You may see Stephen and me at a dinner party, laughing and joking along with everyone else. I’m the loud one, have probably had more to drink, leaning in to be part of it all. He sits more quietly, drinking, observing, only joining in when he has something to say.
You’ll see him glancing at me, checking that I’m okay, maybe reaching out to hold my hand. He obviously loves me. And you’ll see me ensuring that he’s enjoying himself. When we leave, he’s so gentlemanly, helping me on with my coat, opening doors–everything I could want in a partner. You’d never know that we have anything other than a normal relationship.
But once we’re back home, our dynamic alters. Stephen changes. His voice drops a little bit, his eyes glint with something indescribable. He’ll trace his fingers along my jaw and turn my head so I look him in the eye before he circles around me, telling me that I’ve been a very naughty girl. A shiver will run through me as I wonder what he’ll do next. . .
Looking back, I think I’ve always known I had a masochistic/submissive streak, but where I grew up, sex education was restricted to a couple of lessons at school and my mother giving me a “facts of life” book. Even just plain sex wasn’t talked about, let alone sexual preferences or kink. So I suppressed my feelings and learned to live with it, occasionally feeling unfulfilled sexually if I thought about it too much.
I persuaded sexual partners to tie me up, but they wanted romance; didn’t understand that my desires came from mixing pleasure and pain. Eventually married, my sex life dwindled. In the final year we were together, we had sex twice. It did horrible things to my self esteem, something that will take a long time for me to rebuild.
50 Shades of Grey turned out to be a revelation for me. Not in any way other than it made me think about my particular streak of kink, at a time when I was unexpectedly and newly single and desperately trying to re-find myself. I read anything I could find about spanking, BDSM, bondage, submission and pain, to name just a few topics. It shocked me–I found out that there are thousands upon thousands of people online who feel the same way.
When I met Stephen, I knew that for the relationship to work, he had to have complementary desires to my own. It was the most frightening conversation I’ve ever had in my life. To my shock, he didn’t judge me or think I was a freak. He told me he thought he may be a switch (liked to experience dominance and submission), but he wasn’t sure as he’d never been able to find out. That night was the start of something beautiful.
We started playing quite soon after. The first night I got a true taste of what is now my normality, my wrists were lightly bound above my head, my arms stretched tight around the leg of a chair. Stephen was quite tentative to begin with and I had to egg him on a bit! He blindfolded me, then teased me with a plastic ruler that came to hand. He alternated between dragging the edge across my naked torso and slapping me with it, followed by kissing and gently biting. The feelings I had were so intense–the anticipation, my loss of control, the pain, the pleasure. Being a submissive was everything I had ever dreamed of and so much more.
Since then we’ve grown our toy box from a plastic ruler to include rope, nipple clamps, vibrators, spreader bars, spanking paddles and much more. Some nights we’re spoilt for choice, although we will both freely admit to a good hand spanking being our favorite activity if we were forced to choose.
I’ve spent the past six months working out that I’m normal. Wired differently than my mother would hope, but that’s okay. I still have moments when I’m tethered to the bed, trying to rationalize what’s happening–that’s when I go into a tailspin. Rationally, Stephen shouldn’t be inflicting all kinds of pain on me to get his kicks, and I certainly shouldn’t be craving the pain, the release I get from a spanking. I shouldn’t yearn for him to grab me and treat me like I am his property, requiring that I submit to his every whim and desire. Sure the pain hurts, but it drowns out everything else–in the midst of the hurt, there’s peace.
We’re not 24/7 kinksters by any means; what we do is restricted mainly to the bedroom. However it doesn’t mean that Stephen won’t take the opportunity to play with me, either physically or psychologically, at any given opportunity. I regularly receive texts at work telling me what he’ll do to me when I get home, or perhaps how I should be waiting for him. I’ve been tied up in front of the television, spanked between dinner courses or just been placed in the naughty corner to keep me on my toes.
Stephen and I have a very secure relationship, with a lot of happiness, communication and honesty. I think it’s brought about by our kink–having that level of trust in someone has helped us form a deep bond. I absolutely love him to bits and know that what we have is stronger than anything I could possibly have hoped for. Our relationship is so more than just the kink–that’s just the proverbial icing on the cake.