faggland:
Just because chains, whips and leashes are involved, doesn’t mean it isn’t love.
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It’s been eight years since we met on Recon. Me, a nervous community college kid with way too much jizz and not enough sense. Him, a young man at Harvard at 20 with grand ambitions to expand his family’s business. At first Hugo was just a one night stand, then he became a two night stand. When I expressed interest in his BDSM lifestyle, Hugo patiently taught me how to play safely and how to use toys to their best advantages. He discovered and nurtured my inner submissive. Even when we played with other subs or doms, they knew damn straight that at the end of the night I was still his boy and he was still my master.
Right before I graduated college, I had a session with a new master at our club that went wrong; he gagged me too tightly and I couldn’t say the safe word when I needed it the most. Hugo encouraged me to see a therapist, but it was under his care that I was able to finally have an orgasm again without crying.
When Hugo had to spend a year in London opening the newest branch of his family’s business, he left me back at our home in Mt. Vernon, New York. It was the hardest year of our life. I saw him once, when we spent Christmas in Iceland. He had to order me to get back on the plane because I wouldn’t let go of him and go home to another six months of an empty house. It was horrible, having my other half taken away like that. The people I worked with thought someone in my family had died.
The night Hugo arrived home, we had two days of marathon sex. During this, he confessed that he loved me. From then on we were exclusive. We were a couple. When a drunk driver hit my motorcycle, he was by my side through every step of physical rehabilitation. When his pet sun conure he had raised from the egg passed away, I nursed him through the grieving process. Other BDSM couples claimed love would contaminate our roles, but once they saw us interact in a dungeon setting they would all admit that our chemistry took our play to a whole new level of emotional intensity.
When the laws in New York changed, Hugo talked about getting married. I said that was what normal couples do. We weren’t normal couples. It didn’t feel right, to stand there on the alter as his equal. I was his sub. On my 27th birthday, he took me out for a nice dinner followed by a stroll on the Highline above NYC. There, he surprised me by getting on one knee and asking if I would like to enter a collaring ceremony with him, as well as a marriage. I said yes. People clapped.
We had the marriage for our families, which was predictable and traditional. The next day, we had a private collaring ceremony in the company of our closest friends who knew our secrets, who knew why I wore Hugo’s collar everywhere. I had been holding myself together very well, until Hugo stood up at the reception and started a speech:
“Just because chains, whips and leashes are involved, doesn’t mean it isn’t love.”
I bawled like a baby.
