A SEXUAL
EVOLUTION: FROM SEX SLAVE TO DOMINATRIX
By Nancy Ava
Miller, M.Ed.
© Copyright 1994
by Nancy Ava Miller
Bath time at age two—that’s when I first noticed Stevie R.’s penis, first noticed that my best friend, Stevie, was “different.” What was that thing between his legs anyway? Our moms would throw us in the tub together, along with rubber soldiers and plastic boats, and thus occurred my initial lessons in sex ed—via observations of Stevie R.’s crotch. I wasn’t impressed.
Later, at age 13, I went—according to my
mother—”boy crazy.” The thing between the legs took on new meaning as I learned the sexual
differences between guys and gals. Then,
in my basement one steely Maryland afternoon as the low sun slithered towards
twilight, Stan G. became my first true love.
“Do you want to make out?”
he
asked.
“What does that mean?” I said.
But, instead of replying, Stan gathered me in his arms like Clark Gable might have done. Stan smashed his plump lips to mine and slid his meaty tongue towards my uvula. He also slipped one hand inside the front of my shirt and pinched my little-girl nipples. They hardened obediently. Goosebumps prickled along my upper torso while an electric sensation whizzed from my tits to the hidden cavern of my pussy, newly crowned with a tuft of wispy pubic hair. Much later, Stan would probe his fingers high in my cunt, slimy and hot with the thought of him. Much later . . . But from that first kiss forward, whenever neighborhood kids gathered for a raucous game of spin-the-bottle, I always rigged my spin so the bottle pointed towards Stan!
At age 18, I married, but not to Stan. Nevertheless, Stan and I remained friends and (sometimes) lovers, even during the separation and divorce from my first husband. That marriage produced two children. During all this time—from Stan’s first kiss to well beyond my first marriage—sex for me was normal; that is, until I met Bill at University of Maryland. And at the start, Bill seemed normal, too. Seemed...
But I soon learned otherwise. Bill, it turned out, was a dominant transvestite. Thus I became his sex slave. And, as things also turned out, I loved it! I loved him! I even loved HER—Leslie, Bill’s female self who (at 6’3”, 230 pounds, with wig aflop) more resembled somebody’s matron aunt than a sex symbol. Nevertheless, from the first spanking, from the first time Bill/Leslie (spruced up in a polyester dress from Goodwill) spread me on the bed and raped my asshole, from the first slap across my cheek—from then forward, I knew I could never return to “normal.”
We planned to marry, to live an isolated existence in the Catoctin Mountains where Bill would forever spank me, slap me, and force me to submit in whatever manner suited him. But then Bill grew ill; he canceled the marriage plans. Heartbroken, made crazy from the loss of Bill, I auctioned off most everything I owned, and headed for New Mexico in a lopsided Chevette with my kids crammed in next to suitcases, books, camera equipment, plus an ancient Remington-Rand typewriter bought years earlier at a pawn shop.
In New Mexico, I established a home among the woods and farms near the Rio Grande, and settled in to complete 20 writing assignments for an editor in Maryland. I also published, circa June, 1980, an ad in
The Albuquerque Singles Scene Magazine:
New to Albuquerque! Attractive
(5’6”, average weight), honest, intelligent, unique, loving, professional
female writer (34) seeks (possible) long-term, intense relationships with tall,
husky, aware, domineering, tender, protective, reliable, sane man. (All these qualifications not absolutely necessary!)
The ad garnered 36 responses, none of whom where “domineering,” none of whom resembled Bill in anyway. That, of course, was my hope: to find a clone of Bill and recreate the passion of my servitude to him. When the ad didn’t pan out as planned, I determined to put S&M in the past, to forget all that perverted stuff, to live a “normal” life. But I couldn’t forget...
Through the ad, though, I met and married a man. Indeed, Doc was “tall, husky, aware, tender, protective, and reliable.” And Doc was “sane,” too. Indeed oh-so-sane that S&M meant little to him beyond an intellectual curiosity. However—to Doc’s credit— he did tie me up a few times, act bossy, and spank me. Once he whacked me so hard with the flat of a book on my upper thigh that I developed sickly yellow bruises plus some painful lumps which later required surgery!
Enter my cousin Jimmie, circa Spring, 1985. Jimmie—my first “affair.” Well, after all, hadn’t Doc—claiming of late to be impotent—encouraged me to “get a boyfriend’—? And Jimmie (age 54 and fresh off a divorce from a long marriage) was hot to trot, or—more to the point— was hot to be trotted upon! Yes, my cousin, to my dismay, was submissive! I was not dismayed long, however. What fun to smack Jimmie’s grinning face!—To make him to kneel before me!—To force his lips against my cunt, and tell him he was mine, that I “owned” him. This concept of ownership I later addressed in a poem written for Jimmy.
Please visit now one of our other websites!
.gif)
If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to add your link to our pages,
please email Nova at
PEP Web
Mistress@aol.com or
Nancy Ava Miller at
Nancy@peplove.com. Or
call Nova, any hour, (505)
859-7630
or
Nancy, any hour