I was aware of my BDSM tendencies from an early age. I entered my teen years with that awareness and knew what I wanted, if not how to get it. Because of this, some would say that I can't speak to the frustration of having those tendencies and desires while involved in a traditional relationship, but I can.

Once I was old enough to really pursue BDSM, I did so with a vengeance. The area where I lived had little in the way of of a community and that mostly gay-leather, which wasn't my thing, so I traveled extensively, spending a great deal of time in the Boston and San Francisco scenes (yes, I had to go to San Francisco for hetero-kink, go figure). I spent several years happily involved in the lifestyle, but eventually became dissatisfied and disenchanted with it because something was missing.

What I saw around me in the community (and this has more to do with where I hung out than the BDSM community in general), was a rarity of long-term relationships. But that's what I wanted for myself -- I wasn't interested in an hour of play or a few months or even a few years of commitment. I'm a lifer, it's part of my nature -- I need the grow-old-together thing. But looking around, I didn't see great odds of finding that in a BDSM relationship, so I came to a realization that it was more important to me to have that lifelong commitment than to have the BDSM, so I began pursuing traditional relationships.

As a result of that, I got married to someone who had no interest in BDSM. For several years in that marriage, I ruthlessly suppressed my BDSM-desires and my urges to dominate and control. So, you see, I can understand that frustration very, very well.

The woman I'd married had been married twice before. I didn't see this as a red-flag of any kind, because the reason for those divorces was that both of her previous husbands had cheated on her with topless dancers. Since I had no intention of duplicating this, since I intended to be monogamous and faithful, it wouldn't be an issue. What I didn't take into account was what having an unfaithful partner does to a person's ability to trust.

I don't recall the details of the first time I encountered this. I might have been working late and forgot to call or ran a little late with the guys after a golf game, but I was shocked and bewildered the first time she accused me of seeing someone else. After a bit of yelling and fighting ("What the fuck is wrong with you? I had a fucking cheeseburger and a drink after golf, for Christ's sake!"), because I don't take well to being accused of wrong-doing that I didn't, I managed to "prove" that I wasn't having an affair.

From that point on, I was much more cognizant of her issues -- and after calming down I understood them and tried very hard to not give her reason to feel that way again. I adjusted my behavior to show her that there wasn't any chance I was cheating. Essentially, I put myself under the same behavior restrictions someone who had cheated would have to in order win back trust, despite the fact that I'd never betrayed that trust to begin with. If you've never experienced it, it's an incredible mental and emotional strain to not be trusted by your partner and to feel like your every move is scrutinized -- add to that the fact that I felt I was paying the price for what two other bastards had done, I was frequently an unhappy-camper.

That first accusation was repeated more than once. Not what I'd call frequently, but often enough to be wearing on both my patience and the relationship.

Under the combined stresses of suppressing my dominant nature, watching my every move to ensure it wouldn't be suspicious and occasionally having to "prove" I wasn't having an affair, I took refuge in BDSM. Not by having a physical affair or even an online one, but by taking an occasional break to view BDSM porn -- photos and stories, Usenet being a wonderful source in those days.

This was found out and was as bad as cheating. I was flabbergasted -- I was looking at porn ... guys look at porn ... porn, guys -- it's like milk and Oreos, right? Every guy looks at porn, so how could it be "cheating"? It's not wrong to look at pictures, right?

My wife didn't see it that way. Here was proof that I was unfaithful. She felt betrayed and hurt. I felt like shit, because I loved her and, even if I hadn't meant to and didn't think it was anything wrong, my actions were responsible for that hurt.

Over time, for a lot of reasons, including these, the relationship deteriorated. She grew more distant ... I grew more distant. I'm sure we both made overtures to the other than came at the wrong time and weren't recognized -- I know I felt that rejection and I'm sure I did the same to her. But from my perspective we were still married, still committed and still trying to fix things.

<give yourself a kewpie doll if you saw this next bit coming>

So when she took a weekend trip with a girlfriend to Jacksonville, I was quite surprised to get a call from that friend asking to talk to her. I was even more surprised that when I called back the number she called me from that it was a hotel in Virgina. And I was fucking shocked to check her computer and find an online relationship.

This was the one thing I'd have sworn, I'd have bet any amount of money, that she wouldn't do. Having been cheated on twice, to do it to me.

The shock, the pain, the sense of betrayal and upheaval are indescribable and I hope you never experience them.

Her response? She hadn't "done" anything. It was all online, the trip to Virginia was to meet a group of people (including him) from her chatroom. Everyone in her chatroom didn't think it was cheating. Everyone in her chatroom told her she was justified to seek out what she wasn't getting from me, so she could be happy. They were all supportive and happy for her because she'd found what she needed -- and they were all doing the same thing, so it couldn't be wrong. One of her chat friends even had a "virtual marriage", despite being actually married, and encouraged my wife to do the same -- sending her an eCard that gave my wife a "new" married name, this other guy's. And there was nothing "wrong" with any of this because it was all online and "everybody" was doing it.

Well, after she explained to me that so many people were doing it and thought it was okay, I accepted it and we lived happily ever after. Bullshit.

The details of the divorce are unimportant, just that that's where we wound up.

Now I don't begrudge the years I spent with her. I don't consider them wasted because they took me off the market during that time and got me to the point where I met my kitten. From my life's perspective, whatever I experienced during that marriage, all of the pain and frustration, was well worth it, because it put me in the right place at the time I found my kitten, who I'd willingly, gladly go through a hell of a lot more to ensure having.

But that I'm happy now doesn't make what my ex-wife did right or justifiable. And the hurt and sense of betrayal still exist -- and, in fact, color the relationship I have today.

I love my kitten beyond words and I trust her -- aside from being evil (the good way), she's an inherently good person. She has a sense of honor and personal integrity that I admire. We are devoted to each other to an extent that probably sickens those around us with it's cloying sweetness. And yet ...

I find myself, in my marriage to kitten, thinking and feeling things that I didn't in my previous marriage. Bad things, unworthy things. I stomp on them, I suppress them, I know their source and cause -- if I could dig them out of my brain with a dull spoon, I would. But they remain. Having been betrayed once, I find it difficult to avoid the evil, little, niggling doubt.

When my kitten, who's far more social than I am, goes out with her friends, I quash that thought and curse my ex-wife who put it there.

When my kitten, who does volunteer work, leaves home at 3:00AM to help a family whose house just burned to the ground, I stomp on the thought and curse my ex-wife.

When my kitten leaves for three weeks to live in a barracks and work herself bone-tired every day to help the victims of a natural disaster, I break out the dull spoon and call down vengeance on the bitch who caused my thoughts about this wonderful woman to be sullied by doubt.

I think I've been quite successful at suppressing those inane, unworthy doubts and keeping them from affecting our relationship. I doubt my kitten knows about them -- though she will now. I take that risk in the hopes that others, reading this, will realize the extent and wide-reaching impact a betrayal of trust has.

And I make an oath here that if my kitten reads this and ever alters her behavior because of any lingering, inane, unworthy reactions left in the dim reaches of my hind-brain, I shall be most wroth with her and generations of submissives will whisper the legend of her punishment like a ghost-story around the campfire.