Recently I had a very intense conversation with a dear friend and the discussion turned to my BDSM past.   I understand the fascination.  Its funny because the most basic things, remind me of my past.

Cue my wooden hairbrush memory.

I owned this wooden hair brush that had a design of carved lines.  When I was in London, I met met a lover of mine at the Mayfair hotel for drinks.  Our affair while brief was extremely intense.  It had been awhile since we had seen each other because he relocated back to London after 5 years living in NYC.

Over cocktails, we both knew nothing had changed.  I remembering discreetly reaching over his beautifully tailored pants to find the biggest hard on.  We both knew we needed more play time.

Fast forward  2 days later.  I was staying with friends in Camden and my lover me in the early afternoon, as I was the only one home.  He had given me instructions to find a cane but at the last minute it proved to be a task I was unable to complete.

Enter my wooden hairbrush.

Silently, I moved over his lap as he sat on the bed.  Wow.  As the back of the brush kissed my butt I felt the tingles and the impact. I understood pain and pleasure.  When he was done, he told me to kneel before him and look at him in the eyes.  A sub would never do such a thing without explicit permission.  As I looked up, he told me he loved me.

The moment our eyes locked is something I will never forget.  It wasnt the spanking that was transcendently erotic but the moment of clarity of selflessness, acceptance and understanding in the surrender of vulnerability.

My desires and life are quite different from those days but I grew exponentially as a person and developed an acute sense of understanding about people.

Neurally yours,

a former slave xo