Wow. Just how did I get here? To the bottom of my secret garden, down and round the winding path, past the pond and behind the bushes, hidden from everyone I had ever met, until now?
It’s a long story, a true journey of discovery, helped along the way with an increasing sense of certainty and more than a few deep breaths.
I was brought up, like lots of women, to believe that sex was something private, something that happened between a man and a woman during marriage, definitely not before and definitely not to be enjoyed. A perfunctory provision of the wedding vow, if you like. And boy, was that ever boring!
Having followed the expected passage into womanhood, I married at twenty one, still innocent in matters of the flesh, save the odd kiss and cuddle and slap of the hand if things looked like they were going too far.
Kevin was a great guy in many ways, considerate and caring, a good provider. We were from a similar background, sharing traditional family values and views on marriage. But, it was clear, even on our wedding night, that the great depths of physical passion I was hoping for were never going to be. Kev was a straightforward roll-on roll-off, peck on the cheek and sleep, kind of man. I was doomed to a life of unfulfilled sexual desire, or so I thought.
Although I had always been taught that ‘nice girls don’t’, it hadn’t stopped my fertile imagination from fantasising all sorts of sexually lurid ideas from my early teens. They had begun, naively, at about the age of thirteen, mostly concentrating on the legendary tall, dark, handsome stranger whisking me off my feet and forcing himself upon me, much to my feigned protests and secret excitement. I didn’t have much material to feed my curious mind at that time, but my fantasies soon diversified when I discovered my brother’s porn magazines when I was snooping around in his room one day, curious as to what he did behind closed doors.
Well, all I can say is that the Saturday morning I discovered his stash was the beginning of my lifelong fascination with sexually explicit imagery and the early blossoming of the sexual being I was to become.
By the time I married Kevin I had a huge catalogue of sordid fantasies in my mind that I could draw on anytime I wanted. Before I left home I used to satisy myself regularly when everyone was out or had gone to bed, opening my mind to more and more exciting scenarios. When I discovered the S&M scene for the first time, through a TV programme I wasn’t supposed to be watching whilst my folks were at a party, I was so turned on that I had to rush to my room the minute the programme ended.
I didn’t dare tell Kevin any of this. I was locked into my secret fantasy world and knew that Kev would be horrified if I told him even just a little of what went on in my head. Jeez, he wouldn’t even do it with the lights on! I managed to get through the once-a-week Sunday morning marital duty by disappearing into my secret garden. And, it seemed the more bored I became, the further I went in my fantasies.
By the time I was twenty-five I admit that it was starting to bother me. The fantasies I now used were dominated by fully-fledged sado-masochistic scenes. Although I occasionally imagined myself as the dominator, usually I was the one being dominated, the submissive. Despite my upbringing which dictated a woman’s subservient role, I wasn’t that enamoured with my subconscious desire to be so submissive and controlled by a man. Kev was the provider alright but it was me that ran the show, like a lot of other women I guess. Meanwhile, as the years went by, Kev still had no idea about my secret self and I tried to ignore the feeling that I was living a lie.
It was when Larry appeared in my life that everything changed. It was a classic meeting; I dropped the groceries loading them into the car one day and he had just stepped out of his car in the bay next to mine. He came over to help and that was it, we just clicked. Little did I know what that meeting was to bring! By the time we had loaded the bags into the boot we’d agreed to meet up for coffee, swapping numbers. That twinkle in his eye as we said goodbye was all I needed to put any guilty thoughts to one side.
Coffee with Larry soon turned into a regular thing. He certainly wasn’t shy in talking about everything under the sun and he had me mesmerised with tales of his exploits. I found him so easy to talk to that when the conversation turned to our sexual experiences, on just our third meeting, I was shocked to hear myself starting to open up the dark secrets of my mind. It was just a little at first but Larry was really encouraging and understanding. He reassured me that there was nothing wrong with feeling the way I did, that I could enjoy being sexually submissive if I wanted to without having to be controlled in other areas of my life.
Soon, Larry was telling me about a whole alternative scene that existed, and of his sexual pleasure in acting as master in a sub-dom relationship. He talked about it so casually it was as if he was describing something more ordinary, like interior design, which in a way I suppose he was! Inside, I was alive and bursting, my already expansive imagination soaring to new heights, fuelled by Larry. I had no idea how I was going to keep all this inside, and really, I didn’t want to. Larry picked up on this of course and, looking back, I can see that during those early coffee meetings I had already begun to assume my long-desired role, allowing him to lead me to where we are now.
Never before had I been so weak to temptation. You hear people say ‘I just couldn’t help myself’ and probably, like me, you think people who give in are weak and merely making excuses. But, really, I couldn’t help myself, it was like becoming complete, whole, the real me.
A quick coffee turned to leisurely lunches, and lunch in turn became whole afternoons in motels, where Larry joined me in my secret garden. I had not resisted in the slightest at his suggestion that I become slave to his master. Within a few months I had fulfilled every one of my fantasies, and some of Larry’s.
During those months poor Kev didn’t suspect anything. Did I feel bad? Yes, I did actually. He was a decent man and I knew it would hurt him to find out what I had been up to. But, there was no going back for me. He couldn’t see it but I had changed. Sure, I still performed my marital duties but I lived for my time with Larry. As time went by, I longed to take our exploits out of the motel. I wanted Larry all the time. In a funny way, you might say that while the shackles of my marriage to Kev had been stifling, I was actively looking to get some new ones, leather bound this time though!
Inevitably, the afternoon fun with Larry took a more serious turn. I had reached the point where it just wasn’t enough anymore and I couldn’t face the thought of a lifetime with Kev and snatched afternoon’s with Larry. It all came to a head one day. Larry could tell I wasn’t my usual self and eventually coaxed it out of me. That turned out to be the second best thing I ever did, the first being dropping the groceries in the parking lot that day. After I confessed that I wanted to leave Kev for him, Larry told me that he had just been waiting for me to get to that point. Although he’s a fantastic master, he wouldn’t force me into doing something I didn’t want to do.
I was ecstatic. We made plans immediately to take our relationship to the next level. I would have to leave Kev, of course, and Larry would have to move out of his marital home too. Strangely, neither of us felt too guilty, knowing that we had formed a bond so strong that we had no choice. In fact, we were so excited that, whilst talking about telling our partners of our plans, we suddenly realised that the conversation had somehow turned into planning the dungeon we were going to build in our new home together!
That was seven years ago. When it came to it, Kev took it quite well, all things considered. I didn’t tell him the exact truth about why I was leaving, he just wouldn’t have understood. How can you tell someone you’re leaving them to be another person’s sexual slave?
Larry and I are still together and, really, we have the most perfect relationship I could ever want. To everyone else we look like a normal couple; we share responsibilities and chores and are equal in most aspects of our day-to-day lives. But, when we shut the door on the world, we become who we truly are and I find it just as exciting now as I did then. We even built that dungeon we talked about all those years before, sometimes inviting friends round we’ve met through the scene. Mostly though, it’s just me and my master, taking each other to places we need to go, somewhere I can’t come back from. Do I have a problem being submissive? Oh no. I wouldn’t swap those leather bonds for the world!