Chapter 1
Somewhere in my mid twenties, I realized women had power over me.
My friends' comments were of female conquests - I had no such feelings. I was compelled relinquish my man-power, and submit to their woman-power.
My sexuality was suddenly insatiable. I wished to be servile to my female associates. My feelings became fantasies, and my fantasies quickly evolved.
I found a magazine featuring women in Domination attire, to which I obsessively masturbated. I pictured myself kneeling before them, coming on their stiletto boots, then being made to lick them clean. I'd blow my load on the photo, planning to lick it off the paper, but once I came, (typical guy), I never did, wiping it off with a tissue. I imagined, some day, a woman would force me to lick up my cum.
In dating, I floated subtle (sub) clues. I learned most of my female partners couldn't imagine men as sub to them, and so I quickly ended the courtship, in search of a Femdom relationship. I courted numerous women, and tentatively settled on Mia.
Mia was not Dom, but very sexual. We had great sexual chemistry. She had explosive orgasms during our sex, exclaiming they were most satisfying, and she appreciated that I made a concerted effort to her pleasure.
I obsessively wanted to please her. I attempted to train myself to not come too quickly, practicing when I masturbated, but it was impossible. Viagra was the solution; I could last indefinitely, plus it kept me rock hard. I told Mia, and she said, "Then you keep taking it. The more the better!"
Her previous men quickly blew their loads, and left her hanging. Until me, she feared all men were selfish in bed. She saw me as a thoughtful Gentleman, in bed, and out. I saw me as her thoughtful Gentleman-slave, in bed and out.
Our routine: She preferred me on top, grinding on her, until she enjoyed an initial orgasm. Then she'd want a little a break, (without me having come yet). Because of the Viagra, I was able to remain inside her. She preferred I remain motionless, as she was "sensitive". She never made me wait too long, and then, she'd cue me to re-engage. I eased into motion, gradually increasing to more vigorous action, grinding even harder, until she'd enjoy a second orgasm. Her orgasms were powerful, and she gushed copiously. We had to use a towel under her, lest the sheets would be soaked.
Upon her second orgasm, she'd be super-sensitive, so I was to remain perfectly still, stretching for 5 to 10 minutes. This was exquisite torture for me. She also preferred I move my elbows up, such that my full weight was no longer on top of her. During this time, I'd be rock hard, and yearning, (but a compliant and devoted slave). In my slave mind, her afterglow was more important than my imminent orgasm. I remained still until she cued it was ok. I'd slowly stroke, only increasing per her comfort, and finally, I'd experience orgasms so powerful they rocked me to my core. My whole sexuality expounded. Mistress was allowing her slave to come. Even my masturbation was exponentially better, as I relived these experiences.
I noticed, by the time I was experiencing my orgasm, she seemed to be unengaged, and merely tolerated me, until I came.
I asked her about it, and she explained, she knew I needed satisfaction, but frankly, once she'd had her second orgasm, she was ready for it to be over. I volunteered, "My wish is for your comfort. Can I just withdraw, and then jack-off?"
She replied, "You'd do that?"
"Absolutely," I said. "I'd love it if you'd allow me to come on your breasts".
"Ok, so long as you don't shoot it on my face," she replied.
The very thought was wildly exciting to me. I couldn't wait to try it, coming on her beautiful breasts. At home, three or four times a day, I straddled a pillow and jacked myself, picturing Mia below, splashing cum across her tummy and breasts, beside myself with anticipation.
The next time we had sex, I slowly withdrew, straddled her waist, and began stroking, as she watched, she snaked her hand between my legs, and lightly stroked my anus. Her touch overwhelmed, inducing my orgasm. Just before I came, (unplanned), I said, "You can make me lick it up. I'll do it if you say so." Her eyes widened with surprise, and she smiled.
Then I blew my load onto her stomach and breasts. "You said it, now get to work," she said with a wry smile.
A moment had arrived. As usual, part of me wanted to revolt, but my need to be her slave was stronger. (In my fantasies, all slaves are trained to lick up their cum). I lowered, looked in her eyes, and began I licking up my cum. At first it was dreadful, but in just seconds, a surge coursed through me. I was living a years long fantasy. I'd realized a (slave) goal. I imagined myself her trained slave, her puppy, lapping up cum.
Upon finishing, I started to raise up, and she pointed, "You missed a spot."
I tongued up the droplet, and smiled, "Yes Mistress."
She then pointed to where my cock had drooled on her lower tummy, she pointed, "There too."
"Yes Mistress," I replied.
"I'm not your Mistress," she said.
"It's a term used in the Dom/sub world. The context is Mistress of the house; the (female) person in charge," I replied, "Men are called Master, and women are called Mistress."
She thought for a moment, "So you're in the Sub/Dom world? Tell me about that world."
Up to now, I'd only acted submissive, but had never mentioned my sub fantasies. She had interpreted my attentiveness more as a "Gentlemanly" way to act, never imagining me as her "slave".
I explained, I explored on line, but had no real contacts. I told her I'd always had sub fantasies. I knew about Munches, but had never been to one, mainly out of fear of being exposed. I told her it was merely a fetish, and I lied, saying it would never interfere with "regular" sex.
She was clear, "It's not my cup of tea, but I like you, so just don't let it get in the way. I am not interested in visiting that world, or having a slave boyfriend. I want a regular life with a regular man."
She enjoyed the attention I lauded upon her, but there was a chasm; she wanted a vanilla boyfriend, and I tried, but I was hard-wired to be a slave. I tried weaving it into conversations, and met constant resistance.
Finally I came clean; I could not be vanilla; I could only exist as a submissive. Sadly, we parted ways.
She was very attractive, and met men easily, but none seemed to last. Between boyfriends, she'd call, and we'd meet for lunch. At this point, I spoke more openly about my fantasies. Mia began to feel less threatened, discussing over lunch, she was amused and mildly intrigued.
We greatly enjoyed our lunches, and we met frequently, even when she had a boyfriend.
