How I Popped my BDSM Cherry, Part 1

OR, a Record of my First Play Session:

In some ways it seems to me that I've gone from 'OMG OMG OMG I can't do this, I'm terrified, I want to go out to my first munch but I'm SO SCARED', to casually taking my clothes off and engaging in some fairly filthy pastimes, with almost indecent speed. Having said that, it's been a short period of time in reality, but these 3 months of my life have contained, collapsed within them, the most intense emotional journey, a kaleidoscope of experiences, and a mind-blowing selection of physical sensations.

I'm glad I've started writing things down right from the beginning. It helps me make sense of the experiences, puts them in context, gets my thoughts in order, and allows me to come back to it later and get a bit of perspective.

I was out in the garden trimming my bush yesterday morning (not a euphemism!) and reflecting on my first play session, and how my life led up to that point. It's taken me 32 years to find my way here, but that doesn't mean I haven't had these desires for as long as I can remember. Like many people, I used to tie my Barbie dolls up together on their little Barbie bed. For as long as my memories stretch back, until I was a teenager, I used to comfort myself to sleep by fantasising. Every night's waking dream would be slightly different, but they all had a significant linking theme. In each one there would be something special about me, which would cause a person or group to kidnap me, hold me captive, and keep me while they tried to bend me to their will. I guess we all just want to be special and have someone desire us, at the end of the day. I didn't identify these as sexual until many years later, but they certainly aroused feelings in me which if I experienced them now, I would describe as sexual.

I remember the first new year's eve I spent with my (now) husband, leading him around Brighton with his hands tied together by ribbon. That's probably taking 'do unto others as you'd like done unto you' a bit far, but still...

I'm such a paradox, and I confuse myself muchly. In some ways I'm very old fashioned about sex and sexuality. I abhor deception, and I'd be absolutely devastated if my husband ever cheated on me. I have such an intense reaction if I ever feel I've behaved poorly, the guilt almost drowns me (and we're talking about very minor things here) and I want to vomit. I've never cheated on anyone, I've never two-timed anyone, and I can't imagine doing so. I've never had a one-night stand (or even touched a bit of cock on the first night), I've only ever had four lovers, and my husband and I have been together since I was 19. He's very special to me, of all the men in the world I can't even begin to imagine wanting to be with anyone else, and that means I want to make him happy. So he gets his shirts ironed, a beautiful house to live in, his finances organised, his household management taken care of, his dinner cooked, his health nursed, his emotional problems fixed, his cock de-spunked on demand (and quite frankly, I reckon my blow jobs get a 10 out of 10. After all, I've had enough practice at them...), he gets a shag whenever he wants, and pretty much anything else he wants, he gets, whenever he wants it. Unless it's bad for him, in which case, he can't have it at all. I wear the trousers in our house, but only because he lets me - that's the unspoken agreement. He's also cuddled and fussed over to within an inch of his life on a daily basis.

I should also add, that my sex drive has exploded over the last year or so (I'm fairly sure of the reasons for this, which include coming off hormonal methods of contraception). So that means I ALWAYS want to shag him rotten. It's like I've turned into some sort of NYMPHO or something.

Basically, we adore each other, and I worship the ground he walks on. He knows this, and adores me in return. It's the solidity of this relationship, coupled with the fact that he knows I've been quite unhappy over the last couple of years due to a series of life events - leading me to lose my mojo for a while - which has allowed him to give me the huge gift of freedom in my journey of sexual exploration. For the last few years, he's been quite happy for me to do all sorts of Naughty Things with Girls. And recently, following a lot of discussion and negotiation, we've agreed together that I can play with men, as long as there's no actual sex, snogging, no cocks touching me, and no touching of my ladies front bottom or boobies. Bum touching is Allowed though, which means I can get my arse spanked (flogged, paddled, caned etc etc), along with all sorts of yummy other stuff like biting, scratching, hair pulling, and other such delightful things.

I may be quite an old fashioned kind of girl in many ways, but once I form a connection with someone, I like a filthy fuck as much as the next person, and if they call me a slut while I'm doing it, so much the better! In fact, the dirtier, the more perverse, the more vile, well...the more I like it, quite frankly.

