Chapter 1
No matter what I tried, I could not evade the hunger inside me that kept me keeping secrets from my wife. There was another version of me that lived not only in my mind, but also online. There was a time, a long time ago, when I would just find the specific kind of images online that aroused me, but I had gone far past that. The images led to searching out their sources, and finding not only the kinds of models that posed for them, but the photographers that shot them too. Since my desires were images of kink and bondage, that community expanded to riggers and dominants and submissives, and I discovered a lifestyle and a community waiting for me.
The person I was in that world had a made-up name, but the description of his personality and interests and desires felt like an exercise in radical honesty, every time I shared it. Within the embrace of the community of varied and yet understanding kinksters, I found understanding, acceptance and encouragement. The encouragement was not always to be a better person perhaps, as there was certainly a shared arousal of just going deeper and giving in more. It felt so good that I could hardly complain.
I told myself that the secrecy was required. My wife, whom I truly loved, reacted so poorly every time I tried to expose a bit more of what I might desire. When parts of my secrets were exposed or discovered, she was angry about the idea of me hiding away and spending time looking at porn, to be sure, but what hit me harder was how she reacted to those images she saw. She seemed filled with disgust and judgement, making me fear that if that was how she reacted to a few images of bondage and teasing, she would never be able to accept my growing desires to explore submission and bondage, the teasing use of sex toys, chastity, orgasm control and even more taboo thoughts of forced feminization.
There were so many men online with interests like mine, on both sides of the D/s equation that it was perhaps inevitable that I would find myself submitting to dominant men online. I had never thought of myself as attracted to men, but I found that dominance had the power to arouse me and place my mind in an obedient state of bliss, no matter the gender of the person controlling me in that moment. It seemed that Dominant women and men together loved to dress up sub men in panties and stockings and nylons and more, transforming them into obedient, teased sissies. There was a taboo about it for me that was so powerful.
It was hard to express, in a world where I loved and accepted my gay friends, that I still melted when I felt humiliation at being dressed up "like a girl" or when someone online would tease me with the idea of sucking cock. I got so practiced at describing how I might obey and touch and pleasure another man that I could close my eyes and picture it happening.
The other me grew over years of secret experience. My activities and submission moved beyond just fantasy and imagined encounters. I found ways to purchase small sex toys and bits of the kinds of clothing that these men wanted to see me in. When there were longer stretches that I was alone in the house, I found myself giving in more and more, dressing up and sharing photographs of myself, or serving men on audio calls. Without really being aware of how it happened, I realized that it had been ages since I had even tried to find a dominant woman to submit to. The other me had re-written my biography to be that of a submissive sissy first and foremost. My fantasies seemed to always involve me at the sexual mercy of a man, either bound or submitting freely, but always nervously eager to give him pleasure and amusement.
I naively asked one of those men whom I submitted to online if that meant I was gay now. He laughed.
"Your sexual orientation is submissive, slut. Your pleasure comes from obedience, above all else. You want to be controlled and dominated, and the most powerful submission your mind has come up with involves you serving men and craving their cocks, while your own is locked and leaking inside a chastity cage. Accept it and love yourself as you are."
Those words hit me so hard.
"How many women have you been with in your life?" he asked.
I replied with the number of my sexual encounters with women, which in this world felt so small and embarrassing, but I had met the woman I married while relatively young.
"And how many men do you think that you've made cum, in all your years online, sexting and chatting and sharing with them how you'd serve them and suck them, how you'd obey their desires as they called you names and told you how they'd bend you over and take you?"
It took a bit of mental math, but I answered that question too, to his laughing response.
"You can count the number of women you've made cum on both hands, and there are hundreds and hundreds of men out there who you've brought to orgasm. I think that answers your question."
It was true. I felt a sense of a shade being lifted from my eyes. The other me was maybe the real me and, one way or another, I had to accept that. I had no idea if my two halves could be reconciled or if my existing strategy of trying to be the best I could be at home while secreting away what time I could for myself in secret was still the best way to hurt the fewest people.
