It’s weird, but even though I’m writing this, knowing what I’m about to write, I’m cringing. It’s as though by putting this down on paper—or on this blog—I’m making it super real. You know, admitting something that I’ve only ever spoken about with one female friend—and that was only touched on briefly as we didn’t have much time (we’d started talking about it just before our lift turned up).
Anyway, I can feel it inside, this need to “go round the houses”, where I want to stall, not say anything, sort of scarper away from this keyboard and not look back until this madness has passed. But how will I find answers if I don’t ask questions? And what if there’s someone else out there just like me, who isn’t sure what to do?
I’m thinking that erotic fiction has helped women to understand what they might want. It’s certainly helped me. I’m curious as anything in wanting to try new things, and I’m lucky that I have a husband I trust totally. But even though we’ve dabbled very lightly, we’ve never gone further than lightly. You know, being bound with a necktie or a dressing gown cord, all the handy things that are close by in the bedroom, never anything actually bought for the purpose. Well, apart from a pair of handcuffs where the key broke and we were trying frantically to get them off me, because, let’s face it, what child wants to face their parent over the breakfast table in the morning when said parent is wearing a pair of fake-diamond-studded handcuffs?
Okay, I’m going to just say it.
Hello. My name is Alice, and I want to indulge in BDSM.
Oh, my goodness. It’s done. Said. Out there.
So I want to go a step further than fun kink. I want to see what it’s like to have my arse slapped not just once in a sex session but several times—until it hurts and I get to see whether the pain really does turn to pleasure. Yet there’s a stumbling block, something I mentioned earlier. Kids. I worry they will hear the slaps. It’s bad enough when just having “regular” sex, knowing they might hear. I can never fully relax, so really, wanting to be slapped is asking for a bit much, isn’t it? How can I have that yet be quiet at the same time?
What do you want? And could you blurt it out—or will it always remain a secret?