fais sois

Get out of your head. Do. Be.

I am 22 years old. I'm a woman. My sexual orientation is of little importance, as it varies according to my desires and my level of exhaustion with men. Professionally, I'm often told that one of my qualities is my desire to do the right thing. My BDSM role? To be determined. All in all, plenty of sweet experiences in store. My only concern is that they be meticulous.

I became curious about violence in sexual relations many years ago. I used to write a lot (things haven't changed), pages and pages that got lost in computers or external hard drives as technology evolved. I'd be embarrassed to have to justify myself today if they ever saw the light of day again. And in addition to writing, there was reading. As many do, Fifty Shades of Grey had the undeniable advantage of putting words to these fantasies. As an Internet generation, I also had early access to books on the web. And the more I read, the more I wanted to know. 

The world of BDSM fascinated me. An opaque world, almost accessible at your fingertips. What did I really want there? I'd been able to identify with Anastasia from Fifty Shadesthan Katsuki or Izuku in We Wear Chains on the Weekends. From experience, I knew I liked being dominated to a certain extent. From experience too, I'd had Dominant gestures or impulses during certain relationships. I wanted to know more about myself. About BDSM and its resources.

Things accelerated at the beginning of the school year. I met a guy I liked, which is rare. We slept together and things were going well, which was even rarer. It wasn't long before we were talking about kinks. I sent him my list. He defined himself as Dominant, and I wanted to give it a try. He liked me, I liked him. In the end, he didn't set up anything of his own and then he moved away. I'm not one for tears, and even less for unreliable people, but I was disappointed. 

So I signed up on specialized sites, and then it was a whirlwind. I think I've met nothing but men. Submissive, Dominant, Switch, and the whole spectrum of roles I haven't quite mastered yet. They all came to talk to me. For a week or two I had fun taking on different roles, playing the game, and then finally I got deeply bored. 

Almost all were heavy. Some were downright dangerous. So I decided on two criteria for my first attempt at BDSM:

  • A safe and secure environment
  • Involving a woman

It was under these conditions that I arrived at the Inanna Justice website. By the time my reflections led me there, it was late. Blue and frustrated, her articles immediately appealed to me. Reliable sources of information on BDSM are rare, and even rarer in French. Inanna and I talked about it in an exchange. Her site was a gold mine. As you can see, she met both my criteria. They're basic, you might say, and you'd be right. So non-negotiable.

Of course, I asked about other Dommes, but I liked Inanna. She was fully invested in the community. (She has since sent me various sources and maps of Paris, with her recommendations and explanations). Community involvement is an activity that has had a strong impact on me in recent years, and I recognized in it the mark of a person who could also appeal to me in terms of personality. What's more, since my family had suffered on various occasions from subjects dealing with prostitution, all these elements enabled me to confirm that I was not dealing with a network proliferating slavery. She was free and enlightened, which is in fact the legal definition of consent.

It was essential. It changed everything for me.

I contacted her. I received a reply the very next day. 

Inanna Justice is a professional. She is responsive, punctual and clear in what she says. We exchanged emails, then video calls, and set a date for the session. The big day arrived.

Of course I was stressed. My best friend knew. My identity papers and blood group card were in my bag in case anything unexpected happened and I had to call the emergency services (I have a flair for melodrama and a prolific imagination). Clean, curious, not knowing exactly what to expect and at the same time having reread the questionnaire I'd sent her three times, the time came. Inanna gave me the access codes, I went up to the apartment and she welcomed me. 

By sight she had been beautiful. In reality, she was impressive. She had a big smile and blue eyes. It took me a while to realize that she was in heels and that we were actually the same size. I was amused. I'd come in a baggy sweatshirt to avoid any whistling in the street, so I was poorly dressed. I also thought she couldn't care less, since in a few minutes there would be no question of clothes at all. 

