that occurred in my childhoold (cruelty/abuse/the usual awful stuff, but my inner response to some of those acts was positve--arousal as well as a desire to be of service to the abuser--that's why I think I had a predisposition to be submissive). But although I knew I liked certain kinds of roughness and abuse the knowledge was unconscious. If I encountered scenes of bondage, pain, or humiliation on tv or somewhere else I'd relish them and sometimes have fantasies about them at night. Like any child, I'd try to get the kids around to play the kinds of games I liked, and my games sometimes involved being master and slave or social embarassment. People think of submissives as gerenally passive, but I was out trying to convert the neighborhood, without really realizing what I was doing. :)
I noticed in my pre-teens and at the dawn of puberty that I liked displays of control: a boy taking a kiss, not asking for it, the surprise of a pair of hands firmly on my shoulders as someone asked me a question, the incredibly sweet sensation of someone coming up and laying his head in my lap at desert camp when we rested under the shade of a tree. These small subtle things were very moving to me, I was deeply aware of any act that was even a little controlling.
At 16 I was serving people whenever I could without knowing what it was. I'd massage the feet of someone I lived platonically with for a long time each night until he fell asleep, and the longer it took and the stiffer I became, the more I suffered in my service, the more I liked it. Sometimes people who could see what I was tried to help. One gave me _The Story of O_ to read. I found it an incredibly hot read and the fantasies stayed with me for the rest of my life, but I didn't connect myself with O, I considered it just a story.
More time passed, I went to college, did ordinary sex, but eventually the desires surfaced again and I talked my boyfriend into tying my arms above my head and beating me. He was not very kinky, it turned out, and too shocked by the resulting bruises to ever do it again and I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed.
Even more time passed. Since my teens my fantasies about control had been getting stronger. I couldn't orgasm from sex with my partners, but I did wank off at night to my lurid imaginings. But they were just fantasies, nobody did this stuff in real life. Or so I thought, until one day I happened by chance upon some more bdsm erotica. As I read it I woke up. I realized what I was. But the place I knew I belonged wasn't with a community or group of people, the place I belonged was at the end of a single person's leash. I didn't know who that person would be, but I knew I would look for them until the end of my days, if need be. That was 3-4 years before it became possible to get online and meet people over a computer and nothing much happened to me until then. I lived in a small town and I didn't know how to find other kinky people.
Once the whole computer connection thing started, I quickly found my way to online kink groups, started to participate in the discussions, and quickly caught the eye of a dominant who very skillfully enslaved me. When I eventually met him, my first physical introduction was rather extreme, as they tend to be in master-and-slave relationships where a solid foundation/preparation is laid beforehand, and I don't like to talk about it much because it's the sort of thing that gets tsk-tsked at or criticized a lot on here, but it seared into my brain the reality of my slavery.
So, I served him, the great majority of the time extremely happily and fulfilled (I was 30 when I met him and it was the first time in my life I felt right, as though I was in the perfect place for me, the place where I had always belonged), for 15-16 years. The sex was incredible. So were the times that didn't involve sex. But he was much older than me, had bad health problems, and died about six years ago.
I don't yet like to talk or think to much about what happened next, its horror is still too close to me. But someday I'll tell phase 2 of this story. Stay tuned and you might even hear it. ;)
_____________________________
"A friend who bleeds is better" --placebo
"How seldom we recognize the sound when the bolt of our fate slides home." --thomas harris
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