What she left me
I met here when I returned to my hometown. We met at a house party and were so obviously attracted to each other that a mutual acquaintance pulled my drunk ass aside and was like, "you know she's married, right?"
I did. And I usually am meticulous in trying to avoid that sort of ethically questionable entanglement. But even knowing she was married, and knowing she was married and flirting outrageously with me which indicated that either she was alright with being dishonest or with hurting her partner, I could barely tear myself away.
I did though.
Let's call her Leslie. That's not her name, but her name was similar in type, and her name suited her. She was somewhat conventional in her looks and styling, but she was a little plump in the face and had a distinctive nose that was longer that seemed appropriate. But somehow a slightly disparate set of facial features seeming to belong to a collection of different faces came together to give her an unexpected magnetism. And her energy filled the room.
She started pursuing me. She would show up and drink at the bar of the restaurant where I served, and watch me work and then talk to me during my shift drink, flirting a little less overtly in this setting. I would struggle to peel myself away, go home alone and furiously masturbate to the most embarrassing femdom porn I could find while imaging telling her what a pathetic little bitch I am. I would imagine the first time I was on my knees, naked, having confessed, offered my self as her slave and been given the command to take of her shoes and worship her filthy bare feet, cleaning them with my tongue while she told me what she was going to do with me.
All the times she showed up like that, I managed to pull myself away. But I wanted her.
Now, Leslie had given me no direct indication that she was dominant, and I had not told her that I was submissive. I was still trying to have more heteronormative intercourse a lot at that time. Especially in short term relationships. I was pretty guarded about my submissive masochism at that time. Which only served to make it stronger when I succumbed to it and let it take me.
She stopped coming to my work. I was relieved and disappointed.
About three weeks later she started texting me when she was out on the town without her husband.
I never joined her. I did respond to the texts. In pretty much the way you would imagine, I really wanted to engage at the same time that I really didn't want to engage. And if I happened to be stoned when she texted, or if I had had a beer or two in me, she might draw me into some less than appropriate conversation.
But I still never joined her out.
One night she showed up at my house. It was extremely hard to send her away. So hard, in fact, that I was unable to do so. We fucked on the narrow futon I used at the time, on the foldable bamboo frame. Vines were covering the window next tot he bed and in the morning their shadows covered her delightfully unabashed plumpness. We went again more than once in the morning and I went down on her for some time. Usually I have trouble keeping it up if the element of female domination isn't present, so I am usually, in a situation where the woman doesn't know I'm submissive, fast at work imagining the most utterly humiliating fantasies all the while drilling her like the real man I am not. And I have been pretty conditioned to lick pussy from the women I have served, that in truth, that's the real sex for me.
I ate her out desperately before she left and she really came all over my face. I didn't wash it until I had masturbated again.
And then I didn't hear from her. I'd see her out and she'd wink at me. But she didn't come around my work and she didn't drop by in the middle of the night again.
Some years passed. Probably about five or six. I, in the meantime had a really involved on again off again relationship with a woman who I'm going to call, for the sake of this retelling, Abernathy.
Abernathy, very early on in our dating, during a tremendous honeymoon period, told me she thought I was holding something back from her. In the conversation that followed, I confessed everything about my female domination fantasies and realities. She asked me for all the information I had on femdom. I gave her my copy of Venus in Furs (the book) and a thumb drive containing all the femdom porn and pictures of women's feet and asses I had been looking at, ("In your fantasy, your licking these both, right?" "Yes Mistress.") as well as a short story about a femdom fantasy I kept having, which you can read here: https://xhamster.com/posts/9724699 . She took all of this with her when she went to stay with her parents who lived in a nearby town. I also gave her the phone number of a woman who I had served when I was on the coast. I gave this woman a call and asked her permission first of course.
Abernathy was gone for about a week and a half and when she came back she said, "Frankly William (again, not my name), I just don't see the downside for me."
