Thursday, 17 December 2009


When Virgil and I met, over a year ago now, I was under the spell of a Dom. I would disappear off to south London and return with bruises and food for thought.

My connection with the Dom was going nowhere. It was an infatuation that had started in the summer when he wrote to me through a BDSM contact site. Getting to know the actual Dom, as opposed to the fantasy I had concocted, was a process of personal reeducation and some disillusionment. However, I did have some interesting D-s experiences with him.

I had really wanted to find a proper Dom to have a D-s relationship with and submit to, someone to punish and cherish me. When I tried to explain the appeal of it, my friend Marcia laughed and said that everyone needed the occasional day tied to the radiator. But increasingly, as well as Radiator Days there were days with Virgil. Virgil at that time was known to Marcia as the Boy Genius, and those days we called Chandelier Days.

Virgil got to know quite a lot about the Dom (they eventually met, although much later and under circumstances I could not have predicted). I didn't know it, but he had already fallen in love with me. I am sure that my other pursuits added to my initial appeal.

Virgil isn't my Dom, of course, but there isn't room for a proper Dom in my life now that I am in a relationship with him. I don't think there could be, although I sometimes wonder whether an occasional visit to a disciplinarian might be possible.

Virgil still likes to tease about my D-s adventures. He reacts with rolling eyes and gleeful derision to the Gothic accessories, hackneyed sterotypes and labels of much BDSM but he readily admits to lurking on the fringes of that scene. I am grateful that leather waistcoats and chaps are not for him. Instead he makes a wonderfully cruel and boyishly handsome Prefect. He also enjoys giving a good beating quite as much as I enjoy taking one.

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