Biography – The Walk Of Seven Yards

The phrase … ‘The walk of seven yards took me thirty years to make’ is something I’ve often thought to myself – as it had.

Walking off the public footpath then across those seven yards to knock on an average looking green suburban front door is something I’ll never forget. Same as the words ‘Welcome slave’ from the woman, my first interaction with a dominatrix, who opened the door.

This was to be a collection of firsts; the first dungeon I had ever been in, my first contact with a sex worker, and the first of many BDSM sessions.

So it happened like this.

I walked off the footpath, knocked on the door then waited. From an almost comforting silence I heard the increasingly loud clacking of sharp definite footsteps on a tiled floor. The presumption that it was the person I was to see, a dominatrix, was confirmed when she opened the door and said ‘Welcome Slave’ in a rather sultry voice.

I had said in the phone call I made to book the session that ‘the belt’ was my thing and so I was delighted to see her wearing a rather nice medium width one round her waist. She was tall and statuesque, rather well made up and to be honest, intimidatingly attractive. The pilot cap and sharp makeup balanced out the effect into a classic dominatrix look.

After confirming who I was, she opened the door and said to enter the second door on the left, which I did.

First impressions are super important and in this it was absolutely this way. In hindsight she was a good first mistress, someone with a decade plus of experience – but she had her own demons I was later to find.

On entering the first dungeon I had ever been in, I instantly felt at home. I was happy to be there, relaxed yet eager. It was a tangible feeling and it still is.

The tension of actually getting there had dissipated, and now I had the stress of the session itself which was comparatively far more minor. Why? Thinking back, ‘it would just happen’ was where I was at. Being there was the difficult part, letting it happen wasn’t.

It is so many years ago now that I write about the session, but I do remember it well.

I was and still get triggered by being in the dungeon, the whole BDSM experience. That is a term that just occurred to me as I wrote it, and it is correct. Something calming and soothing is triggered by the experience.

Have you ever gone on holiday feeling tight and wound up and strung out, then when you arrive you suddenly feel a massive release of tension. That was exactly the feeling for me. And over the next fifteen years I still get it.

‘I had arrived’ and it felt good.

At the time I recognized that feeling I also felt the strangeness of it. There I was in a room with a bondage bench, a St Andrews cross, a wall of BDSM equipment, a mirror and a suspension winch – and a tall amazonian dominatrix – and I felt at home.

Never ever have I not felt the strangeness of this time. But the ‘welcoming coming home feeling’ continues and is such a strong feeling. I go into a dungeon and am happy.

The Interview – A Pre Session Discussion

The mistress told me to sit on a small and low stool which I did. I found myself feeling rather stupid as I looked up to her, just like back in junior school looking up at the teacher. She is a tall woman, but not quite my height so I later thought she wanted to set me into a subservient position from the get go. She really was quite clever.

Well, for the next short while the mistress questioned me about what I want, what experience I had and what I thought should happen in the session. It was all very business like and if anything a little difficult as here I was telling someone my deepest darkest most hidden thoughts and fetishes.

This was a huge first for me.

Getting Ready

Then I was told to ‘take off you clothes, put on this dressing gown, go down the hall and take a shower. Come back then we shall start the session.’ If that doesn’t put a lump in a newbies throat nothing will – and it was like that for me. And worse.

Laboring the point, now was the real moment of truth. It was scary enough knocking on the front door, this was heading into a full shaking body out of mind scary time.

Even worse and really quite stupidly, I’d not thought of this before, but I had to get naked in front of another woman as she watched. I felt that acutely, I still remember the embarrassment. I also felt the stupidity of that feeling – I had to push through it so that is what I did. Guilt at the thought of cheating on my wife is a horrid thing.

I do know that as the session progressed, it became easier and easier to be in the session, once the ice was broken. There was a comfort from it being a professional arrangement pure and simple.

After the shower and on my return, the dungeon was empty. I stood looking at the room and the implements. The collection of gear hanging on a trellis on the wall was pretty much what you’d expect to see in a BDSM dungeon and some of it was extraordinary and some of it rather mundane. What possible use could fishing sinkers have went through my mind. Clearly I had much to learn.

Then I heard footsteps returning down the tiled corridor outside.

…. to be continued…. maybe. Should I document my first bondage and discipline session here? You be the judge.