I got into the
lifestyle, as it’s called, rather late. At first, I didn’t understand why it
was called that. Naming it seemed so manufactured, so self-aware, even
pretentious. Of course, now that I’m in it, I understand. At least I know why that
term makes sense to me. Because it has taken over my life. It’s all I can think
about. It defines nearly my every move, every thought, or lack of thought,
every action or lack of action. The lifestyle. The damn lifestyle. Then again,
perhaps the term isn’t enough to describe how wholly I have fallen into it.
Sometimes, oftentimes, it feels like an abyss. But of course there’s more,
there’s something, many things, or really just one thing, one person that keeps
me in it.

I have no one
to blame other than myself. I threw myself into this. No one pushed me. I went
willingly and eagerly. And now, now I have no damn idea how to get out, if I
even want to, or if I possibly could.

So I think, if
I try to examine how I ended up where I am, maybe I’ll find some answers. I
know when it started, but if I’m truly honest with myself, the dirty, shameful,
humiliating thoughts and fantasies began a long, long time ago. So maybe that
is it. That’s my answer. It’s who I am, it’s in me and always has been. I
should just accept it. After all, that’s what my Master tells me. And I know I
should listen to him. That’s all part of it, right? To give up control and let
someone else take over. Oh, those books, we all know the ones I’m talking
about, they make it sound so sexy, so loving, so easy. Of course, they’re works
of fiction and I, someone who makes her living in advertising, of all people I should
know that I shouldn’t believe what I read. But I let myself get sucked in and
now, like Alice down the rabbit hole, I no longer know what’s real, what’s
fantasy, or more accurately, what thoughts are my own versus what I’ve been
trained to believe.

In fact,
writing this at all feels like a betrayal. I wonder if Master found out, if he
would punish me. And even as I write that, I feel aroused. Let me be clear, the
punishment I’m talking about is not like it is in those books. True punishment,
real punishment, by a real Dominant, hurts. A lot. Of course, I had no idea how
much until the first time, and then it was too late. I do now. And yet I stay. In
fact I crave it. I feel that I need it. It takes me to a place I never knew
existed. But to most people, most
normal
people, it’s pain. For normal people, pain shouldn’t be romanticized,
sexualized. And I’m not talking about ‘funishment’. I’m talking punishment for
the sake of teaching me a lesson. The physical punishment is one thing. But the
humiliation, oh God, sometimes he can be so cruel. Just mean. The things he
makes me do. No, the things I allow him to do, yes, I allow him to humiliate
me, debase me to the point of tears, these moments without ever even laying a
hand on me, sometimes they hurt more than the whips. Sometimes. It helps me
learn, become better, he says. I wonder if I’ve been brainwashed, and I think
to a certain extent I have to have been. How could someone like me, a
successful, professional woman, how could I allow myself to be treated the way
that I do?

He hates it
when I torture myself with these questions. He tells me to stop thinking about
who I am and what we do, and to just accept it. I think that’s just more
manipulation on his part. Then again, I think he loves watching me torment
myself, struggling with what I allow him to do, what I have come to expect him
to do, and at some level, want him to do. I know that’s part of it for him,
watching someone like me struggle with it. It’s so much sweeter for him. He’s
breaking me. He knows it. I know it. I know he wouldn’t be satisfied with a
completely willing submissive, one who didn’t question everything. There would
be no challenge. And my Master likes a challenge. I am waiting for the day that
he totally breaks me and wonder whether he will just discard me. I think that’s
my biggest fear of all. Not the beatings. Not the public humiliation. Not the
degradation. I still fear those, but that fear is nothing like the thought that
once he’s broken me, truly broken me, that when I need him the most, that will
be the point at which he leaves.

CHAPTER 2

“What are you
reading?” Jim asked. I knew eventually he would, but I thought, at least with
these e-readers, I could hide it for a while. If not from him, then at least
from everybody else.

I flushed,
embarrassed. “Ummm, you know, just a romance. You know, escapist fun.”

He smiled,
giving me a look, “You sure it isn’t
that
book? You know I’ve heard about it. I’d have to be dead not to.” It was true.
Everybody and their mother, literally, had read this crap. And it was crap. Not
very well written, completely unbelievable… and I couldn’t put it down. I
couldn’t remember the last time I devoured a book like this one.

Sheepishly, I
looked up over my reading glasses, “Maybe?” I wasn’t sure how Jim would react.
We had been together for almost three years at this point, and our sex life was
fine. I didn’t want him getting jealous or feeling inadequate, male egos and
all.

“Oh my god, Jen, it is! You’re reading
that
book?!?” He laughed, “So, is it as
hot as everything I’ve heard?”
Ok, this
is a good sign
, I thought.
He’s not
threatened
.

“Um, yeah, actually, it’s pretty hot.”
And then I thought, I don’t want to seem over-eager, “I mean, it’s totally
unbelievable and pretty poorly written…” I trailed off.

“But the sex is hot?” he asked, clearly
interested.

“Mmmhmm.” I knew I was still bright red.
Silly, really, that I was embarrassed talking about fictionalized sex with my
boyfriend.

