We are all virgins at some point. Virgins to the BDSM lifestyle. Many of us begin on the bottom. Whether we stay there or not, is often up to chance.
 
 

There are so many ways for it to happen…
 
 

Sometimes

Copyright 1998 Screamer, All Rights Reserved



Sometimes, the first time you get beat is easy. You're there because you want to be there.

Sometimes, the person who's beating you loves you. Sometimes, they don't. Sometimes, you'll go on to have a relationship with this person, fall in love, live together, fuck each other's brains out. And sometimes, you'll pack up your toy bag and go home at the end of the night, proud that you survived it, sad that it's over, happy to have finally made a foray into your fantasies.

Sometimes, if you're very lucky, you'll fall in love with someone who also wants to beat you. You'll talk about it and laugh about it, and anticipate it until the moment it happens. Perfect love, perfect trust. All the pieces will fall into place and you will be rapt with understanding of what it is your desires mean.

Sometimes, you won't be lucky. The top won't love you, and will only beat you because you're a virgin, and you make a good target. Sometimes, the panic that sets in as the last cuff is attached envelops your entire soul, and you're not entirely sure you can withstand even one swipe of a paddle from this person. Your whole world, for the entire time you're bound, is about getting through it, and having a badge of honor to wear. You'll wonder, in those infinite moments, if this is really what you wanted, or if it's just a game that your mind is playing with you.

Sometimes, you'll walk away unscathed. You'll get in your car, sit your sore ass down on a cold car seat and sigh in relief - that it's over - that you're no longer a virgin - that it doesn't matter if it hurt really bad or felt really good. You did it. And you're proud.

Sometimes, you'll walk away hurt, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Sometimes, your trust is betrayed, on your very first run, and you'll wonder what it was that drew you to this. You'll drive home angry and afraid, if you can drive at all, and you'll cry for days, wondering how you could have fucked up your life this badly.

Sometimes, it's just a beating.

But sometimes, it's something else.

And when it is something else, and you watch in wonderment as those pieces fall so deftly into place, how you survived so long without this.

Sometimes, it's just pain.

But sometimes, it's a miracle.
 
 

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