Finally, the friend of my Dominant Mistress entered the bathroom. I saw her remove her shoes, then her clothes fell one by one to the floor.
Serving the Dominant Mistress: A Tale of Submission and Desire
She then ordered me to raise my eyes and just inches from them, I saw her magnificent buttocks. Bent forward, she had her back to me. She had placed one foot on the edge of the bathtub, revealing her slit.
- “Look at the state you’ve put me in! Clean it with your tongue!” she said.
Indeed, I couldn’t ignore her arousal as I discovered her soaked sex. I licked her crotch, her lips, nuzzling my nose near her fragrant anus while she spread her buttocks with her hands to allow me access to the deepest parts of her intimacy. I flinched when I heard my Mistress behind me say to her friend:
- “See, I told you you’d enjoy it…”
Her friend responded only with long moans that spoke louder than words. As for me, my cock strained painfully in its cage. I wasn’t yet trained to get hard only on command, and the situation had heightened my own desire.
My Dominant Mistress closed the door as she left the bathroom. Her friend pushed me away. I resumed my kneeling position, awaiting her orders. She turned on the shower and stepped in without paying me further attention. Then, she spent a long time under the invigorating stream. Finally, she used the different water flow settings, from the softest to the most concentrated, judging by the varying sounds. She only asked me to hand her her robe, and I couldn’t touch her further as she prepared herself.
Under the Dominant Mistress’s Control: A Journey of Ownership and Obedience
After slipping into a yellow silk robe with large floral patterns, she grabbed the leash and led me, still on all fours, to the living room where we rejoined my Dominant Mistress.
They spoke about me as if I weren’t there, or as if I were an object, a piece of furniture incapable of understanding their words. I don’t know which of the two decided to impose an additional constraint on me, but I felt a hand caress my backside with broad strokes before delivering four resounding slaps.
As I recognized the firm and decisive grip of my Dominant Mistress, I avoided moving and made no sound to please her. Her hand quickly coated my anus with a cold substance, then I felt the tip of a rather large plug making its way in. The regular training imposed by my Owner paid off, as I was able to open enough for the widest part to find its path, and the object settled, filling my ass.
I had learned to appreciate this deeply intimate sensation of possession. My Dominant Mistress wanted to have free and easy access at any time if she so desired. Under no circumstances could I demand any form of sexual or anal pleasure. I had given her the responsibility and power over that, and I had deeply internalized that it no longer belonged to me and was entirely hers to control.
Humiliated and Honored: Serving as Table, Ashtray, and Footrest for the Dominant Mistress
Thus adorned, I began serving them delicious drinks and food specially prepared. They added to their pleasure by making me wear high heels, laughing as they watched me move, perched with my ass filled, swaying with each step. Everything was an excuse to make me pass in front of them—fetching an accessory, food, or something else. Then, tired of this game, I had to get on all fours before them.
Thus, I served as an improvised table where they placed food, glasses, and more. I also tasted the peculiar flavor of ash when my Mistress’s friend made me open my mouth to serve as her ashtray. The hardest part was maintaining this position without moving or trembling. When the meal was over, I cleared away what remained, leaving only their glasses, and I had to lie on my back in front of the couch, serving for a long time as a cushion on which they rested their divine feet.
They talked about everything, a conversation between women. Finally, they broached the subject of Female Domination, gynarchy. My Dominant Mistress explained “how to dominate your man” to her friend. For her, of course, it was based on an exceptional relationship, the result of a unique encounter where two complementary approaches could live out their most authentic selves, closest to their deepest “self.”
Crafting a Consensual Bond: The Art of Female Domination Explained
Such a relationship, she said, was built with patience, determination, and love. It required establishing great trust, mutual respect, and evident natural admiration. This gave meaning to a bond that, beyond a mere game, was a true way of life and self-fulfillment. This consensual, embraced relationship also had to rely on high-quality communication between the two to evolve.
It was necessary to consider limitations and needs. Then, it was required to establish a clear framework, rules, and a shared vision. The societal image of such a bond was often misunderstood. Indeed, it was frequently equated with abuse, weakness, or perverse deviance. This aspect had to be acknowledged to avoid suffering from it.
She believed that control should extend as broadly as possible over her slave by getting to know him.
Managing his releases through what she called “controlled drainings” increased his obedience, his attentiveness toward her, and his desire to serve her. It also materialized her daily hold over my body, mind, and heart, bringing her pleasure in seeing and knowing me truly at her feet and under her command. Her slave had to learn to surrender to her more and more fully for everything—his pleasure, his choices in friendships or career, the management of his money—while still allowing him some personal time for his balance.
Chained at Her Feet: A Submissive’s Pride and Fulfillment
I was fascinated by the coherence of the approach she described to her friend. I already knew all this. Yet hearing it so well-articulated and synthesized resonated deeply within me once again. I truly felt the logic of being there at her feet. It was like the happy culmination of an entire journey. I was proud and happy to have been chosen by her to become what she wanted me to be for her. From time to time, they took pleasure in making me feel their heels, pressing their marks into my flesh.
The night was already well advanced when they decided to go to sleep. My Mistress led me by the leash to the bedroom. She pulled a blanket from the wardrobe and placed it at the foot of the large bed. She had me settle there and attached a chain to my collar with a padlock. This chain was also looped around the bedpost, restraining my movements enough without preventing me from moving slightly. The two friends took their places in the bed, whispering a little, sighing a lot. I could only imagine their gestures, their pleasure, which I knew was only heightened by knowing me thus possessed, offered at their feet.
Could sleep and dreams be more pleasant than what I had just experienced?