I tried to be smarter. I tried to find balance. There were so many personalities in the online communities that I was drawn to, but I tried to focus on those who would understand and accept my situation and would respect it enough to work with my limitations when they talked about how I might serve them or pleasure them, or perform for their delight and laughter. I pushed my thoughts of the more extreme kinks and desires into the enclosure of "fantasy only" -- those things that I could talk about and even make part of imagined scenes, but that I knew I'd never be able to make real.
The challenge and repeated disappointment of trying to find someone who was all that I ached for while still somehow willing to accept my limitations brought me through a roller-coaster of emotions, over and over again, but still I couldn't quit, and didn't really want to. I sank deeper into my desires and kinks. Nothing made me feel as good, I came to realize, not even the increasingly rare occasions of physical intimacy with my wife. I felt bad about that at times, but we seemed to have gotten ourselves into an increasingly difficult to escape habit or groove that didn't include us seeing each other in a sexual light. Trying to get out of it seemed to make me feel worse about myself, rather than better.
I found comfort in the words of the men who liked to control me. Their positive reaction to my submission only fed my pleasure more. I could please and arouse them while I made myself feel alive and excited. I even felt sexy, perhaps even pretty, under the appreciative gaze of those most promising dominants.
I remember the way I felt, standing on the front porch, giving my wife a long hug and a slow kiss as she was departing for a long weekend away with her friends at one of their cottages. I knew that I would miss her, but I was also feeling the pang of the inevitable. Watching her place her bag in the trunk of her best friend's car and wave at me from the passenger seat, I was already doing mental math in my head about how long I would be able to wait before I turned on my computer and took out my hidden toys, to take advantage of the rare gift of hours and hours of privacy, to indulge in the hungers of that other me.
The answer turned out to be less than 15 minutes. I locked the door and made my way to the home office where my computer was set up. With the luxury of having the house to myself for days, I could take out my secret stash of toys and the rest and lay them all out. I could strip off all my clothes and dress instead in a pair of stockings, tugged up by a pretty garter belt that both looked good and teased me with the way it felt on my body. I put on the matching bra and stuffed the cups of it with plastic bags full of warm water, so they would jiggle and feel heavy.
I was getting aroused already, so I locked myself in my chastity cage next. I wanted this feeling of aching hunger to last as long as it could. I lubricated a small plug and I eased it inside my ass, moaning to myself with the sensations as it pushed and stretched me and then finally was fully inside me, and my body pulled it in, so that its pretty pink-jeweled base nestled in between my ass cheeks. I began to feel myself warming and sinking into the warmth of submission immediately.
As I signed in, I saw that there was a man online who'd I'd recently started to pay more attention to. He was one of those who seemed to understand. There was a lot of overlap in the specific kinks that we enjoyed, from our different perspectives, and I'd never had any trouble being honest with him about the details about me being married, or even my age and appearance. He accepted me and encouraged me, both in kink and in terms of trying to make whatever other positive changes in my life he thought might help make me happier and healthier.
While he had always been understanding of what I could and couldn't do, given that my submission and service had to be kept secret, he also challenged me. He found ways to encourage me to do just that little bit more, to dare to obey, in settings and situations I'd always been too afraid of before, and that made me feel so excited and fulfilled. He had gotten me to a place where I was thinking about him more often and even when I was not online. Of course, one of the reasons for that was that he had started to give me directions to be filled with butt plugs or locked into chastity devices or wearing panties while at home, even around my wife.
As with all my secrets, I had felt those pangs of guilt at first, but those were so quickly defeated when I saw and felt how much my obedience pleased him. He seemed to love that he was taking up an increasing portion of my mind and life. It felt so natural and comforting to speak with him, about all kinds of things, and I had shared so much with him about my past and my sexual history, and even about the challenges that my hunger for kink and submission had caused in our marriage and relationship. He always seemed to find a way to comfort me, and to bring me to a place of hope, that things could be better for me and better between her and I -- all while he had me dressing for him and being teased for him. I was careful to avoid names and places, but in a short time I realized that he had come to know me better than most anyone else did.
"Is she gone?" he asked, reminding me in such a simple direct way that I had already shared with him my wife's weekend getaway plans.
