Chapter One

 

A single picture changed my life. It was a picture I saw on the internet. I was younger and a lot more innocent, then, and taken aback by it. The more I looked and discerned the intent of the object in the woman's mouth, however, the more outrageous it seemed. The more outrageous it seemed the more provocatively sexual it felt to me.

It was a picture of an attractive, even beautiful woman with a ball gag in her mouth.

Now I was, at the time, a real chatterbox. I loved to talk and gossip, and I admit I was more excitable at the time, and my voice reflected that. The guys I knew joked about that, about my fixation with talking on the phone, and how clichéd that was for a girl. Which was okay with me. I was a girl, after all.

But the thought of gagging a woman, making her incapable of speaking at all, struck me as shockingly outrageous. Doing so with the ball gag, which filled her mouth and forced her jaws apart, then held them in place, with the thin strap going across her cheeks and locking behind, well, the more I looked at it the more outrageous it seemed.

It left me breathless. It was removing a person's ability to speak, to communicate. In effect, it was rendering them into something other than a human being! And if she was less than a human being, then what was she? Well, given the further pictures I explored of women with ball-gags, she was a sexual object for the use and abuse of others.

That made something squirm deep within the back of my mind. Maybe it was because I, like many other girls, was bound up in the very unfair societal rules of gender which forbid girls from exploring and enjoying their hormonally induced excitement in the same way boys could.

And yet, if one was a prisoner, a sex slave, one was almost removed from the rules. One was no longer quite human, but instead, property, to be ordered about and controlled by others. Such a girl had no fear of violating rules for the rules did not apply to her. Anything she did was done at another's orders, and she had no ability to refuse. Thus she would have no guilt or shame.

That was a powerfully exciting idea! Imagine being able to have wild and even perverted sex with anyone, and yet be subject to no guilt or shame, nor fear of damage to reputation. An animal was an animal, after all, and such a girl was a sexual animal. One did not hold animals to the same moral standards as humans.

Of course, the ball-gag, while symbolic, did not exist alone, but within a universe of such behavior, of other articles of sexual bondage and submission, and looking at women wearing such things caused my insides to flutter and my lower belly to thrum with energy and heat.

And so imagining myself as such a creature became the focal point of my sexual fantasies, employed often when I masturbated, so that over time such thoughts became accompanied in my mind by pleasure and sexual heat.

They were not, however, fantasies I could in any way safely explore in real life. Not really, not at first. I was just an ordinary girl, and the people I knew were quite ordinary, as well. If any of my girlfriends had similar sexual fantasies, she, like me, kept them to herself.

As to boys, well, I had no doubt I could induce cooperation from any boy I chose. All I had to do was worry about what stories they would tell afterward. Not to mention what they might do when I was bound and helpless. Take pictures, perhaps? To show their friends? The idea was far too fraught with danger to my reputation.

So I explored sex in a perfectly normal manner, just like other girls, and lost my virginity in a perfectly normal, drunken encounter with a guy, didn't particularly like it (also perfectly normal). I then explored it further in a series of admittedly intimidating, scary, anxious, embarrassing, and mostly not very pleasurable 'romantic' encounters in the years which followed - all of them quite conventional.

I carefully trod the well-worn and careful path between being considered prudish and being considered sluttish. Thus I got through high school and college without incurring any shocking blows to my reputation.

I have a degree in Computer Assisted Design and got a job right out of college which paid decently, and then rented my own apartment. The apartment was my first home that was all mine. I had no roommates, and no family who might poke their noses into things when I was away. It was two bedrooms, and quiet, with lots of closets and storage space and big windows.

And it was there that I made my first purchase of sexually oriented material. I bought a ball-gag, and a pair of leather restraints. After they arrived, even before I opened the package, I could feel my heart beating faster, and a thrill of excitement through my body.

I stared at the ball gag with wide eyes, then licked my lips, opened my jaw wide, and then pushed it slowly into my mouth. It was too wide, but it was malleable to some extent, so I squeezed it down to get it through my teeth and it expanded once within my mouth.

It felt like an incredibly erotic experience just sliding it into my mouth! It pressed down along my tongue as it slid in, and then pressed up against the roof of my mouth, as well. I eased it snugly inside, and then drew the straps back behind my head to fasten.

I felt incredibly excited! My fingers were trembling as I hurried to look at myself in the bathroom mirror!

Then, of course, I had to strip naked and put on the leather restraints. I stood before the full length mirror in my bedroom and stared at myself, imagining I was a sex slave, that I was to be held like this, seen like this, used like this.

I raised my arms high above my head, looking sad, looking helpless, looking like I was a victim, pushing my chest out, imagining some man was there about to touch me, to taunt me, to make use of my body!

God, I felt hot!

I felt like a sexual creature! I felt so sexy, so exotic and erotic! My body seemed like it was made for sex and passion, and I felt my nipples tingling with the desire to be touched!

I'm afraid I quite fell in love with the fantasy. Yet it was harmless, and exciting, and so I bought more nasty little objects on the internet. They didn't cost very much, after all. The thigh high stiletto boots were probably the most expensive, and they were only about a hundred dollars.

My fantasies continued to be expanded by looking at pictures and videos and reading stories on the internet. Such ideas! So kinky and wicked! So thrilling to imagine myself doing such things!

And it was in giving in to such fantasies where I felt the most excitement. I would try to replicate what I saw on the internet, to make myself look like the women I saw there, to be just as sexy, just as seductive, just as helpless and sensual.

And to remember some of those events, I took pictures of myself.