BOOK AND AUTHOR INFO:
About the author: The author is a man who has lived two lives; one ordinary and the other extraordinary. It has not been fabricated, exaggerated, or embellished in any way. It’s the raw truth and he is not really sure why he wrote it, but his therapist thought it was a good idea. Writing down his life’s story might simply be a part of the healing process, so he can finally move on with his life and live it like a normal person. It has been written in a way that tries to depict how the author felt at the time and how he feels now, and he can only use words or terms that make that possible.
Editors Summary (dustcover):
This is a wonderfully entertaining, sometimes humorous, sometimes shocking, sometimes challenging, but always entertaining account of this man’s life. It is the true autobiographical story of a real life Dr Jeckyll and Mr Hyde. This man has lived a double life, secret to all who knew him. Many other men can only fantasize about what he has experienced. Could the variety and extent of his sexual world really belong to one man? How did he keep this side of his life secret? What trigger-points in his life can explain his behaviour?
There was a leather armchair in the corner across from me, and next to it some kind of apparatus against the wall. I wasn’t sure what it was but it looked like something you could use to restrain someone. It might be my first time here, but I knew where I was and had some idea of what went on. Or at least, I thought I did. It was like a large “X” shape and had small metal eye hooks attached at various points. It had a foreboding look, but at the same time I was excited and intrigued looking at it. I would later learn that it’s called a St Andrews Cross, and I would come to love the view from it, with my arms and legs spread, and my naked body shackled against it. But that would all come later, as I dived headlong into the exciting world of BDSM. For now I felt like a country rube that had been dropped into the middle of Times Square.
There were other various loose items around the room, on shelves and hanging from the walls. There were masks, whips and dildos. Lots of leather. I smiled to myself through my inebriated haze, ‘lots of leather, what did I expect?’ Even without visiting a dungeon, everyone who thinks about it has the stereotypical images of a mistress. Tall, dressed in tight leather outfits, long leather boots, and the mandatory leather whip. But in the end, mistresses come in all shapes and sizes and dress in all kinds of ways, although always sexily. They are such delicious creatures.
After a while I heard footsteps approach the door. It opened quietly and the receptionist came into the room with my drink.
“Here you are,” she said, handing me the glass. “The mistresses won’t be long now. Make yourself comfortable.”
I thanked her as she left the room, and drank my scotch, syphoning it through the ice she had put in the glass and drained it in a gulp. I remember thinking it was way too much ice, and made a mental note to pass on the coke next time. I placed the glass on the table and stood up, wondering where I’d be most comfortable, and whether I should be sitting or standing when the mistresses came in. I decided to sit, and went to the other side of the room and sat in the armchair, next to the St Andrews cross. The armchair was facing the door directly, and diagonally opposite. I sat and waited. My mind was numb with anticipation……and what the fuck was taking so long! It was like time had gone into slow motion. I couldn’t think anymore, wondering what was going to happen, and what it would be like, so I tried to sit quietly, and waited.
More footsteps; finally!
This time when the door opened I got my first look at a Mistress.
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