fs02: A Domme’s View – Arc 1 – Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The mornings after gym day make me happy that I have a hand-held shower head. It felt like I hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks. I should have just taken a shower last night. Instead, I tossed and turned and tossed and turned and had absurdly crazy sex dreams about… something… I think. Anyways, my shower head (I call him Pikky of the Agua-Pik clan) was a very good boy who completely satisfied me and asked for nothing in return.

I was a terrible worker today. I hope no one noticed. I loaded Cassandra’s blog on my phone. I think I spent as much time hiding out in the bathroom that I did at my desk. I must have read at least 40 or 50 posts. Her posts on male chastity made me tingle. Apparently we see eye to eye on that. There were a lot of things that I didn’t quite get, though. She keeps her slave husband feminized all the time and humiliates him constantly and he absolutely hates it, but he endures it all for her. That’s really romantic in a twisted sort of way. I still don’t really get it.

I almost lost it when she started talking about pegging. That’s been a long-running curiosity of mine but I’ve never been a fan of the idea of a man begging to be pegged. Apparently her slave hates being pegged… and that makes her love doing it. A few posts were about letting her friends peg him. Part of me thinks that is awful and humiliating but part of me tingles when I think of a sub that would be so dedicated and loving that he would take it without complaint. I can feel myself being corrupted.

On my way home from work I stopped at the store for some things. I lost a battle. The end-cap won. End-caps are evil. They taunt you with shiny new things that you don’t need and then beg you to buy them. The price is always displayed all huge like you’ll be missing out if you buy it next week at full price. Today’s end cap battle was waged over the Wonderous Woman movie. I had meant to see it but I kept putting it off and putting it off. By the time I made time, Robert had seen it, Brie had seen it, and the sub I was trying out at that time, what’s his name. The guy with a lot of chest hair. Bruce. He had already seen it. No one wanted to go see it again and I don’t like going to movies alone.

As a punishment for staying up too late and being a slacker at work, I decided I shall have an evening of internet-free meditation. That’s my secret code for watching a movie and eating ice cream.

At home I quickly perform my kinklife screening. I promised myself that I wouldn’t linger, but I believe in karma. I quickly go to David’s profile and create a message. “Thank you for having a quality links section.” I click send and close the screen. I strip out of my suit and into my comfort clothes.

There’s something gratifying about lounging around in clothes that could double as PJ’s while eating ice cream. About the only way I could make it better is to have a sub here to spoon feed it to me and then rub my feet (among other places). The movie starts. I roll my eyes at the blatant abuse of Greek mythology that happens in like the first 20 seconds. Either way, I’m happy. The previews didn’t look campy like the old TV show.

I’m not really huge on action movies but I feel okay. I feel like I’ve been over-using the term girl-crush lately, but god damn. I squirm around in my seat as the tingles come and go. A few scenes linger with me in particular. I reflect on it after the movie. I enjoyed it. It wasn’t life-changing or a masterpiece but I might have to watch it again soon.

I close my eyes and I’m her… well not really. I have her powers. I’m off hunting men like I was when I would pretend as a young girl. If they surrender without a fight they are too weak. I send them flying with a swift kick. If they are too rowdy they are boorish. Shoo, shoo. I search for the honorable man who makes no boastful claims and faces me one on one. He has skills but he is no match for me. I toy with him. I mock him. I bait him to give me his strongest attack. He obliges and I utterly crush him. I pin him to the ground as he struggles, but he is helpless before me. I smile as I slap him in chains. I laugh when he cries out goodbyes to his loved ones. He is my trophy. My slave. This one is mine.

I ride my horse and force him to run behind as I hold the chain connected to his collar. If he falls he will die. He keeps up due to his strength. I have chosen a worthy slave. It’s times like these that I regret not keeping a toy in every room. I slide my hand down the front of my pants. Where were we? I ride on. I take him across the fields of snow and ice and wrap my fur around me. Pitiful boy. You must trudge and freeze until we reach my castle. I let out a moan.

I bring him inside and lock the gate behind us. There is no escape. I strip off his clothes, leaving him naked and shivering. He doesn’t yet accept his utter defeat. I fit him with heavy metal shackles. In my fantasy these have no keyholes because they will never be removed. A chastity belt. I inform him of his new life of servitude. I pull him over my lap. He screams while I brand him with the large WW on his bare bottom. My body convulses in pleasure as I cum at the thought of my new toy.

