Sometimes hell comes to us in different forms. For me, hell was a living one. I woke up each day lower than the next, and my goal was to reach rock bottom. I was soaring, like a torpedo since my divorce, toward my goal. Then he appeared. Not some ghost of a man, who lived his life in fairy tales, but one who’d show me a way out of my hole.
I never knew his world existed or that I belonged in it with him. I’d learn the hardest way, by experience. And I’d come to love him with every breath I took and every bond he clasped upon me. I’d submit my body and my soul and call him Sir, Master and my Dom, for me there would never be a greater passion.
Through the haze of my slow burning need to destroy who I was, love found me. Would I be able to accept it and return it? Could I put my trust in another’s hands? I’d find love, passion and I’d find submission as my one true self.