My entire life I’ve been fascinated with trying to understand the why. Naturally, as I’ve continued on my journey, the question of why I am the way I am has crossed my mind. Was I born this way or is it learned behavior? And I’ve come to grips that it’s a question similar to “how many angels dance on the head of a pin”, but it’s still interesting to contemplate. I’ve read some research papers on this subject and while I’m way out over my skis from a science perspective, I didn’t come away with any answers that I found useful. But I’m a firm believer that there is always a reason why things are the way they are.
I can say that I knew I was different than others very early in my life. I was probably 5 when I first remember submissive thoughts. I vaguely recall that I enjoyed being tied up when playing with my female cousins and I know I didn’t see them after I turned 6. I remember a female babysitter sitting on me on a blanket around the same age if not earlier. And I remember loving it. I remember feeling like I was in heaven. Not sexual since I was too young to even have a concept of sex, but deep. It’s a core memory of mine, maybe my first one. And I remember being just so blissful and content. (I’ve thought about it a lot in the last few months, but I’m pretty sure there was no abuse here, I think I just really liked it even then.)
After that it was off to the races. I remember watching movies with strong female leads and being drawn to them. The bitches in other words. I’m not a fan of the “b-word” because I think it’s used to demean women which I find abhorrent. But it’s actually a very lovely word to me. I adore being my goddess’ bitch. And I love it when She is a bitch to me and also when she physically makes me her bitch. I think it’s an empowering word that more women should own. But I digress.
Kids love to imagine and I was no different. I always wanted to be the hero and win the girl like many boys. Unlike most of the boys, in my imagination the girl I’d won would turn around and dominate the shit out of me, just like the strong women in the movies. I read the book Blubber in 4th grade and it blew my 9 year old mind. I must have read it 100s of times. I loved the part where the titular character is forced to kiss the feet of “Queen” Wendy. All the scenes that were supposed to horrify, to be object lessons, excited and thrilled me to no end (sorry Judy Blume). I wanted to be the one being abused.
I’ve always had a fascination with bodily functions, particularly spit, phlegm and pee (quite the triad). Now I am clueless as to how that could possibly be nature so I have to assume that it’s more nurture related. But what could possibly have happened as a child to make these so interesting? It was very young as well. I remember coming home from school on the bus in kindergarten and wanted to stick my fingers in this girls mouth to get her spit on it so I could taste it later. I got in a lot of trouble for that — the bus driver was scared the girl was going to bite my finger off and told my mom. I remember feeling very ashamed. I remember daydreaming/fantasizing about going into the girl’s bathroom in 2nd grade. I don’t recall but I’m sure I did at some point—I was a sneaky and highly intelligent kid.
In middle school I remember getting excited about the oddest things. I never was one to get excited over big breasts (although I like breasts a lot), but a nice tush is and was a different thing. Don’t want none unless you got buns, hun. But more than that, middle school was a cruel place and there were always incidents that became imbedded in my head. Rarely were they overtly sexual in nature but they always involved a girl being rude/inconsiderate/mean to someone (never me, actually, I was a wreck around girls). Here’s one idiotic example. One day I was walked down the hallway and this female acquaintance started walking next to me, immediately dropped a finished bag of chips, then wiped her greasy hands on the back of my clothes. I think that’s about as asexual of a memory as you can have. Yet I jerked off to the replay of this scene dozens of times. There was something about her callousness that drove me wild. Of course, in my replay I would make her more overtly mean and me far more submissive and accepting. Mind you, I had no idea what a vagina was at that point but I know she wiped herself on me at some point in my fantasy.
High school was more of the same but a lot more intense for one main reason — internet message boards. We got a modem when I was in 9th grade and I watched an episode of the Howard Stern television show. An episode in which a Dom led a hooded slave on a leash, ashed in his mouth then hocked up a loogie and spit it in his mouth. I was sitting with a friend and thank god I had a quilt and the book “It” in my lap because I had an immediate orgasm watching that. Not kidding — wasn’t touching myself in any way but watching that I involuntarily arched my back and came all over the inside of that quilt. It was that powerful to me at the time. (If anyone has that clip I would be your BFF forever if you would share it with me).
So, all of as sudden I realized there were and could find stories that appealed to me. I should mention, the typical skin magazines that kids could get there hands on was boring to me—or at least it became boring very quickly. I started some online relationships with “girls” (who knows now?) where I was dominated. I completely fabricated stories how I was tortured by my step-mom in all sorts of “horrific” ways including being a toilet. Even as I think back on it 30 years later I cringe inwardly. I think I found a female domination message board but it got shut down after a short while.
Then in my 20s I discovered the wonders of porn. I was always too shy/embarrassed to go to adult stores but I remember buying a VHS video called “I Spit on you Slave!” that came by mail. I was so excited to watch it but it was so obviously fake that I hated it. Literally watched it once. Came in mostly self-defense and pride (I spent $59 on this video and didn’t even come!?). Well, it was real women spitting but it was merely documenting the physical act. What makes spitting or snot exciting to me is being the receptacle. Of being compelled to, or even better willingly opening up your mouth to have think snot spit hocked up from deep in the throat into it. It’s the degradation of the act that’s exciting. The complete shift of the power dynamic — to be the one snot is spit into. To hear laughter and funny comments from the ones doing the spitting. To feel my cheeks heat up from the humiliation.
And from then to more present day. Not much has changed. Better videos. More creative videos with sites like clips 4 sale. Specific femdom dedicated stores and sights. Now I guess there’s FetLife and other similar sites where you could theoretically meet like-minded people.
I’m just glad I found my one and only goddess so I don’t have to wade through the very confusing process.