Maxwell67
Posts: 435
Joined: 6/29/2008
Status: offline
|
This is admittedly a somewhat truncated version of my story, but it is entirely true just the same. I really do not care if once you have read this you come to the conclusion that I am ‘real’ or ‘true’ or ‘fake’ or what you will. I know I am dom and I have come to more or less identify that as my sexual orientation. Yes, ok, I am hetero, and I have, in the past, been described as ‘terminally straight’ by the gay men I have known, which I always thought was funny. But the fact is I have always been attracted to submissive women, and I am not opposed to dominating men either (though in a non sexual manner) and even have a sort of online pet that is male, and straight also (though I doubt seriously that I could have formed such a relationship in R/T).
You will notice, I do not capitalize all my personal pronouns. It is not that I think it is a ridiculous thing to do, but I am just unused to it, having only recently become involved in the ‘community’ online. When I am actively talking to others in the lifestyle I will adhere to this capitalization fetish, but sporadically, as I am still getting used to it, I do not feel a need to do it here.
Not long ago, my wife of many years begged for my collar. She has always been submissive to me, but I have some doubts about her having the temperament to be a 24/7 slave. Still she finds the idea of my ‘training’ her to be very exciting and I admit I find it endearing, so I treat her as I would a slave (sexual, not domestic). We have agreed that given her position and occupation, she should not wear her collar all the time, and so I have instructed her to put it on and to come and kneel at my feet wearing it when she is ready to play and from that point until she is more or less completely exhausted and coming down from her endorphin rush treat her as I would a slave. She is not a ‘no limits’ slave and I respect her limits. She is now more or less addicted to this treatment and we spend a few hours each evening engaged in her ‘training’. She is so cute when she does this, keeping her eyes downcast, and waiting until I am ready to work with her, hehe… sometimes I let her sit like that a long time and pretend not to want to ravage her immediately simply for the pleasure of enjoying that moment. It makes my heart feel like it could burst from my chest, I am so captivated by the sight of her like this. I sometimes wonder why we had not come to this arrangement before now (we have been married a long time) but then that is a part of my story I guess.
My parents were divorced when I was young. My mother, as it turned out, was a closeted lesbian. She had been raised in a small mid-western town where such things were simply unacceptable, so she married, and had me, and tolerated my father. Mind you, being closeted took its toll on her. She was an alcoholic.
I cannot say my childhood was a good one. My father was abusive to both of us and shortly after the divorce I simply refused to see or even speak with him. I do not think my father was dominant, he was just a mean S.O.B. (so was my grandfather, for that matter).
In truth, though, my mother wore the pants in the family (most of the time.. we will get to that), and I think my father knew she was not really that attracted to him and felt somewhat emasculated. Sometimes it became too much for him and he beat the hell out of her. Despite this, she stayed married to him, suffering the beatings often. I think she put up with the abuse partly for my sake (some nonsense about children needing both a mother and a father) and also to punish herself for being a lesbian.
Finally, after one particularly nasty beating, I took matters in my own hands and called the police, then called a locksmith and had the locks changed, and told her she was getting a divorce (I also called some of my mothers friends to come over for back up, since I was only 9 years old at the time) and that was it.
Within about a year of the divorce, she had a live-in lover and they were together until her death. She remained more or less closeted - that is, she never admitted to anyone (not even me) that she was a lesbian, despite the fact she was sharing her bed with another woman for 25+ years. They were just ‘very close friends.‘ I knew what was really happening from the moment they started dating (I know love when I see it) but never pressed the issue. If that was how she felt comfortable I was not going to ruin it for her.
