I have always wanted to write down my journey into BDSM and the lifestyle. This will be wrote as I remember it. There will be sex in it. There will be rape fantasies. And hopefully some comedy in there as well. I dont know if people will believe what I write here. Weather you do or not, I hope you enjoy the read.
Morality. My mother called me a rapist the other day. Odd when you go back and read that. The interesting thing is I couldn't refute it. Now please dear reader, don't misunderstand. I have never taken or abused someone against their will. Which brings me back to Morality. Am I immoral because in my heart of hearts I know that the biggest sexual thrill was when I was made a rapist?
Made A Rapist. HA. But in hindsight I would have to say that I was made into a rapist unbeknownst to me. She was amazing however and will always be a highlight of my life. A good thing considering the knife wound that has left a scar on me forever.
I have ran into a number of women with rape fantasies. Those poor suburbans and their 50 shades of gray. If they only knew, HA.
It was 2001. I was 17 and a buddy of mine had borrowed a car to get out of town for good. I was hooking up with a carnival based out of St. Louis Mo. It was about 10 pm at night when I met up with the ride jock supervisor asking for a job. He was a friendly enough guy and agreed to take me on for a one night trial basis.
It worked out and I was on my way to New Orleans LA. Now let me cut in here for just a second. My vivacious readers, if you have never been a "ride jock" on a carnival, that shit needs it own discovery channel reality show. We worked for 2 days after that like brokeback slaves howing fields at a Alabama plantation. Woke up sunday morning at 9 am. Breakfast till 10. Show starts at 10:30. Run ride till midnight. Pack up show by 4 am. Drive to next place 3 hours away. Set up show as soon as we arrive. Run show till midnight. Sleep. FML. What was I thinking.
The next morning I awoke to the smell of sausage. I dont know why I remember that as vividly as I do. I crawled out of my bunk, lit a smoke, looked up...
And there she was. The woman that would make a rapist of me. Now I'm sure that everyone would love to read that she was some fine ass pornstar chick. She wasn't. But she did have 3 things my 17 year old brain couldnt get past. First, she had a set of breasts on her that would make the gods envious. Second she was walking right up to me with a big plate of food and finally she was eye fucking the shit out of me.
She handed me the plate of food, giggled, and said "Here you go sweetheart," in this southern bell voice that made me want her right then.
"Thank ya Darlin," I replied.
Where did that come from. I'm not from the south. Somewhere John Wayne is mighty proud. And that was it. Not another look from her for 2 weeks. My poor 17 year old brain couldn't figure that one out.
There are a few things that go on during the after hours on a carnival "midway". Fucking the townies. Doing drugs. Drinking. Gambling. Fighting. The list goes on. But I had a passion for "Bones". Or Dominoes.
For some reason I grasped bones in a very dominate way and soon became the top player there.
Except when she finally played me on my birthday.
Now in my defense, I had smoked some pot, been drinking, and was pretty much acting like a complete ass.
"Hey, If I come over there and beat your ass at bones will that finally shut your drunk ass up?" She screamed at me.
By the time I realize that she is yelling that at me she has made her way over to us with 2 shot glasses and a bottle of Captain Morgan.
"Depends on what I get out of it should I beat your ass." I replied at her mockingly.
The look she gives me screams 'say one more thing and ill slap the taste out of your mouth', which gives me pause.
"Heres the deal, every move you make that scores points, I drink a shot. Same for you. First to 500 wins, or the first to pass out drunk."
"Stakes?"
"I win, you stay sober and cook me dinner every night for the next week. You win and I'll give you a lap-dance... topless."
"Deal."
Readers, I lost. I could go into the details of getting shit faced drunk and falling out of my chair. Or any of the other disgusting things that come with drink that much alcohol.
But I'll spare you.
I woke the next morning with out any clothes on in my RV with what felt like someone beating my head in with a sledge hammer. As I collected myself, I remembered how I came to find myself in such a state. She dragged my drunk ass into bed, stripped me down and whispered "you lost."
After the long work day I'm walking across the midway firing up a joint. After my 4th good pull out of nowhere a hand connects with the side of my face.
"You lost. Sober and dinner for a week," She reminds me with all indignation. "Well come on. Dinner wont cook itself, and sober means that too," pointing at the joint.
"So what do you want me to cook?" I asked.
"Those pizzas in the oven."
Getting off easily, I thought. So I set the oven, snagged a couple of waters in the fridge, and went and sat down.
"So, you have never told me your name," I started.
"You never asked."
"Ok, I'm asking."
"I tell you what, lets see how the night goes and maybe you'll learn my name"
"Fair enough," I reply "so what do you want me to call you?"
"Darlin." She smiles at me wickedly. "About that lap---"
BEEP. Fucking pizzas.
To Be Continued...
