tagBDSMLike a Virgin -- But Not

Like a Virgin -- But Not

bysdbnnc©

It would be easy to say it all started because I needed a cheap sofa for my new house, but that would be disingenuous at best, a lie at worst. The truth is that I was drawn to the idea of a D/s relationship. In the distant past, I had stumbled on a website for women interested in the D/s lifestyle. Ever since, I spent every spare dime and hour living a vicarious D/s existence through pornography. When my Craigslist search drifted from "furniture" to "casual encounters," it was actually the natural progression of my interest in a D/s relationship, not chance. The time had come for me to live what had been relegated to the realm of fantasy. Here is how I lost my submissive's "virginity" through my first experience with a Dominant – and, in the process, began to discover love that brings meaning to my life, thus starting a journey that I hope never ends.

First, there was a brief exchange of e-mails. I responded to the Dominant's Craigslist posting for a submissive partner for dinner and other "casual encounters" during the Dominant's five day business trip in the area. In all my e-mails, despite expressing myself formally and respectfully, I was honest about my total lack of experience in submission. What I did not realize at the time was that my honesty proved to the Dominant that I was a real, live person, not the usual automated lure for a pay-by-the-minute chat line.

Then came the Dominant's telephone call and invitation to dinner. The Dominant offered the security of a meeting in a public restaurant of my choice, but included a challenge in submission. The Dominant said I should arrive to meet him with my panties pulled up tight into my cunt and ass. Even though I fully expected my first meeting with the Dominant to be my last, it never occurred to me to not to action on that instruction! From the moment I recognized the Dominant walking across the parking lot to the restaurant, I was so enthralled that I was shocked and disbelieving when the Dominant mentioned during dinner that similar postings on Craigslist in advance of prior business trips seldom resulted in opportunities for dinners like the one we were sharing. I still find it incredible that the many submissives throughout the country have been and are unable to recognize and appreciate this Dominant's wealth of experience, talent and power. Those submissives are denying themselves the honor and privilege of meeting this Dominant, and perhaps even serving and submitting to, this Dominant. I am proud that, ignorant and untested as I was when I found this Dominant's posting, I did not react as those poor submissives have done who denied themselves such an opportunity and great experience.

My first dinner with the Dominant was quiet and interesting, with a nearly imperceptible undertone of sexual tension under the "meeting a new person" chatter. When dinner concluded, I was asked to go to the ladies' room and remove my panties and bring them to the Dominant. The submissive self that I had stuffed away for decades again made itself known, causing me to immediately comply with the Dominant's request. When the Dominant, whilst standing in front of the restaurant, under a bright light, stretched my huge, white cotton "granny" panties out and felt and smelled the soaking wet crotch, my submissive self celebrated – knowing the Dominant it had sought for so long, had been found at last.

After that first dinner, there were more telephone calls and e-mails, which the Dominant later called "setting the hook" so that the Dominant could "reel" me into the experience of submission. Difficult as it is for me to believe that the Dominant had any doubt of my interest, I had some difficulty admitting even to myself that I already knew that this Dominant offered my submissive self the equivalent of water for one dying of thirst. I did not dwell on the life-changing impact of my first meeting with the Dominant (especially the way in which I responded to the Dominant's instructions with absolute trust and no reservations), but I could not deny my near desperation for another opportunity to spend time with the Dominant whilst the opportunity was available.

In addition to my personal and emotional desperation to find a means to channel and express my submissive nature, the fact that the Dominant was in my area only for a five day business trip, after which he would return to his home 700 miles distant from mine, increased the compulsion I had to seize the opportunity whilst it was available. To be honest, on some level I felt that, if the second meeting with the Dominant went badly, I could attribute the rejection I anticipated to the Dominant thinking a long distance D/s relationship would not be workable, rather than accepting my responsibility for being too fat, too old, too ignorant in submission or simply not acceptable to the Dominant. One of the hallmarks of my personality is that I usually can see many sides of an issue or circumstance. In this situation, that trait was heightened by the intensity of the desire I felt to finally be who I was, my expectation that I would not meet the Dominant's physical or submissive standards, and my fear that I would not be able to find a way to express my submission and desire to serve. With all these conflicts bouncing around in my head, the thought that the Dominant would very soon be more than 700 miles away was both comforting and daunting.

