"I'll be your Master."
The words made her gasp as she saw them scroll across the computer screen. Tracy looked around nervously to see if her husband had somehow materialized behind her, but no, he was still safely tucked away on his own chat site. Actually they were both on 'bulletin boards' – those expensive and lumbering precursors to today's chat rooms.
The year was 1995 and Tracy had just turned twenty-eight. She sat typing away on a computer, while her husband typed away on his computer in the other room.
Those words, 'whispering' to her, were the result of the profile Tracy had created for herself on the Palace bulletin board:
Nickname: Beloved
Desire: To find a 'Master' to teach me about submission and BDSM
Experience: Novice, but eager to learn
Availability: Email and online only
Stats: Female, Age 28, curvy and voluptuous
She felt silly selecting 'curvy and voluptuous' from the list of choices, which ranged from 'willowy' to 'big and beautiful'. Knowing this was anonymous made it much easier. She had already received numerous emails from eager men who wanted to do wonderful, terrible things to her. She tentatively emailed back to a few, and gotten responses that made it pretty clear they were really only interested in her typing sex scenes for them while they jerked off at their keyboards.
The little time she had spent in the 'chat room' areas, watching others type silly things to her and to each other, made her realize the average age of the participants was probably about 16, if not chronologically, at least emotionally. It was disheartening. Still, there were forums where some thoughtful people had posted questions and ideas about the whole 'scene', and lots of interesting articles and points of view.
Tracy found herself absorbed in reading about things she had only dared fantasize about all these years. Until this point she had never been able to reconcile her own submissive and masochistic urges with her heartfelt views on feminism and equality. How could she be for women's rights, yet have nasty little fantasies about being tied up and spanked? Or held down and raped by a dark mysterious stranger? What was wrong with her? Definitely something, she had been certain. At least until she had found this site, and started reading all this information from people who apparently had had the same questions and thoughts!
She might be 'sick', but she wasn't alone.
That in itself was an amazing revelation. She wasn't the only woman out there with these strange desires to be sexually dominated and controlled. There were lots of women, and indeed men, who shared her needs and dreams. Many of them, if not most, didn't seem to have the hang-ups she did – they didn't consider themselves 'sick' or perverted at all, but accepted their own sexual needs and orientations as a matter of course. She spent many hours reading and scrolling from article to letter, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Where's dinner? I'm hungry!" Kyle's smooth tenor made Tracy jump in her seat. She was startled to realize it was already dark outside.
"Hey, you're getting just as bad as me, huh?" Kyle grinned at her and leaned down to try and see what she was doing. Tracy quickly minimized her screen and jumped up, her face flushed. In the several weeks she had been going online, she had begun spending more and more time on the computer. Instead of reprimanding her, Kyle seemed pleased; it left him free to stay on too, and she couldn't very well complain about him, when she was just as culpable!
"Wow, I had no idea it was so late! I forgot to get anything out for dinner."
"That's ok, let's go out to eat. I'm in the mood for Greek food anyway," Kyle said. Casually he added, "So what were you doing, anyway? What sites did you check out?"
"Oh… um… a couple of cooking sites, and a site for new mothers." Shit. Why did she say that? She couldn't even lie properly! Kyle's features darkened slightly and he turned away. He hated when she harped, as he called it, about children. Still, it had the desired effect of making him drop the subject.
Earlier in the month, when Tracy had protested to Kyle that he was on the computer entirely too much, he had suggested she give it a try. Tossing her the bulletin boards magazine, a listing of all the most current sites on the fledgling Internet, he went back to his constant typing, barely glancing at his wife. She took the magazine, annoyed, but not quite brave enough to protest further.
Kyle didn't like it when Tracy 'got in his face' as he called it. He needed his space, he told her, and if she wasn't careful, the veiled threat behind his argument was he would get it by leaving her. Tracy was sure that would destroy her. She adored Kyle. She needed Kyle. She lived for Kyle.
