My journey from being a Good Indian Girl to The Secret Submissive Author of Honest & Immersive BDSM Erotica

‘Love and marriage were always held in high esteem – the gold standard and a mark of ultimate success and happiness. And of course, love and sex were also treated indistinguishably. Sex was something to be cherished and saved for marriage. Whilst my friends were exploring boyfriends at school, I was pushed towards books. My heart sank into a pit of shame, as I imaged the disgust on my Mother’s face if she ever knew I was interfering with another woman’s marriage; butchering the code of sisterhood and undoing years of feminist progress.’ A Taste of Submission: The Good Indian Girl

My first book, A Taste of Submission: The Good Indian Girl, is an inspired retelling of my first BDSM session with a married man who I met online at age twenty-seven; a man who is now my Dominant of over three deliciously dirty years and the reason I achieved my dream of becoming an author of honest and immersive BDSM erotica. Without that first meeting, I would never have had the passion, confidence or inspiration to write The Good Indian Girl so thank you, Sir, but my achievement did come at a price.

The tempestuous world of BDSM had allured me from early adulthood. As a teenager, I spent many nights under the duvet, talking to strangers in chat rooms, and starting to explore the idea of dominance and submission. I quickly began to unfurl my desires and discover some of my kinks. Inside, I was ablaze with sexual prowess – I was learning about my mind and body and this exciting new world, while chatting to a whole community who shared my outlook and interests. However; offline, my story was quite different. Offline, I was alone. Surely, a good Indian girl should not have such lewd thoughts? I would tell myself. In reality, I was alone, with just my suppressed desires for some company.

During those early years, my craving for submission was something that I was just too embarrassed to share with anybody in my life: mum, sisters, friends, even boyfriends. I just did not think that my thoughts and feelings were acceptable as they juxtaposed every value and lesson I had been taught by the women in my life.

‘I had been brought up surrounded by an army of strong women: my mum, my Aaji, three masis and two phobias, each of whom possessed a strong heart and a bold mind. Having a mum, a grandma and five aunts, with bountiful opinions, advice, and wisdom, you’re never going to get to adulthood without having a pearl or two thrust down your neck.

On one hand, the women in my family shattered the stereotype of the ‘little Indian woman'. My sister and I always had a firm sense of self and appreciated the value of true feminism – equality...’ A Taste of Submission: The Good Indian Girl

In my mind, I struggled to piece together why I hungered to degrade myself by getting on my knees for a man. Why did I yearn to feel the crack of a leather belt across my arse? What was so wrong with me that the thought of being pinned down, gagged and blindfolded, and fucked hard, turned me into a quivering, wet mess? Clearly, I wasn’t wired correctly.

Bound by fear, I didn’t dare to immerse myself in the world of BDSM fully, even though I so desperately wished to do so; however, I was also too curious to withdraw from it completely. I’ll always be thankful to myself for taking that first, brave step, for things would change completely when I met my first Dom. Like my second Dom, we also met in a chat room and I was instantly drawn to his intelligence and quietly authoritative nature, despite the nineteen-year age gap. Jack* was kind and he taught me in my own time, without pressure or force. Over the next three years or so, we enjoyed a mainly online Dom-Sub relationship, meeting only a handful of times due to the distance between us. Our relationship fizzled into friendship when I met my first serious boyfriend, at University, and we went our separate ways.

Meeting Jack is something I will always appreciate; he opened my eyes to the true beauty of BDSM and introduced me to its core principles of trust, respect and consent, which helped me to understand my kinks and urges a little better. Being on my knees was not degrading but instead, a symbol of the utmost respect. I learned that actually, I hungered to find somebody I could trust to such an extent that I would put my mind and body into their hands, completely. I didn’t want to be beaten for the sake of sheer brutality; I wished to experience the push and pull of the pleasure-pain continuum and the eroticism of an intimate spanking; I wanted to push myself and feel pleasure in self-control. I realised that the thrill of sensory deprivation was exhilarating when paired with trust and consent, as I knew I was 100% safe and my boundaries would always be respected.

