As I rode the train to work this morning I went back over my life to try and find the exact moment that I realized I was a bondage freak. I went back to my early teens when I read Danielle Steele novels and watched Santa Barbara and One Life to Live, and went over my boring, basic, suburban life history trying very hard to find the point where I decided that men being mean to me, calling me names, pulling my hair, spanking me, treating me like a dog...was sexy.

And I think it was when I turned thirteen or fourteen. I remember watching a show called The Equalizer, and Adam Ant was a guest star, and he was running a white slavery ring. He kidnapped girls off the street and kept them chained up in this warehouse. And they showed one of the girls, in a white cotton nightgown, mascara streaks on her cheeks from crying, her hair a mess, looking so frail...and her slim, little girl ankle was shackled to the wall. And I remember thinking: she looks so pretty like that.

But as I grew older, in my late teens, my fantasies of bondage and kidnapping turned much much much darker...and became more violent, more cruel. I began to have rape fantasies, and in college, away from my hometown and the pressure of my family, I acted in a stupid and dangerous manner with dangerous people trying to bring those fantasies to fruition. Teasing people, flirting, seducing and then backing away. I pushed guys to the edge and then tried to get them angry.

I think part of it, and the theory I've stuck to for many years, is that I'm filled with self loathing. I have a terrible self esteem (I'm told), and I'm also told, via therapy that I obviously respond quicker and better to abuse than to positive reinforcement. I treat myself worse than I would ever treat any other human being. (I'm the perfect sub!) All I want out of life, all I've ever wanted, is to feel beautiful, and desired. So in my twisted little brain, having someone kidnap me and hold me hostage means that I'm so desirable that they need to imprison me lest I disappear forever.

And then I realized this morning, as I went over all of this is that part of the reason I have kidnap, bondage and rape fantasies while at the same time being monogamously married to a wonderful, gentle, caring man for eight years was probably because I'm a Christian. I'm a Christian who was not raised with the idea that sex is dirty or bad, but with the idea that you should have it with ONE person, and ONE person only for the rest of your life. And yet, I'm also a human being, an animal, in a sense, and I have lusts and desires and 'wild oats' to sow.

So being held captive, tied up and FORCED...AGAINST MY WILL to be an adulteress with a crazed, out of control movie star isn't a sin, right? If I was rescued from a fire and gang banged by a group of seven firefighters, that wouldn't be cheating on my husband, because, really, I have no choice in the matter. If I'm sold into white slavery to an eccentric Master in Berlin, there's nothing to be done. I have to preserve my life, and be a good little slut, right? I think these are pretty good rationalizations.

My mother said that my attraction to evil would be the death of me. I hope she isn't right.