Carefully covered, In my wardrobe, I keep a bag of undies. When I feel inclined, I dress up. In frilly knickers, I feel aroused, excited; I leak pleasure and I feel ready to submit.
My dressing began as soon as puberty crashed its way into the drama of my teenage years. Somehow, dressing in my mothers knickers and tights took me away from all of the rows, the anger and the fear.
Shamefully, I took underwear from drawers and laundry baskets. Somehow, taking and smelling worn knickers took me closer to those girls who, for an insecure self, were so out of reach. Perhaps, I enjoyed the guilt and the self degradation. Perhaps the submissive in me craved complete shame and punishment as an escape from the punitive, harsh chastisement meted out by my father.
Immersing myself within the landscape of the fetish community has shown me that so many others share those wants and that my kinks are not viewed as abhorrent within that open, accepting community. Dominants may indulge my desire for humiliation and degradation but they do so with respect for my strength, my resilience and the confidence with which I present myself for submission.