The Day I Fell Into the World of BDSM

I doubt there is an ordinary woman who has never, even just in her imagination, wondered what it would be like to try a dominant or submissive role.

I know several women whose curiosity was awakened by reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

But when I experienced some of that world for myself, I realised the book was only a romantic fantasy scratching the surface.

Still, let me not jump too far ahead.

At work, I often felt that I was too quiet.

I did my job well, but when I disagreed with something, I usually stayed in the background and compromised.

“Be grateful you have a job at all,” I would tell myself.

During those moments, I sometimes escaped into social media for a few minutes just to recharge.

I often shared a quote, image or video that expressed whatever I was feeling.

After one such post, a man wrote to me and invited me into a Facebook group of around two or three hundred people.

He said that, based on my posts and the way I thought, he believed I would feel comfortable there.

The group accepted me immediately.

They were friendly.

It became a kind of family community with private conversations, and real friendships developed.

Then came Oxana Asthon Mayer.

She was kind.

In photographs she looked like a beautiful woman.

She was funny and educated.

We built the friendship slowly.

Long letters over several months.

Late-night chats.

Because I believed she was a woman, I told her all my little secrets.

One day I said something so stereotypically “girly” that she asked me to look more closely at her profile.

So I did.

There were all kinds of unfamiliar expressions:

trans girl, extreme high-heel fetish, corsets, gloves, bondage, shibari, and, not least, “klitty”.

That sent me straight to Google and the library.

I wrote down and collected hundreds of questions.

I had plenty to research.

By evening I understood that I was talking to a woman living in a male body.

But I still had questions.

She called me.

Her voice was extraordinarily deep.

Not long afterwards, we met.

A striking woman stood in front of me — someone who could also easily have been considered attractive in a masculine presentation.

She asked me not to focus on the male side of her body because people around her did not know about it.

Then came our first weekend together.

We stayed at my place because she lived around a hundred kilometres away.

I was slightly nervous.

I had grown very fond of her, but I did not know what she wanted from me.

We had never spoken about sex or romance.

We were friends.

She arrived for two days with a huge suitcase.

I will not list everything inside, but there were three pairs of high heels among the equipment.

During her first change of clothes I almost laughed.

The situation felt surreal to me at first.

Outwardly she presented as a beautiful woman, with a feminine body, while her voice remained masculine.

Nothing sexual happened that night beyond affectionate touching.

That was when she told me she was a switch.

Google helped again.

So she could enjoy both dominant and submissive roles.

“So you want to beat me?” I asked.

“No, Rapunzel. It only means I take control,” she said with an easy smile.

“Let's try it.”

That brought us to the following weekend.

This time I was genuinely tense.

I had no idea whether she would find a curvy woman like me attractive.

There was another layer too:

She identified as lesbian.

We kissed and held each other.

Then I suddenly stopped.

“But you're a lesbian. This can't work,” I said.

She explained that her own anatomy did not prevent her from experiencing pleasure.

I decided to trust her.

I wanted to continue.

Every kiss and embrace felt heavenly.

I had never experienced myself as so sensual.

My body responded in a way that surprised me and, at first, embarrassed me.

The intensity of desire felt unfamiliar.

We continued slowly and carefully, and the experience remained gentle.

The second time we met intimately, we experimented with whether I might enjoy being submissive.

She gave me small instructions and tried to guide me into the role.

It quickly became clear:

I was definitely not a submissive.

So we tried the opposite.

Dominance.

She placed a whip in my hand and asked me to give her a light strike.

The moment I held it, I immediately felt comfortable in the role.

Strong.

Attractive.

Untouchable.

My hand was hesitant during the first strike.

I was slightly frightened when I saw a faint red mark appear on her skin.

She did not say anything.

She only looked at me, clearly waiting for me to continue.

My hand moved again, this time more confidently.

Then one strike followed another.

What excited me most was seeing how much she enjoyed the experience.

And strangely, my own excitement rose to the same intense level I had felt during our first encounter.

That fire has stayed with me ever since.

Step by step, I discovered that the dominant role suited me.

A few months later we were invited to a shibari evening.

I was afraid I might feel out of place, but to my own surprise everything came naturally.

I even helped behind the bar because the bistro area was busy.

People were kind and open.

They welcomed me like family.

I saw well-known people there too — public figures and familiar television personalities.

I heard comments such as:

“Oh, your shoes are adorable. Can I try them on?”

Who would say no to that?

It is a fascinating world.

---

Different — and at the same time not different at all.

Because people are people here too.

Real people.

With deep inner lives that are often misunderstood.

I care about them.

(The cover image is only an illustration.)

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