As I've said before, there seems to be a terrible lack of understanding about the D/s lifestyle. I know people who think they are at the ultimate "freak", sexually speaking, because their men do them doggie-style while pulling their hair and thwacking their asses. But if you mention anything D/s-related, they immediately get on their high-horses and proclaim you a pervert, wanting to know why you would want some guy to take a bullwhip to your body.

I have never been beaten with a bullwhip in my life.

Other times I've had people genuinely ask about the lifestyle...whereas the first group tends to be women, the second is usually the men. They seriously want to know what the fascination is, and how the mind works in conjunction to the body. Bravo to these people, and these are the readers, along with those in the lifestyle who like to read about it, for whom this site is written.

Hopefully, I will be able to get other people's tales within these pages soon...but for now you'll have to deal with just me. Thank you for your curiosity.

It's not about sex.

I, for one, haven't had sex since the beginning of February, 1999. So it's not sex I'm after.

For me, it's the feeling of trust in another person. Trust can sometimes be a hard thing to come by in just normal, everyday activities. But when you give yourself to someone as a submissive, that trust is imperative. This person, this Master or Owner, literally owns you, and you have to be confident that he will not harm you.

I suppose I should explain about the ownership here... My Owner does not "own" me in the sense that he can tell me how to live my life, what jobs I might hold, who I might interract with. He cannot tell me on what I can spend my money. I can watch movies, read books, and write whatever I choose. I am my own person, and he probably wouldn't want some simpering idiot who has to call him at three in the morning for permission to go to the bathroom anyway. (Well, unless we'd both decided this was a Rule...) He is not abusive in any way. I have the irrevocable right to break from him at any time, provided I let him know, of course. My apartment is my own; even though he has the key to the front door, he does not have the key to the apartment itself. He (usually) asks permission before coming over. The few times he has just dropped by, it was to go elsewhere...and it was my choice as to whether to invite him in or not.

As for my Rules, the very first one laid before me was No Other Men. (Since I am a monogamous person, I have no problem with this.) Women only when he is around. ( problem.) I am not allowed to play with any of the toys he buys unless I ask permission first. I am not to drive by his house, call him on the telephone, nor write him letters. We e-mail each other all the time, so I have no need for that. I'm not to have any outward displays of jealousy. That was a bit tough at the very first, but as I've gained more confidence the jealousy has withered away. (I just hope it stays away...) Then there are the funny, quirky things, like no rollerskating around him, no public displays of affection, no verbal indiscretions about what we do.

What does he get out of this? To be sure, I don't quite know. I suppose I should ask him sometime. As for myself, I've gained confidence. He is slowly convincing me that I really can do anything I'd like. I'm finally getting off my duff and am going to try to go to school this next semester. In a town where everyone seems to look like a supermodel, I feel pretty and desirable. I feel special and I feel cherished.

I own a leather collar I bought years ago as a necklace. Even though my Owner didn't give it to me, it's come to symbolize this relationship, this friendship. The nights I have to go to work in the bar, I wear it around my left wrist. He told me a few months ago to keep something with me there to remind myself that the bar and all the bullshit that is going on in that place is NOT my life. I hope he's pleased, although he hasn't said anything, that I chose my collar as that symbol.

I wasn't consciously looking for an Owner. He wasn't looking for a plaything. We've actually been friends for years, and events just seem to have a way of progressing sometimes.

On Wednesday, May 3, 2000, he came over to my place for the first time as my Owner. Was I nervous! Everything was perfect, though. He even administered my first spanking---but stopped short when he saw how easily I bruise. I have yet to endure another one, unfortunately.

About spankings...

The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.

- Carl Jung