But it was the sexual domination that was most amazing to me. Even though we physically had not been intimate with each other yet because of his girlfriend, we had phone sex with each other frequently where he'd verbally explain to me how he was going to spank me. And much of our IM chats and emails were dirty talk about future spanking "punishments" to come: He would promise I'd be spanked 10 times for this or that infraction. He'd also tell me whether he was going to spank me with his hands or with his paddle. And, of course, we would talk dirty at length about having intercourse. Through all of this, he wanted me to call him "sir."
Basically, Ben was one kinky motherf**ker.
For the first few weeks, I was horny constantly. And I mean constantly. Never before in my life have I experienced such weeks-long periods of horniness! One weekend, I could not handle the horniness anymore and slept with two different guys and made out with a third. (None of them were Ben, of course, because he was still technically "with" his girlfriend.) And trust me: I'd never done that before! I really felt like my sexuality had awakened and been released, roaring from the gate.
I think all the buildup actually raised my expectations too much, because the one and only time Ben and I were physically intimate with each other, it was a bit of a disappointment. Oh yes, he was sexually dominant: He instructed me to strip, to crawl on the floor and fellate him, and he spanked me with the paddle he kept in his closet. But something about him seemed skittish, like he was not giving 100 percent. I remember thinking, Where's the guy who is a marvelous dirty talker? The deflation could have been because Ben was cheating on Rachel with me; however, I got the sense that Ben liked talking about dom/sub more than actually doing it.
I never got to that find out: A week or so later, everything with Ben crashed and burned. It was messy, it was bad, and it was a horrible time in my life. It's not necessarily worth repeating and if you must, you can read about it here.
My spectacular crash-and-burn at a dom/sub relationship, even though it was messy, was educational in ways I never could have imagined. I now see that what Ben and I had was not a romance and we had no foundation to sustain a relationship beyond sex. That was just a disaster waiting to happen. But I also realize now that Ben and I didn't know what we were doing and we did not have the foundation of trust that a dom/sub relationship needs. Not "should have," but "needs." With no exceptions. I gave Ben trust that he had not earned yet. When he would instruct me to stop worrying about my co-worker, I would listen, but really Ben had done nothing to prove he was worthy of this trust. In fact, if anything, he was negatively trustworthy for not having ended his relationship with Rachel yet. It was my fault for trusting a man who was not trustworthy and I take full responsibility for that.
I also learned that when it comes to sex, sometimes people do like talking about stuff more than they like doing it. They think they want it. They say they want it. But—and this is where needing to be able to trust someone's word comes in—they're afraid to fully experience what all their sexual impulses are telling them. Maybe it's because it's scary to them. Maybe it's because it's so taboo. I don't really know: I just know that Ben turned out to be that person while I was not.
I'm glad I have nothing whatsoever to do with Ben anymore, of course. But I am kind of bummed my first foray into a dom/sub relationship didn't work out; I really would have loved it. Now, I'm in a loving, committed relationship with the man I am going to marry and we have a happy sex life, but he does not share the same desire for dom/sub "play" that I have. But these days, given how I had such a negative experience with domination the first time, I'm not eager to repeat it.
Written by Jessica Wakeman for The Frisky