The Secret Life of a Submissive. Sarah K

long-distance Domming really wasn’t his bag. He promised to be in touch as soon as he arrived home, assuming that I hadn’t found someone in the meantime, and he was very happy to talk and answer any questions I had, whether I had found someone or not. He wished me luck.

      Max was a few years older than me, around six feet tall, with dark hair shot through with grey. On his profile he came across as witty, confident and warm. It was well written, readable, and in that happy land between a one-liner and being way too long. He also sounded sane, reasonable and, broadly speaking, as if he was looking for the same kind of things as I was. To be honest, he had slipped my mind, so I was really pleased when, after Manacle Man, his email arrived.

      Dear Sarah

      Thank you for your email. Apologies for the delay in getting back to you, but I didn’t arrive back in the UK until late last week.

      First of all let me say I’m honoured that you contacted me.

      In answer to the first part of your email, yes of course it is possible to talk. May I suggest that you use the private email address [provided] or if you prefer you can ring me on my mobile [which he included]. This is a mobile number for obvious security reasons, but should we decide to extend our contact then I’d be more than happy to give you my landline number.

      As I am sure you realize, there are a vast range of possibilities existing in the Dom/sub world and it’s important that you try and find someone with wants and needs that are similar to your own. It’s better to wait for the right fit than be unhappy or uncomfortable with your choices.

      You have obviously gathered that I am a Dom.

      My view on the Dom/sub relationship is hard to sum up in a few paragraphs, but basically I don’t believe that subs should be subjected to continual physical pain or abuse. I’d be lying if I said these don’t have a part, but there is much more to be gained in other areas, particularly in the mind.The fact that you write erotic fiction suggests that you already understand the power of the imagination – and I suspect that the anticipation of future events could be important to you. I would obviously be interested in reading some of your work.

      There are many ways that fantasy can become reality, but as you have suggested, finding a sane and safe way to express and explore it is often hard. Many people would expect to move forward quickly; however, I suggest that we move at your pace. I do have some fundamental rules of engagement – but let’s talk first and then we can discuss what, if anything, comes next.

      Kind regards

      Max

      He sounded nice, interesting, articulate. Just reading the email gave me a funny little buzz of anticipation, although I had to remind myself that this wasn’t a fantasy, and nor was Max a character in one of my books; this was potentially the real thing, with a real man. I emailed Max back with a list of questions. He replied, taking everything point by point, and then suggested that it might be much easier if we talked on the phone.

      Easier yes. Easier actually to dial the number? No.

      I sat at my desk and stared at his number for a while, wondering whether I dared ring or not. The thing was he sounded so right that I’d be a fool not to ring; but if he wasn’t, given how many people I’d met and how disappointed I’d been, how was I going to feel? What if he spoke with a high-pitched nasal twang? What if he was like Manacle Man? What if he was not at all as I imagined him? In lots of ways Max felt like the last roll of the dice before I crept back to normal land with my tail between my legs.

      I dialled his number but couldn’t quite bring myself to press ‘call’. Lots of what ifs flitted through my mind, but the bottom line was I’d never know what he was like until we spoke. Finally I pressed the button.

      The phone rang at the other end – once, twice, three times, four. How long before hanging on for the pick-up came across as desperate? Maybe he wasn’t in; maybe I’d dialled the wrong number.

      ‘Hello,’ said a deep, cultured male voice.

      ‘Hello, Max?’ I said. ‘It’s Sarah.’

      ‘Sarah, great to hear from you. I’m really pleased you called,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

      Any nervousness I had had about talking to him evaporated within seconds. Max’s voice was warm and tinged with good humour. He was easy to talk to from the first sentence, answered everything I asked him without hesitation, and made me laugh. It also soon became clear during our first phone call that he was many, many other things besides a Dom.

      He liked to cook, liked the theatre, films, travel, books and music, but that natural need to be in charge and take control had informed his whole life and the choices he had made. He ran a successful business, he was confident and articulate, and while his sexual preferences weren’t something he broadcast in his everyday life they were something he was completely at ease with. He was a breath of fresh air.

      Over the next couple of weeks we spoke most evenings, until it became obvious that the next step was meeting or calling it a day.

      ‘So,’ said Max at the end of a marathon session on the phone, ‘would you like to meet?’

      ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

      ‘But?’ he prompted. I knew he’d heard it in my voice.

      We’d got on really well on the phone and chatted for hours, but I was worried that when we met we might not be what the other had imagined. I told him so.

      ‘There’s only one way to find out. But before we meet, we need to talk about how things progress from here. I want you to understand that, for me, BDSM is a real-life thing –’

      ‘I know,’ I began. ‘We’ve talked –’

      ‘You need to understand what you’re getting into.’ Max sounded cool and businesslike. ‘There are rules of engagement that we both need to observe when we play together. I’ve drawn up a contract.’

      ‘Are you serious?’ I said. I’d seen and written contracts in BDSM novels but I wasn’t sure that they existed in real-life BDSM relationships.

      ‘Contracts are a big part of the BDSM life. It’s for my protection as much as yours. Have you thought about how one of your friends would react if she came in and found you tied up and me horsewhipping you?’

      I hadn’t.

      ‘The contract shows that you’ve given me consent. I know we’ve talked about the things that turn us both on, but we also need to discuss the point beyond which you are not prepared to go, and the things you find unacceptable.’

      ‘Surely those things are obvious?’

      He laughed. ‘You would have thought so, wouldn’t you, but it’s better if they’re spelled out and down on paper.’

      I said it all sounded a bit formal.

      ‘It is,’ Max said. ‘We’re moving this up a gear. You need to learn to be frank and honest with me – the relationship between Dom and sub is far more open and intimate than one between straight couples. And you’ll need to choose safe words.’

      I’d written about safe words in my books, so I knew what they were: they’re used between BDSM partners to stop any activity that is going too far. Max wanted me to choose three: one that would tell him that everything was OK, should he ask, one for ‘slow down’ and one for ‘stop’.

      For the first time since we’d started to talk on the phone I felt uneasy and nervous, and he picked that up. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I know you’re unsure about what you can cope with, but we can only find your limits by trial and error. We’ll take it really slowly. And for my part of the bargain I promise I’ll keep you safe, answer your questions as best I can and try to give you all the things you’re looking for.’

      ‘And all this is in writing?’

      ‘It is,’ he said. ‘Also when we’re playing I will expect you to give me total and complete