Inanna then invited me to sit down, and talking to her was very easy. I drank some water. It calmed me down. I almost forgot to hand her the envelope for her payment, a particularly embarrassing moment. We chatted a bit more, then she suggested I go to the shower. The warm water on my shoulders and face finished relaxing me. I passed the mirror and said to myself. Are you really doing this? Yes, obviously. I untied my hair, got down on my knees as she'd requested, careful to keep my eyes downcast. I have a temper, but this was our first try. I wanted to see the facts unfold, and I always prefer humility to arrogance. So I took a deep breath, reminded myself that this woman was competent as well as nice, and that my doubts were normal. I knocked on the door to let her know I was ready. In fact, I couldn't wait. 

One of the things that stands out in my mind is that Inanna - I call her Madame - used to explain to me what she was doing. She took her time because she knew I was taking my first steps. She explained the symbolism of the necklace. She let me feel the latex and leather. I took the time to meet them. Later she (re)taught me that the submissive is not passive, that he or she is an integral part of the D/S relationship. That's basic information too. I'll say. 

From then on, Madame pinches, bites, spits and hits. She also caresses, laughs, licks, touches. She immobilizes me,  I'm introduced, authorized, then forbidden. She questions, demands and enjoys herself. She makes a spectacle of herself, laughs at me and compliments me (two sides of the same coin that I particularly like - for me submissive valuing doesn't necessarily exclude humiliation). She's quick to point out that I don't handle pain well, and it's true. Not even level one according to her. The situation is so ridiculous that I laugh. I'm tied up, buttocks out, with a woman whose job it is to be sadistic. And I'm a comforter. 

And all the time I'm concentrating on not analyzing the situation and enjoying the moment. My acting teachers used to tell me that. Get out of your head. Do. Be. Except that I have an intellectual personality and I can't go against that. So I take the problem in reverse. My strength is my imagination, and if I can't let go, then I'll project. Madame makes it easy. She laughs and I laugh with her. 

Many people write or describe gaining confidence as walls that collapse. On the contrary, my mental walls rise and I find the calm of a place I know well. When I create, I'm in the same oasis of calm. The field of possibilities opens up and I suddenly feel I can see better. I smile like a madwoman. My brain spins at two hundred miles an hour.

And Madame is as sadistic as she is generous. She calls me names, bursts out laughing, and all the time the blue neon light turns her eyes almost white, and it's terribly delicious. Music accompanies her throughout the room. When I'm allowed to see, I follow her with my eyes over my shoulder. I'm curious, eager to learn all I can in the time available. 

I have strands of hair all over my face but I almost forget about them. Madame gives me a simple goal to achieve. Simplistic, but not here, not in this context. She hands me back the reins for the home stretch. I'm pathetically inefficient, but for the first time in a long time I'm having a blast. It's a difficult balance, but one that's working at the moment. She wants me to look at her. It's sexy as hell. Of course I look at it. As much as I can. It's a question of trust at this point. She had my respect long before I came along, but the hour now drawing to a close has confirmed it a hundredfold. This woman knows what she's doing. And she does it well.

The descent is gentle. Tranquil. When I turn around, it's chaos. Latex gloves everywhere. The sign of a good session, according to Madame, who's become Inanna again. I feel like I've spent the afternoon on a massage table. 

I pick up the hair clip floating somewhere in my mane, hand it back, thank her, revel in the moment, which is just fun. In the shower, my nipples ache and putting on my T-shirt becomes a mini-challenge in itself. That's a good sign. I sit down with her again. We take the time to debrief, then talk about other things. She advises me to stay hydrated and eat well, and warns me that I may be in danger of losing weight. drop after the fact. Apparently it happens. I find the idea far-fetched. 

When I get home, I sprawl out on the bed. I look for my headphones, fearing for a moment that I've left them there, then I find them in my trouser pocket. I put on Rachael Yamagata, Hozier, The Pirouettes, Florence + The Machine, Jeanne Added. I unlock my phone, telling myself I'd better stay focused on me. After a few seconds I realize I'm not really looking at my screen. It takes me long, long minutes, maybe even an hour before I feel able to take a deep breath and get cooking.

Inanna Justice was right.

In conclusion: Highly recommend, would do it again.

fais sois

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