I am old. Actually, I don't feel old. But I am not the adorable little submissive with stars in my eyes and confused hormones I once was. The one who was ready to explore a foreign world and, like any explorer, realized that there were incorrect paths which led to danger and wonderful avenues which were filled with treasures.
I discovered my nature when I was 22. I began searching and learning. That was 29 years ago. The BDSM lifestyle (we didn't even really have a term for it then!) was a different world then. Secret little bars and clubs down back alleys, seedy characters, almost non-existent writings. You were lucky to even find anyone who knew anything about it . . . and who did you ask in the first place? The Story of O had been released and, not surprisingly, it became the eye opener for many of us then as it still is today. Myself included.
I was very fortunate. Okay, not at first. There I was, the bright eyed young woman who had somehow discovered not only my needs but also this dimly lit bar. Filled with middle aged men searching and barely a handful of their submissives. I was new meat and well over a decade younger than anyone in that bar. What did I care . . . I had arrived!
Within moments, I was kneeling before a man who seemed to have precisely what I needed. Control. It was incredible, delicious, enthralling. And dangerous.
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