How It Began Part Two

If I had known then what I know now, I may have never sent Phillip that e-mail.  I may have realized the risks—that I was revealing a deep part of myself he might not accept.

He could reject me. Tell me I was abnormal. Or weird. Or crazy.

So many risks.

But I didn’t realize that when I hit send. I was nervous—pounding heart, churning stomach--, but I never really thought things through about how he would react.

I just hit send.

And lucky for me he didn’t freak out. He didn’t call me crazy.

No, he came home early from work that night and made some of those fantasies I had written about in the e-mail come true.

Over the next few days, weeks, and months, our entire relationship shifted. Sex finally came to the forefront. We explored new things together and grew in ways I never thought possible. We played lots of ‘D/s games’…we had a special bracelet I wore when feeling submissive, we had special rules, special nights of the week. We even had an entire day of D/s when the kids were gone. It was all just ‘bedroom stuff’, but it was good and we were happy.

And then came his e-mail.

Unbeknownst to me, Philip had been doing some reading and research of his own. And about six months after I sent my e-mail, he sent one proposing a 24/7 power exchange. I didn’t hesitate to agree.

In the beginning I was anxious and wanted to jump in. He wanted a slower pace. This led to some early bumps, but once I learned to let go and follow, things got easier. The road hasn’t always been perfectly smooth—we’ve had our growing pains. We’ve had some pretty big fights—and even a few times where we’ve had to step back from things.

When he brought up the power exchange, I didn’t think it would be a big shift to our relationship. He’d always been the ‘one to where the pants’ anyways. But I was wrong.

TTWD has changed EVERYTHING in our relationship. What I once thought was a happy marriage pales in comparison to how we are now. I’ve never felt this close to anyone, this in safe with someone, this in love with someone.  Even our dating days. Or our wedding day.

I don’t know exactly what we are. DD, Taken In Hand, M/s, D/s. We’re a little bit of all of it, I think. And a few months ago, he even became Daddy. Not as an age thing, but because it fits. He’s everything these days. My protector, my friend, my shoulder to cry on, my guide, my support, my safe place to fall.

Maybe we’re just us, making our own little place under the TTWD umbrella and waking wake up every day thankful that I sent that e-mail.

And that this---whatever it is---began.

How It Began Part One

I was barely out of high school when I met my husband, Phillip. He was the rebound off of my first serious relationship. Only he didn't want to be a rebound. I was a mess, but he didn't care. He picked me up, dusted me off, and four years later in the front of a church filled with friends and family, he made me his wife.

We had two amazing children, photo albums full of memories, and a long history of trust and friendship. We were happy.

Or so I thought.

In the months leading up to our tenth anniversary, I knew something was wrong. Phillip was growing quiet and withdrawn. I persisted and when the truth came out, I was forced to face what had been missing in our marriage from day one.

Sex. He wanted it. I didn't. I don't want to say we were in a sexless marriage, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't pretty darn close. I 'put out' what I thought was enough to keep him happy, but to me it was a chore, something to get through. I did it for him -- it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. And he knew that.

I don't know why I was that way. Maybe it was my overzealous religious upbringing that had me believe I should only have sex with the man I marry (and husband was sexual partner #3 for me). Or maybe it was because I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse. I don't know. All I do know is that I had built up thick walls around any sexual part of me.

Phillip tried to break them down. Over and over he tried. He encouraged me to share my fantasies. He tried toys and games. He listened for hours, constantly reassuring me, as I cried over my childhood incidents. But those walls refused to budge, and after a decade of ramming into them, he was tired. I was losing him.

I remember how frozen I was as I watched him pack for a 'weekend to get away and think'. I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't know how to break those walls for him. At the last minute, he asked me to join him and something inside of me wanted to fight for this -- for us.

In a hotel room in one of our favorite places on earth, I first let my submissive side out to play. I gave him some of his fantasies and for the first time, really enjoyed doing it. It was an amazing weekend and things did get better when we came home.

During this time, I began to pursue a lifelong dream of mine to be an author. I wrote a book. I revised and revised and revised that book. I reached out and joined writer's groups, made writing friends, formed critique partner relationships. I started a blog, entered contests, attended a writer's conference. I queried agents, celebrated some success, dealt with a lot of rejection. Phillip was there, every step of the way. He read several drafts, helped me query, made dinner, took the kids to their activities so I could write. He was perfect. And we were happy.

Or so I thought.

It took a long time for me to find the courage to finally admit to those I'm close to that writing a book was a dream of mine. Even longer for me to begin to reach out and pursue it. And finding the courage to share my writing -- that was nearly impossible. I took so much courage, that I think somewhere during the process, some of the walls of insecurity and doubt I had built over my life began to tumble down.

One hot summer night, while Phillip was working and the kids were sleeping, those walls I built to suppress my sexual self came tumbling down. Behind them were all the fantasies I hid -- the ones I'd had since childhood. Ones about force, about pain, about being controlled. They turned me on, intrigued me, and scared me. They went against everything I'd ever been taught to believe. For far too long they made me feel twisted and dirty.

That's why I hid them away. But not that night. The walls were down, the dam was broken. They overwhelmed me and I wrote several of them down in an e-mail.

I addressed it to Phillip. And I hit send.