This post was originally posted, a few days ago, at Mistress Destiny’s FemDom Forum. Enjoy!
THIS IS NOT A WORK OF FICTION. EVERYTHING DESCRIBED AND DEPICTED IN THESE POSTS IS REAL, ALTHOUGH NAMES MAY BE CHANGED OR DISGUISED FOR THE SAKE OF DISCRETION. THEN AGAIN, THEY MAY NOT:
I realise that this is a forum for the posting of erotic literature, but what I’m going to relate here isn’t fiction at all, but fact. While it will contain many of the elements that are regularly featured by the contributors here, the narrative is a little wider in scope, well at least the opening is, so if that frustrates anyone expecting a direct, erotically charged work of FemDom fiction, then I apologise. There are plenty of other excellent posts in these forums that will satisfy that need in a quicker and more direct way. My Mistress and I feel that including some of the background might benefit some readers on the chance that they might relate directly to what brought me to my current situation.
Additionally I’m posting this because I’m about to begin a journey that most males here, I’m sure, regularly fantasise and day dream about. I know I did, and I thought it ‘might’ be of some interest to anyone who may wonder if a 24/7 relationship as a submissive male slave to a natural lifestyle Dominatrix is possible, or even desirable, and what that would REALLY be like. As I write this, I don’t’ actually know, because I’m still at the beginning of the journey. However The Mistress, after I’d discussed my desire to write this here where I’ve spent quite some time over the last few years perusing the very many, largely excellent contributions, was very enthusiastic that I do it. In fact yesterday she commanded me to, so here it is. I intend to update this narrative as and when things develop. I’ll post here to begin with, then perhaps continue later via an actual personal blog. When that time comes, if what you read here continues to interest you, I’ll post the link where you can continue reading it. It is my intention to document, on a fairly regular basis, my transition to full time personal 24/7 slave, to my Owner and Goddess, The Mistress Xavialune.
I’ve been married twice, no children and both marriages have failed. The first ended in divorce some 14 years ago and the second is on the brink of going the same way. I’ve been separated from my current wife for the last 20 months and the reasons for each failure were essentially the same, that is, an inability on our part to come to terms with, and reconcile the desires that lie at the core of my sexual mechanics.
My current wife and I have seen this crisis come to a head three times during the course of our relationship, each time more precariously critical than the time before. When I finally walked away, I was on the brink of the deepest despair I had ever known. I love Her deeply, I always have and I do still, but it doesn’t work because of what I am. This last two years have been difficult for me and for Her obviously, but also for The Mistress, with whom I’ve also developed a deep loving relationship, for my friends and for my family. However, to continue to live in denial of what you truly are is seriously dangerous and ultimately futile. If you’re not happy, then you are condemned to live in misery and you’ll never make the person who shares your life happy either. You cannot give someone a gift that you do not possess, it’s as simple as that and if you believe otherwise well then, I’m sorry, but you’re delusional.
So in all that time I’ve bounced from one extreme to the other and back again, unable to let go but unable to hold on. I’ve come to the brink of suicide twice, been urged to take medication, which I refused and been urged to go into counselling, which I’m thinking about. However while counsellors may be able to teach me how to deal with my nature in such a way that my life isn’t ripped apart, they won’t be able to change what I am. I don’t believe it, and so the time has come to accept what I am and grasp the opportunity that The Mistress has graciously given me, and take my place at Her feet as Her 24/7 slave. She has always known that this is where I belong, that it was never really a choice once She had decided to claim me, and I’m grateful to The Mistress, and honoured. There is love in our relationship but also symmetry, a compatibility of dynamic that almost seems like destiny, and perhaps it is. I’ve fought hard for the clarity that would enable me to sway one way or the other, or even forge a course between the two, but I have no fight left in me, nor the will even if I had. Deep down it’s what I want, even though the price of realising these needs was almost too much to bare.
The Mistress is young, at twenty-four She is twenty-six years my junior. Naturally I was aghast when I discovered this, but The Mistress is unfazed. “Older men make the best slaves”, She says to me, “and besides, I’m in love you with you and I will never abandon you.” She cares nothing for what others think of this, and I, who suffer the odd jibe of how She’s old enough to be a daughter, and am even sometimes innocently mistaken for Her father, care even less. We have come to believe that fate brought us together, the hand of the Great Goddess Herself, and that we have been lovers before. In other lifetimes spanning centuries I have always been Her slave. That’s how it feels.
The Mistress is wise beyond Her years and is very beautiful. To my eyes yes but also in the eyes of many others. Obviously I’ve gazed on the image of a great many Dominant Women on this site and across countless others across the years,, as have you probably, and yet amongst them all She is unique. I’ve walked behind Her on a crowded Manhattan street and watched heads turn in Her wake, not because of how She is dressed, but because of the powerful and creative way in which She expresses Herself in terms of how She looks. Unique.
Of course She also attracts ridicule across both genders for the way She looks but She handles those situations with such dignity, strength and courage, that they are completely and rapidly rendered impotent, and their fear of Her and what She represents is apparent in their bleating.
The Mistress is also a Female Supremacist. She demands absolute ownership over her personal slave and so I am to be trained to show humility and to demonstrate my place under Her at all times, regardless of how humiliating or degrading it may seem. In her eyes and in mine, each act of submission is proof of my worship and devotion to Her and Her philosophies. She requires it, demands it and my place is to accept it and obey Her rules. I don’t need to tell you that I find the prospect to be the most erotically charged sense of excitement that I’ve ever known.
