How did you get started?

Gianbattista said:

No one bits this horned pony.

....now, bites......that's a whole different ball game.....

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Oh my goodness, yes. That brings back a fond memory...

cookiecat said:

Just curious how you got started in BDSM? Are you an online kinkster only? Have you made the leap to real life?

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Out of college I worked for a man who owned several businesses, one of which was a dungeon. I was curious. He finally allowed me to work there one night a week. It was different, being paid $100 to let a man to suck my toes for an hour. I thought it was weird, but fun.

Stag of Oberon said:

So the feast of the Unicorn is celebrated in your house?



Its a very particular fetish.

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Well, I like her blouse...

Literature peaked the wife's interest and I can't stop myself from "keeping up with the Jones".

Gianbattista said:

My actual equine eating is limited to horse and donkey so far as I know.

I might be something other than a unicorn for a while, Not sure what.

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'Feast of the Unicorn'... I think maybe that was a sexy metaphor... ?

cookiecat said:

Just curious how you got started in BDSM? Are you an online kinkster only? Have you made the leap to real life?

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Screwed up the courage. Went to a local munch. Got to know people. Got comfortable in my own skin. Online is good for ideas in exploration but about as far as I'd go with it. Not to imply not to make friends online or anything. DON'T go to some club. HORRIBLE! Rude. Think they're sex gods because they walk around in leather and nipple clamps. Comfort was the key.

Irreverent1 said:

Screwed up the courage. Went to a local munch. Got to know people. Got comfortable in my own skin. Online is good for ideas in exploration but about as far as I'd go with it. Not to imply not to make friends online or anything. DON'T go to some club. HORRIBLE! Rude. Think they're sex gods because they walk around in leather and nipple clamps. Comfort was the key.

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I've never been to a club, I think I'd be afraid. I've been to a lot of munches, made friends. Had a private scene with a trusted Top (Master and mutual friend who's house we were using watched while the Top and I scened.) which put the needle on my compass. We've continued munches and have gone to one private party, which was a blast. Very warm, very welcoming, we even ended up having a scene. We're going to another party tomorrow night. The munches and making friends had allowed us to get our names out there and legitimize us. Once that happened invites to private parties followed, which I prefer to larger events.

My point is, for anyone reading this forum. Use caution, do what feels comfortable to you. Not everyone, or every party, or every munch is full of holier than thou kinksters.

cookiecat said:

Glad it brought up a good memory!

I think I need to add another part to the question.... which is: how did you decide this is something you wanted in future relationships?

I had a similar experience in college -- but after him, I didn't think a lot about it. I knew I liked rough sex, being tied up. But I didn't think of myself as submissive until many years later.

I'm not sure how you identify (sub, bottom, switch, etc) -- but how did the letters in bdsm "stick"??

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Honestly, I just felt drawn to it. It's somewhat rare to see kinksters below mid twenties in age. That covers most college ages. Younger we're all just happy to be having sex at all so I don't think we give much thought as to what we might want to get out of sex since for ages sex was the end all, be all. After a while someone finally asks the question: Would you try anal? After the initial reaction of EW! we start thinking about why or why not. This leads to "Well, what else is there?" and voila! It starts getting real. I may be projecting though.

As for how to identify, that is always a personal decision really. bottoms are (usually) only during sex. subs make allowances for adventure outside the bedroom (i.e. introducing others, Tasks, more everyday etc...) Switch, would you like to be the Spanker once in a while? All potent ideas

cookiecat said:

I think I need to add another part to the question.... which is: how did you decide this is something you wanted in future relationships?


I'm not sure how you identify (sub, bottom, switch, etc) -- but how did the letters in bdsm "stick"??