Just three days after our initial dinner, the day of the second meeting finally – and oh, so quickly – arrived. E-mails with the Dominant's specific preferences had been received, read, digested, itemized, and followed. It was easy for me to focus on the things that needed to be done before I presented myself to the Dominant, rather than thinking about safety issues or even why it was impossible for me to imagine missing the opportunity to be in the presence of the Dominant I already longed to serve. I had learned from the Dominant's e-mails that the Dominant preferred me to be hairless from nose to toes. I spent more than an hour shaving all the usual places and, after first trimming the hair with scissors, my pubic area as well. It took a long time to shave, and re-shave, and re-shave, especially since there were parts of my pubic area I could not see because I was so overweight! But, even in my untried and inexperienced submission, I was happy to have that effort to make because I already realized that everything I was doing was in the Dominant's service.

After visiting a couple of stores, I purchased jet-black pantyhose, and returned home to remove the crotch, as the Dominant preferred. On the day on which I was to meet the Dominant again, I also moved, in a torrential downpour of winter rain, into my new house! As a result, I was not able to locate my vegetable peeler to prepare the three carrots the Dominant had requested be brought to our meeting, but I brought the carrots to the hotel without peeling them. With almost all my worldly goods still in damp boxes placed throughout my house, I also was unable to locate my wooden clothespins, which the Dominant had requested be brought to the meeting as well, and I was unable to find any at the stores where I searched for pantyhose. The Dominant had requested that I bring along a blindfold as well. The fact that Valentine's Day was coming up made it possible for me to find and buy a blindfold (in hot pink leopard print!), and I was pleased at being able to accommodate the Dominant's request.

Following e-mailed instructions, I drove to the hotel, found the Dominant's rental car and retrieved the key card for the Dominant's room. I took a deep breath, and entered the hotel via a side door to climb the flights of stairs to the Dominant's room. When I located the correct door, I used the key card and entered the Dominant's room. Looking back on this experience now, I marvel that I felt no panic, or fear or even simple anxiety. Whilst good common sense should have given me pause about going alone into the room of a man I had barely met, I felt nothing but the sense that I was finally coming home to the real person I was and I had denied for far too long. I had no sense of danger, only concern that, when the Dominant saw me naked, I would be rejected as too fat, too out-of-shape, and too old. Yet, even that concern, ingrained from years of rejection previously endured, was merely background noise, unrecognized in the triumphant chorus of all that was submissive within me at finally finding its voice and its life after years of solitude and silence.

Once inside the Dominant's hotel room, as the Dominant preferred, I removed my clothing and in only my crotchless pantyhose and black pumps, I walked to the center of the room, my back to the door. En route, again as the Dominant requested, I laid out the carrots on the Dominant's bed. At the center of the room, I covered my eyes with the blindfold whilst standing with my feet shoulder-width apart, and then bent over at the waist to grasp my ankles with my hands.

Even now, I do not know if seeing the Dominant seated at the desk, focused on his laptop, and apparently oblivious to my presence was helpful. I was too unskilled in submission to realize that my entry should have included my formal and respectful greeting to the Dominant by way of acknowledging the honor and privilege accorded me by allowing me to offer my submission and service. The Dominant's silence was disconcerting, but it also allowed me to focus on what I had been asked to do in order to comply with the Dominant's preferences.

Soon after I was in position in the center of the room, I heard the unmistakable sound of separating Velcro, then immediately I felt straps binding my wrists and ankles together. Then there was the sound of vinyl gloves going on, followed by an intimate and detailed, but brief, inspection of my cunt and asshole. A couple of quick, but surprising, slaps to my ass helped center me and call my mind back from the hamster-wheel of thoughts and anxieties only to have it caught up in the whirlwind of the physical sensation of the slaps and the sexual excitement they created.

