I'm Debra and I Serve a FemDomme
This story was done by request from a Mistress who also supplied useful technical and editing assistance which was greatly appreciated.
My name is Debra, I'm 36, a successful sales rep, divorced, no kids, and a slave to my femdomme mistress. This is my story of how I got here.
My parents divorced when I was quite young, and I grew up living with my Dad. Dad was great but, wasn't very helpful in developing my feminine side, he had no clue on hair, make up, dating flirting, etc. It didn't help when a job change forced us to move in the middle of my high school years, making me the outsider my Junior and Senior years. I was and am a shy introvert. My body is thin and while not flat nothing outstanding, 34B/C, breasts, a tight, but not large butt. I ran track for the fun and it kept me in shape. I did manage to lose my virginity in the backseat of a Chevy on prom night to the only boy who asked me to go. He never asked me out again.
I was a grind in college, spending most of my time studying and researching in the library. My sorority forced me to attend some mixers with a few fraternities, but quickly learned the boys were looking for sex and not a relationship. I fell for a couple of them, but they never developed into anything.
The most relevant part of my college years were the other girls in my sorority. I don't know about other sororities but girls hooking up with sorority sisters was rather common. I found those relationships more sexually satisfying and rewarding, though rarely long lasting. That is where I met Karen, who is now my mistress. She was different, while for most of the girls hooking up with another girl was a lark, easy, enjoyable sex, but only a diversion from heterosexual sex. Karen was a much more skilled female partner than the rest, and looking back was probably a lesbian, she managed to avoid the fraternity mixers, and I never heard her talk about a boyfriend. A few years ago, a few of the sorority sisters and I started getting together a couple times a month to play bridge. Karen is an occasional player.
My ex was and still is a sales rep for the same company I work for. It was love at first sight, and boredom within two years of marriage. It had quickly devolved to unsatisfying missionary position sex on Saturday nights, if we didn't have any other plans. Our interests grew apart and one rainy day we agreed to split. It was an amicable split, no kids, he wanted the house, I didn't, the split was done quickly and cheaply. We still work for the same company and though we rarely see each other we are still on friendly terms.
I work from home. It became necessary during Covid. I maintained my numbers during that trying time and was rewarded by being allowed to continue once others were required to return to the office. One annoying requirement is the company monitors how much I am on my computer during working hours. The fact that my numbers are in the top 5% in the company doesn't matter, I was warned more than once that my computer time wasn't meeting standards and was threatened with a return to the office. A friendly talk with the corporate IT guys learned that it didn't matter what I was doing on the computer, that wasn't monitored, I just had to be on it.
That lead to spending quite a bit of time on dating sites for quite some time. That led to a number of dates where it was obvious that the plan was dinner and immediate sex, or with guys who were even more boring than my ex. A couple looked promising but ended when it became obvious that I was looking for a relationship that went beyond sex, not that the sex with a couple of them wasn't pretty good.
I gave up on the dating sites and started spending my required computer time after my daily sales calls were completed browsing sex story sites. I found some of them much more rewarding than what I got from the dating match sites. It was a slippery slope. I started reading the romance stories, which led to the lesbian romance stories, which led to the femdomme stories, which led to the kinky BDSM stories, which led to FetLife.
Fetlife aka Fet, is the Facebook for the kink community. Regardless of what your kink is, someone on there has the same. Kink was completely new to me, other than sex with another female the kinkiest things I had ever done was doggie style sex with my ex, once. I was browsing Fet looking to see who and what was in my local area. The number of people and groups was quite surprising, I had no clue there were so many kinky people in my town and they seemed to be so active in local groups.
I was browsing the females that showed a location close to me when suddenly my eyes got wide and my jaw dropped. The lady in the picture was wearing a mask, but there was no mistaking those eyes that had once peered deep into me or that jaw line, it was Karen, now known as Mistresssoulkeeper. Mistresssoulkeeper listed several other Fet names as "owned" and showed a rather long list of kinks, some of which I had to look up.
I sat there in shock. Someone I knew, had spent time in bed with, and played bridge with was a female dominant. I read everything that she had ever posted. The people that she said she owned were two males and a female. Checking their pages, all acknowledged that they were owned by Mistresssoulkeeper, but didn't give much more information and no identifiable pictures.
My extra computer time for the next week was spent researching female dominants on-line. What they did, what people that served them did, both sexually and otherwise. I was surprised to learn that much of the slave's duties involved non-sexual service, everything from cleaning her house to running errands and doing her shopping.
When it came to the sex life of a female dominant, it became obvious that much of what was written was probably either false or rare. It also became obvious that even when you sorted out that chaff the behavior and expectations varied widely. It also became obvious that once you eliminated the female dominants who had male slaves for money, sex between female dominants and male subs was rare, except in long term relationships. It also seemed that sexual contact between female dominants and female slaves was mixed but was predominantly female slaves orally serving female dominants. The use of strap-ons appeared often in my research, but it was hard to tell the truth from the fiction, but the concept made me so wet I had to get a towel for my chair.