That was the first time I had ever told a woman right at the start of the relationship exactly what my deal was and it began a time so eventful, it really has to wait for another, much longer and more involved set of posts. Until then, the broad strokes are these: Our sexuality, behind closed doors was femdom. She never expected me to be anything other than what I was and, although she had never thought of trying femdom before, she turned out to delight in making me squirm in all sorts of inventive ways. Our first nine or so months I was so head over heals in love with her that I was constantly going around trying to keep my mouth from involuntarily proposing marriage. Then she dumped me unceremoniously. This started a cycle where she would be gone for a few months then show back up and I would take her back like nothing had happened, and then, usually about seven months later she would disappear again. This went on for about four years. The last time she came back to me, rather than just go on as if nothing had happened again, she asked me to just be her slave, to serve her behind closed doors, to give up any claim of relationship status, to never cum without permission (although I was encouraged to masturbate. She knew I would obey her), to not date anyone but know that she would fuck anyone she pleased at any time. I was so utterly filled with conflicting emotions of loss and dread and the entire proposition was so humiliating to me that I was involuntarily so turned on I couldn't possibly say no. I become her total behind-the-scenes slave. I was kept naked on a leash whenever we were alone together. When she was out of town for two weeks, I watched her cats and scrubbed her whole apartment from floor to ceiling. I cleaned her oven. I was never allowed to wear clothes and was always to wear a collar when I was in her home, even when she was away. I felt pretty subservient on my knees scrubbing her toilet, wearing a collar and nothing else.
There is a lot that happened during that time that I will tell you about later. But the whole affair ended when one day she just told me she couldn't do it anymore and sent me away.
I was devastated.
I didn't date anyone for about a year and then Leslie started being around again. I just ran into her a few times, and it turns out she had gotten a divorce. So. Red flags all over the place of course, but no longer the ethical impediment. So I wade right in. Because the only one who is going to get hurt is me, and apparently I'm okay with that. I ask her out and we go out for coffee and manage to have a full adult conversation about life and it's entanglement and we don't even jump each other or be crazy or anything.
Then we have a drink one night. It's very amicable, but I'm holding back some.
Then we have a full on date. I don't remember what we did. Probably a movie and dinner. I like to do them in that order so you can talk about the movie. Anyway, she wound up coming to my house and we started making out. But after what I had been through with Abernathy, I just couldn't go back to pretending, so I stopped in the middle and told her I needed to talk. First I really asked her to not tell anyone what I was about to say. I mean, you know, I really laid it on like I was about to reveal state secrets. That's how I used to do. And when I told her I was turned on by women humiliating, punishing and emasculating me, she said, "Oh my god! I love femdom!" Then her nose scrunched up and she said, "And I can be a real bitch, too!"
And she told me that she used to cuckold her husband. And it was super kinky too. It was like, the kind of thing to make a subby boy sweat. She just told him that she was going to fuck other men and he wasn't allowed to do the same. I mean, my understanding of their dynamic is that he had not been submissive when they started, she just loved femdom and arbitrarily told him he was going to obey. And he did.
Fuck. So hot!
Later I'll dig in to more of what happened in our short-lived relationship. The way it ended was that she was supposed to come pick me up to go out to dinner on her birthday and she never showed up or took my calls or responded to my messages. Then the next morning I went out to a local hippy brunch place alone and saw her there with the man she would eventually marry, with whom she had pretty obviously just spent the night.
For about a year, she would occasionally text me to tell me that she missed me licking her asshole. But we never got together again, and. like I said, she married the guy. Not that that was any impediment to her before.
But she did leave me with something. When we were first starting to play together, she bought me a dog collar and told me to wear it every time I masturbated. While we were together, I was required to wear it when I went to bed. We talked a few days after she stood me up for the last time and she told me that I didn't have to do that anymore. But that I should always wear the collar when I masturbate.
And I still do.
Well. Sort of.
The collar she bought me wore out after a while and I replaced it with another one. When I went shopping I discovered that it actually was from a pet store, not an adult store. I've gone through four just like it since then. And I never masturbate without it.
I have it on right now.
You may never read this, Mistress "Leslie", but if you stumble upon it sometime, know that in this small but consistent way, I am still in serving.