Taking the magazine, she went into the living room and sat down. Holding it unopened in her lap, she stared out vacantly at the redwood deck they had built in the back. This was the most recent addition to the house, and the most recent reason Kyle had patiently explained why they shouldn't have a child just yet. They had to finish paying for the deck. It wouldn't be wise to enter parenthood even more in debt than they already were, would it? With the medical school loans still looming over them, it would be a while before they were debt free.
Reluctantly Tracy had agreed, though she yearned for a baby with almost physical pain. Sometimes her longing was so acute she had even considered tricking Kyle and stopping her birth control pills. She knew she would never do that; he would never forgive her.
So she waited. She had waited this long, dutifully working at the bank, putting Kyle through medical school, leaving her own college studies so they could devote themselves to his career as a doctor.
When he was done with medical school, and in residency, making a living wage, she could go back to college, or have children, he had promised. When the actual time came, the first year of residency was much more daunting than either of them had anticipated. Kyle was gone sixteen to twenty hours out of every twenty-four, and when he was home, it was only to eat something he barely tasted, then fall like a rock into their bed.
The next three years were better, but Kyle was ambitious, and put in the extra time it took to become chief resident. He would always explain, a veneer of patience over exasperation, that what he was doing was for them both. This was an investment in their future, one he was willing to make. The fact that it left thepresent a sometimes lonely place for Tracy, was just a fact of life.
Tracy tried to be understanding, and didn't press him. He was a doctor. She was so proud she could have burst. She had risen from teller to head teller at the bank, and had quite a bit of responsibility, but it was nothing compared to her husband, the doctor. How she had bridled when she had told Mr. Simmons, the senior loan officer, that her husband was doing his residency in psychiatry.
"I thought he was a medical doctor," he had blandly replied.
"Thatis a medical doctor!" she retorted, annoyed that he, and many others, confused psychology and psychiatry. Her husband was an M.D. – Dr. Kyle Becker, M.D. – and he wouldn't have made it without her, as he had told her time and again.
How she wanted to quit that job at the bank. The work was tedious and repetitive, and she really wasn't a 'people person.' She hated having to smile and smooth things over when a customer became irate over some perceived slight. Confrontation frightened her, and being forced to deal with it professionally took a lot out of her, though on the surface she appeared calm and controlled.
It wouldn't be for long. That's what she told herself year after year. Things would be different soon. Kyle was just starting out now in his first month as a staff doctor at Timberlake Psychiatric Hospital. The long hard road of study and 'paying his dues' was ending at last. Soon it would be 'her turn.'
College no longer appealed to her; what was the point? She really wanted to be a 'stay at home mom', have her children and make her home lovely for her husband to come home to each night. She wanted to give him and her children the home she had never had as a child. Sitting on the couch musing like this, an unpleasant memory of her drunken stepfather weaving angrily toward her, flashed through her mind.
To distract herself she looked down at the magazine in her lap. Idly, she began flipping through its pages, seeing bulletin board computer addresses for a wide variety of topics and tastes. "Vintage Car BB, Used and Rare Books BB, Naked Girls BB, Hot XXX College Babes, Fuck Zone." It took Tracy a minute to figure out that BB meant bulletin board. Kyle had explained to her that these were sites you could log into and find friends who shared your interests. You could have your own little email account there, and you picked a 'handle', he told her, that you signed in with. It was fun, he assured her.
"Where do you go?" she had asked, innocently at first. He told her he used it for medical sites, and to find other audiophiles like himself. He appreciated fine music, mostly classical, which Tracy never really understood, but tried to sit through for Kyle's sake. He was so sophisticated compared to her, she thought.
Despite what he said to Tracy about where he went on the computer, in fact Kyle went almost exclusively to sex sites. He always had a very high sex drive, and Tracy never seemed to satisfy him, though God knew she tried to, even when she would rather be reading her novel or sleeping. She always gave in to Kyle, who constantly pushed her until it was easier to acquiesce and be allowed to sleep eventually.