When I started dating, the girls I brought home were all submissive (not that any of us used the words ‘submissive’ or ‘dominant’ and even after I found out about that sort of thing it did not occur to me what I was). My mother hated that. Even before I ever began dating she was keeping me up till all hours drunkenly lecturing me about sexual behavior. She was a medical professional, and actually I did get a great deal of useful information from these late night discussions. However, she seemed to be absolutely convinced that I was going to be abusive to women, and none my assurances that was not going to happen made any difference. She told me that I was manipulating these poor girls. It did not matter when I told her that they wanted me to be the one in charge. Even if they told her themselves, she would just laugh and call them ‘timid sisters’. Perhaps this was blowback from her time with my father, but I think she knew I was dominant even then. She would not have minded if I had been gay, but for her, ‘dominant’ was just another word for ‘abusive’. Needless to say that my relationships did not last long under this kind of treatment, eventually she was able to make me feel guilty enough to break up with the girl, but sure enough, the next girl I brought home was also submissive to me and the whole thing started all over again.
Not long after I went away to college, a girl I was started dating asked to be my slave. I had not had any experience with this level of TPE. I did not know that term then, of course, in fact I completely ignorant of what kind of relationship this was. I accepted her submission, but none of the responsibilities that went with it. That lasted for two years and during that time my slave did whatever I asked, put up with anything I put her through, even sought out other submissive girls for me to play with. At no time were the terms BDSM, or D/s or M/s ever used. I had heard of BDSM by then, but never did any research on it.. There was no internet back then. I think maybe I was in denial. The relationship lasted until I met another girl I was attracted to. She was incredibly beautiful.. super-model beautiful.. but she was not submissive, in fact she was totally vanilla, and she was not about to put up with my little slave girl. My little head did my thinking then and I ended the M/s relationship. What can I say? I was an ass. That relationship lasted just over a month, but by then it was too late to rekindle the relationship with my former slave.. I had betrayed her trust. She had given me everything and I had thrown her away. Well that is how I felt about it. Probably she would have returned to me, but I was too ashamed of what I had done to her to try to get her back.
Maybe a year after that I met the woman who would eventually become my wife. We fell in love at first sight, we were engaged within a month, but it was a while before we were married. She was a masochist and bisexual (all the girls I have dated with the exception of the vanilla beauty have turned out to be bisexual, even if they were not when we were dating.. go figure) and I was in heaven. I never abused her though. I am a sadist, but I have always kept my sadism in check. If there is such a thing as a tender and loving sadist, then I am one. I have never left a permanent mark (welts and bruises, yes, but never where anyone could see them), and I have always respected the limits of my lovers (we are polyamorous, and have been from almost the very start). Even when they were sobbing and shaking with their knuckles white from gripping the bed railing (or the ropes, or whatever I had strapped them to or suspended them from) so tightly while trying to deal with the pain, blood dripping in tiny droplets from the needles (always sterile.. momma did not raise no idiot) in their nipples, whatever.. when I asked them if they wanted more they said yes. In my entire life as a sadist, I have always stopped with before my partner asked me to, and talking afterwards they have always said I could be harder on them if I wanted to. Truth be told, I have always held back. My childhood upbringing has made me fear to go as far as I would like. Probably that is a good thing, but now as I continue my foray into this realm, I am learning how to let that darkness out of it's box in a safe and sane manner.
I am a theater professional. I am well trained in safety procedures from years of stage combat training and scenic design work with fly rigging and the like. I enjoy suspension, role play, and theatrical scening. I have been doing this for many years, but only in the last six months have I started to seriously study this lifestyle and to consider joining the rest of the BDSM community. Finally at 41 years of age, I have come out of the closet, so to speak, and admitted I am a dominant. And it feels great.
---edited because I left out a parenthesis.. alright, I like parenthetical staments a little too much, maybe.. deal with it.
< Message edited by Maxwell67 -- 7/4/2008 5:44:20 AM >
|
Out of the closet? - Odessey of a straight male dom. - 
Profile
I think everyone I have known who has 'come out of the closet' goes through this for a little while, until they realize, that really the only person they needed the courage to say that to was themselves to give themselves permission let their actions say it for them.
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread