Even though I was eight at the time and had never even heard of dommes or subs, I still count this as my first D/s experience because ... well ... it felt like one to me.
Mom had decided to bring the whole family over to visit a friend of hers. After a while, my mom said we were getting too rambunctious to be playing indoors, and shooed my sibs and I out to the yard. Mom's friend sent her daughter, Amy, out to play with us.
Once we were all outside, Amy said she'd like to play house, and my sister conditionally agreed, so long as she could be the mother. My brother and I protested. He thought it was a dumb game. Even though I didn't say so, I liked it, but hated always getting picked to be the father. Amy broke our tie by saying she got an extra vote, since we were playing at her house. After a bit of grumbling, my brother and I eventually gave in.
Before anyone had a chance to assign roles, I announced I'd be the family dog. I had learned to do this a while ago, since it allowed me to avoid playing any male roles. My sister rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. My brother was overjoyed, since he could be the father instead of being stuck as the baby.
Amy pondered a moment, then asked, "Could you be my kitty instead of a dog?"
I thought about this for a few seconds. I always had fun being a dog. I could pretend to shed on the couch, chew on shoes, and get into other mischief. Still the new role sounded interesting, so I agreed. The possessive pronoun she'd used slipped right past me.
Amy squealed happily, then said, "I'll be right back," before running into the house.
While she was gone, my brother got into his father role, which meant barking out random orders. My sister said he couldn't tell her what to do, since she was the mother. I was too busy crawling around the yard and trying to figure out how to be a cat to pay attention to him.
I looked up when I heard a screen door slam shut, and saw Amy sitting down on the steps to her back door. She waved to me and said, "C'mere, kitty."
I crawled towards her, then skidded to a stop when she reached out to me with something in her hands. I stared at what she was holding as I asked, "What -- ?"
Before I could finish my sentence, Amy covered my mouth with her fingers and said, "Kitties don't talk."
At first, I was tempted to say they could when you're pretending. On the other hand, communicating without speaking sounded like an interesting challenge. I decided to give it a try, and pawed at what she was holding, then made a meowing sound I hoped sounded like a question.
She knelt in front of me and said, "It's a kitty collar."
It looked more like like a dog collar to me, although I'd never seen a pink one with what looked like tiny diamonds all around it. I sighed with frustration, since I'd actually been trying to ask, "What do you think you're doing?" I mewed again with a slightly different inflection, hoping she'd be able to make a better guess at my question.
Amy frowned, looking a bit worried as she said, "Don't be scared. I promise to be careful. It's just ... you're such a pretty kitty, and I don't want anybody thinking you're a stray and taking you. If you've got a collar, people'll know you're mine and leave you alone."
I was completely overwhelmed. I'd been wishing someone would call me pretty for as long as I could remember. Then there was something I never imagined wanting: belonging. I wouldn't just be the family cat. I'd be Amy's cat.
My trembling arms barely managed to support my weight as I leaned forward and stretched out my neck. Amy slipped the smooth leather collar around my throat, then lifted the back of my hair (I had managed to delay getting my hair cut for several months) before fastening the buckle.
She smiled when I looked up at her, then asked, "Does that feel okay?" Her smile brightened when I nodded, then she stroked the top of my head and said, "Good kitty."
The soft words and gentle touch had an intense effect on me. I felt like I was about to burst with happiness. I knew where I belonged, and who I belonged to. For a moment, everything in the world felt like it was exactly the way it should be.
Mom had decided to bring the whole family over to visit a friend of hers. After a while, my mom said we were getting too rambunctious to be playing indoors, and shooed my sibs and I out to the yard. Mom's friend sent her daughter, Amy, out to play with us.
Once we were all outside, Amy said she'd like to play house, and my sister conditionally agreed, so long as she could be the mother. My brother and I protested. He thought it was a dumb game. Even though I didn't say so, I liked it, but hated always getting picked to be the father. Amy broke our tie by saying she got an extra vote, since we were playing at her house. After a bit of grumbling, my brother and I eventually gave in.
Before anyone had a chance to assign roles, I announced I'd be the family dog. I had learned to do this a while ago, since it allowed me to avoid playing any male roles. My sister rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. My brother was overjoyed, since he could be the father instead of being stuck as the baby.
Amy pondered a moment, then asked, "Could you be my kitty instead of a dog?"
I thought about this for a few seconds. I always had fun being a dog. I could pretend to shed on the couch, chew on shoes, and get into other mischief. Still the new role sounded interesting, so I agreed. The possessive pronoun she'd used slipped right past me.
Amy squealed happily, then said, "I'll be right back," before running into the house.
While she was gone, my brother got into his father role, which meant barking out random orders. My sister said he couldn't tell her what to do, since she was the mother. I was too busy crawling around the yard and trying to figure out how to be a cat to pay attention to him.
I looked up when I heard a screen door slam shut, and saw Amy sitting down on the steps to her back door. She waved to me and said, "C'mere, kitty."
I crawled towards her, then skidded to a stop when she reached out to me with something in her hands. I stared at what she was holding as I asked, "What -- ?"
Before I could finish my sentence, Amy covered my mouth with her fingers and said, "Kitties don't talk."
At first, I was tempted to say they could when you're pretending. On the other hand, communicating without speaking sounded like an interesting challenge. I decided to give it a try, and pawed at what she was holding, then made a meowing sound I hoped sounded like a question.
She knelt in front of me and said, "It's a kitty collar."
It looked more like like a dog collar to me, although I'd never seen a pink one with what looked like tiny diamonds all around it. I sighed with frustration, since I'd actually been trying to ask, "What do you think you're doing?" I mewed again with a slightly different inflection, hoping she'd be able to make a better guess at my question.
Amy frowned, looking a bit worried as she said, "Don't be scared. I promise to be careful. It's just ... you're such a pretty kitty, and I don't want anybody thinking you're a stray and taking you. If you've got a collar, people'll know you're mine and leave you alone."
I was completely overwhelmed. I'd been wishing someone would call me pretty for as long as I could remember. Then there was something I never imagined wanting: belonging. I wouldn't just be the family cat. I'd be Amy's cat.
My trembling arms barely managed to support my weight as I leaned forward and stretched out my neck. Amy slipped the smooth leather collar around my throat, then lifted the back of my hair (I had managed to delay getting my hair cut for several months) before fastening the buckle.
She smiled when I looked up at her, then asked, "Does that feel okay?" Her smile brightened when I nodded, then she stroked the top of my head and said, "Good kitty."
The soft words and gentle touch had an intense effect on me. I felt like I was about to burst with happiness. I knew where I belonged, and who I belonged to. For a moment, everything in the world felt like it was exactly the way it should be.
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