The morning after Club Pedestal night I was lying in bed next to Becky. She was looking at me, still surprised at how easily I had fitted into my new Dominatrix personality the previous night. She was trying to understand my behaviour, the men’s behaviour and the whole dynamic of the BDSM scene. She was bombarding me with questions. “I don’t know” I said to her. “I don’t try to understand, it just felt so good that I couldn’t stop myself”. “But how can you enjoy humiliating and whipping a man? I thought you liked men” said Becky with a confused expression on her face. For a few minutes I tried to understand my behaviour. I know I love men and I couldn’t do without them. I had always gone for big men, the kind that I would feel safe and protected with, and I had never been bossy in a relationship. I had always liked to be taken care of at all levels and so I couldn’t understand why I was finding this new game so exciting. Where was all this domme behaviour coming from? Why did I feel so at ease with a riding crop and a slapper in my hand? It was not to show off, nor to please anyone. It was just pure, raw me; a part of me that not even I had encountered before.
Usually I am a nice person, I don’t like putting anyone down, I don’t like physical violence or getting involved in arguments. My friends know me as easy going, even sweet. I have more male friends than female ones because I feel better with male company, I appreciate my male friends and I let them know how important they are to me. Where was all this new humiliating bitchy behaviour coming from? That previous night I whipped, with great delight, men who I had just met and had been only courteous and gallant with me. Why then if I liked them, did I punish and humiliate them without feeling an ounce of guilt? Why did I find it so pleasurable to whip these men who adored me? I couldn’t understand it and I didn’t really want to understand. Why ruin with reasoning what was good for my flesh?
Later that day my boy called me to see how things had gone the night before. During the conversation I asked him to do a couple of things at home for me. He came up with excuses as to why he couldn’t do this, that or the next thing. I don’t know how, but still sweet and loving I changed my tone and ordered him to do exactly what I had asked or else he would be the next one trying on my riding crop. Much to my surprise, he too changed his tone and said that he would do everything I had asked and anything else I would like to ask from him. Before hanging up, he told me that listening to me ordering him around, imagining me dressed in leather in front of him with a riding crop ready to punish him had got him so excited that he was almost bursting out of his jeans with excitement. He couldn’t wait to see me again!
What was happening to me? Why did I react like that? What was happening to him? Why was he so excited at the prospect of being physically punished? Up to now we were an ordinary couple, perhaps adventurous but not enough to cross the boundaries of BDSM. Why had I had taken on the riding crop so easily? Why were we so at ease and eager to enter this new world?