When did I realize that I truly was a masochist? The day I spanked myself thirty times with a thick wooden spoon, of course. I was alone with M on the phone, his voice at its smoothest and most polite. The tone that told me my ass was grass. Or in this case, black and blue. I was bent over the back of a plush chair, my skirt bunched around my waist. The wooden spoon was the biggest size they sold at Williams-Sonoma and I had originally purchased it to stir giant pitchers of sweet tea at family picnics. Until that exact moment, I had no idea it would be an instrument of torture on my pale skin. I also didn’t know that I would be inflicting the strikes myself per the instructions of the dominant voice on the phone. This, my darlings, was the beginning of my relationship with M. At one point not so very long ago, he was my eDom. A man whom I had never met in person yet trusted with my body and soul.
True to the nature of online relationships, our courtship was a lightning strike. He singled me out of a group tweet with Nikki as we bantered back and forth about our kids. Watching M and Nikki tweet back and forth was like watching a knife fight. They fought dirty, and after a few half-hearted thrusts, I retired to the sidelines to watch them duel. When M sent me a direct message, I couldn’t fathom his intention. He told me I’d make a good submissive, and I almost spewed coffee all over my laptop. My response was, “I don’t think I’d make a good sub. I’m usually the aggressor.”
As I read back over the emails we traded, M came across detached and in control. I called him by his first name, and I was bratty. Brattier than I am today, if you can believe that. I told him that he’d have to “earn” the right to the title Master, and to my surprise he agreed. He explained that my submission to him was a gift and that it was his intention to earn my respect and the right to be called Master. We didn’t discuss “ownership” and he didn’t throw around a lot of kinky terminology. We eased into it together, it seems, in a way that I can only describe as organic.
What amazed me about that first conversation was that once I accepted my submissiveness, I assumed there would be pain as well. I slipped into the role as if it were an old coat, well-used and comfortable. It was like finding the key to a mysterious lock I had been carrying around for years. Suddenly, everything seemed to fit. I wrote, “have you ever had a moment where you hear something and it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting to hear, but you never knew it? Reading your last message I just had one of those aha! moments.
“So now I’m a quivering mass of…everything…”
eDoms conduct their submissives and play partner relationships electronically, and it’s the perfect way to learn the ins and outs (pun completely intended) of a potential partner. M and I were a couple that needed the next physical step to real life. We knew from the start that we would have to meet. I ached to feel his hands on me, his breath in my ear as he commanded me to my knees and punished my body. Email only took me so far. Even now I need to taste, touch and fuck him to be completely satisfied. However, our online Master/slave interactions allowed us the time to explore each other in a completely safe manner.
We traded pictures of what we liked and wrote erotic scenarios back and forth, but the big test came when M told me to fetch the wooden spoon. At one point I seemed to watch myself from an outside perspective and had the thought, “what the holy fuck am I doing?” The slave in me responded with certainty that M knew what he was doing, and that he was steering us in the direction that we both needed. Sometimes I’m a helluva better slave than independent woman, but don’t quote me on that. I don’t want M thinking I’m too pliable.
I feel extremely fortunate that my online relationship with M was able to evolve into something dynamic and fulfilling in our real lives. But without that foundation to our relationship, I don’t think we’d be half as amazing as we are together. I know M and trust him in a way that may have been impossible if we began in person. There are as many versions of kink as there are stars in the sky, and I realize that the way we developed wouldn’t work for everyone. I’m grateful, though. Grateful to the bottom of my greedy, bratty, little slave heart.
