Dark Musings: 01
Anonymous
(1)
Somehow, looking back now it is hard to tell exactly when things
began. I can say that I did A and B, which led to Y and Z. But
just examining the events, taking them apart and dissecting them,
doesn't really explain.
I am one of those people who have had thoughts for years that I now
recognize as being forerunners of my interest in BDSM. I
distinctly remember being 11 years old, standing naked in front of
the mirror in my room. I had draped various necklaces over my
body, around my wrists, and covered myself with a sheer cloth. The
jewelry glittered like chains, and the image excited me. I
fantasized about being carried off and sold as a sex slave, kept
for the personal pleasure of another.
I was what is politely termed a late bloomer. I was skinny, and
poor, and not very pretty, so I wasn't exposed to sexual activities
as early as many of my peers. Besides, even from an early age, to
me sex was so intimate, that I knew I had to deeply care about
someone to let myself be that exposed. Many things in my childhood
had taught me not to trust anyone that much, so consequently I was
still a virgin at 19.
I had consistently had fantasies about being abducted and forced to
please. Fantasies about being the cherished pleasure slave of
someone. And I must admit that rape fantasies were high on my list
of favorites. I would imagine being overpowered, held and forced
to have sex with someone. Little did I realize how much problem
these fantasies would hold for me later.
I was a somewhat foolish girl, I held a great part of myself back
and didn't trust anyone easily, not completely. I did, however,
have an alarming streak of naivete.
I ended up in a situation where two men, both of whom I knew, badly
abused and then raped me. It had nothing to do with BDSM, I had
gone over to visit the wife of one of them.
For years I tortured myself with the secret thought that I had
somehow caused this with my fantasies. But the reality was so far
from the fantasy as to be not even in the same universe.
The rape was cruel and harsh; the beatings I received during it
still cause me to cringe when someone hits me playfully with their
hands. The physical body healed. The emotional one took much, much
longer.
I finally have freed myself from the guilt I felt concerning my
fantasies and know that the element from my 'rape' fantasies
missing in the actual rape, was my desire to have sex with the
person doing the raping. In my fantasy, I really wanted them...I
just wanted to be forced. In the reality, I was invaded and violated.
I was lucky that not long after the rape I found a loving man who
showed me that sex can be fun, and very loving and wonderful.
Thanks to him, I discovered that I had a deep sexuality. I loved
the sensual feel of skin against skin, the taste and smell of it.
We worked at the same place of business and our affair was torrid.
One thing he excelled in was exciting me. He used to drag me into
deserted areas, slam me up against the wall, his body length
pressed against mine, and devour my mouth. He would kiss me until
I was limp with desire for him, wet and eager, and then he would
look at me, chuckle and walk away.
I realize now, how very Dommish that activity was, and it excited
me then. Not just the kiss, but the control.
Our affair burned brightly, but like so many things that burn
fiercely, it burned out quickly. Many things came of it, good and
bad, but I will always thank him for giving me back my sexuality.
About this time, I discovered a series of books that I was ashamed
of finding
exciting. The Gor novels, by John Norman, were the very antithesis
of what a liberated, strong young woman should like. Here I found
excitement in women who were owned, branded, and used. I found
myself having an increasing desire for this type of thing, but I
hid it, not wanting to admit that I found it exciting.
One book by him in particular that I read again and again was
Imaginative Sex. It was a whole series of fantasies that I spent
hours reading and masturbating to. The writing was not the best,
but it fueled my own imagination.
Still, I kept these to myself. My only release for these feelings
was the occasional times when I would goad a sexual partner into
holding me down while he fucked me.
Then one day came when I was at a convention with several friends.
I don't remember how it started, but one of them pulled out a pair
of handcuffs and was bragging that he could easily get me into
them. I laughed and challenged him. It didn't take long before he
was wrestling with me, trying to get the cuffs on. I am very
strong, and he found that he couldn't easily make good on his
bragging. Soon another friend joined in, and finally a third. The
straining and fighting, having three men hold me down and work to
get me in the cuffs was incredibly exciting. I was so turned on
that if one of them had noticed...well, I might have been into BDSM
a bit earlier. As it is..it took the next phase in my life to do that.
Dark