The women I find most attractive invariably make me function as their submissive. That's the way it is, don't ask why. If you need word pictures, here they are: I'm naked and on my knees before them, I perform humiliating chores at their command, I suffer punishment at their hands, I lick and kiss their footwear (and their feet) and whatever else they want licked, I suck their high heels, I wear what they put on me; dog collars, shackles, chains, hoods, gags, harnesses. I'm regularly bound and beaten, made to eat and drink from a dish on the floor and I masturbate where and when I'm told, eating my cum at their command.
The woman who had been my Mistress, 35-year-old Sandi, had been transferred by her employer to another part of the country. I'd been without her special attentions for over six months and was getting anxious. The extraordinary yearning to serve and submit - beyond telephone training - was overpowering. In conversation, I begged Mistress Sandi for release and for her permission to begin the search for a new Domina.
From the practical point of view, she said she had to agree but also said I must continue to report to her. I thanked her as best I could, hung up and began formulating my strategies for the attack (Yes, it most definitely is an "attack" mode. If you want something bad enough you've got to be prepared to go after it aggressively, regardless of your nature.)
It occurred to me that with my large house, which included a vacant and self-contained apartment with a private entrance, that there might be an opportunity. Now, how would I attract that special someone?
A slogan, "It Pays To Advertise," registered. But the chance of getting a nonprofessional Domina to respond to a run of the mill classified ad was slim. I put some extra thinking into what I wanted to say before buying a brief and to the point ad. The next issue of our local underground paper included this copy:
Handsome Executive who travels has large midtown house to share with Dominant Female. Your own apt. No charge. Privacy. Must want to own/train a slave. Box 208.
Now, if you use a publication to advertise, don't expect instant gratification. Fact is, it took about two weeks before the mail brought four responses. The first letter was from 21-year-old Linda, a university student who wrote that she'd had minor experience as a Dominant and wanted to take the opportunity I offered to explore her proclivity further. She said she had dominated a boyfriend by using his belt to whip him and had forced him to eat her.
"It really wasn't very much," she said, "but it showed me what my life could be like."
Her letter was first in the keeper pile.
The second was from 27-year-old Jane, a clerk who said she needed free accommodation and wanted a slave. She said she was aggressive with men, had read plenty about Female Domination, but never had the chance to actually go to the limits she wanted with the guys she'd dated. If she met me, she promised, she'd put into practice what only her imagination had allowed so far.
Letter number two went onto the keeper side.
The third was from someone who wanted to keep house. Hers became letter number one for the round file.
And, the last was from a community college student. Stacy said she was in her late 20s and had gone back to school to study business. She wrote that her ex-husband had introduced her to fetish fantasy/Female Domination and that their practice of this lifestyle had escalated during the years of their marriage. By the end, she said, they'd progressed to the point of his being her complete sex slave. Her only concession to his sexual need, she admitted, was "to always make myself desirable by wearing erotic lingerie or leather, ensuring my make-up and hair was perfect, and by wearing high heels."
Stacy explained that her ex was more into sensuous domination and foot worship than hard core S/M. When she whipped him, she wrote, "it was more voluptuous than cruel. Make no mistake, though. He suffered for me and was glad to do it."
Guess where Stacy's letter went.
I waited a few more days but there were no further responses. ("Alas," I hear the reader cry. "You got three good ones. What are you, greedy?") It was time to begin setting up appointments. Because there were more than one, and because I could choose only one, I decided the initial meetings would have to be in a private yet neutral setting. My reasoning included the fact that two people (maybe all three!) might be upset about not being chosen and, if they were so inclined, could do some heavy personal and property damage if they knew where I lived.
I booked a hotel the following week, then began making appointments. During each call, I explained there was more than one lady being interviewed and that, for security reasons - for them and for me - meeting in a public place was best for our first get-together. I gave them their choice of times -- at two or five in the afternoon or at eight o'clock that night. Coincidentally, the order of the appointments was the same as the mail, Linda first, then Jane, and Stacy coming in during the evening.
The next Wednesday, I checked into the downtown HoJo at noon. Since I planned on staying there overnight, I brought a change of clothing and, of course, some toys.
The room's layout was impressive. It was a corner suite, one wall adjoining a fire exit and the other against the soda and ice machines' area. Perfect for a modicum of privacy.
