Fifty Shades of Grey is fiction, but the kinky sex in its pages is really genuine. One enthusiastic, assertive woman describes how she became a submissive– and why it’s not as fringe as you might believe.
When I initially found John on Match.com in 2005, we were 26 and living in Washington, D.C., both recently out of serious relationships, both working long hours at tasks we liked. He had a huge position with a top financial company; I headed up public relations for a health-care nonprofit. On our very first date, although we only kissed, he informed me I wouldn’t be the same when he was done with me. I knew he was right– I just didn’t understand exactly what it meant. Neither people did.
John was tall with dark hair and eyes, but it wasn’t his appearances that unglued me. A current business school graduate, he was wise, positive, and witty. We ‘d talk for hours about politics and sports, and though he talked about how remarkable our chemistry was, how incredible I was, he kept back mentally. Control. He had it, constantly.
We dated for a couple of months and had intense– if, in retrospect, vanilla– sex. There was a magnetic pull between us, only the tourist attraction swallowed me. I ended up being uncharacteristically clingy, and it pushed him away.
Months went by after we ‘d separated, however I couldn’t get John from my head. I began having fantasies about him like I ‘d never ever had about anyone. I desired him to overpower me. I ‘d heard about BDSM– chains and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism– but didn’t know much about it. Curious about my new sensations, I did some research online. One website showed females being bound and whipped. Another showed a lady on the flooring with a guy standing over her asking who she belonged to. The answer: Him, obviously. All of it turned me on, however I felt baffled. Wasn’t it strange that I, a happy feminist, could take pleasure in something so degrading? I would never stay with a male who injure me. So how could I enjoy this? Still, I kept checking out.
Within a couple of clicks on another popular website, I found John’s profile. I was at first shocked, but it made perfect sense. That was our connection. I messaged him: “I didn’t understand you had this side of you. Wink, wink.”
In the beginning, we casually texted, catching up on each others lives. He ‘d completed an Ironman triathlon, and I ‘d began working on a company strategy to venture out on my own. Our shared interest in BDSM came up gradually, in e-mails and on the phone. He ‘d joke about making me shout, and I ‘d state, with confidence, “Bring it.” Or he ‘d forward articles or videos of BDSM research he ‘d done. I learned that BDSM is about more than rough sex. In a D/s (Dominant/submissive) relationship, you have to trust each other– mentally, psychologically, spiritually. While a Dominant, or “Dom,” might have the “power,” he can just reach his submissive, or “sub,” will let him. It’s not abuse; it’s consensual. John would text, “How do you feel about a belt? Could you trust me to do anything to you?”
Almost a year after our first date, John pertained to my home to attempt BDSM. We decided on opposite couches, and I was a fidgety, worried mess. What if I didn’t like the discomfort as much as the idea of it? Then John stood up, overlooking me, and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He purchased me to carry out oral sex, however that first time wasn’t actually about sex, it had to do with seeing if I ‘d be loyal. He utilized a belt, leaving welts on my back, thighs, and bottom. I could hear him pacing behind me, but I never knew when the lick of leather was coming. It harmed like hell, but I was entirely turned on. I had no control. And I enjoyed it.
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Later, I wept, overwhelmed by how raw all of it was. We met up a couple more times for comparable sessions, but then I retreated. I was gone crazy. Not by the discomfort, however by how extreme my feelings were for him.
Nearly 2 years passed prior to I saw him once again. We had actually both gotten married, gotten on with our lives. My partner and I renovated our home. I took a trip to India and Australia with buddies. And my business boomed. Meanwhile, I attempted to suppress this thing between John and me. When John texted that he was transferring to Boston for a big promotion, I agreed to meet him for a beverage. I told my husband, with whom I share an extremely honest relationship, that I was visiting an ex for closure. But as soon as John and I laid eyes on each other, that dark connection was still there. He walked me to my car, and we kissed. Then he informed me to take off my pants. I obeyed. We were right back in it. He left for Boston with his partner the next early morning. And easily, our long-distance, extramarital D/s relationship started.
With 500 miles between us, we’re in contact over email, text, and Skype. Since BDSM has to do with so much more than just sex, John can still be my Dom from afar, focusing more on mental control. I’ll text that I’m opting for a run, and he’ll inform me I can’t. Over Skype, he’ll view me get near orgasm and make me stop. Or he will not talk to me due to the fact that, with the range, it’s one of the only methods I can feel the sting of his choice.
We know exactly what we’re doing isn’t fair to our spouses, but thankfully for me, I’m able to be honest with my spouse about John. We went through counseling a few years ago and agreed to have an open marriage. I like my other half– and I enjoy having sex with him, but in an entirely different way. John is my dark and my other half is my light. For John, it’s not that simple. His other half has no idea about this side of him.
Recently, I flew to Boston for a long weekend when John’s partner was out of town. He got to my hotel and made me sit on my knees while he spanked me with his belt. Even though we have a safe word, I’ve never used it. In a D/s relationship, you have to rely on another human being in manner ins which are rarely explored. A Dom is intoxicated by someone who is willing to trust him or her that much. A sub is inebriated by the surrender– and not because he or she is weak. A sub wants to go to a place many people do not, or can not, go. The physical discomfort is simply a little part of it. And enduring it, withstanding it, is a task. I know it’s unusual, but I feel like if I can do that, I can do anything.
I didn’t inform any of my friends about John for almost 4 years. I simply didn’t wish to be judged. Eventually, I began exposing information when we ‘d speak about our sex lives. They couldn’t think that I liked being bossed around, that I allowed a man to strike me. I explained that in his typical life, John would never harm a lady. He even donates to a battered-women’s shelter! One day at lunch I showed my friend some texts from John. She got actually upset by the managing things he composed, like informing me exactly what to wear to work. And when I revealed that he had an other half, she was totally disgusted. We ‘d been good friends for 18 years and she had actually been my housemaid of honor, however we haven’t talked in almost a year.
Often I feel like I’m somebody’s dirty little trick. John is now a full-on conservative business owner. He resides in a big house in a fancy Boston suburb; he plays golf, flies aircrafts, runs marathons. (As awkward as it is to confess, he’s a lot like Christian Grey.) And he has the best Stepford-looking spouse. But the fact is, I feel bad for him. I couldn’t think of leading a double life like he does. And I do feel guilty about his spouse. Yet selfishly, my primary concern is safeguarding him and our relationship.
I enjoy that Fifty Shades of Grey has gotten ladies talking more honestly about their fantasies, but I dislike that the book perpetuates the notion that a Dom need to be messed up to be into this sort of sex. Individuals who aren’t in the BDSM world believe that Doms and subs are busted individuals. Subs supposedly have no foundation, have daddy concerns. I am entirely alpha in your home and work. I have 2 full-time employees and am a bossy employer. Subs are not doormats. We are simply expressing darker sides of ourselves the way everybody else most likely has some fetish they hesitate to share.
Last week, I got house from a weekend with John in Boston. I do not know how much longer we can go on with the range and his slipping around, but I cannot envision my life without John, without this in it. In the meantime, I am comforted by the scenes I play over and over in my head. The way he strolled into the room the last night and pinched me so hard that I breathed in deeply and tried not to cry out. “What should I do to you for making me wait?” he asked. “Anything you desire,” I answered. And I meant it.