Origin by Lady Danika

Sometimes we find our power in darkness -- behind closed doors, behind fear, behind tragedy. Sometimes it is buried deep within us and we find it only after it is pulled forth and snapped against our skin like a rubber band. It was there all along, sure, but sometimes we have to face bitter truths first...

This is my story... the origin of my Dominance and where it was born.

On my 16th birthday the boy I had been dating told me he had a gift for me.  We went back to his house and into his bedroom. We hadn't been dating long but I'd been to his house a few times. His parents were indifferent people, seldom there and working often.  He took me to his bedroom and closed the door for privacy since his sister was home. And then he locked it so she wouldn't come in. He'd done this before and so I didn't think much of it.

I sat down on the edge of his bed since there were no chairs in the room. It was a small room after all. And he turned on music... I will never forget the song. "I Swear" by John Michael Montgomery began looping in the background. To this day, I vomit if I hear that song...

That was when he jumped me and pulled the butterfly knife.  He said, "Scream and I'll cut you." And I believed him... and so I did what he told me to do. I took off my clothes and he took my virginity... violently... while I lay there with a fist in my mouth and a knife to my throat.

Afterward, I told my mother. She accused me of lying and then refused to talk about it any more. I never mentioned it again.  Instead... I started sleeping around. If it had two legs and a cock, I slept with it. Self imposed punishment I suppose. I thought I deserved it. Or I thought, if it was my choice, somehow I controlled it.

A year later, I met an older man. He was 37 and I was passing for 18.  He had no idea that I wasn't -- for a while.  I'm sure that would have changed things.  He took me under his wing. For a long time we were just friends. He told me I was beautiful. I remember the night we met. He used a handkerchief to wipe the too-red lipstick off my face and took the Mad Dog out of my hand. "You're underage. You don't want to get caught with that."

He became my protector... though it was clear pretty quickly who controlled the relationship.  For the first time ever I had power. A few months later he wanted sex... Instead of forcing me, he asked and I said, "No" and he listened and I liked it. I liked saying, "No."  Instead... I teased him, making him lie on the bed while we were both fully clothed... straddling him and pushing my mound into the bulge of his swollen cock beneath his zippered jeans until I came and he groaned and turned his head and bit his pillow.

I broke up with him when I left for college. He wrote me desperate letters for a long time afterward.  Sometimes they were angry... sometimes they were pleading... sometimes they were sad. I took pleasure in them all... mainly because they made me feel powerful. I could say "No." I had the power to say "No."  It was a heady thing even though I missed him.

When his mother died, I almost send him a sympathy card.  I sometimes regret that I didn't.