Down the rabbit hole

January 4, 2009

Everyone has a ‘how-I-got-into-kink’ story and everyone describes it in exactly the same way (see title). Mine is maybe a little more random than the usual fare. I didn’t identify as kinky or dominant until recently. But I’ve always had a strong personality, more stereotypically ‘masculine’ than not. I don’t think I’m overbearing, but I don’t like to fuck around. Since I’m a woman, this is usually interpreted as me being mean or bitchy (rather than, say, confident or direct). I’ve been told that I can be intimidating. I hardly ever get asked out because men don’t realize that I signal interest by, you know, actually talking to them like a normal person rather than flirting. I even walk like I mean it–head up, staring straight-ahead, fast, fast, fast.

My sex life was pretty conventional. I had a healthy appetite, was somewhat adventurous but nothing too wild. First serious relationship was with a guy I now recognize had submissive tendencies. He wasn’t a doormat, but I knew I could get him to do almost anything I wanted. He was also a leg man. (Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like sub guys fetishize legs and feet rather than T&A)

Since then, I’ve dated a number of men. The sex was always dissatisfying. Never enough foreplay. Never enough oral. Something was always missing. I thought maybe it was the fact that these were all younger guys. So I found a thirty-something. A little better, but still kind of blah. I still thought it was a maturity/experience thing.

The White Rabbit was in his late forties. I met him on a vanilla dating site. He called one cool night while I was walking to a friend’s house. I remember he spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper, and I had to strain to hear him. A few minutes in, I had to ask him to repeat himself because I thought I’d heard him say something like, “slave contract.”

TWR: “I’m looking for a master. Someone I can devote the rest of my life to serving. Would you feel comfortable owning me?”

Me: “Ummmm….”

This guy wanted a hard-core, 24/7 total power exchange (TPE) all spelled out in a legally airtight document (a thing which, by the way, is pure fantasy). As a sign of his devotion and a sort of ‘seal’  to the contract, he’d have his cock and balls cut off and preserved in a little jar for me.

Me: “Ummmm…”

Still can’t understand why I didn’t just hang up on the guy. He was clearly off his rocker. I mean, just the way he kept saying, “cock and balls, in a jar” so gleefully. What the fuck? As a well-raised, ex-Catholic school girl I should’ve been traumatized, disgusted.

Instead, I played along.

When he asked whether I had any objections to the plan, I told him castration was a lame idea because then the slave would be missing a major area to torture. What if I wanted to tie a little noose around his scrotum and yank until it turned purple? What if I wanted to use his penis as a pincushion?

I got really elaborate. And graphic. He loved it. I got off the phone feeling oddly giddy. The conversation had pushed a little button in my brain. I know it’s  a cliche, but everything really did look different afterward. I hadn’t ever thought of myself as a sadist before. The idea was strange and exciting–a game-changer…certain things about myself started to make sense.

Later, I did what anyone would do in my situation. I googled “master+slave+contract” and got a ton of BDSM links. I was so new to all of this stuff (still am) that I hadn’t thought of that conversation as being about kink. I read for hours. Stuff on femdom and power exchange, bizarre-sounding acts, weird grammatical rules and elaborate protocol guides.

(A big mess, in other words. I’m still sorting it out.)

Last thing I did was to look for femdom porn. Even then I thought that BDSM porn wasn’t all that different from vanilla stuff–plastic girls in tacky clothes, bad acting, penis everywhere, money shot. There was just more equipment involved and the women yelled a lot (and still didn’t seem to be having much fun). Meh.

I did like it when someone was being hurt. I liked hearing the snap of leather on skin, the whimpering and grunting and screaming…sometimes even crying. I liked seeing the men kneeling in submission, writhing against their bonds, groveling, begging. Oh yeah.

A few months pass. I’ve acquired a few toys, a boy to play with, and some new experiences. Am I happy? Yes. Is the sex better? God yes. Would I ever go back? Hell no. If I ever do meet the Rabbit, I’ll be sure to thank him and not to pull that noose too hard.


2 Responses to “Down the rabbit hole”

  1. axe Says:

    On behalf of submissive men everywhere, let me just say how thankful I am that the “cock and balls, in a jar” comment didn’t turn you off to submissive men forever.


  2. LusterLove Says:

    I’m happy that you have finally found a boy and that the sex is better. 🙂 I definitely agree.

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