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**since my wife and I are discovering this together (hopefully) future relationships will not apply ;-)

BDSM at first was just one of this acronyms I saw when was looking into things a bit more kinky... as things progressed into bondage and a little pain I actually googled "BDSM forums" and ended up here on my first search. I lurked for a while just reading and reading.. seeing the vast variety of submersion of the different people here was comforting... BDSM was less intimidating.. as far as role I don't know if I am what anyone would consider a "true dom" the more I read, the more i think i fit into the roll.. maybe its just that i have never been one for "labels" but I am definitely a leader and not a follower and my wife wants to submit to me so here I am researching and reading not wanting to take in more than I can handle and starting to understand why someone would submit themselves to another person honored by the trust she has in me and strength she feels I have to carry us both...

I'm gonna blame Anne Rice and her Sleeping Beauty trilogies.

I read them and as a writer said, "Pffft, I can write something like that."

Well, it's hard to write what you don't know about. So for two years (over actually) I interviewed Doms and subs online and in real life. Couples who were married or had been together for more than a year. After which I had a completely different concept of the lifestyle.

When I wrote my novel I geared it toward people who, like myself, were ignorant of the depth and intensity of a couple in the lifestyle. Yes, there was kink, but it wasn't all about S&M or fetishes like is portrayed on TV shows or in some movies. It was more about relationships and their emotional bond.

The couples I interviewed were to be respected.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMwaiA581AQ

I got off on the right foot when I knew where I was on the score.

Girls exist to fuck, they serve no other purpose. Once a male learns this life becomes simple and easy.

Self BDSM

I was wondering if self bdsm is a thing, other than the occasional nipple pinching? Does anyone have ideas?

lilfear1 said:

I was wondering if self bdsm is a thing, other than the occasional nipple pinching? Does anyone have ideas?

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Sure, why the heck not? You've got to be extra careful of safety.

For us, it started way back when Kissa was 15 years old and found her mother's copy of "The Joy of Sex". The picture and description of bondage excited her, but she never felt enough trust in the men she were with to turn her fantasies real. We became friends when we were 27, but as we lived on different continents, it was just that - friendship. Then, last year, she told me she loved me, and things snowballed. She also told me about her fantasies, and when we met for the first time as lovers, we indulged in her kinks. I had been single after a long vanilla relationship, and didn't have much in the way of experience when it came to bondage and other kinks, but I'm a quick learner and pretty inventive... Now we are married, and have the best sex life of our lives. In fact, I think it's time for some action now...

I've told the story before, and perhaps when I muster ther motivation, I will again. What I wanted to add to my previous recounting of a seminal moment when my curiosity and interest in bondage met a barely realized, carefully repressed sadism was something of a prequel.

Des' fun post with his gift of phrasing sparked a lot of thoughts of early memories and impressions.


I, too, had many early impulses that in hindsight were obvious bdsm themed, but decoupled from any sense of sexuality, as that would have made no sense developmentally at those ages.

Perhaps colored by what I now see as kink references in popular culture. I had no frame, context or language for any of that.

Bits and snippets, nothing cohesive. The damsel bound to a chair or tracks, uncertain why these things had an allure. A general sense of wrong, with a feeling that wrong was attractive.

Got interrupted, I'll figure out this ramble later. I was headed somewhere, but didn't find the neigbborhood yet.

I was 19 and working with local bands. I had always had an interest and draw to kink but had no idea just how much until that first time I felt his hand close around my throat...that was the start of a 5 year adventure that turned into a lifetime dirty little secret

Thought I'd bump this since there are new folks here and I'm always curious to hear your stories. Plus, it was fun to read posts from people who haven't been around in a while whose voices are definitely missed.

Anyways - how did you get started in BDSM (no underage references). What got you thinking about it? How did you make the leap in to real life?

NOIRTRASH said:

Girls exist to fuck, they serve no other purpose. Once a male learns this life becomes simple and easy.

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Disagree. I've never met any women who felt like this.

cookiecat said:

Thought I'd bump this since there are new folks here and I'm always curious to hear your stories. Plus, it was fun to read posts from people who haven't been around in a while whose voices are definitely missed.

Anyways - how did you get started in BDSM (no underage references). What got you thinking about it? How did you make the leap in to real life?