With my head near the floor, the nervous anxiety and difficulty breathing caused me to faint. As I fell to the floor, the Velcro straps were pulled loose, and I ended up face down on the carpet, on my knees. After the Dominant assisted me to move to the room's sofa, where the Dominant allowed me to sit and recover my composure, the Dominant re-positioned me on my knees (set shoulder-width apart), with my fingers laced together and stacked behind my head. This of course positioned my arms out at shoulder height, elbows back, and breasts up and out for ease of the Dominant's access. Once I was in position, the Dominant inserted syringe points into my nipples and areolas. Blindfolded as I still was, I had no idea what the Dominant was doing – certainly, the idea of the Dominant piercing my nipples and breasts with syringe points never crossed my mind.

Anesthetized by anxiety, yet excited by the fact that, however haltingly and uncertainly, I was embarking on the submission and service I had longed for, my only reaction to feeling the Dominant's hands and the syringe points on my breasts was the outpouring of sexual juice in my cunt. Yet another "virgin" threshold was crossed without much pain, with no fear, and without fanfare. The Dominant already knew that I desired and would accept pain, although this was information I had yet to learn or acknowledge to myself. The Dominant used the syringe points to test my reaction, my submission and my desires – and all I knew was that I was holding the position into which I had been placed, and that was the only concern I had. Again, although I was kneeling, nearly naked and now pierced, in a stranger's hotel room, the only sensation of fear of which I was aware was my extreme fear that I would fail and be found wanting, dismissed and sent away from the Dominant I already yearned to serve and learn from for a long time to come.

When the syringe points were placed to the Dominant's satisfaction, the Dominant moved me over yet another "virgin" threshold. Whilst I maintained position with my hands still stacked behind my blindfolded head, elbows out, breasts (now decorated with syringe points) held out and available for inspection, the Dominant assisted me to stand up again, and the Dominant began taking digital photographs. The whine of the flash was unmistakable, even though I had never been digitally photographed before. The idea of having my body photographed, even in clothes, had never appealed to me, and yet my submission was demonstrated yet again -- my only reaction to the photographs being taken was to focus on holding position so that the images would be as clear as possible for the Dominant.

After the photographs were taken, the Dominant removed my blindfold and requested that I dress (without looking at my breasts) so that we could go to dinner. The Dominant again instructed me to pull my panties tightly up into my cunt and ass. When I was dressed, the Dominant escorted me downstairs to his car, and we went to dinner in a local restaurant, a meal that appeared as normal and pedestrian as if the hour or so in the Dominant's room that preceded that dinner had never happened. We continued getting to know about each other's work and lives as if neither of us was thinking of the sexual juices soaking into the crotch of my panties. My insecurities were such that it never occurred to me that the Dominant gave a moment's thought to how the time I spent in Dominant's hotel room or even the pulling and rubbing of my panties in my crack was exciting my sexual urges and focusing my attention on my sopping wet cunt. But, although I did not imagine the Dominant was thinking of my arousal, my submissive self counted every drop of sexual juices into the fabric of my panties.

Again, as dinner ended, the Dominant asked me to go to the ladies' room and remove my heels, pantyhose, and panties. The Dominant requested that I put my crotchless pantyhose and my heels back on, and place the panties, soaking wet crotch down, on my tongue. When that instruction was followed, I found that, despite having found some much smaller, black, nylon panties to wear for this second meeting, my mouth was completely filled with the panties to the point that swallowing my saliva was problematic. When I returned to our table, having acted on these requests, the Dominant politely asked that I open my mouth – demonstrating not only my compliance with the Dominant's requests but my willingness to do whatever the Dominant asked, despite any public embarrassment. After confirming my compliance, the Dominant escorted me back out to his rental car. Once inside the car, I was asked to strip down to pantyhose and pumps only. With my submissive self fully in the fore, non-compliance was not an option. I never considered refusal of the request or even thought much about the possible embarrassment of riding around mostly naked.