ANYWAY. I digress. So, the chain of events was:

3 months ago: have close friend staying at my house who mentions she's going to a munch. Cue 'what's a munch?' conversation. Ask if I can go with her. Come back that evening starry eyed. Barely eat or sleep for a week. Discover IC, make profile. Memo a few locals to ask if we can meet so I can pick their brains - mainly with a view towards building a social network.

2.5 months ago: go to St Leonards munch, be so terrified I nearly throw up before I get there. Meet whole bunch of really cool people. Be quite overwhelmed at their loveliness. BDSM'ers are Really Nice Folk! Later that week my memo'ing of locals culminates in meeting BD, who turns out to be a really nice fellow pervert. Am rather charmed by his chivalrous behaviour and extremely overwhelmed by the 60 second experience of his turning on his dom vibe to give me a taste of what it's like. Here's an extract from my email to him afterwards: "When you gave me a taste of what it is like to be around you when you are playing Dom, I was shocked at my reaction. My heart pounded, heat washed through me, my cheeks flushed, the pit of my stomach tightened, I felt shakey and tearful...

My emotions were so overwhelming I felt flustered and confused. I'm trying to sort them out afterwards. Fear, excitement, terror, anticipation, arousal, anger, guilt, shame, despair, desire."

2 months ago: meet N who I'm introduced to via BD. Oh. My. God. Actually, you know what? This needs a new paragraph all of it's own.

There - that's better, isn't it? Where was I. Ah yes, N. Mmmmmm. Sorry, what? Okay, focus Imp, focus.

ANYWAY. N and I had memo'd each other via IC, then moved on to IM for a few days. I was about to go on holiday for a week, so we thought it would be really good to meet up for a quick drink before that, so as to avoid the whole 'spend ages thinking about somebody you've met online, then either never get round to meeting up, or meet up and think 'oh dear' and end up escaping through the toilet window' palaver.

We arranged to meet spontaneously that very night, and I went over to Hastings after work as that was a good intermediate destination for both of us. I had suggested what looked online to be a nice little rock pub, but which in reality turned out to be the most ghastly, empty, brightly-lit, jukebox only, dead-end dive you've ever been in (see what I mean about false impressions from online discoveries?)

I was so scared I was shaking, and I sat at the bar texting my sister. I have the most marvellous set of messages from her, one of which goes 'have you got the shits? I always do! LOL' followed by me replying with 'yes! I am texting you from the toilet RIGHT NOW!'

Then she came in, and I saw the most sexy, the most amazing, the most incredible woman who had unbelievably come there for the purpose of meeting ME (why? how lucky am i?!) and I was so glad when we sat down on the sofa together because A) I was about to faint off my bar stool - which never ends well, and B) the sofa was really small which meant I got to sit close.

There followed a couple of hours of flirting, chatting, more flirting, and then...she was telling me about something she did with BD and as an example, she put her hand around my throat. My body just relaxed completely and my head rolled back, my mouth fell open, my eyes closed - I'd never felt anything like it before and it had never happened to me before - I'd never even seen it happen to someone else. I felt really embarrassed and blushed hugely. In fact I think I spent most of the night flushed to the point of red ears.

She kissed me cheek but not my mouth while we were in the pub, and then she suggested getting out to the ghastly location and taking a stroll down hastings beach. Get yer coat love, you've pulled.

As we went out of the door, still in the hallway of the pub, she pulled me in for a kiss, and I nearly fell to my knees. And for once, it wasn't because I'd tripped over something. There's something a bit shameful about being so turned on by someone that they can do pretty much anything they want with you. She could have hauled me off back to her house and dun me there and then, and I'd probably have let her. This is not something that happens to me normally - I'm very much in control of my actions, and I'm normally the one who does the pouncing on people.

In Part 2 (pending):

How We Steamed Up the Car Windows on Hastings Seafront. Twice.

What I did to Cause N to Remark Afterwards 'I wanted to rape you right there on the beach!'

'You Turn Me On So Much It Makes Me Want to Throw Up'

My First BDSM Experience

'Don't say Fuck Off to BD'

Edited Mon 5 Oct 09, 12:34 PM by little_imp