Becoming, part II

Becoming, part I 

I know, it's been a long long time since I posted the previous half of this history, this timeline of how I shed my social conditioning to become more or less comfortable in my own pervy skin. But I'm ready to continue now

A last note about books before I move along into other media: Nancy Friday's Women on Top. I have no idea what that book is about, right? But my mom bought it and she let me read it after she had. I kept it. I skipped over all the psychoanalysis of the fantasies right to the fantasies themselves. The ones I remember are the ones I read over and over. The only lines stuck in my head after all these years are these. "I longed to experience the ultimate, to be fucked in the ass," and later in that same fantasy, "I begged and pleaded to be left alone, that it hurt, but..." I don't remember the rest. I loved the begging and being ignored part.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer first aired less than a month after I turned 17. I'd enjoyed the campy original movie, but this show was something else. The titles of these posts, I actually shamelessly lifted from Buffy.

I don't want to spoil any of you who haven't seen the show, but Buffy is this itty bitty slip of a girl who fights vampires as the Chosen One and struggles to have a somewhat normal social life. There are books of philosophy based on this show, and the entire show is brilliant (season one less so). If you haven't seen it, go, now. I'll wait.

There is vampire sex in Buffy, and there are Spike & Drusilla.

Season Two. Go watch. I'll wait.

Spike's an ass. But he's so solicitous of her, and she's so creepy-crazy, the way they move around each other, it made my 18-year-old pitter-patter go putt-putt. Still does.

Look at that photo. See that intensity? See how he touches her?

Fuck. Bloody good acting, says I.

I'm not one to swoon over actors or celebrities in general; I don't have a "list" of people who it would be okay to fuck. I have no desire to have sex with someone I don't know. What I did swoon over was that behavior, although not the homicidal asshole part. I still wasn't aware that this was an actual thing with a name, and not just my own extreme failure to be 'normal' and want 'normal' things.

I was 18, and I met my first boyfriend online. He lived roughly 14 hours' drive north of me, but we didn't ever do that drive. He was kind of an ass, but introduced me to the joys of netsex, which hell yeah I enjoyed. He never made specific time to see me, we'd just talk when he happened to be online, so I'd often wind up waiting for him for hours and hours. Oddly enough, that's probably how my relationship with my husband developed over time; he was often there, funny, sweet acquaintance, when jerkass was not.

During many of those waiting hours, unbearably horny, I started surfing the net for porn to read. Since rape and torture in the form it took in my romance novels were what had gotten me off since forever, I searched for stories of nonconsent. They very rarely actually did anything for me at the time, because so much of it ended with "Oh hahaha, you actually set all this up yourself after all."

Fuck that, wtf, I thought. What's the point? It's text. Why's everything got to be consensual at the end in text? So I found this long, rambling, multi-part story. Maybe you've heard of it.

Captured Caroline by Quin

I can't remember the name of the website where it was hosted, but I remember it had a old-fashioned style drawing of a sexy woman very tightly bound to a chair, that titillated and repulsed me at the same time. I wish I could see it again through the eyes of the person I am.

There's a part in the story somewhere, after much conflict, coercion, attempts to escape, punishment, raping, and talking, when he looks at her and he says "What are you?" and she responds "A slave for your pleasure, master."

I melted. I fucking melted. Biiig puddle of sexually aroused goo, me. I can't tell you where exactly that is because I last read this story fourteen fucking years ago. 


That's how much impact it had on me.

I know, I know, he beat her down into it, it's not as sexy as if she just gave it up on her own through wooing and courtship and her own decisions. I agree with you. But in my head at the time that's how it had to be, she had to be forced in order for her to be able to enjoy it. Clearly she wouldn't enjoy such a thing if he didn't force her, train her, make her like that. Right? Something was wrong with me to want to be her, right? RIGHT?

The guy in the story had all of this stuff. My mind boggled. He didn't make all of that stuff. Where did he get that stuff? The gags and chains and wrist cuffs with attachment points and bondage collars. Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Enter these bizarre initials. BDSM. Yeah, that was a category on one of the free porn sites, yep. So then I found Alice.

Yeah, that link drops you into the middle of a story. That's where I was dropped, except it was somewhere else, far away from anything resembling that sort of organization, and I had no link to the other parts. I was aroused though, and I checked that site every day (the links in each category were different stories every day) until the other Alice stories came around. In between I devoured every bit of BDSM text I could get my hands on. Some of it was truly excellent and some of it was extraordinarily mediocre.

My boyfriend at the time had no idea about any of this. Our regular netsex perhaps had a few more blowjobs, more random positions, and he expressed his delight at these things, but he didn't know. I didn't trust him enough to share that part of myself with him.

But that's another story.

That relationship ended in a spectacular display of nothing. We met, we fucked. He was an ass and stopped talking to me shortly afterward.

Enter my wonderful, fantastic husband, months later. After our initial meeting, spending most of every day in bed kissing and touching each other, I began to share bits of myself with him, what I still considered the darker bits, and he, being European, didn't seem to mind all that much or think I was all that weird. I was just me to him. Huh. How about that?

And so we embarked on this crazy kinky journey together... and here's where we are.

Oh, and yeah, there's a scene near the beginning of The Avengers that apparently made me make a little noise, according to husband. Didn't realize it myself.

Most definitely not 
The End....