Tuesday, October 17, 2006

In the Beginning

Newcomers sitting in the dark, lurking, trying to read and decipher all there is floating out in cyberspace regarding BDSM.
Posting hesitantly, not wanting to offend anyone with their "newbie" questions, desperate to figure out who is right, who is correct and who is, well, just plain full of shit. And many of us have started out this way. i did.

What follows is a trip to the bookstore looking for titles that range from mild to malevolent - "The Loving Dominant, Different Loving, Come Hither, The Story of O, Screw the Roses, Send Me The Thorns and SM101". While the clerk looks at you quizzically with just a slight smile touching the corners of her mouth, rings up the damage, bags your new literature and sends you on your way out into the real world of BDSM. Or so you hope.

And when you have gone your whole life, knowing that there is something "different" about yourself, to finally find a place where the things that you have fantasized about for so long are not only accepted but in comparison are tame, it is as if you have finally come home.

Home. With people who have an understanding of the desires that drive you. A place where you are accepted, where you can speak openly of all the things that you kept locked away for fear of further ridicule or out of shame for not being what society calls normal.

After months of reading on and offline, after hours spent reading posts and websites, each loudly proclaiming that they are the only "real" keepers of the knowledge of all things kinky, perverted and twisted, the picture is no clearer than when you first began. In fact, your new found knowledge only seems to cloud the issues, making the water more murky. You quickly learn that there are players lurking on every corner, website, group or dungeon waiting to snap up unsuspecting BDSM virgins as they first venture out to test the waters. You quickly learn that many have ulterior motives wanting only to add to their stable of willing partners or supporters. Consumed by a tsunami of desire to belong to Thee One, that one true Master who can bring you to your knees, who's whispers of evil things thrill you, the search for Thee One begins.

If you have had no Southern upbringing, then you spend time learning to say, "Yes, Sir, and No Ma'am" without conscious thought. You learn to defer, you learn to submit, your manners are impecable and polished. In the midst of this comes that first online contact, and the game begins in ernest.

A new vocabulary suddenly emerges with words like dominant, domme, sub, slave, top, bottom, pro domme, pleasure slave, service slave, foot slave, body slave, toilet slave, Gorean slaves, free men and free women, floggers, canes, whips and chains. Sub space, dom space, dungeon space. Play is no longer just for children. A trip to the Home Depot now takes much longer than it used to. Suddenly on every aisle there are new implements of toruture, news ways to use eyebolts and power tools. It is all so overwhelming. It's like spending your whole life blind and suddenly waking up and seeing everything for the first time. And everything is suddenly fresh, vibrant and ready to be experienced.

When that first contact comes, you quiver with excitment and possibilities. Is this Thee One? Reality settles in. And you discover that most online are living a fantasy. This isn't what you want. You crave it, wanting to live it 24/7. Sometimes you settle, chalking it up as a learning experience. Sometimes it is easier to play along and feel special even if it is a lie. You learn the language and its nuances. It feels good to be commanded, to see the words jumping off a monitor and although it is hard to type kneeling on the floor, you do it anyway. With each new disappointment, you grow wiser, smarter and more suspicious. Until you start to question. It seems as if the search will go on forever when all you want is to kneel at the feet of Thee One - now! And at the last possible moment of permanent disappoinment, He appears out of the mist riding a sturdy stallion, armor gleaming in the sunlight as angels sing, doves fly overhead and rainbows appear. You are entranced, intrigued and hooked.

He appears to have all the right qualities. He is commanding. He starts to take over every so slowly and subtlely. Snatching little pieces of your soul as you expose yourself. The dance of domination and submission slowly winds its way through all the seductuve twists and turns, at once teasing and frightening you, thrilling and tormenting you in a single breath. You find yourself sharing the most intimate details of your life (with the exception of your social security number, your birthdate, your mother's maiden name and the city you were born in). You find yourself expressing your emotions through emoticons and acronyms. You love your collar - the one you bought because you were told to. You just simply gush in online chat rooms with other subs about your wonderful Master.

Until one day when you find yourself carrying on about your Master - his wisdom, his charm, his good looks and you go back and re-read your last post and wonder who the hell that it is that wrote it...... In horror, you read, "Oh no, my Master would never let me do that or this. i never question him. Master is so all knowing that i don't even need to think for myself any more because he can do it for me. A master so wise in the ways of the world that he won't allow me to have a thought of my own. Oh Great and Wise One, You have but to speak Your wish and i, Your lowly albeit smart assed slave will jump to do Your bidding with haste and winged feet. i treasure the trash You have finally found me worthy to remove from Your great hall. It pleases me that You have bestowed the honor and responsibility upon me to keep Your furs and royal robes clean. i can only pray to the gods that You will not find me lacking when i shovel snow out of the mote surrounding Your mighty castle. Thank You Master. "

And not only do you not live in a castle but you don't even live in his castle. There are no furs, no robes and no royal garbs. There is no kingdom. You've seen the deli scene in "When Harry Met Sally" and can imitate it to perfection because you've done it over a phone or on a computer screen too many times to keep track of. In fact, you moan and writhe in undescribable passion while doing your nails, paying bills, cleaning out the catbox and scrubbing the toilet. You have to keep from yawning sometimes because boredom is a wonderful sleeping pill. And you feel jilted, left behind or that eveyone else knows the joke but won't share the punchline.........

Reality has a way of slapping you up side the head in a manner that makes Linda Blair look like an childish amateur. What you have is fantasy. In reality, Master is a middle aged computer programmer, stuck in a suffocating cubicle farm with other computer prairie dogs, with a wife and four kids - two in college, and a mortgage bigger than your annual salary. He isn't married but his wife is. Goes to church on Sunday and is known to wear his socks to bed. And when you do begin to question the myth that he has woven around you, you hear those famous last words right before you are "released", "If you were a real sub, you wouldn't question me." And with your growing collection of dog collars starting to make your home look like an animal shelter, you get wiser with each new collar.

My treasure

My treasure is a regular contributor to A True Rose, be sure to visit her gallery there to read more of her works at :


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