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For me, it was actually a pretty ugly beginning to a story that eventually turned out alright. And a convoluted one. Much of it, I can't and won't go into in open forum as it would violate certain rules that I don't think should be.

However...

However, when I was eighteen, I was dating the girl who would become my first sexual experience beyond heavy petting and my second ex-fiance. And I tried to be "the perfect boyfriend" as I understood it at the time, which basically consisted of me sublimating my own personality and voicing no opinions or preferences that weren't hers.

Yeah, yeah. I know. I was... flawed. Or at least my thinking was. And a lot of it had to do with the girl that was my first ex-fiance who dumped me the last time just a month before I met this one. I didn't want to be alone and, as I said, I sublimated a lot of my own personality for a time thinking that was what I needed to do to not be.

It will probably come as no surprise that she dumped me eight times.

What would probably come as a big surprise to anyone that knows me is that I put up with it and accepted her back... or she graciously took me back... or something... that many times.

However, when she broke up with me the eighth time, something in me snapped like an over-tuned guitar string. Some of it might have been the reminder of how that first ex-fiance had treated me, bouncing back and forth like a ping-pong ball between me and another guy for five years before she dumped us both for a third we never saw coming. But, a lot of it had to do with the way she went about that eighth break-up. I'm sure by now it's been replaced, but last time I was at Coleman Hall on Tech Campus, there was still a large dent in the metal door where I'd punched it as she went careening off on icy streets, drunk off her ass, with one of the Keystone Gestapo pursuing on foot (and busting his ass when he slipped on the ice).

I didn't really have any clear understanding of BDSM. (Or much else about "relationships" obviously.) And I certainly wasn't one of those leather-wearing freaks that thought there was something sexy about beating a gorgeous woman to a bloody pulp as foreplay.

However, when she tried to come "allow me back" for a ninth time, I was not the same man she'd left standing in the snow and ice as she was sending her car through several out of control donuts out on Nineteenth Street before her car slammed into the median, rocked up on two wheels, and then dropped down for her to take off while the campus police was still looking for his radio in the snow.

I did not want her back.

However, she would not accept "no." And showed up outside my classes, at work doing all the stuff that always seems to work in Rom-Coms, finally at my mother's house where I still lived with Mom and my sister in a town thirty miles away from where we went to school and worked and she lived with her parents.

I wasn't about to discuss certain things in front of Mom. OR my fourteen-year-old sister (who I knew damn well was laying in the hall between our rooms trying to listen in). But, especially my mother!

I drove us about five miles out in the country to a friend's farm so that we could have it out once and for all with no one around for about two miles in any direction except for the occasional cow. And, as usual, she turned things sexual, assuming that she would (once again) get her way. Just like she had for months.

However, it didn't quite work out that way this time.

I did allow her back. However, there was a condition this time. This time, it would be my way or the fucking highway. What would be my way? Every. Fucking. Thing. In "the bedroom" and out. Although I didn't know enough to recognize it at the time, what we actually did was to rediscover the 24/7 M/s dynamic. But in all the absolute worst ways possible. Sexually, yes, she was mine to do with what I pleased. Anywhere. Anytime. And, I did. However, other than sex, I was also into every nook and cranny of her life. She wore what I told her to wear. She read the books I told her to read. She changed her major to the one I dictated and I set up her class schedule before ever she saw her advisor. She talked only to the people I allowed and no one I didn't. And I only had the one club in my toolkit that I pulled each and every time she balked. "So, we're done then? Well, I'd say it's been nice knowing you, but it really hasn't."

Fortunately, for both of us, she retained enough of her soul to finally break it off with me that ninth and final time after a year of being my thrall.

Ironically, two years later, she found me in the library and tried chatting me up. The moment I realized she was angling for another try, I closed my book, stood up, and walked away. And never looked back.

