Everything was fuzzy as I came to, my ears were ringing, my vision blurry, my entire body trembling slightly. My memory of what happened to me slowly began to return. The humiliating rejection, the insults, her hulking brute of a boyfriend, the painful slaps, the laughing in the background, and the last thing I could remember was the crack of his fist. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out.
Waking to see her sitting there, peering down at me with a look that at first I thought might be pity, but then I realized it was more contempt. I felt the urge to apologize, even though I was the one who’d been beaten.
“Finally awake I see,” she sneered, “you went down like a blob of jello… I’m not sure if was amusing or just pathetic… but now we need to have a talk. You see, my boyfriend has decided to leave it up to me what happens next. Normally, he teases care of losers like you on his own, bullying them relentlessly into complete servitude, but you, for some reason, he’s given to me. So I’ve been thinking- maybe it’s time I took a slave of my own… what do you think of that? Would you like to be my slave?”
I couldn’t believe my own ears. Did she just say what I think she said? Femdom has always been my fantasy, something I’ve craved but was too afraid to act on beyond masturbating to dominatrixes and femdom porn. My whole life I’ve dreamed of serving a strong, strict, demanding woman, devoting my life to her. suffering her punishments when I failed to meet her high standards, and being rewarded with nothing more than the opportunity to worship her on those rare occasions that I somehow found a way to please her. And now here I was, on the floor, looking up at this beautiful, superior woman in the softest, sexiest sweaterdress I’d ever seen… I had to wonder if I’d suffered some sort of head trauma and maybe I was delirious, hallucinating the whole thing… but then she snapped her fingers, snapping me out of my fog and back into reality.
“Well? I asked you a question boy, and I expect an answer. If you want to be my slave, just kiss my feet, right now. If not, just say so, and I’ll text my boyfriend and have him come deal with you. You will choose now.” Her voice was calm, yet assertive and demanding. There was a strength to it that commanded attention and demanded a response. I shifted forward and slowly, gently, reverently, respectfully and lovingly kiss one shoe, then the other. I was hers then, and from then on…
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