At 1:50, room service delivered a fresh pot of coffee.
At two, Linda knocked on my door. I greeted her politely, took her overcoat, hung it up, turned around and was pleased to be confronted by a shapely young beauty standing all of 5'4" in her spike heels. She wore a clinging off-white sweater (revealing a black bra beneath) and a tight, black skirt. I escorted her into the room and offered a chair by the coffee table. Sitting and crossing her legs, her skirt rode high to expose nylon tops. I poured the coffee and engaged Linda in a bit of introductory small talk before getting to the heart of the matter. "I have your letter responding to my ad but, just to broaden it a bit, would you mind giving me your understanding of why you're here?"
"Simple," she said. "I want to live near the university. I want it on the terms specified in your ad and I want a slave."
Linda's forthrightness took me aback. Perhaps it was because, notwithstanding her obvious choice of erotic undergarments, she looked so young and innocent. Recovering and pressing on, I said, "In your letter you made reference to dominating an old boyfriend and making him perform oral sex. Has that been your only experience with Female Domination?"
She said that it had. I asked how that particular scene had come about. Linda said it happened earlier that year. Her date for the evening, a fellow she'd recently met, had taken her to a formal dance. Both, she said, had been dressed to the nines, he in a tuxedo and she in a black evening gown. Linda explained that before she got dressed that evening she felt she wanted to be particularly feminine for her grand night out. It was, she said, only her third date with the guy and she felt their romance was heating up. Too, it wasn't often she was invited to a formal affair. She bathed and applied scrupulous care to the grooming of her hair and to the application of make-up before donning her most exotic lingerie. Both had enjoyed the evening, she said, particularly the stimulating slow dancing and the progressive building of mutual lust. Once they returned to her small, off-campus apartment they were all over each other, "necking and into heavy petting". It didn't take long until her gown was off and Linda was dressed only in her black, push-up bra, black panties, stockings and stiletto heels. At first, she said, her bra remained fastened as he kissed and nibbled on the exposed upper portions of her breasts. While he was doing that, Linda said, she'd opened his fly, pulled his member out and was stroking and caressing it.
"He was really turned on," she said. "And I loved feeling his cock pulse in my hand." Gradually, he slipped from the couch to his knees before her on the floor, telling her how beautiful she was and how he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body. "And that's when he bent his head and began licking my shoes and feet." I asked how she felt about that.
"Because it was so different, at first I didn't know what to feel. But we were both so turned on it didn't seem to matter. I relaxed and enjoyed myself. It was obvious he was really into it. His whole body was shaking. And I loved the feeling of power ... looking down at this macho guy on his knees actually kissing and licking my shoes. What a feeling! He kept at it, getting more and more ardent. His tongue was working my feet and shoes in deep, deep passion. The man was worshiping me, making me feel like a goddess! His cock was out of my reach, but I saw it standing tall, all wet around that little hole at the top. By then, he was panting. He stopped kissing and licking my shoes long enough to take the belt from his pant loops and hand it to me. Then he took down his trousers and briefs before again getting back on the floor for more foot worship. I just leaned back, crossed my leg and held his belt at the end with the buckle on it."
"Then what happened? I asked.
"He begged me to use the belt on his backside. He wanted me to whip him! I wasn't born yesterday. I'd heard of people making 'whip me, beat me' jokes and I knew jokes often weren't jokes at all. Besides, I'd read enough in Cosmo to know a lot of men are into Female Domination and fetishistic behavior. I took the belt, doubled it over and clenched it like I intended to go ahead and punish him. But the thing was so new to me that I asked him why he wanted a whipping. He said he felt so under my spell, so taken with me and my beauty, so slave-like, that he wanted me to reinforce those feelings by disciplining him."
"And you did?"
"Yes. After a moment of thinking about it and how much I enjoyed seeing him so servile I decided if that was what he wanted - and I knew I wanted to do it - then I would. I didn't hit him very hard, though. It was more of a symbolic whipping than anything else. He kept licking my shoes and sucking the high heel as I beat his butt. It made me ultra horny. I raised a welt or two before giving him his first order, to pull down my panties with his teeth and to get his tongue to work on my clit. That was essentially it."
I asked Linda if she reached orgasm during her first experience with domination.
Oh, yes. It was an earth mover, too," she responded.
"Did you allow him to cum?"
