LITTLE VIRGIN

Jade

I have always been romantic since I was sixteen years old. I read a lot of romance, but I'm particularly interested in the darker end of the spectrum, where pleasure and suffering collide in a stream of subtleties that is both serene and chaotic. a location where good and innocence coexist with sin and evil, leaving their marks on each other.

They won't let me push my curiosities down any longer because they have fully surfaced. Sitting at my computer, I look through the vast Internet for someone who can assist me. I need assistance in comprehending the reality of BDSM, which is something I can't stop thinking about.

The books I've read are excellent, delightful, and pleasurable. However, I believe they have little to do with the reality of that way of life and are entirely fictional. And I'm interested in learning more about the how, where, and why of it all. What makes people do it? Where can they find people who share their desires? How do they respond to the sidelong glances from society that inform them that everyone is aware of what they're doing and that the majority find it repulsive?

Since ancient times, when women wore nightgowns that covered them from neck to foot and men did the same, what constitutes immoral behavior has been modified. For sexual activity, which was done solely for procreation and not for pleasure, tiny slits were made in the front.

If one was caught masturbating, it was not just frowned upon; it was a terrible crime. It resulted in punishment, and severe punishment. These days, people are considered immoral when they receive punishment-as they requested, mind you. It's widely assumed that if someone engages in BDSM or any variation of it, they must have experienced a traumatic event or a poor upbringing. Most people believe that there was sexual abuse.

I must confess that I have preferred that way of thinking. I've recently had different opinions about those who follow the lifestyle for reasons I can't explain. As an adult, I simply cannot fathom why anyone would wish to administer or receive punishment. But in the back of my mind, I wish I could comprehend. I firmly believe that not everyone who pursues this kind of attention has experienced some form of brokenness.

My passion and dream is to become an erotic author. I just enjoy losing myself in fantasy worlds where anything is possible. There are worlds where a regular woman can meet a man who is unusually attractive, viral, and, of course, very muscular. In the bedroom-or any room, really-he would be incredibly wealthy and utterly filthy.

I spend a lot of time in my head in the realm of erotic romance. Heroines are no longer acceptable damsels in distress. The heroines of today, on the other hand, are strong in every way, intelligent, witty, and take-no-shit. Most of these fictional women seem to find love by accident rather than actively seeking it out. And after making that small mistake, they end up in a man's arms.

In today's erotic romances, no man will do. He must have a clean, alpha personality. For whatever reason, our hero enjoys hitting women in many of these books. And they enjoy being struck by him. And that's where my writer's mind has run into trouble.

A big, strong, attractive man could make me fall in love. Who is unable to?

I can't see myself falling for someone who wants to beat you and tie you up while you make his dinner and iron his clothes, though. I'm trying to understand BDSM because I don't understand it. For my job!

Before anything else, I was a writer. Before I could read, I told stories. I imagined why things were happening the way they were after looking at scenes. I've always been naturally good at making up stories.

I'm just a year away from earning a Master's degree in Creative Arts from Bangor University in North Wales, UK, and I'm getting very close to the point in my life where I'll have to support myself. I have to concentrate now that I'm going to be disconnected from my father's money, which means I have to believe in what I'm writing about or I'll never be able to realize my dreams.

I don't have big dreams. I would like to see my name on book covers. Oh! And, of course, lists of the best sellers. Being a mediocre writer is not what I want. Like a reporter, I want to be one of those writers who goes above and beyond to get to the heart of the matter, but I want to be more inventive with my truths. Despite leading fantastical lives, I want my characters and the setting they inhabit to seem realistic.

Furthermore, it is hardly realistic for regular women to come across men who have a voracious appetite for sex and a tendency to beat them. I'm currently browsing the web in the hopes that nobody will ever see my browser's history and believe I'm a bad woman. I am not at all like that.

I am twenty-three years old and still haven't found Mr. Right. By that, I mean that my cherry hasn't fallen off. Contrary to what one might assume, I'm not a prude. Most of the time, I'm just very preoccupied with myself. My professors tell me it's a writer's thing. For a writer, I've been told I'm normal.

I'm a little awkward around people. Yes, I speak easily with people; I guess that's just part of my reporter's instinct. However, I don't share much about myself because I would rather guide others in ways that will help me understand them better.

I click my mouse, and a clumsy image appears on my computer screen. An enormous penis being deep-throated by a woman!

I see the tiny writing at the bottom of the page as I quickly remove the image from my screen. It has to do with a forthcoming auction. It is only after seeing that I realize that the link I clicked to get to this erotic location is owned by the BDSM club in Portland, Oregon, in the United States.

After a few clicks, I discover that there are a lot of clubs in that city and that this location is a haven for those kinds of people. When it comes to finding such things, it's the best city in America. Furthermore, it appears to be the ideal starting point for my quest for those who could be sufficiently helpful to be honest with me and provide me with additional understanding of the mysterious and dark world.

Another click takes me to a photo of a sultry young lady dressed in leather, looking surprised and holding her hand to her mouth. I guess she didn't see the man behind her coming. It's hard to believe, considering that he is holding a whip that is pointed at her firm, round ass. He has somehow taken her by surprise with what he is going to do.

She has no fear in her eyes. No sobs of agony. Her lovely face is only covered by a shocked expression. The man's ruggedly attractive exterior belies a firm expression. In my mind, I can hear him say, "Gertie, you're going to get this. Once more, you neglected to add salt to my soup.

That line actually appeared in one of the novels I recently read, so I laugh to myself. I still thought it was dumb and silly. I would probably laugh and turn away if a man threatened to beat me with a real whip for something so trivial that could be resolved with a salt shaker's jiggle. He would clearly be a moron and not worthy of my time or attention.

My will and mind are too strong to ever get involved in any of that. But it's worth looking into because it's such a fantasy for many women. There should be more than a grain of truth in my first erotic novel. I want my fairy tale of a story to have some real grit mixed in. Not a bit of that fake nonsense!

I wonder if I'll be able to ask questions of a real Dom or Master. I question whether any of them would even want to take a break from slapping asses to discuss topics she knows very little about with a lowly, vanilla virgin.

As I sit back and look at the next thing that appears on my screen, doubt obscures my vision. Two women, dressed only in black underwear, are facing away from a man with a whip and a black mask who appears to be threatening to rain on them both.

I yell, "Run, you idiots," as I spot an open door to their right.

When you're just a few steps away from freedom, is it humanly possible to remain motionless and endure the agony of a whip?

Is it possible that some people, like drug addicts who detest the side effects of a particular drug but are unable to quit using it, have an overwhelming need to feel pain?

I'm haunted by the women's piercing gazes as they hold hands and glance over their shoulders as they wait for one of their bodies to be struck by the whip. How can they have such vivid vision while in pain?

I avoid touching the stove if I see a hot burner. I would hide if I saw a man frantically running down the street while brandishing his belt and aiming at people. So why do some people look for this?

And how likely is it that I will come across even one BDSM practitioner who is willing to explain them to me? Why would they want to, anyway?

I'm not going to pay them for their time. I have nothing to offer. I want nothing more than to satiate my own curiosity. Actually, I want to use what I'm given to earn money.

No, I doubt I'll find anyone in the BDSM scene who can respond to my inquiries. Maybe I should stop this nonsense. Perhaps I should set this thought aside and concentrate on romantic comedies instead. Wouldn't that make things so much easier?