I think I am going to try to regularly write and tell about all my mistresses, with the caveat of respecting their anonymity and obscuring their identity. Please comment if you are interested!
I did. And I usually am meticulous in trying to avoid that sort of ethically questionable entanglement. But even knowing she was married, and knowing she was married and flirting outrageously with me which indicated that either she was alright with being dishonest or with hurting her partner, I could barely tear myself away.
I did though.
Let's call her Leslie. That's not her name, but her name was similar in type, and her name suited her. She was somewhat conventional in her looks and styling, but she was a little plump in the face and had a distinctive nose that was longer that seemed appropriate. But somehow a slightly disparate set of facial features seeming to belong to a collection of different faces came together to give her an unexpected magnetism. And her energy filled the room.
She started pursuing me. She would show up and drink at the bar of the restaurant where I served, and watch me work and then talk to me during my shift drink, flirting a little less overtly in this setting. I would struggle to peel myself away, go home alone and furiously masturbate to the most embarrassing femdom porn I could find while imaging telling her what a pathetic little bitch I am. I would imagine the first time I was on my knees, naked, having confessed, offered my self as her slave and been given the command to take of her shoes and worship her filthy bare feet, cleaning them with my tongue while she told me what she was going to do with me.
All the times she showed up like that, I managed to pull myself away. But I wanted her.
Now, Leslie had given me no direct indication that she was dominant, and I had not told her that I was submissive. I was still trying to have more heteronormative intercourse a lot at that time. Especially in short term relationships. I was pretty guarded about my submissive masochism at that time. Which only served to make it stronger when I succumbed to it and let it take me.
She stopped coming to my work. I was relieved and disappointed.
About three weeks later she started texting me when she was out on the town without her husband.
I never joined her. I did respond to the texts. In pretty much the way you would imagine, I really wanted to engage at the same time that I really didn't want to engage. And if I happened to be stoned when she texted, or if I had had a beer or two in me, she might draw me into some less than appropriate conversation.
But I still never joined her out.
One night she showed up at my house. It was extremely hard to send her away. So hard, in fact, that I was unable to do so. We fucked on the narrow futon I used at the time, on the foldable bamboo frame. Vines were covering the window next tot he bed and in the morning their shadows covered her delightfully unabashed plumpness. We went again more than once in the morning and I went down on her for some time. Usually I have trouble keeping it up if the element of female domination isn't present, so I am usually, in a situation where the woman doesn't know I'm submissive, fast at work imagining the most utterly humiliating fantasies all the while drilling her like the real man I am not. And I have been pretty conditioned to lick pussy from the women I have served, that in truth, that's the real sex for me.
I ate her out desperately before she left and she really came all over my face. I didn't wash it until I had masturbated again.
And then I didn't hear from her. I'd see her out and she'd wink at me. But she didn't come around my work and she didn't drop by in the middle of the night again.
Some years passed. Probably about five or six. I, in the meantime had a really involved on again off again relationship with a woman who I'm going to call, for the sake of this retelling, Abernathy.
Abernathy, very early on in our dating, during a tremendous honeymoon period, told me she thought I was holding something back from her. In the conversation that followed, I confessed everything about my female domination fantasies and realities. She asked me for all the information I had on femdom. I gave her my copy of Venus in Furs (the book) and a thumb drive containing all the femdom porn and pictures of women's feet and asses I had been looking at, ("In your fantasy, your licking these both, right?" "Yes Mistress.") as well as a short story about a femdom fantasy I kept having, which you can read here: https://xhamster.com/posts/9724699 . She took all of this with her when she went to stay with her parents who lived in a nearby town. I also gave her the phone number of a woman who I had served when I was on the coast. I gave this woman a call and asked her permission first of course.
Abernathy was gone for about a week and a half and when she came back she said, "Frankly William (again, not my name), I just don't see the downside for me."
