What I Am

I knew I didn't know what I was doing or what I was getting myself into. I had minimal knowledge of the world I wanted to enter so badly, and I did not want to wait until I learned more. After all, doing something is the best way to learn it, right? Because I learned so much from him and I know I could not have gotten any of what I learned from him anywhere else... At least not with the same training he provided.

I started off where any new submissive would: Reading fiction, realizing it doesn't have to stay fiction, and that finding a Dominant is actually a lot easier than I ever could have thought. Granted, finding a real one was a bit of a challenge, but once I did find him...

My life, as I knew it, was over.

***

The site was not where it started, but it became my go-to. It had all of the information I needed to know without straight out asking every guy I swiped right on, "Hey, do you have experience with BDSM?" even if I put a rather straightforward bio for myself ("Looking for a Dom. That's all.")

I was in CVS, swiping as I waited in line. I will admit I was picky and I rarely swiped right on anyone, but when I saw his picture, and saw the expression of what I now know is a natural Dom, I knew that was it. He was, without exaggeration, the most attractive man I have ever seen to actually exist. And he was as Dominant as they get, according to his relationship survey answers. So I swiped right and was slightly bummed when my phone didn't celebrate with "You both swiped right!" so I had to go a little further. The app said, "send a message, get noticed," and so I did. I was in a rush because I wanted to talk to him, but I was so nervous because I couldn't bare to fuck this up.

I wish I could remember what I said, but to be honest I don't think it matters much anymore, because he responded while I was still in CVS, still waiting to purchase my meds, and he loved my single line bio.

The conversation we started with was similar to the ones I had with other Doms: Talking about hard limits, experiences (or lack thereof in my case), and what we were looking for. He displayed his dominance right off the bat, picking the place and the time to meet without much input from me. He picked a bookstore in town on a Thursday, stating he had no problem with the hour-plus drive just to meet a potential submissive.

As time went on between our virtual meeting and our physical meeting, I realized more and more how serious this was. I had met other men in worse circumstances before, but this time was different.

Once the day came, I got to the bookstore early. I waited for maybe fifteen minutes, as he texted me to say he was stuck in traffic. This just made me more anxious because a part of me just wanted to get this over with, I wanted it to not even happen so I could calm down. But that was nowhere near a possibility once I heard the door and turned around to see the exact same man from the profile.

All of the pictures he had posted, I couldn't help but wonder what was altered about them. Surely he wasn't actually a model and didn't really look like someone I could only dream of drooling over. But I was wrong. He was still gorgeous, standing at close to six feet tall with short brown hair that didn't look like it took any styling at all. A long black coat, dark blue jeans, and a plain red sweater could not look any better on anyone.

We made eye contact and my heart raced, and I could feel my hands trembling and I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Hi there," I said, probably too quietly and losing any self-confidence I had scrounged together.

"Hey," he said with a voice that matched too perfectly, deep but with a hint of authority. "I guess I'll order and we can sit and chat."

It wasn't an offer or a suggestion, like anything else he ever said to me. He was telling me what was going to happen as he wanted it and I was to obey.

I did just that, following him to a table and sitting opposite him, which maybe wasn't the best idea because I couldn't hold his gaze for my life. But that was probably how it was supposed to be, or at least I'm sure he enjoyed seeing me squirm.

We started off normal, talking about our jobs or schooling, interests and families. But not too long went by and he decided it was time to discuss what we were here for.

"So how long have you been practicing BDSM?" he asked, taking a sip of his hot, latte-like beverage.

"Only since November, and I can't say I have even really practiced a ton-" I started to say, but his smirk stopped me.

"What have you done?"

I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought of discussing my sex life with an almost-stranger in a public cafe. But he asked and I already knew better than to avoid the question.

"I've personally tried bondage and whipping," I admitted, suddenly realizing how much more extensive his history probably was compared to mine. Even if only five years older, someone can't look like him and not have a long sex history.

"Do you like pain?" he asked, keeping his voice a little lower than before. Maybe he didn't love having this talk right here, either. Or he wanted to intimidate me, which already happened when he first walked in.

"I like pleasing people," I said truthfully. "That's what I find satisfying about being a sub. If pain is a part of that, I'll take it."