Also rather ironically, just before she broke up with me that last time, I had fallen into the orbit of a group of lesbians. Well, technically just the one at that point. A beautiful woman that I was smitten with until I met her girlfriend (who was also very smit worthy) and realized that I didn't have a chance since I had the way wrong plumbing. However, I really liked the both of them and enjoyed their company even though I knew sex was not only not on the table but nowhere in the house. And I began spending every free moment I had with first the two of them and then, eventually, two other lesbian couples.

And it probably sounds really strange, at least it does to me, but in retrospect what we eventually developed was almost a textbook platonic DD/lg between me and each of those six women over the next two years (although I lacked the terminology to describe it, or even understand it at the time).

Meanwhile, being the over-testosteroned barely post-pubescent idiot I was at nineteen, I had absolutely no clue what had gone wrong with my failed relationships. And there was a class offered in the Family Studies department that could be made to fit one of my requisites with enough arm twisting of my advisor and the dean of my major. Before that class (and the semester) ended, I'd formally changed my major from the engineering key. And studied relationships and sexuality the way others were studying economics or electrical engineering.

While I was an idiot about relationships, I was reasonably savvy about the rest of the world. So, I knew that graduating with a degree wasn't going to do as much for me as chalking up some work hours related to my field while I got it would. And managed to land a gig with a detention unit first. Then, a while later, picked up a second part-time job with a foster care group home. And then an internship with a victims of child abuse group. While carrying nineteen and twenty-one hours per semester in a bid to graduate in a virtually unheard of four years after changing my major mid-stream.

Sadly, spending so much time between classes and studying for classes and effectively working three supposedly part-time jobs for as many hours as two full-time jobs would have been cut into my time hanging out with that group of lesbians until one day I dropped by "the love shack" during some relatively rare free time to find them all gone and someone I didn't know living there.

What I had not had was another deep romantic entanglement. First, because I was spending all my time with a group of lesbians who just weren't interested in me (or any male) in that way. Then, because I was working too hard and studying too hard.

But, as vile, sick, twisted, and borderline abusive as my relationship with my second ex-fiance was, there were aspects that appealed to me that I now knew enough from my classes to know didn't have to be so sick and vile and abusive.

And, although there was no sexual component, much less romantic, with the six little lesbians (one of whom was almost a foot taller and a hundred pound heavier than yours truly), there were aspects of the care and nurturing of those relationships that I now knew I needed.

And taking several classes on human sexuality, not to mention my outside studies of a topic that held a lot of fascination for me, I had vastly expanded my knowledge base.

But, had limited practical experience.

As I mentioned, I had enough on the ball in other ways to know that classroom learning is only part of what is necessary. That the theoretical knowledge must be supplemented with practical application for true understanding.

In a move that made the ultimate rational sense to me as a college graduate still waving my diploma in the air for the ink to dry, I gathered what made sense into a large duffle bag that went into the trunk of my car and went hunting. I took the shotgun approach and propositioned most (if not every) female that appeared close to my age at the time and possessed of most of her faculties. And the first that said yes, I followed home for a three-day bacchanalia that caught her roommate in my snare as well by the third day.

I'm ashamed to admit that I couldn't tell you their names, or even remember what they looked like. And that I wasn't interested in them beyond as my guinea pigs as I tried out anything and everything kink that can be imagined. I'm also ashamed that while she did consent originally and through the first day for certain, I'm not altogether sure that her (or her roommates) consent was completely uncoerced by that third day as it is possible that they were too afraid of me by that point to just say "no" and didn't know me well enough to know that if they had, I would have stopped.

I left them naked in bed after I'd cut them free of the restraints, in their exhausted slumbers amidst cum soaked covers (mine and theirs) and locked the front door on my way out, satisfied that I now knew what I needed, what I wanted but could do without if my partner didn't, what I didn't particularly want but could do for a partner, and what I couldn't do under any circumstances as far as sex goes.

(I was told by my sister, decades later at my mother's funeral, that they showed up on her porch one night looking for me until Mom threatened to call the cops. Just how they found me, I haven't got a clue. Nor what they wanted. [Unless it was more of the same.] So, maybe their consent was fully given. To everything I did to them.)