It hadn't always been like that. At first she couldn't get enough of him. Back in college they would meet in his dorm room, stealing a moment when his roommate was out, feverishly making love, most of their clothes on, shushing each other so no one would hear them through the flimsy dorm walls. Even then, if she were honest, he usually 'took' her before she was ready. She'd attributed that to his intense desire for her, and told herself it was a compliment.
Something was missing now, which she couldn't quite define. Or more accurately, she refused to. Whatever it was, it had been a long, slow time in coming. Tracy shook her head to clear these negative thoughts. She wasn't given much to introspection; it was too dangerous.
Missing or not, Tracy never refused Kyle's attentions, but her 'wifely duty' wasn't enough, it seemed. Lately at night she would wake up, and feel his absence in the bed. Coming fully awake, she heard the muted tap, tap, tapping of the keys. The first time she tiptoed out to see what he was doing, she was stunned to see him with his pants around his ankles, his erect cock in one hand, while he pumped and typed simultaneously. It was such a bizarre sight that she almost laughed out loud.
He hadn't noticed her, and she slipped silently back to bed, sure that if he saw her he would either be angry and accuse her of 'spying' on him, or he would make her come over and suck his cock. She wasn't up for that just then.
His nocturnal exploits became fairly regular after that, and she lived with it. It meant less obligation for her, as he seemed to be 'getting his needs met' elsewhere. Tracy was vaguely jealous, though relieved she didn't have to have sex every single night anymore. But when he started logging on during the day, or right after dinner, and staying on most of the evening, it was just too much. Tracy protested, and was handed the magazine.
Ok, fine. She would get on there too, and see what all the hoopla was about. She scanned the list, looking for something interesting, like a cooking site or a parenting site, but her eye fell on something that made her catch her breath. "BDSM Palace – where all your sadomasochistic dreams come true."Oh. My. God. There's a site like that? Tracy felt a small clutch in her groin. She licked her lips, which had suddenly become dry. BDSM. Bondage. Dominance. Sadomasochism. The words evoked something inside her that she couldn't quite define.
Liar. She could define it, all right. She was just afraid to. It was desire, a raging curiosity, and wonder – wondering if there were other people out there like her. People who would log on to this site and actually 'talk' to each other about this stuff!
With fingers trembling, Tracy went to the little laptop that was 'her' computer. Laboriously she followed the instructions on how to log on. After several minutes of struggle, she finally managed to enter the site, which lit up as a crudely drawn castle appeared, with the words BDSM PALACE emblazoned across it. She was invited to sign up, choose a 'nickname', and create a profile.
She felt like a kid in a candy shop, moving from screen to screen, scrolling through other people's submissive fantasies, and reading scholarly articles written by professor types about how S amp;M wasn't perverted, and occurred naturally in many people, in varying degrees. She felt as if she were standing at the edge of a huge canyon, one she had never known was there. Did she have the courage to jump?
Then one day, those words, suddenly appearing in red at the bottom of her screen, "I'll be your Master." The nickname attached to the message was "Sir Stephen." A real person out there somewhere wanted something from her. She knew on some level she desperately wanted to give something. She had responded with an inane, "Excuse me?"
"I'll be your Master. I read your profile. I liked what I read. I want to know more. I want to learn about you. To teach you, if we seem to fit."
"I'd like that," she typed back, hoping she was coming across cool, but interested. "I am very new to all this, but fascinated with what I've been reading. Are you into this in 'real life'?"
"If by that you mean, not just typing to other people across a void about our mutual fantasies and dreams, then yes, I am 'into it' in 'real life'. Very much so."
Her heart actually gave a little jolt as she read the message. He went on, "Where do you live?" Tracy didn't respond at first, suddenly having fantasies of some creepy stranger breaking down her door to kill her. He must have understood her hesitation because he typed quickly, "I mean, what state? You are American, aren't you?"
Well, no harm in that, surely. "I'm from Texas. Houston, actually." There, that should be ok. Houston was a huge city, after all.