He nodded slowly, staring me down with a thoughtful expression. He pulled out his phone and began typing rapidly. Only a minute passed before he stood up.

"Let's go," he said, standing and pulling his keys out of his pocket. Without a word, I followed him out of the cafe and to a black Dodge Charger with a cage divider between the front and back seats. I sat quietly in the passenger seat as he started it up, picked a location on the GPS, and started driving.

I never asked where we were going or why. I never mentioned leaving my car behind. I never said a word until after driving for five minutes, he pulled onto the side of a road not too far from where we were. He cut the engine and turned to look at me.

"I need you to blow me right now," he said, "and make me cum."

I swallowed nervously, quietly asking, "what if I can't?"

He placed a hand gently on my cheek. "Then you can't be my sub," he said quietly, almost sounding sad about the possibility.

I nodded, unzipping his jeans and trying to conceal my anxiety. I didn't want him to see how unconfident I was, but I really didn't know if I'd be able to do it. Blowjobs were never my forte, so to speak, and I needed to impress him.

But then again, maybe I should have been more confident, because it took me less than ten minutes and he was very satisfied once I sat up and looked at him, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

He tucked himself back into his jeans, confirming my thoughts by saying, "You should be more confident."

I shrugged, saying, "maybe."

He gave me a look as if to say any other time that answer wouldn't fly, but right now wasn't the time to correct my behavior. "Your car is by the cafe, right?"

"A street or so away from it, yeah," I said as he started the car back up. It was a two minute drive, with each inch bringing more dread because it meant he had to leave. Then I mentally kicked myself because it was way too early to start feeling like that.

Once we were on the street of the bookstore, I told him it was around the corner and pointed my car out so he could pull up alongside it. As I reached for the door handle, he took my face into his hands and kissed me, and like the movies, it actually took my breath away and once our lips parted, it took me a second to come back to where I was.

He let his hands fall between us but stayed only inches from me. "Expect a text tonight of the rules and conditions I set for my subs. Now, when you get home, you need to send me two full nudes, front and back."

I nodded, another feeling of surreality hitting me. This seriously felt like it was straight out of the books that got me in this situation in the first place. I slid out of his car and he watched me as I got into my own. He drove off and I waited until he was out of sight to let my head fall back against the seat.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I sighed, the last few hours repeating in my head. I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I never in a million years thought that was how the afternoon would go, but holy shit am I happy it did.

Home was only five minutes away, and I didn't waste time taking care of his demand once I was inside. It took a few tries, but eventually I captured the photos he wanted and sent them his way.

He responded even though I knew he was still driving: "Good slave."

A wave of satisfaction and pleasure ran through me at the comment. I didn't reply, and so I waited until the next message from him came.

It was about two hours later when his multi-page text message came through.

"You are required to send me one new picture every day, either fully nude or mostly, and they have to be taken that day, different poses for each one. Right now tonight, you need to take a picture of yourself in every pair of panties you own along with every bra--I need those for deciding what you wear when we are together. I also need pictures of you in any dresses you own or any lingerie. You can sleep with whoever you want, but I must be told first and must be informed of the event in detail afterward. You can only cum with my permission and that includes masturbation. The only name you may call me from now on is Master."

I read it multiple times, shock hitting at different times each readthrough. This was another moment that I didn't think could happen in real life, but here it was and I was so unprepared.

I thought about my answer for a while before I finally sent back, "I have literally at least fifty pairs of underwear."

His answer: "Then that's at least fifty pictures."

I shook my head slowly, thinking about what would happen if I didn't do it in a timely manner.

And then I realized I never wanted to find out, at least not any time soon.

I started with laying every pair of panties out on my bed to get a pic of them collectively so I could put them back in my drawer as I took the pictures (I needed a system to ensure it was done properly). I got the bras out and did the same thing, pairing specific colors up for the efficiency of it.

Three hours and seventy four pictures later, my first second task as his slave was done. I sent them all to him and texted, "that's all of them," once I was sure they had all been delivered. It was almost nine o'clock at night and I didn't want to text him too much; he said he was generally busy and would get back to me as soon as he could. I just had to trust that.