A memory flash snaps me back to reality. I remember that day that I wore my Wonderous Woman outfit and scratched a W into Freddie’s bottom with a stick. A wide grin forms over my mouth. Oh did my mother whup me that day after she got the call from Freddie’s mom. He screamed and cried but handled it like a trooper. Another memory.

That was the day that I handcuffed him to the tree. Well, around the tree, like he was hugging it. That fair, what was it called again? River boat days? Some little nothing of a county fair type deal. Every year it was the exact same things. That year Freddie and I went every day. He had saved up his allowance to play the games. That was when I saw them. One of those semi-rigged skill crane games had handcuffs. Like, real, metal handcuffs. I know now they were novelty grade but I didn’t care. I wanted them. I wanted them so badly. I told him that I wanted them and to get them for me. Freddie blew through three weeks of allowance trying and he finally got them. Of course they were mine, not his, right? Nowadays novelty handcuffs have those safety releases. These ones didn’t. Once they locked on, they needed a key.

I was so proud of Freddie that I ran home and changed immediately. I became Wonderous Woman. We played out a similar scenario to this fantasy, although back then I still wanted to be the heroine and not the villain. I defeated Freddie soundly and handcuffed him to the tree. His reward was my mark.

How did I lose my way? Wait. A thought. I rewind back to my fantasy. Why did I choose that man? Why did I cast aside the others and choose that man? I dig into the heart of my desires. He was worthy. A worthy man makes a worthy slave. A weak man makes a weak slave. A dishonorable man makes a dishonorable slave. I chose a man of strength. My slave must be strong.

Where did I read that? The gears turn. I have too many things in my head! David. That boy. He wrote about strength. Why strength? I pull out my phone and turn the ringer back on (eat it, Brie). I login to kinklife. David has responded to my message. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m very honored that you chose to write to me. Take care, ma’am.”

I click reply. “Message me on yoohoo ASAP. Ms.FoXXXy. Don’t disappoint.”

I open the app to make sure it is signed in and clean up my dishes. Upstairs I brush my teeth. My phone dings. Your timing is almost as bad as Brie’s. “AznMan.28 has sent you a message.” I click accept and wait for it to load while I patiently wait for my electric toothbrush to finish its cycle. I catch myself doing it again. When I brush my teeth while distracted I tend to just hold the brush without moving it or brushing the same surfaces over and over again. The electric part tricks me into thinking that I’m actually doing it right. I set my phone down and finish the job. The brush pauses telling me I should be done. I rinse my mouth and open my phone.

“Hello, ma’am. I apologize for the delay. I had to sign up for yoohoo and download the app.”
It’s been a while so I put the screws to him.
“A Mistress doesn’t like excuses, boy, but your response time was acceptable… barely.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I will be up front with you. You have red flags that I am wary of. I do not see you as a potential submissive. I find your thoughts and words to be moderately interesting and possibly worthy of my company. Do you understand?”

I bite my lip as a wave of tingles rushes through me. I feel alive. This boy brings it out in me. If only he weren’t so flawed.

I watch the icon blink and vanish. Blink and vanish. Blink and vanish. I smirk. Oh poor boy, you are writing and deleting repeatedly hopefully finding the perfect response but second guessing yourself at every turn. I find that adorable. Finally the icon goes solid for several seconds.

“I understand, ma’am. I think you are a lovely person and would be happy with any attention that you would share with me. If I am unworthy of you, that falls on me. I would happily be someone you talk to.”

This boy does find the right words. Such impeccable manners should be rewarded. I press him.
“Good. I don’t like the name David. From now on, I will call you ‘sputter’. Do you like that name?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“Because anything I receive from you is a gift, ma’am.”

Clever boy. There was no delay or pause there. Either he has rehearsed this many times and has mastered the art of faking it or that is how he genuinely feels. That is a puzzle I can only solve over time.
“sputter, tell me about strength.”
“What aspect of strength would you like to hear about, ma’am?”
“Strength of submissives. Strength of submission. What does it all mean to you?”
“Yes, ma’am. This may take a while.”
“Acknowledged.”

