That one time
Updated: a day ago
The taste for humiliation began taking shape in my mid twenties. I assume the seeds had been sewn in the years leading up but I wouldn't want to look back and ascribe importance to any one event. It's a bit murky at this point. This isn't the kind of thing you can cross check with your girl friends. Anyway, I thought I was mostly vanilla. And until I met M, I pretty much was. Mostly.
The experience which veered me off-course occurred when I attending graduate school in a storied university town. I lived there for three years, studying, dating, drinking, and hanging with the super smart and funny girls of my program. I lived in a residence for older students on the tip of campus. This was also the time when I realized that the hyper-intellectual guys I fetishized rarely delivered on their promise. For all of their academic accomplishments, they never seemed to have their shit together.
One such individual, M, was living down the hall from me in residence. He was an aspiring lawyer, studying for his masters in X (I forget) to compensate for good-but-not-good-enough LSATs. He was a smart kid but without stellar references or roman numerals at the end of his names. The odds were against him. He knew it too.
MC was close to 6 feet, white and thin with floppy brown hair. It's hard to remember exactly what his face looked like but the features I recall best were his lips. They were gorgeous and full, giving his otherwise boyish appearance this incredible, feminine quality. He didn't dress well, although this was on par for the storied university town, so I barely noticed.
We began chatting in passing. I learned that he had a girlfriend but it wasn't going well. I had just broken up with someone and was waiting to see what the universe had in store for me. We soon began visiting each other daily, knocking on each others doors and chatting in the foyers. He was funny as hell, very dark and dry, and I obviously developed a ridiculous crush on him. I didn't know why- I just fell into these crushes easily, the attention was really intoxicating.
So chatting in hallways led to chatting in our rooms, led to chatting on IM, let to some degree of flirtation, driven mostly be me, I imagine. MC had let it slip one time that he and his girlfriend had been kinky, and that MC was switch. "what's a switch?" "what's kinky, I don't understand what you mean by that"...I liked asking questions. The answers were interesting but I was realizing that keeping conversation at a level just above mild titillation was GREAT, you could maintain this energy for hours and not really risk revealing yourself. MC was pretty open, sent me to websites, gave me a book or two to read. It presented BDSM in a way that scared me a little. I was intrigued but willing to dip a toe in the pool, nothing more.
The teasy interactions with MC went on for months. and months. I waited and waited. We would watch movies together and snuggle. No moves. I would hurriedly throw on strappy tank tops every time I recognized his knock on my door. Still, nada. It was frustrating as well. Thankfully, I was young, experienced in rejection and happy to just carry on with the slow simmer. Then one late night, on IM, we were both logged on. I said hey, how's it going, what are you up to. His reply: "I'm jerking off. Do you want to come watch?"
My heart began pounding. This was a weird invitation. Did I want to watch him jerk off? Not really . It's not exactly a sexy act. It's kind of like self inflicted violence. My ex had once sent me a video of him masturbating and I think the intent was to turn me on but it was kinda pathetic looking. I think female masturbation is much sexier, but sometimes you gotta play the hand you are dealt.
"pardon me? are you serious?"
"Yes, Ella. Come watch me jerk off. Door's open"
"be right there"
I remember walking to his room thinking, is this real? I wanted this guy badly, but did I want it like this? Where were the kisses? Where was the romance? What was gonna happen when I opened that door?
The hall way was crazy bright. He was on the opposite side of the hall, 3 doors down. In fact, the door was propped open against the lock. I heard some tv or something coming from inside. My hand shook a little as I raised it to the doorknob. I can't explain to you why I was nervous. It's not like he was asking me to engage in anything I was uncomfortable with. It was him. The face that MC had asked/commanded me to come to his room. He knew I wasn't going to say no. I felt like I taken part in something and not been fully aware. I knew that going into his room would mean the discovery of some new part of myself, but I didn't know what that would be.
Without any hesitation, I turned the doorknob and walked into his room. I won't go into detail about what happened that night...mostly because I don't remember it. What I remember clearly was how much I enjoyed where he had me. Firmly in his grip.