Since encouraging mouse to journal her thoughts, I, too began reading various journals and have read hundreds of accounts on how submissives entered the lifestyle. Few Dominants write about it. I really cannot explain why we do not, perhaps it is our own mystique or something else entirely. I would habitually leave holes in my own story.
My learning of kink came initially from a woman. I was around 19 years old, working during the summer tending bar and waiting tables. There I met a woman, much older than myself and was smitten by her. She was divorced, connected and despite being in her 40s, in wonderful shape. Today we would refer to her as a cougar. To me, she remains special. We continued to exchange holiday cards for many years. Eventually we lost contact, a card I had mailed was returned. I fear she passed away.
I was merely a plaything and understood that from the start. However, she was very kinky. One such day she told me she was going to tie me up and use me. My mind reeled. My first thought was she was insane. My second thought, the one that stuck was that I would much rather see her tied up.
She noted I was excited, just not for the reason she thought. When she grabbed a length of rope I stopped her. I instead took the rope from her, told her in as forceful a tone, as my 19 year old body could muster, to get on her knees. To my surprise she did. I probably should have directed her to remove her clothing first. No bother I was excited. I went behind her with the rope and tied her wrists together, not my best work, but it did the trick. Then I told her to lean forward, with her head onto a pillow I provided her. When she did not comply, I smacked her rear. I was hooked. The rest of the summer she as a kitten with me and my personal self confidence soared.
Fast forward, back in college I had some success with women, topping in a most haphazard way. It was not until I saw and advert about a dungeon party on the street, that I realized there could be a lifestyle to this thing I was doing. Something in my mind said that I should go. I am still not sure how I made that connection, but it was made and I went.
It turned out it was not a place for me. It was a leather event -- had I a better understanding of the symbolism, I might have gathered that on my own. All homosexual males. There was a fellow there by the door, his name was Seamus (his real name), and was one of many DMs, he had his boy with him on a leash and from what I could gather, he was well respected.
I am thoroughly heterosexual. Seamus saw I was in the wrong place right away. However I was curious and wanted to learn about dominance and submission. I am quite certain his boy was rather annoyed with me. But he spent quite a lot of time talking to me about consent, the rules, the terminology. I absorbed it all like a sponge. He spoke about the various scenes going on while I did my best to imagine females in the place of male bottoms. He did not offer to walk me though, instead we stayed close to the entrance.
While I never went back to that place, he and I would meet up regularly for a beer at the local tied house. I would pick his brain, and he would answer any and all questions. He explained the differences between the gay and hetro scenes as well as the similarities. He spoke freely about edge play, what he did; what he felt was too dangerous. How to keep the bottom safe during hard play -- what hard play was. The importance of safewords and aftercare. He spoke about sadism and the Old Guard Leather, which his knowledge was vast. We talked of psychology. He was invaluable to me during that time. We also discussed and spent time talking of sport.
I considered him a wonderful mentor. He died a few years later just before I graduated college. He watched many of his friends go before him. I was with him when he went, because there was no one else left in his family (by family I mean his leather family, his natural family had long abandoned him). I still had much to learn about the lifestyle in general, but I had more to learn about life. He taught me both. There is very little dignity in dying of aids, yet somehow he managed it well. He also left me several of his personal effects, his leather hat and jacket, his slave's leather collar, his favorite riding crop and a tattered copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
When people would ask me, mostly women, how I found my dominance, I would tell a portion of that story. The largest part I would leave out, the part about Seamus. I suppose I was a bit homophobic, but more accurately I remained rather fearful that some might get the wrong impression. As I age, I no longer care much for impressions. You may takeaway whatever you wish. We all began somewhere.