“Wow, Jen. I didn’t think you’d be
interested in any of that stuff.”

“How do
you
know what’s in here?” I asked accusatorily. Somehow, it was ok
for me to be reading it, but my boyfriend?

“I’ve read excerpts online.” He said,
almost smugly, like he was proud of himself. Then he got a glint in his eye, “Is
there anything in there that
you’d
like to try?” he asked as he came over to the couch. He sat closely to me. Much
closer than usual. Obviously, whatever he had read had excited him, which surprised
me. He had never tried anything kinky with me. He’d never even asked. But he
was putting it out there, so what was the harm in telling the truth. I mean, we
were in a committed, monogamous relationship. I trusted him completely. And our
sex life had become kind of ho hum. Maybe this would spice things up.

“Well, um, yeah, kind of. I mean, if you
want to.” My voice had suddenly gotten smaller and breathier and I could feel
myself getting wet. More wet, really. Just reading the book was making me hornier
than I could remember being in a long time.

Jim started
stroking my thigh. It was obvious this conversation was turning him on. “Like
what?” he asked as he started fumbling with the zipper on my jeans. I tried not
to think of how he was so doing this wrong.
You’re
not supposed to ask me. You’re supposed to just take me!
But I knew he
wasn’t a mind-reader. I couldn’t expect him to be like a fictional character in
a book. I hoped he’d read enough to get the hint I was about to give.

“Well, I’ve been a very naughty girl, you
know, not telling you about what I was reading.” I waited for him to pick up on
the hint. No go.
Ok, don’t blame him for
not being into this stuff, Jen. Help the guy out.
“And, naughty girls need
punishment, at least that’s what it says in the book.”

He had
unzipped my jeans and was reaching inside, not doing much other than just
indiscriminately pressing around, certainly not pressing anything that was
going to help enhance the mood. “Uh, yeah, naughty girls do need punishment.
What kind did you have in mind?” He asked trying to be as sexy as possible. I
had to stifle a groan. I was starting to wish he’d just leave me to my book and
I could get myself off easier, and better, than what was transpiring.

But I tried to
be patient, so I leaned over and whispered, effectively breaking character
“You’re not supposed to
ask
me, Jim.
You’re supposed to be the one who
tells
me what to do. You know, like put me over your knee and spank me.” Then I
straightened back up and tried again, in full voice, “Sir, are you really going
to punish me?”

I could see
Jim wasn’t completely sure or comfortable with this. It wasn’t that he was
dense. On the contrary. He was one of the smartest men I knew, which is one of
the reasons why I loved him. He was smart and sophisticated and sweet and an
adult. So he wasn’t the most adventurous guy in bed. He certainly wasn’t a Dom,
like the one in the book.

“Yes, yes I am, young lady. Now come
here.” He said as he patted his thigh and I laid myself over his lap. Once I
was settled, he whispered, “Jen, you ok? You really want me to spank you?”

I rolled my
eyes to myself. But I couldn’t blame him. We’d never talked about anything like
this, so I’d just have to help him along. I turned around and looked him in the
eye and said, “Yes, sweetie, I really do. I want you to spank my ass till my
cheeks are pink. Will you do that for me? Will you punish me?” Apparently the
earnest, straight-forward approach worked. I could feel his cock twitch under
me as spoke.

His first swat
was mild. Even still, it made me flinch out of surprise. His second swat was a
little harder. And then the third and fourth and by around the tenth, I could
tell, he was starting to like what he was seeing, what he was doing. And the
more he spanked, the more he got into it, “Yes, you have been a naughty girl,
haven’t you, little Jenny?” he asked tauntingly. He knew I hated being called
Jenny. Jen or Jennifer was fine, but Jenny, ugh, I hated that name. Which
somehow really worked for the little scene we were playing out.

“I’m sorry for being naughty, sir.” I
said, and I was starting to really be sorry for asking him to spank me. It was
really stinging now. In the books, the Doms always knew just how much their
subs could take, and comforted them after, but as Jim kept swatting away, I
started thinking, he has no idea what my limits are, and he certainly doesn’t
know about the comforting part. I was obviously going to have to direct this
still, “Maybe you need to fuck the naughtiness out of me, Sir?”

Immediately,
his hand stopped. He may not have been a Dom, but he was a man who had a bright
pink ass in his hands and a woman asking to be fucked. He didn’t need much more
of an invitation than that as he set me down on the ottoman so that my knees
were on the floor and I was still bent over, my stomach resting on the top of
it. He got up, and I heard his pants unzip. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock
between my pussy lips to make sure I was ready, and he could feel what the
spanking had done to me, “Jesus, Jen, you’re soaking wet.”

“All of us naughty girls are.” I said
breathlessly as he shoved his cock into me and fucked me harder than he had
ever fucked me before. I spread my legs wider and he was fucking me so hard
that he pushed my pussy up so that it was rubbing up against the fabric. I
started grinding on the fabric, working my clit as he rammed his cock into me
and when we both came, I think it was the best orgasm either of us had ever had
with each other.

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