My next relationship started when I was 18. Initially long-distance, we quickly got engaged and moved in together. It was a relationship of highs and lows, and looking back on it now, I can see the warning signs I missed. He had a lot more experience than me, and I naïvely assumed that meant he knew what he was doing. We introduced a bit more kink into our sex life; handcuffs and a riding crop I still had from my pre-teen horsey phase. I now understand the value of doing proper research, because that hurt like a motherfucker, something he found highly amusing. He was a bully, even towards the dogs. He would pinch and twist my nipples too hard, something he knew I hated. He did it so much they went numb, and then complained when I didn’t want him touching them. Every time we had sex, he’d nag me for anal. We’d tried it once and I hadn’t liked it, but he kept going on about it, to the point I dreaded sex with him. When I broke up with him, he threw me across the kitchen and wouldn’t let me leave the house. I shouted for help until the neighbours called the police.
So, I’m twenty years old, I’ve just been rescued from my fiancé by the police, I have nowhere to live and I can’t feel my nipples. I asked for the things I thought I wanted, but it just hurt, and not the good way. And still no orgasms. Clearly, I thought, this BDSM thing isn’t right for me after all.