Wow. How did I get here? To the bottom of my secret garden, down and around the winding path, past the pond and behind the bushes, hidden from everyone I’d ever met, until now?
It’s a long story, a true journey of discovery, helped along the way by a growing sense of certainty and more than a few deep breaths.
I was raised, like many women, to believe that sex was something private, something that happened between a man and a woman during marriage, definitely not before and definitely not to be enjoyed. A superficial arrangement of the marriage vow, if you will. And boy, was that always boring!
Having followed the expected step into manhood, I married at twenty-one, still innocent in matters of the flesh, except for the occasional kiss, hug, and slap on the hand if things seemed to go too far.
Kevin was a great guy in many ways, considerate and caring, a good provider. We came from similar backgrounds, sharing traditional family values and views on marriage. But it was clear, even on our wedding night, that the great depth of physical passion he had hoped would never be. Kev was a simple, roll-on roll-off, kiss-on-the-cheek, sleepy kind of guy. He was doomed to a life of unfulfilled sexual desire, or so he thought.
Although I’d always been taught that ‘nice girls don’t do it’, that didn’t stop my fertile imagination from fantasizing all sorts of creepy sexual ideas from my teenage years. They had started, naively, around the age of thirteen, concentrating primarily on the legendary tall, dark, handsome stranger who picked me up and pounced on me, much to my mock protests and secret excitement. I didn’t have much material to feed my curious mind at the time, but my fantasies soon diversified when I discovered my brother’s porno mags when he was snooping around his room one day, curious as to what he was doing behind closed doors.
Well, all I can say is that I found out Saturday morning that his stash was the beginning of my lifelong fascination with sexually explicit imagery and the early blossoming of the sexual self I would become.
When I married Kevin, I had a huge catalog of sordid fantasies in my mind that I could call upon anytime I wanted. Before I left home he used to regularly satiate me when everyone was out or had gone to bed, opening my mind to more and more exciting scenarios. When I first discovered the sadomasochistic scene, through a TV show I wasn’t supposed to watch while my parents were at a party, I was so turned on that I had to run to my room the moment the show ended.
I didn’t dare tell Kevin any of this. He was locked in my secret fantasy world and I knew Kev would be horrified if he told him even a little bit of what was going on in my head. My God, he wouldn’t even do it with the lights on! I managed to do my marital duty on Sunday mornings once a week by disappearing into my secret garden. And, it seemed that the more bored I got, the more I advanced in my fantasies.
When I turned twenty-five, I admitted that it was starting to annoy me. The fantasies I used now were dominated by full-blown sadomasochistic scenes. Although occasionally I imagined myself as the dominator, usually I was the dominated, the submissive. Despite my upbringing that dictated the subservient role of a woman, I wasn’t as enamored with my subconscious desire to be as submissive and controlled by a man. Kev was the provider, but I was the one who ran the show, like a lot of other women I guess. Meanwhile, as the years passed, Kev still had no idea about my secret self and I tried to ignore the feeling that he was living a lie.
It was when Larry came into my life that everything changed. It was a classic meeting; I dropped groceries loading them in the car one day and he had just gotten out of his car in the parking lot next to mine. He came to help and that was it, we just clicked. Little did I know what that meeting would bring! By the time we load our bags into the trunk, we agree to meet for coffee, exchanging numbers. That twinkle in his eye as we said goodbye was all it took to put any thoughts of guilt aside.
Coffee with Larry soon became a regular thing. He certainly wasn’t shy about talking about everything under the sun and had me mesmerized with stories of his exploits. It was so easy for me to talk to him that when the conversation turned to our sexual experiences, at our third meeting, I was surprised to hear myself beginning to unlock the dark secrets of my mind. It was just a little bit at first, but Larry was really encouraging and understanding. He assured me that there was nothing wrong with feeling the way I did, that he could enjoy being sexually submissive if I wanted without having to be controlled in other areas of my life.
Soon, Larry was telling me about a whole alternative scene out there, and his sexual pleasure in acting master in a sub-dom relationship. He talked about it so casually that it was as if he was describing something more ordinary, like interior design, which in a way I suppose he was! Inside, I was alive and teeming, my already expansive imagination soaring to new heights, fueled by Larry. He had no idea how he was going to keep all of this inside, and he really, really didn’t want to. Larry realized this, of course, and looking back, I can see that during those first coffee meetings he had already begun to assume the role he so longed for, allowing him to lead me to where we are now.
Never before had he been so weak to temptation. You hear people say ‘I just couldn’t help it’ and probably, like me, you think that people who give up are weak and just make excuses. But really, I couldn’t help it, it was like becoming whole, whole, the real me.
Quick coffee turned into leisurely lunches, and lunch turned into afternoons in motels, where Larry met me in my secret garden. He had not in the least resisted his suggestion that I become a slave to his master. In a few months I had fulfilled every one of my fantasies and some of Larry’s.
During those months poor Kev didn’t suspect a thing. I felt bad? Yes, actually I did. He was a decent man and he knew it would hurt to know what he had been doing. But, there was no going back for me. He couldn’t see it, but I had changed. Sure, he still fulfilled my marital duties, but he lived for my time with Larry. As time went by, he longed to get our exploits out of the motel. I wanted Larry all the time. In a funny way, you could tell that while the shackles of my marriage to Kev had been stifling, I was actively looking to get some new ones, but this time leather-bound!
Inevitably, the afternoon’s fun with Larry took a more serious turn. She had reached the point where she wasn’t enough anymore and she couldn’t face the thought of a life with Kev and rapturous afternoons with Larry. It all came to a head one day. Larry realized that he wasn’t my usual self and eventually he took it out on me. That turned out to be the second best thing I did, the first being to leave the groceries in the parking lot that day. After I confessed that I wanted to leave Kev for him, Larry told me that he had only been waiting for me to get to this point. Although he is a fantastic teacher, he wouldn’t force me to do something I didn’t want to do.
I was ecstatic. We immediately made plans to take our relationship to the next level. She would have to leave Kev, of course, and Larry would have to move out of his marital home as well. Strangely, neither of us felt too guilty, knowing that we had formed such a strong bond that we had no choice. In fact, we were so excited that as we were talking about telling our partners about our plans, we suddenly realized that the conversation had somehow turned to planning the dungeon we were going to build together in our new home.
That was seven years ago. When it came down to it, Kev took it pretty well, all things considered. I didn’t tell him the exact truth about why he was leaving me, he just wouldn’t have understood. How can you tell someone that you are leaving him to be someone else’s sex slave?
Larry and I are still together, and truly, we have the most perfect relationship you could wish for. To others we look like a normal couple; we share responsibilities and tasks and are equals in most aspects of our daily lives. But when we close the door on the world, we become who we really are, and I find it just as exciting now as then. We even built that dungeon we talked about all those years before, sometimes inviting friends we met through the scene. Mostly though, it’s just me and my teacher, taking us places we need to go, somewhere I can’t return from. Do I have a problem being submissive? Oh no. I wouldn’t trade those leather ties for the world!