"Oh. I'm up in New York. Thousands of miles away. And yet here we are, typing to each other as if we were next door. Technology is amazing."
She agreed, not sure for the moment, if she were relieved or sorry that he lived so far away. She was just going to check this 'Sir Stephen's' profile when Kyle called from the other room that he was hungry.
As they drove to the restaurant, she was quiet, considering her immediate denial to her husband about what she had been doing on the computer. It wasn't just that she was at a 'sex' site; that probably would have turned him on. He frequently mentioned his fantasy of them 'getting it on' with another woman. He liked to point at various strangers and even suggested some of Tracy's friends as possible partners in their threesome. She wasn't totally against it herself, but she was reasonably sure it was just a game to him, and she certainly hadn't tried to do anything about it.
No, she already knew it was more than just going to a sex site. She was thinking of a stranger for the first time in her marriage. She was thinking about a specific man out there somewhere – a man who used the nickname 'Sir Stephen', and wanted to be her 'Master.'
Tracy realized, as she sat demurely, looking out the window, that she had just betrayed her husband. She hadn't done it in words or deeds, but in some secret essence of herself. She was about to embark on a journey from which there would be no return, and on some level, in some part of her that she didn't have the courage to confront yet, she knew it.
It was five o'clock the next evening, and Kyle hadn't come home yet. The first thing Tracy did when she got home was log on to her computer and go to the BDSM Palace. Looking around, she didn't see any evidence that Sir Stephen was logged on. Darn! Her disappointment was keen, but she at least could check out his profile. "Sir Stephen," she typed, in the profile library, and it took her to:
Nickname: Sir Stephen
Desire: To find a submissive female with whom to explore the romantic world of complete submission and control. When I find her, I want to own her completely – mind, body and soul. I want a real life lover who is willing and eager to give herself completely to me. And I in turn would give myself completely to her.
Experience: I have read widely on the subject, and explored my own deep-seated dominant impulses and desires. I have had many discussions and shared hopes and dreams online and through email. In 'real life' I have had a few mostly unsatisfactory liaisons with submissive women, but the romantic connection I deem essential wasn't there.
Availability: I have just ended a seven-year relationship with a lovely woman who, sadly, isn't the woman of my dreams. I am, as they say, as free as a bird. I'm happy to just explore with you online, through email and telephone and perhaps, eventually, in person. I am most emphatically NOT looking for one night stands, so please don't bother if that's your intention.
Stats: Male, age 35, single, 6'1", 190 lbs.
Tracy read the profile several times, liking him more each time she read it. "The romantic world of complete submission and control."What a lovely way to describe it. What had always been secretly 'dirty' to Tracy, was being described as romantic by this man. And, "…I in turn would give myself completely to her."Another novel, but very appealing idea to Tracy.
Much of what she read in the these past few weeks on the site, talked extensively about the submissive's 'duty' to submit, and what her role and place were, and how she was to fulfill that role. There was much talk about the role of the Dom, and his responsibility to care for and control his sub. Tracy found it all very exciting on a primordial level.
There was very little discussion about the reciprocal nature of it all, about trust and the Dom giving of himself in return. After all, wasn't Sir Stephen talking about a love affair? That's what seemed to be missing in much of the writing – the aspect of love.
Maybe that was appropriate for what many of these people were seeking. They weren't necessarily seeking love at all, but variety of experience, and the excitement of 'taking' what you wanted, or of having it 'forced' from you.
And what did Tracy want? Surely she wasn't seeking love! She had love here at home, with Kyle. Didn't she? An aching loneliness welled up within her, as she admitted without words, that something was terribly wrong. From the beginning, she had craved the mutual 'giving of self' with Kyle, that Sir Stephen referred to. She wanted it so badly, that perhaps some part of her allowed herself to think she had it, just because she wanted it.
Are our powers of denial and invention really so strong as to carry us, convinced for years, that we were deeply in love, when in fact we were not, and never had been? No! Tracy chided herself, at her disloyalty to her husband and her marriage.
