I guess I felt a little defensive. Someone said I wasn’t kinky enough, and I decided to out myself to an entire party full of people.
Naturally, booze was involved.
I just didn’t think me not wanting to allow the German woman watch me pee made me all that straight laced. I mean, really. It’s just not my thing.
So I showed everyone what my thing is. I showed photos of my bruised ass following a night of caning and paddling.
I showed photos of me tied up, prostrated on the floor.
I shared my profile on collarme.com and fetlife.com.
And I talked of bondage. Discipline. Crawling on all fours.
But that wasn’t enough. Or maybe it just went over really well. Because before you know it I’m making out with the woman who had accused me of being repressed; the woman who wanted to watch as I pissed.
And she wasn’t the only one. There was a guy too. A guy who was delighted to find such a kinky girl at an Oscar’s viewing party. A guy who spoke of clothespins on nipples while he choked me just a little in the kitchen.
I can’t say I remember all of the details of the night. Lord knows I don’t. I actually do not recall kissing the girl.
But some details are coming back, slowly. And I remember talking to the guy in the kitchen. Talking about rope and other restraints. And I remember the hand on my throat and his lips against mine.
And maybe it is good to be open about BDSM. Maybe it is possible to meet the right kind of guy in a regular setting if I am not always hiding it.