This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is to write about a “first time.” There are so many first times I could talk about (and have done):
- My first orgasm during sex in First Orgasm
- My first sex club adventure in NiN: Our First Sex Club Adventure
- My first kinky sex (which also happens to be the first time I ever topped someone) in 30 Days of Kink: Kink for the First Time
- Any number of firsts with W in posts such as Firsts, Part 1 and Part 2
- The first time my Ex and I ever played in How We Got Kinky, Part 3
- My first gangbang in The Long-Anticipated Gangbang Post
What I don’t think I’ve ever written about is the first time I met my first Dominant, M, and had my first taste of real-life submission.
I started out exploring kink online. My only knowledge of kink up to that point was the playacting I had done with my first husband and having read the Beauty series when I was about 14. Given that the Beauty books were fiction, and my attempt at taking control with my Ex had bored me so much, I didn’t recognize kink as something real that I might enjoy. I couldn’t even begin to see myself as a submissive, bottom, or a masochist, nor did I fully grasp what each of those things meant and how they differed. It wasn’t until I met M, and we started chatting online, that I started to explore that part of my sexuality and began to understand what made me tick sexually.
We had been talking on email, in chat and on the phone for several weeks before we finally met. In that time we had played online D/s games, he had given me assignments and set me tasks, all of which I had done, understanding that this is what you do in a D/s relationship: he was the Dominant and gave the orders, I was the submissive and obeyed them. It was sexy and fun and even educational, as he oftentimes had me reading information about BDSM and participating in various forums and online groups. (There was no Fetlife then.)
One day he emailed me: it was time we met. He named a time and place, and then gave me further instructions: how I was to wear my hair (down); what I was to wear (he had me email him pictures of several different outfits), high heels (which for me then were about 3 inches), and no panties; what color to paint my nails (pink); and lastly, how I was to address him (Sir). He even outlined how I was to behave during lunch (I was not to cross my legs, he would order for me, and, once lunch was served, I was to wait for him to begin eating before I did.)
It all sounds so…cliche, now.
But not then. Then it was the most exciting, frightening, exhilarating thing I had ever done.
Nowadays when you go online into a “newbie” forum, new submissives are always told, “You don’t have to do (fill in the blank) until you have negotiated a D/s relationship.” “You don’t have to obey him. You don’t have to follow orders or dress a certain way or do anything you aren’t comfortable with, until you have ‘negotiated’ that (whatever that is) as part of your D/s agreement.” There’s a whole lot of advice meant to be protection for a new submissive that doesn’t know any better and thinks because she has labeled herself submissive she has to do whatever someone else tells her. Which is all good, I suppose, for what it’s worth. But I wouldn’t give up that first lunch date with M, and all the excitement, the life-changing wonder that blossomed inside of me as I did exactly what he told me to do. It wouldn’t have had half the power if I’d gone there as an equal and then, with logic and reasoning, negotiated our relationship out. I needed to feel submissive to him, to allow him to control me and the situation, for it to be the magical event it turned out to be.
The funny thing is, none of this translated to being “in love,” even though we saw each other for about 9 months. Even then I knew enough to see the separation, and to know the difference. It was always exactly what it was, almost a mentoring kind of relationship (with sex and cock-sucking and spankings.) I know, I know, not a twue mentoring relationship. Fuck that. I needed sex with my submission, and he needed to be the one that taught me all those wonderful things about myself. I have since learned that this dynamic is fairly common, and in fact, he eventually released me saying I had outgrown what he could give me, something we both knew was true. Also, you know, I was no longer the brand-new baby-sub that I had been. ;-) But that was okay – I may have been starry-eyed and all agog on that first date, thrilled to be told not to wear panties (!) but he taught me well, and I was a fast learner – and I knew what I wanted was far beyond where he could take me.
But damn, that first date…was incredible. My hands shook. My legs shook. I trembled all over and could barely eat a bite. And when he told me to reach under the table and push a finger inside myself, then to taste my own juices, right there at the table while he watched, I was as wet as I had ever been. I’m surprised I didn’t leave a wet spot on the chair.
It’s interesting to note that he did not touch me at all that first date. No fondling, no kissing, no hair grabs, no overt dominance in manner or in the way he spoke to me, other than what he had told me to do in his email, and the one or two times he had me lift the edge of the tablecloth to verify that my legs were, in fact, uncrossed. But he knew and I knew that he was in complete control. Everything – all those crazy, delirious, excited feelings – came out of him simply telling me what to do, and me obeying him.
That was my first taste of submission, as imprudent and cliched as it was, and I’ve never regretted it or looked back since.