I watch his icon go solid. I wonder what he will say.

“There are many kinds of strength. Capacity. Capability. Ability. Talent. Potential. Perseverance. Will-power. Resilience. Devotion. The list goes on and on. A worthy submissive has many strengths and very few weaknesses. Submission takes a great amount of courage and dedication. It takes a level of understanding to grasp how your role exists to be complimentary instead of the focal point. That role dictates that a sub should be ultimately adaptable and capable in any way that a Domme requires of him. He must be able to change forms and display capacities in all aspects.”

His writing is somewhat abstract. I will probably have to read it several times before I can fully process it. I suppose forcing him to type this up in real-time on a phone leads to a much less organized version of this had I made the request via kinklife. I wanted to see him as he is. Unrehearsed.

“A sub without strength will ultimately fail his Domme. He will not learn quickly and will be difficult to train. He will not persevere through obstacles and challenges that fall before him. He will cower and run when the going gets tough. I don’t think that submission has any room for weakness. I’m sorry for my lack of eloquence.”

I begin to type a reply but his icon goes solid again. I hold back and wait.
“To summarize it more concisely, a strong submissive has all of the abilities needed to serve his Domme and the strength of will to place her needs before his own. He will both obey her and support her so that she can utilize and rely on his strength. The stronger the sub, the more worthy he becomes. I believe that a Domme wishes to dominate someone that is worth dominating and not just anyone.”

I smile.
“That is sufficient, sputter. I will be in touch.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for interacting with me. This truly was the highlight of my day. You are a wonderful person.”

Minimize the app on my phone without responding. I will reread his words later. I could feel him toppling my walls again. This boy is formidable. I think about his words while I ready myself for bed. This idea of strength intrigues me. I had always sort of seen submissives as being lesser or weaker. I’m not accustomed to the idea that someone would take pride in their submission and feel worth by the quality of their service and the depth to which they enrich her life. Food for thought.

I find myself in bed, my favorite toy in hand. I chase the thoughts from my head. I return to my castle. Power courses through my body. My worthy slave kneels naked, chained to the wall. I grin. He is the one I have chosen. He was the most worthy. I will break him. Over time he will grow to love me and feel special that he is mine. Lucky boy. I chose the best.

“Slave. Use everything at your disposal to pleasure me. Show me that I was not wrong in selecting the one I deemed most worthy to the privilege of serving me.”

I tower over him and widen my stance, exposing my glistening pussy for him to worship. He places two fingers in his mouth and withdraws them. I feel his lips on my throbbing clit. He slides his fingers in. I tip my head back and let out a moan as he finds the right spot. This boy is formidable, he reacts to my moan and continues with increased speed and force to the same spots. His other hand moves in, applying gentle pressure around the hood, forcing my clit to expose more of itself to be pleasured by his skilled tongue. I let out a cry and grind my hips.

My hands find his hair. I must be careful not to damage him. Mere mortals are so easily broken. He continues with his tongue and hands. His motions are eager, genuine, thorough, and skilled. This boy is most worthy. Only he can pleasure the Goddess. I feel the twitches as the spasms begin as I cry out and cum all over his face. He responds perfectly, adjusting his pressure so as not to hurt me but he never stops. Instead he guides me to the return of the pleasurable force and pace. I release his hair and cup my breasts. He presses his lips to my skin and forms a gentle suction. He forces his tongue against me, gliding along the length of my clit. I let out a pleasure cry as I realize that he is the one. He wants to please me as badly as I want him to.

“Again.”

I want to cum again. I plow into his face. I feel him add a finger. I angle my hips and flatten against his lips. My perfect boy. I chose you. I found you. I conquered and enslaved you. And now you pleasure me. I am your Goddess. I explode on his face and writhe with a series of pelvic convulsions and a predatory scream. He gently withdraws from me. I look down upon him.

He lowers his head, prostrating himself. He worships me as his Goddess. My perfect boy. You are strong.

I take a deep breath through my nose and snuggle back up under the covers. I turn off the toy and place it on the nightstand. I smile with my eyes closed. David was right. What a formidable boy.

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• Erotica
• Femdom