She couldn't help thinking, if we are so in love, why do we spend so much time apart, and when we are together, we sit at separate computers and type our secrets and our dreams to other people? And if I feel so lonely, does Kyle feel that way too?
Tracy was just promising herself to try and connect with Kyle tonight, to reallytalk to him, when Sir Stephen whispered, "Hi there!" All thoughts of her own troubled marriage vanished in the cyber-ether.
"Hi!" she typed eagerly.
"I'm so glad I found you again! You just sort of disappeared the other day."
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I had to go suddenly." She didn't say, 'My husband was looking over my shoulder.' She hadn't told him she was married. What a serious omission, she thought, and yet, not one she was ready to correct.
"I was just reading your profile."
"And?"
"I liked it." Tracy flushed slightly, glad he couldn't see her.
"What did you like?"
Tracy thought a moment. He was testing her, right? He was 'interviewing' her to see if she was a good candidate. She felt suddenly uncomfortable, challenged.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, did you think I was a total moron, or would you, maybe, like to get to know me a little?" Tracy laughed out loud, relieved, and mentally chided herself for judging him so quickly.
"Oh no! It was great. I mean, I thought it was really insightful. I liked your ideas about romance. About it being romantic and all."
"Yes, to me that's a given. I know that isn't always the case, especially on this board. But you have to remember, this is mostly kids out to get their rocks off. Don't imagine most of the people here are over 20, or that they want to find anything meaningful. They're here to flirt with each other, and with the idea of whips and chains, and Great Danes. Of 'perversion' as they perceive it, and how exciting and cool they are to be dabbling in it. A game. Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what I'm about."
If any tests were being given, Tracy was giving them, and Sir Stephen was passing with flying colors, oh my, yes. She loved the way he wrote, and what he was saying. He sounded so grown up and sexy. His quiet sureness of his convictions made him very sexy indeed. After several days online of her own silly flirtations, the very thing he was describing, it was so refreshing to 'talk' to someone who seemed to be thoughtful and have a brain in his head.
She said as much to Sir Stephen, who seemed delighted with her. He kept asking her for her opinion, and how she felt about things. Was this only pretense, or did he really care? She realized with some sadness that Kyle rarely asked her opinion about anything. They did it his way, period. It bothered Tracy sometimes, but for the most part, she was content to go along, since from their early relationship, the two of them had somehow tacitly agreed that Kyle was 'the smart one' and the dominant force in their relationship.
Tracy thought back to one of her favorite stories by Carson McCullers -The Ballad of the Sad Cafe, where the author talked about most relationships being made up of 'the lover' and 'the beloved'. The lover was the one who leaned forward when the beloved pulled back. The lover was the one who kept it going, who adored and yearned for the beloved. The beloved sat back and soaked it up, but wasn't the needy one, the one who waited up, wondering when the other was late.
Tracy had chosenBeloved as her nickname on that bulletin board. At the time it seemed like a nice name, something sweet, and not so overtly sexual and obvious as most of the nicknames were -Sex Slut, Sissy Boytoy, Torture Master… Was her subconscious trying to tell her something? Was the lover yearning to be beloved?
That's how it had always been for Tracy, in any relationship. She was the lover, who sought out someone difficult, then spent all her time trying to keep them happy and 'in love' with her. On some level she required this; it kept things alive for her. On the occasions when she found herself as 'the beloved' she invariably ended the relationship. On another, deeper, level, she played out her childhood pattern of seeking the love and approval of withholding parents.
Up until recently, she would have denied all of this vehemently. She and Kyle were in love with each other, she would tell herself and anyone who cared to listen. The fact that Kyle didn't behave as if he were in love with her was 'just his way.' He wasn't given to effusive displays of affection and romantic gibber, as she was. He rarely told her he loved her, but, he would remind her, when she occasionally got up the nerve to mention this, heshowed her his love. After all, he had married her, hadn't he?
