Savage SEAL’s Virgin

Blyss

Blyss

BDSM stands for b*****e, Discipline, Domination/Submission, and Sadism/Masochism. They were a bunch of frightening words, that was for sure. And it just so happened that I was planning to write my master’s thesis on that taboo topic. As a psychology major and a virgin, I was in for a drastic change in my sheltered world. I knew that going into my summer project; If I had parents to answer to, then perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen this subject to explore thoroughly. But I didn’t have a family at all.

My story was one of those sad ones. I was dropped at a fire station as a newborn and sent to an orphanage. I wasn’t as lucky as most babies. I was born addicted to all kinds of drugs and alcohol. My mother must’ve had a genuine love for all things that were bad. I was her complete opposite. Most likely, the violent withdrawals as a tiny baby had become part of my permanent makeup and had been stored in my cell-memory bank. Liquor didn’t appeal to me and I’d had not so much as an aspirin all the way up to my early twenties.

Then I decided that my life needed to be shaken up a bit. There’d been no one who had sheltered me. I’d done that to myself, burying myself in books since I had learned to read at the tender age of five. I’d found companionship in stories and knowledge in textbooks. I loved to read so much so that I hardly ever stopped reading. As they say, too much of anything, even a good thing, is bad for you. I was more than an avid reader. I was an addicted reader, which kept me from experiencing many things, including friendships. I’d never made one friend in all my years of growing up.

There was no need to make friends. Books were my world and these characters were my only friends, until I began college. My roommates weren’t about to leave me alone with my books. Finally, I learned how to let people in while not letting them take me over. I liked it. I liked opening up to people and listening to their ideas, life stories, and daily drama.

I had no drama in my life. It was as sterile as the environment I lived in. I kept everything in perfect order. White was my favorite color and everything I owned was that color, or lack thereof. My wardrobe consisted of lab coats, which I wore on a daily basis. I had slacks that matched them, and even my undergarments were as plain as I could find.

The dark world of b**m was ancient. The basics of the lifestyle seemed to be bred into us all. Man ruled over his women, which whittled down to one woman in many societies. He used anything he had to keep her in line. Brutality was necessary back in those caveman days. Males had to be brutal to maintain their mates. Not only did they have to fight off other males who tried to rob them of their women, but they also had to fight their women on occasion.

On occasion, females tried to run off. Others didn’t want to give up their s****l favors to the males who’d taken them from their father’s cave. Males resorted to the only thing that was hardwired into them; hold her down and do it anyway. Procreation had to occur, whether females understood that or not. Time moved on and we all evolved. That caveman mentality became unacceptable, and that was for the good of all. Things progressed and polite society looked down on rough s****l activity. But some of the naughtier individuals still played rough behind closed doors and in dark places where others wouldn’t see them.

It was that darkness that lured me in. I wasn’t vanilla. I was far worse than that. I was an untouched specimen. I needed an experienced Dom to take over me. My mind was set; I would hand myself over to him with no qualms. Everything we did, how I felt about it all, and how I felt about the man who’d done those things to me were to be noted. Then I’d make charts and sub-charts about the whole thing and write my thesis once summer was over.

I could’ve researched different men. I could’ve asked around to find things out. But I wanted a clean slate when I began my research. I wanted to go into an auction and to allow the right man to find me. The thing that made it all okay in my mind was the fact that my emotions were left out of everything. That was the stipulation of many Dom/Sub contracts. Once it was over, the two people would walk away from one another with no hard feelings. Love wasn’t a thing that was supposed to occur.

I was happy about that. I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for an experience that I could write about and learn from—and that would make an excellent how I lost my virginity story.

Not many women would have the story I’d have.

Only a couple of weeks stood in my way. I’d done no research on anything that had to do with actual b**m kinks. That way, I’d be able to accept whatever the man who bought me would want. Whatever he wanted to do to me, I wanted him to do. I was a blank slate and more than ready to be changed. My body had never experienced anything s****l. I’d never m*********d. No o****m had ever filled me. I had no idea what that would feel like or if I’d even experience one.

The men I knew jokingly called me a robot. I was fine with that. Not all women c****x, from what I’d read about human sexuality. I did realize that I wasn’t normal. One doesn’t go through life, living in another world that’s alongside the real one and not see that she’s different. The truth was, I was tired of being different. I wanted to be normal, but knew I had no clue how to become that. So I could be something else other than normal. I could be a Submissive. I could belong to someone. I’d never belonged to anyone in my entire life. It was time I let that happen.

I’d do it for the summer, and if I found I liked it, then I’d sign up for another auction and give myself to more and more Doms, until the right one bought me and wanted to keep me. No one had ever wanted to keep me. Not ever. Putting myself up for sale was risky. But so was living my life the way I had. I had deprived myself of so many things. All that was about to change. I was about to let loose and let go of all the things I’d clung to so desperately.

Once upon a time, my mother put me outside of a fire station. From what I was told, I had on no clothes, nor was I wrapped in a blanket. I was placed in a box and a storm was raging. No one was sure just how long I’d been outside. It was a miracle I hadn’t drowned or died from exposure. In my mind, if my newborn body could handle all that, my adult body was capable of even more. I was about to test limits I knew nothing about and hoped the Dom who’d buy me, would.