That was the first time I had ever told a woman right at the start of the relationship exactly what my deal was and it began a time so eventful, it really has to wait for another, much longer and more involved set of posts. Until then, the broad strokes are these: Our sexuality, behind closed doors was femdom. She never expected me to be anything other than what I was and, although she had never thought of trying femdom before, she turned out to delight in making me squirm in all sorts of inventive ways. Our first nine or so months I was so head over heals in love with her that I was constantly going around trying to keep my mouth from involuntarily proposing marriage. Then she dumped me unceremoniously. This started a cycle where she would be gone for a few months then show back up and I would take her back like nothing had happened, and then, usually about seven months later she would disappear again. This went on for about four years. The last time she came back to me, rather than just go on as if nothing had happened again, she asked me to just be her slave, to serve her behind closed doors, to give up any claim of relationship status, to never cum without permission (although I was encouraged to masturbate. She knew I would obey her), to not date anyone but know that she would fuck anyone she pleased at any time. I was so utterly filled with conflicting emotions of loss and dread and the entire proposition was so humiliating to me that I was involuntarily so turned on I couldn't possibly say no. I become her total behind-the-scenes slave. I was kept naked on a leash whenever we were alone together. When she was out of town for two weeks, I watched her cats and scrubbed her whole apartment from floor to ceiling. I cleaned her oven. I was never allowed to wear clothes and was always to wear a collar when I was in her home, even when she was away. I felt pretty subservient on my knees scrubbing her toilet, wearing a collar and nothing else.
There is a lot that happened during that time that I will tell you about later. But the whole affair ended when one day she just told me she couldn't do it anymore and sent me away.
I was devastated.
I didn't date anyone for about a year and then Leslie started being around again. I just ran into her a few times, and it turns out she had gotten a divorce. So. Red flags all over the place of course, but no longer the ethical impediment. So I wade right in. Because the only one who is going to get hurt is me, and apparently I'm okay with that. I ask her out and we go out for coffee and manage to have a full adult conversation about life and it's entanglement and we don't even jump each other or be crazy or anything.
Then we have a drink one night. It's very amicable, but I'm holding back some.
Then we have a full on date. I don't remember what we did. Probably a movie and dinner. I like to do them in that order so you can talk about the movie. Anyway, she wound up coming to my house and we started making out. But after what I had been through with Abernathy, I just couldn't go back to pretending, so I stopped in the middle and told her I needed to talk. First I really asked her to not tell anyone what I was about to say. I mean, you know, I really laid it on like I was about to reveal state secrets. That's how I used to do. And when I told her I was turned on by women humiliating, punishing and emasculating me, she said, "Oh my god! I love femdom!" Then her nose scrunched up and she said, "And I can be a real bitch, too!"
And she told me that she used to cuckold her husband. And it was super kinky too. It was like, the kind of thing to make a subby boy sweat. She just told him that she was going to fuck other men and he wasn't allowed to do the same. I mean, my understanding of their dynamic is that he had not been submissive when they started, she just loved femdom and arbitrarily told him he was going to obey. And he did.
Fuck. So hot!
Later I'll dig in to more of what happened in our short-lived relationship. The way it ended was that she was supposed to come pick me up to go out to dinner on her birthday and she never showed up or took my calls or responded to my messages. Then the next morning I went out to a local hippy brunch place alone and saw her there with the man she would eventually marry, with whom she had pretty obviously just spent the night.
For about a year, she would occasionally text me to tell me that she missed me licking her asshole. But we never got together again, and. like I said, she married the guy. Not that that was any impediment to her before.
But she did leave me with something. When we were first starting to play together, she bought me a dog collar and told me to wear it every time I masturbated. While we were together, I was required to wear it when I went to bed. We talked a few days after she stood me up for the last time and she told me that I didn't have to do that anymore. But that I should always wear the collar when I masturbate.
And I still do.
Well. Sort of.
The collar she bought me wore out after a while and I replaced it with another one. When I went shopping I discovered that it actually was from a pet store, not an adult store. I've gone through four just like it since then. And I never masturbate without it.
I have it on right now.
You may never read this, Mistress "Leslie", but if you stumble upon it sometime, know that in this small but consistent way, I am still in serving.
I think I am going to try to regularly write and tell about all my mistresses, with the caveat of respecting their anonymity and obscuring their identity. Please comment if you are interested!
1 year ago