It began on Friday in the early afternoon. They both had the day off, but she had some things to do in the morning that did not require his participation. They had discussed the upcoming weekend, and she had sent him a list of expectations and preparations. She provided only and outline of the itinerary, thus allowing her the flexibility to make on-the-fly changes.
He, having been locked and chaste for coming up on two weeks, was energetic and full of anticipation. He set his preparation with seriousness and focus. He'd waited his whole life for a weekend like this, and he was desperate not to fuck it up. Having confessed his deepest fantasy to her, he looked at himself in the mirror as he shaved and reflected on the direction his life had taken since they'd met. He had known about his submissiveness for practically the whole of his life. He'd suffered heartache and humiliation (not the good kind) because, well, men aren't supposed to be submissive. They aren't supposed to be crossdressers. They aren't supposed to be sissies. They aren't supposed to value the woman's pleasure more than their own.
She did not see him as submissive when they met. They had fallen in love quickly, and he did his best to be open and honest about his nature from the outset. For someone not used to seeing people in the context of "dominant" or "submissive," what he had to say was not easily internalized. It was only after countless hours of conversation, endless hours of her own research, and hundreds of sessions of love-making that she began to understand him, and something about herself as well.
A beautiful woman in every sense of the term, she also gained great satisfaction from giving, and not only to those whom she loved. She was kind to strangers, to the downtrodden, and to creatures of all species. Her heart opened to those who, like herself, had not been treated well in the past.
She had not thus far had the benefit of finding a man who would treat her with the respect, love, and kindness that she so deserved. Until she met him. Her life changed that day. The road they were now on was not what she'd ever expected or could even have imagined. But each day, as he expressed and demonstrated his ever-deepening love to her, she felt herself changing inside. She was silly, funny, snarky, and playful and they filled each other with laughter in the kitchen, in the car, and nearly everywhere. She felt safe for the first time expressing her sexuality. She wore sexy lingerie, she touched herself while he watched. She tied him up, blindfolded him, and bid him to worship her womanhood. As she asserted control over their lovemaking, he surrendered willingly, providing assurances that reinforced her confidence to take them further down the road than either had ventured previously.
"You are the love of my life," he'd said to her. "There is nothing that I would not do to please you, and to make your life better." She believed him, but she didn't fully fathom the depth of that declaration, nor visualize the possibilities. She'd received his worshipful ministrations, been the beneficiary of a tongue that danced and flitted across her most sensitive and moist regions, taking her on orgasmic journeys to heights she'd never achieved. She witnessed the firmness of his erections whenever he pleased her orally, without any direct stimulation, and understood that his devotion was sincere. Whenever he entered her, he moved in ways to maximize her pleasure. He could go indefinitely, remaining hard and not climaxing, so long as it was pleasing to her. He would stop without climaxing if she so desired.
She wanted to reciprocate, as was her nature. She said to him, "tell me your fantasy, and I will make it come true." She had a good idea by now what made him tick. She felt him grow harder inside her that time she whispered, "you are not allowed to cum today. Maybe tomorrow." She heard the moan escape his lips when she bid him to wear lingerie, and then caressed him and told him how sexy he was. She anticipated that his fantasy would be along those lines, pushing the envelope further.
He thought long and hard about what he wanted, what to say. It was a complex question. An easy answer, consistent with the stories and videos easily found on the web, would involve her doing various things to him, the details of which the reader may imagine for themselves. She could tie him up and tease him for hours maybe, or peg him while he was in chastity, or maybe dress him like a maid and have him do her laundry, cleaning, etc. But these were not his ultimate fantasy. Oh, to be sure, they were stories he'd read, and masturbated to. Stories and images that got him off, sometimes. He thought to be careful not to idealize, not to project an unrealistic vision of a "perfect" scene that would playout exactly as he imagined. No, any fantasy-come-true would be different. It would be less of a caricature and more real. There would be uncertainty, nervousness and goofs. They would maintain a sense of humor, and not embody the stoic seriousness that he'd typically found in his browsing. He anticipated that these scenes might one day happen, tailored to the two of them. If she wished.
That was the thing. What he wanted, more than anything, was for her to see herself as he did. He wanted her to realize and accept that she was deserving of his full and unfettered devotion. He wanted her to embrace the gift he was offering, and to accept, no, to require his humble and earnest service. He wanted that inner voice in her head that whispered negative thoughts to pack its bags and leave for good. He wanted the voice that took its place to say, "you are special, you are amazing, you are deserving. Relax and accept his gift."
He longed to be what she wanted him to be, in every circumstance. A fiancé, soon to be her husband; a sous chef to her executive chef mastery in the kitchen, sharing the experience, assisting her, reveling in the sumptuous meals she so loved creating; a gardening partner, sharing ideas and dreams, shaping them into reality; traveling companions the world over, holding hands and experiencing newness at every turn. The list went on in his mind. Every task, every chore, every whim, every dream, every fantasy she had, he longed to embrace, for they would give him new opportunities to demonstrate the unconditional completeness of his love for her. He did not want her to see this as a responsibility or burden. He wanted her to see it as an opportunity for both of them, and a chance to live a more fulfilling life. Though he'd expressed those desires more than once, it was difficult for her to process and accept. Through repetition and consistency in words and action, the messaging started to get through.
She was getting more comfortable receiving; she was recognizing the benefits to herself in accepting him as he was. Still, she thought, "I like to give pleasure, too. I like to do things for him that make him happy. I still want to be able to do that." She had pondered this conundrum at great length, and having done so, she reconciled her thoughts. "Well, he wants to please me in every way. So, if it pleases me at times to have him as my submissive, and to have him do as he is told, he will. If it pleases me at times to have him as my equal partner, so he shall be. If it pleases me to take his burden for a while, and tend to him with lovingkindness, because it's my nature, then he will graciously accept my gift."
So, she decided that this weekend, she was going to take charge. They would be together the entire weekend. She was going to assert her dominance, in her own special way, sometimes commanding his every action, sometimes giving him freedom of choice, and sometimes tending to his body, mind and soul. That was what he wanted. That what what she deserved. He was in her thrall, and it was there that his deepest most sincere fantasy lay.
Thanks for reading.
Jen
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