I had spent almost two weeks studying female dominants when I got the message one Thursday from Sally that we had four for bridge, noon Saturday at her house if I could attend to be the fourth. I replied that I would be there, but almost immediately I knew that I needed to know if Karen would be there. I sent a note back, "Who will be there? What should I bring?"
Sally married money. She likes to joke that she is a trophy wife. She is a stay at home Mom, and her house is huge and in the best part of town. With the four kids we joke behind her back that she is as much a brood mare than a trophy wife, but she looks great even after the kids and dresses to the trophy wife image. Those of us who knew her in college swear she is surgically repaired and supplemented, but she is one of the kindest sweetest people I know.
She sent a note an hour later confirming that with me they had four for bridge. From the addresses on the note, I saw that Linda and Karen were the other two. The note also said that if we wanted to bring something white wine, it was always appropriate.
Linda is an attorney with a local firm, divorced, with kids in college. Super nice, super analytical bridge player. I'm glad to see her on the list because I dress casually and so does she, unlike Sally our trophy wife who dresses like one even for a friendly bridge game, and Karen, who even before I knew she was a domme, always impressed me with her clothes and bearing. Having Linda look as casual as I did always made me feel better.
Karen was the other lawyer in the group. Even when I had shared her bed in the sorority house, I had been intimidated by her. She always had a bearing and a presence that I saw and felt but could never describe. I tried to remember every detail of our sessions together. I readily remembered how good she had made me feel. It might have been my current image of her, but I also seemed to recall that she took the lead and led me to my room and I followed her directions on how to please her, but I definitely remembered how she made me feel in return.
I spent all my extra computer time on Friday Googling Karen, which of course told me everything about the vanilla side of Karen. She had never married, had made partner in her law firm two years earlier, specialized in property law, and was active in two local environmental groups. It really told me nothing useful, but the effort made me even more nervous about sitting at the bridge table with her on Saturday. I spent an hour after work on Friday going through my closet trying to decide what to wear Saturday, before deciding that I would still wear one of my track suits that I usually wore for bridge and one that I felt comfortable in.
I went for my normal run Saturday morning hoping that the activity and endorphins would calm my mind on the impending get together, but the image of me kneeling at her feet with my face deep in her crotch was an image that just would not leave my mind. The panties under my shorts and the crotch of my shorts were both so wet by halfway that they were chaffing, while the rest of me felt a chill that morning. I took two showers before getting dressed to go over to Sally's. I picked the best white wine I had in my collection to take with me. A much better vintage than what we normally shared at our bridge get togethers.
Unintentionally I was the first to arrive and helped Sally set up the table in their sunroom. a beautiful room with a great view of the valley below and the mountains beyond. Sally of course looked stunning wearing a very nice short dress, modest red soled heels, and a string of pearls around her neck. While Sally worked on the snacks, I met everyone at the door and directed them towards the sunroom.
Linda was next to arrive, I was shocked at her appearance. Rather than the casual clothing she normally wore, she was in a very short tight fitting dress with no bra and five inch heels. She also had what looked like a soled steel choker around her neck and her make-up looked like she had a date. She greeted me with a warm hug, and we kissed cheeks as we always welcomed each other. I showed her to the sunroom and returned to the front door in time to greet Karen.
Karen of course was wearing a nice casual dress, modest heels, and a gold chain necklace with three small gold keys hanging from it. I actually stammered when I said hello. She smiled, gave me a very long, hard hug and a light kiss on the lips, both of which left me breathless. She took my hand, and we walked together to join the others.
We cut cards for partners and change after every rubber, so everyone gets to play with everyone else. Linda is the only one who takes the game seriously and doesn't hesitate to chide us for particularly stupid plays or bids. Fortunately, Karen was my first partner, so my constant looking at her was quite natural, or at least not too far out of place. We won the first rubber and as we stood to change places, refill wine glasses, and visit the facility, she gave me a tight victory hug, though it seemed her one hand strayed a bit low.
Of course she was not my partner the next two rubbers, and I could tell that she had noticed my much more frequent than normal looks in her direction. She never said anything, but I did notice her touches after each rubber and her hand on my knee at least once when she was dummy (the person not actively playing a hand as her partner played both partner's hand)
The evening had the normal female chatter: Linda and Sally talking about children; Sally talking about a recent trip; The upcoming garden show, the wine, etc. I was taken back when Karen asked how I had been doing since the divorce. I managed the usual dodge, "I'm doing fine, but dating these days is rough." And "No I'm not seeing anyone special, and please don't try to help." My answer got a smile from everyone except Karen who just gave me a glance that sent a chill down my back.
On the last hand Karen and Linda bid and made a grand slam to steal the rubber. We offered to help Linda clean up, but she replied that she was just going to leave it for the maid on Monday. She wasn't being pretentious, that was simply her reality.