When I removed my bra, some of the syringe points were lost, and I realized that the Dominant, lacking the clothespins that had been requested, had pierced my nipples with syringe points instead of clamping them. Even now, when my ego-driven public self looks back on that night, the only emotion I truly can recall at making that discovery was pride. I had been so aware of my lack of experience of service, the fact that all my submission to that point had been in my head, that knowing I had endured nipple and breast piercing without reaction or demurring made me know, as nothing else to that point had, that I was setting out on the path I was meant to travel.

And, further demonstrating the correctness of my choices that night, even as I struggled to process the totally new experience of the breast piercings, my only reaction was to maintain my proud posture in the passenger seat -- legs apart and crotch open to the Dominant's fingers, which drove me to orgasm again and again. The drive continued for some time, moving further away from the Dominant's hotel, the car crossing the state line before heading back to the Dominant's hotel. I went from submissive "virgin" to being the Dominant's "two-state slut" in a single night! The future would allow me other opportunities to serve as the Dominant's slut in other states, but for the submissive "virgin" I was on that night, the taste of multi-state servitude was heady indeed!

When we reached the hotel, the Dominant asked that I leave my outer clothing in the trunk of my car. After this was done, I entered the hotel through the main lobby, accompanied by the Dominant, dressed in only my pantyhose, my pumps, and my overcoat. Because I was accompanied by the Dominant, I was not nervous, much less embarrassed. My complete focus on the Dominant left no room to doubt the Dominant's care and protection. From the very earliest communications we shared, somehow I felt absolute trust and confidence in the Dominant. I did not believe the Dominant loved me – he didn't know me and, I was to learn, had no interest in loving anyone, much less a submissive – but I knew instinctively and absolutely that the Dominant would protect me.

I have never had any doubt of the Dominant's dependability, honesty and trustworthiness. The Dominant may hurt me – emotionally, psychologically or physically – through error or deliberate act to satisfy my desire for pain and the Dominant's interest in observing it. But the Dominant will do everything possible to prevent my being hurt by anyone else. I depend on the Dominant to keep me safe, secure, and unharmed. I also depend on the Dominant for guidance as I grow in submission. The Dominant, whom I now am privileged and honored to address as "Sir," provides humor and relaxation. The Dominant encourages and informs. The Dominant sets the standard against which my submission is measured – no matter how I feel about any effort I make to submit or to serve, there is no surcease, no sense of accomplishment, no satisfaction without the Dominant's approval and feedback. Without the Dominant's instruction, my submission would be a voice crying in the desert, alone and ignored.

The Dominant forms the framework of my submission; his Dominance is the canvas upon which my submission pours itself in free and open expression. The experience and talent the Dominant has in Dominance sometimes is sorely tested by my ignorance and unpracticed submission. And yet, the Dominant is kind enough to encourage me by pointing out that I am far from the virgin in submission who stepped outside her comfort zone a few short months ago to become the slut who now serves the Dominant in almost every way, and yet has many, many ways of service and submission yet to learn and experience.

There are truisms -- that a woman cannot regain her virginity, that she cannot be a little bit pregnant. Equally true is that a submissive is a virgin until she embarks on the journey of service to a Dominant for the first time; and that submission demands total and constant dedication or it is not submission. I learned these facts by losing the "virginity" of being a submissive without a Dominant. I still expand my knowledge of the demands of submission, for I have attempted to serve without relinquishing all of the self that existed before submission began. I know that the Dominant's standards for submissive service are still as far beyond my current level of development as I am advanced from where I started nine months ago. I understand that giving the Dominant less than everything – all I have, all I dream, all I hope and all I am – is the antithesis of service and submission.

And so, despite the long-ago initiation into sex, and even the fairly recent discovery of life as a submissive, I am a virgin for the third – and possibly last – time, because I know my service to the Dominant now demands that I give everything over to the Dominant's control. I struggle to place my sense of self, my ego, my choices, my attempts to control my life, and my ideas fully into the Dominant's keeping, whilst having to continue managing all those things in my professional life, my family life, my home ownership, and my pet ownership. It is a difficult balance to reach, and one that I have yet to perfect, despite long and torturous struggles to achieve it.

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