During the next three years, my relationships were strictly Vanilla and as satisfying as they were in some regards, something was definitely missing. I would play online, in an attempt to curb my ravenous urges for kink and submission, but it was never enough. The more I watched, read and explored BDSM, the more I needed a Dominant. I looked back at everything I had achieved so far in my life and I started to entertain the idea that maybe I could have it all. My kinky thoughts didn’t make me any less of a feminist or a bad Hindu; I wasn’t hurting anybody. If anything, the lessons I took from BDSM made me a stronger woman and they were creating a new part of my identity, one that I couldn’t stifle and ignore any longer. Then I met Sir.

When I met Sir, I was just starting out on my journey of self-acceptance and the universe seemed to lead me right to him. He was intelligent, successful and well-articulated but more importantly, he was kind, patient and keen to learn about my needs and interests; everything about him just felt so right. The attraction was instant, before we had swapped numbers or pictures or anything else. He felt so right but he was married and that felt wrong, so wrong; therein, I jumped immediately from one pot of searing guilt and doubt, head-first, into another.

‘…at forty-nine years of age, almost twenty years my senior, Matt had a whole other life: a wife, kids, a dog, a car, a home, a job. So, just as one worst-case scenario kindly exited my mind, a niggle of guilt sat firmly in its place, arms crossed, refusing to budge. I pulled my fingers away from my short, trimmed pubic hair, to the cool side of the duvet. He’d said to me many times that it wasn’t my guilt to carry but I couldn’t help but question, was I really the other woman? I didn’t want to be with him; it was just sex. Well, it was more than just sex but less than a relationship. Either way, it didn’t make it any better.’ A Taste of Submission: The Good Indian Girl

Deciding to put my desires and curiosity above my morals was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made and it is something that still plagues me, if I allow myself to overthink it, as I explore in The Good Indian Girl. However, my sexual compatibility with Sir is undeniable and our connection is something that I genuinely cherish, with all my heart; I trust him with my mind, body, and heart and I always feel secure in his hands and completely adored. The trust between us has allowed me to explore my sexuality, without shame or reservation and he has unlocked a confidence in me that was missing for a long while. Through his kindness and patience, over time, we have ramped up our spanking sessions from paddle spankings to belt and riding whip thrashings and next, once social distancing comes to an end, we are eager to try out the cane! I have also discovered my love of consensual non-consent in the bedroom and as a result of a fiery kidnap role-play we tried, my third book, A Taste of Submission: Darkest Kink, was born. Sir is an unrelenting source of kink-spiration and support and I know that my writing wouldn’t be half as dynamic without him. For that, I will always be truly grateful.

‘“You like the idea of being at my mercy, Sub? Don’t you?” He kissed my neck and made me shudder… “So do I.”

“I love the thought. I crave it, Sir… Sometimes, when you tie me to the headboard and blindfold me, I imagine that you’re a stranger… I imagine I don’t have a clue what’s about to happen.” He pushed higher up my thigh, edging me closer. “I love the idea of being your pretty little virgin fuck-toy, Sir.” My hand moved to join his – I didn’t care if I had an audience. “I love the thought of you making me behave for you, Sir. Taking a sweet and innocent girl and turning her into your filthy little sex-slave.”’ A Taste of Submission: Darkest Kink.I’m not really sure where my journey will take me next but I am certainly enjoying playing and exploring along the way. Through my experiences as a submissive and an author, I have met so many wonderful members of the BDSM community and I have learnt lessons that have irrevocably changed the somewhat naïve outlook and views and that I once held. My motto today is to live with an open mind and heart and to try as many new experiences as I want, whether they are kinky or not! At the end of the day, when I strip back the different parts of my identity - British, Indian, Hindu, Gujarati, a teacher, a submissive, an author, a daughter, a sister, a friend – I am a woman. I am a woman with sexual thoughts and feelings and urges and that is perfectly okay.


Photo by Patrick Perkins on Unsplash