She would content herself with this. Kyle was Kyle. Brilliant and aloof, not given to 'blather', but somehow, he deigned to fall in love with her. With silly nervous little Tracy, who had never figured out why he choseher when he could have had anyone. She had actually beengrateful when he proposed to her, since they had broken up only several months before, leaving her bereft, full of self-loathing and loss, begging him to take her back, which he eventually did.
They met at Rice University, when Tracy was a sophomore and Kyle a junior. They were both 19, but Kyle was on a 'fast track', due to advanced placement courses in high school and a narrowly ambitious pre-med program that would get him out of college in three years.
Tracy got an apartment her junior year and, while ostensibly still in the dorms, Kyle essentially moved in, only staying on campus when 'things were too intense' in the relationship. It was understood, at least by Tracy, that they would one day marry, maybe after she finished graduate school in a field she had yet to determine.
In fact, they married when they did as a practical matter, since his parents didn't approve of their 'living in sin' and had told them they would not help with medical school costs if they didn't marry. Since there was no way Tracy could do it on her bank teller salary, even with the sizable loans they could get, she and Kyle agreed to marry right after Kyle graduated, telling each other they would have done it anyway, later, so why not now?
Tracy's half formed ideas of world travel before 'settling down' vanished at the thought of becoming Mrs. Kyle Becker. It seemed so grownup and exciting, and the tall handsome Kyle Becker wanted her to be his wife. Things moved quickly after that, and they were married, hitting the ground running with medical school, never really having the chance to look back.
Maybe it was because he had finally finished all the training, and was a full-fledged staff doctor. Maybe that was why Tracy was allowing herself to think these disloyal, almost 'blasphemous' thoughts about Kyle and their relationship. He no longer 'needed' her, at least financially, but now that it was her turn to stay home and have babies, he wasn't upholding his end of the 'deal'. He didn't seem to want children at all, though he denied it. There was always a sound, rational reason why it wasn't a good time.
As much as she wanted children, maybe he was right. If he didn't want children, should she try to force him to bring a baby into the world, especially now that she was questioning their very union? No. She wasn't doing that. Was she? She wasn't suggesting they split up. They were Kyle and Tracy. The names went together. Kyle and Tracy are coming over for dinner. Call Kyle and Tracy, and see if they want to go to the movies with us. It had been Kyle and Tracy all her adult life, she realized, and now that she had allowed these dangerous seeds of sedition to be planted in her brain, was she watering them by 'talking' with this 'Sir Stephen'?
She and Sir Stephen typed back and forth for a while longer, until Tracy heard the front door opening, and knew Kyle was home. Again, she had forgotten dinner. Guiltily she hurriedly typed to Sir Stephen that she had to go, and logged off. Rushing into the kitchen, she pulled out some hamburger meat and a head of lettuce.
"Hey there," Kyle said, as he breezed in. He leaned down and lightly kissed the top of Tracy's head. "What's for dinner?"
"Oh, um, just hamburgers, I guess. I was late getting home." Another lie. It seemed as if ever since she had gotten online the lies just slipped out of her mouth like little toads.
Kyle seemed unconcerned, but remarked, "Well, hurry up, will you? I missed lunch today and I'm starving."
Tracy thought, with some irritation, that he always expectedher to have the dinner ready, even though, since he'd finished his residency, he was usually home before she was. Not only was she still expected to do all the cooking and cleaning, she realized a little belatedly that he hadn't been in the least interested in why she was supposedly late from work. Nor had he volunteered why he was an hour later than usual.
She didn't say a word. She didn't dare bring up the housework thing – and, anyway, it seemed so trivial, since soon she would be a full time mom anyway. She didn't ask him why he was late, either, since it would no doubt come round to her, and she would have to lie again.
With a small sigh, Tracy mixed seasonings into her hamburger meat and formed the patties. She thought about Sir Stephen, wondering what he looked like, what he was doing right now. Her fingers itched with the desire to log back on the computer and 'talk' with him, but the rest of her dutifully and sensibly continued what she was doing. After all, Kyle was hungry.