Curiosity Killed the Cat

You know the saying: curiosity killed the cat. I would add a second part: but what the cat discovered was worth it, and it died happy. At least, that’s what happened to me. Let me tell you the story.

It was the first time I’d been away from my parents for a long time. Properly translated, that means that it was the first time I would be free of their tight fist. My parents are not just umbrella parents. They are not helicopter parents. By and large, they are the worst freak controls you can ever imagine. From the way I dress to the way I speak to my next boyfriend, they would always have an opinion about it.

I’m not kidding. With my last boyfriend, I lasted about a year. I guess my mom thought that implied something. So, she told me not to moan too loud during sex, for only hookers do that. That’s their level of control over my life.

But not this time.

I was in another country. And even though they made me call them every day to give them a two-hour report about my day, they were too far away to control what I did.

Something I had always been curious about is bondage. My analyst says that restraint attracts me because it is a psychological sublimation of my parents’ control over me. Be it what it may, the point is that now I was able to try Shibari firsthand. And I wasted no time.

In a matter of weeks, I was a regular at all the bondage clubs in my area. Some of the riggers I’ve worked with say I’m wild. I couldn’t tell. I just know that I’m having tons of fun, and that my recently found sense of freedom almost brings me to tears—or to orgasm—when I think about it. So, for me, even if curiosity killed the cat, what the cat got was worht it.

This is my Shibari story.