And promptly moved to another town that very day. Five hours away.

And four months later made a mistake as I got engaged to a woman that was about as far from submissive outside the bedroom as it is possible to be without being a Domme. (Actually, looking back, she may well have been an unrealized Domme.)

When we weren't fucking, we were fighting. And the only way we knew to stop fighting was to start fucking. And it wasn't always easy to tell just which was happening from moment to moment.

And then Love walked in.

I'm not proud of the fact that I was engaged to someone else. Or that she was married to someone else with two children (that were closer to my age than she was).

I've heard that perfection is an impossibility. But, we were close enough for me. And her.

However, we were both committed to staying in the relationships that we were in. We were committed to, as strange as it sounds, not being committed to each other. And we stuck to that through the entirety of our six-month affair.

Just how we didn't get caught any sooner is an absolute mystery to me as she wore my marks on her skin as badges of honor. From what she told me, when he would ask, she would tell him she lost another fight with a fruit tree on their property.

The irony is that we had agreed to break it off, had fucked "around the world" for what was supposed to be the last time, and were cuddling together, tracing the patterns of my last marks on her skin, when we cried ourselves to sleep that it was over. And we were caught by her husband.

It was a smallish city. And rather than risk my fiance's sister finding out and telling her, I made the drive to face her myself and tell her everything. That I hadn't been joking when I told her over the phone that I was balls deep in a hot redhead's ass when she asked what I was doing when she called.

I believe we tried to make it work. All of us.

My slave stayed with her husband and kids.

I quit both of my jobs as well as folding tents on my privately owned company and moved back in with Mom and my sister, just thirty minutes away from my fiance rather than five hours.

But...

But, I took a page from the playbook when I was with my second ex-fiance. I told the woman who would become my third ex-fiance that this was me. And I didn't come cafeteria-style where she could pick and choose what she accepted and what she didn't. For two months, I flew my true colors. Until it became clear to me that I was not dominating her, but breaking her soul. And she, out of obsession more than love, was letting me. And I did the only thing I could, I loved her enough to let her go.

Three months later, my slave left her husband and children to follow me and live her life in servitude to my care and protection for two and a half decades before she decided to leave this plane of existence (without my permission, damn it!) a couple of years ago.

And it was there, with her, that I eventually learned to amalgate everything I was, everything I'd learned, and become a Dom and a man rather than a kinky boy with some stripes of dominance and sadism running through my personality.

Well, it's a bit long-winded. Which is probably no surprise to anyone who has even encountered me before, much less actually knows me. But, those were the primary colors in the palette as the mosaic of my experiences with BDSM came to be. There were, of course, secondary and tertiary... players in my scenes. But, those were the important bits I suppose in answer to how I started down this long and winding road began.

Light stuff happened with lots of exes, medium stuff all comes back to one guy a while back though sort of an awakening. He was confident, older, assertive etc. so no big surprise I suppose. Since then mostly just explored online or found myself getting into more light stuff offline, but perhaps partly placing myself there. Reckon eventually it will click with the right guy and might take it on further but some of the excitement is not knowing. Can be very hard to predict what someone will be like once in private and sometimes you think you know and then it's the total opposite! Part of the joy about having found lit is it stops you wanting to rush so much offline and instead explore yourself and fantasies more before any possible future encounters so in a more confident/comfortable place to seize the opportunity if it presents itself........

At least that's kinda the plan

Very early age

When I was about eight years old. I was watching a movie, that was supposed to have taken place in England or Scotland in the early nineteen hundreds.
A young boy was misbehaving in class. The teacher yanked him from his chair and dragged him to the front of the class and proceeded to put him across her knee and spank him until he cried. That movie had the most profound effect on me. I started acting out in class hoping to receive the same punishment or treatment, however you view it, as the young boy in the movie.

Would be interested in hearing from people who experienced similar situations.
P.M.

same age when i started but it was Hercules movies that did it for me.
chains, whips, restraints, sweat, muscles, loincloths . all in one cheesey sword and sandal movie.