I wanted him to know. Thats all I wanted. I didn't know how I would tell him, but I wanted him to know. Desperately. I didn’t want him to know, I needed him to know. The day that he found out would either be the greatest or worst day of my life. Either he would return the feelings, or I would be doomed to be the laughing stock of my school.

It was my senior year of high school. I was one of the oldest kids in my grade. I had turned 18 in August. I was on the shorter side, about 5 feet and 6 inches tall. I weighed maybe 130 pounds, so I was one of the smallest girls in my grade as well as oldest. I was a model student, I did all my homework on time, showed up to every class, got all A’s, basically my entire life was based around schoolwork. I planned on going to Harvard the next year on a full scholarship from the ridiculously high number of college-level classes I had taken to bump my GPA up to 4.94

I was a brunette, with shoulder length curly hair that I washed and curled every morning until it gleamed and shone. I always wore a headband to pull the hair back from my eyes, always a single solid color that matched whatever outfit I wore that day. I had large reading glasses that I would put on when working on homework or reading that magnified my hazel eyes slightly, giving the impression of a sad puppy. Every day, I dresses in a modest skirt of a single color, leggings that went with it and a shirt with a blazer over it. Some days I wore a full schoolgirl outfit: white polo shirt and tie with a suit jacket over the top. I made it my priority to be professional at school. I had been told by a ton of people (friends, guys trying to ask me out, my family, etc.) that I was an extremely attractive young lady and the fact that I had never had a boyfriend was a shock to them.

There are several reasons why I hadn’t had a boyfriend before. The largest one was that I kept a massive secret behind closed doors. This was that I was a huge kink. My family had been extremely conservative, always attending church, can’t wear too short of a skirt or shorts, etc. Pretty much all of my sexual urges had been suppressed for such a long time, I kind of went off the deep end with that kind of stuff. Whenever I was left home alone and I felt interested in ‘experimenting’, I would get out the bin from the small hole I had built in my bed frame that was perfectly hidden from my family and pull out my growing collection of bondage gear. Then, for as long as I wanted, I would play with leather straps, gags, duct tape, rope, blindfolds, sex toys, anything I wanted to have fun with. My family frequently left over the weekends, often leaving me entire days to do whatever I wanted. I felt that I couldn’t trust myself if I got a boyfriend, my secret would inevitably slip out and I would be remembered as the ‘weird kink’.

The other major reason I hadn’t had a boyfriend is because there was one specific boy that I had had an eye on since we were freshman. He was 18 just like me, only a week older. He was tall, probably 6 foot even. He weighed probably 170 pounds and hit the gym frequently. He had long blonde hair that he kept brushed forward in the broccoli style. His face, oh his face! Everything was places perfectly, the dimensions were beautiful. His blue eyes shone whenever he spoke, his smile glowing when he laughed. He was kind of like me, focusing almost solely on schoolwork. He was also all honors, just not as deep into college classes as I was. He was a little awkward sometimes.  He had a hard time talking to girls just like how I had a hard time talking to boys. Whenever I was in a class with him or in the library during lunch, I couldn’t help myself from glancing in his direction, smiling behind my hand. If I wasn’t careful I would sometimes catch myself staring, entranced.

One of my hobbies was to write short stories and draw pictures in my free time. I had hundreds of tiny sketches of him scattered throughout my notebooks, and a couple of stories I had wrote with fantasies about him. In a perfect world, I would ask him out, we would go home where I would reveal to him my secret, he would reveal he feels the exact same way, and we would get to have an amazing time with bondage. I wrote in detail about the things he could do to me if I was tied up with rope wrapping my limbs, leather straps circling my wrists and ankles, or tape encircling my body from my feet to my neck. I imagined him tickling the soles of my feet while I struggled in his control, him feeling my body and chest and waist and stomach and shoulders, my mouth filled with my socks and pressed tightly down by his strong hands… These fantasies were so strong that it was all I could think about some days.

Other times I drew my fantasies in a sketchbook I kept hidden in the same cubby in my bed frame. One I would draw me in a leather straightjacket and held in a frog-tie while he would tickle my body relentlessly as I cried out into a ball-gag, completely at his mercy. Another I sketched out where he belted me to a rack and lightly whipped my body with a flail, clad in nothing but my panties and bra. He might pinch or squeeze me, making me feel pain but not too much, just enough to make me be completely submissive and helpless. He might snap rubber bands on the bottoms of my bare feet, slap me on the cheeks, put clamps on my nipples if he feels ballsy enough to pull my bra down… These fantasies were just as real as my written stories.

Of course, if my family knew these fantasies were flying through my head I would be banned from ever going back to school at all. I would probably be forced to go to counseling, made to attend even more church services and maybe special conversations with our pastor… it wouldn’t be good for me. So all these thoughts were suppressed, hidden away from them, stuffed deep down within my brain. And for my entire high school career, I chose to occasionally tie myself up and pretend I had a strong, handsome someone dominating me, hurting and torturing me just enough to fully make me become their submissive. It sounds crazy I know, but thats what I wanted. Thats all I wanted from someone that I was going to date, even with how weird and kinky and sick it sounds. It was my dream, my fantasy, my heaven.

I wanted him to know throughout my freshman, sophomore and junior years of school. Now that we were most of the way through our final year, I needed for him to know. It was too much for me to suppress anymore. I had run through so many fantasies and dreams in my mind, it felt to me that it had to work out. If he thought my secret was insane, I would only have to deal with the embarrassment for a month. So, I decided that I was going to break my crush to him. I didn’t know how I was going to, but it had to happen soon, or else we would graduate and never see each other again…