So how did I find The Mistress?
I didn’t actually. She found me. I had reached a new low, in utter despair at my failure to make my marriage work. The fights, the frustration, the repression, the unhappiness had been taking its toll on both of us. An attempt to get to the crux of the problems had failed and I was contemplating suicide. One morning in the early hours, I was writing in my journal and when I finally went to bed I realised that I’d been crying, but I couldn’t remember a single word that I’d written. Later I read the journal entry over and became very frightened by my obvious unstable, mental state, and I begged the Goddess – God has always been a Goddess in my mind – for help, to save me, to show me the way. The very next day, The Mistress Xavialune was in my life.
For all the hours and hours of scouring websites, online forums, mailing lists, all to relieve the pressure rather than to find a partner – I was married remember – in the end it was She who found me. My work draws admirers from the obsessive to the mildly curious, The Mistress fell into the latter group. She saw my MySpace profile, long since abandoned, and simply wrote to tell me She admired my work and to compliment me on one or two things I’d written on my profile page. She signed the short two line message, ‘Mistress Xavialune’. Naturally I was intrigued. I visited Her profile in turn, read Her profile information and biography and gazed at Her photos and Her website banners. She was a member of the FemDom Society, as was I – I’d been a platinum lifetime member of the society for some months; and, to my surprise and obvious fascination, She proclaimed Herself to be a female supremacist and professional Dominatrix. I think I just stared at the computer monitor with my mouth open for a good ten minutes before I was able to snap out of it.
I decided that I had to respond, saying that I very much liked Her page too and sympathised with Her philosophies. This seemed to surprise and intrigue Her in turn and She enquired as to whether She might ask in what sense did I sympathise. After some deliberation with myself, not quite able to believe the synchronicity that had occurred here, I decided to be open and honest. I’m a male submissive, I told Her. This seemed to surprise Her even more. What followed was weeks of cross correspondence, a great deal of good humour, warmth, mutual understanding, excitement and ultimately, love. We fell in love that summer and my life truly changed. She told me it was Her intention to collar me as Her slave, but that I’d have to travel to the state of Maine, in the United States where She was living at that time, to present myself. It was to be the single most adventurous step I’d ever taken, and believe me I’ve had many interesting adventures during the course of my life. Ahead of me lay two years of struggle, as the conflict between my old way of life, my emotions and my desires all fought each other in an internal civil war between two extremities of being, and naturally there were casualties. However I was unaware of that and with hindsight, even if I had been, it wouldn’t have caused me to falter at all.
The meeting in Portland was both explosive and romantic and that very same afternoon I found myself on my knees, at her feet in a discreet but public part of town, where She fastened a collar and a leash around my neck. She then led me by the leash to one of Her regular haunts, a fetish/goth club in town and introduced me to one or two of Her friends there, as Her personal slave, vox. This collaring wasn’t the official, formal collaring of a permanent Mistress/slave relationship. That was to be earned over the long term on the condition that I prove worthy of it, but it sufficed to define our dynamic in the short term. After years in the closet so to speak I expected this to be a much more difficult thing to do than it actually was. The Mistress was gentle, yet firm and took my trepidations into consideration, but She told me that even then, She could see that I was a genuine slave, that this was my proper conjugal station in life. From my point of view it was stimulating, exciting, not just sexually, but in an expressive sense. Many eyes were on us as She led me through the streets to the club. I hadn’t felt this subversive since the punk days of my late teens. In fact we struck such a colourful pose that over the next couple of days a few obvious tourists even asked if they might photograph us. Smiling in the bright, warm summer sunshine, we happily complied.
There was nothing typical about our relationship to one another of course, not even in terms of the Dominant/submissive dynamic. Over the course of the previous three months we’d gone very deep in our online communications with each other and found that we shared a lot of common ground and that we were able to relate very strongly to each other’s circumstances. By the time we actually met neither of us were in any doubt that we were very much in love.
After a brief stopover in Maine we spent the following three months travelling around America together before eventually returning to England and over the next 18 months or so, made numerous trips back and forth. The highlight of that period for me was when the Mistress decided that She would attend the Folsom Street fair in San Francisco, and that I, as Her personal slave, would attend with Her. For this I was to be completely sissified, collared and leashed. This was to be the biggest step I had taken so far toward stepping out and embracing my Femdom slave nature, and initially I was petrified at the idea, but determined to obey and prove that my desire and dedication to the Mistress was real.
The Mistress provided me with a full sissy maid uniform and having previously experimented with my make-up – the Mistress is a naturally talented make-up artist – She set about transforming me into her personal sissy maid for the day. The make-up job was elaborate and highly effective. I could barely recognise myself. The uniform consisted of a black and white sissymaid’s dress with a petticoat. The uniform also comes with a white apron and a black, silk lace frilly bonnet. I was provided with fishnet tights, which I wore under black leather boots. A pair of black frilly satin panties comprised my underwear, which were locked into place by slender chains and miniature padlocks. In the front of the panties was an opening for my cock and balls. It pleases the Mistress to have my cock and my balls protruding from the front of my underwear under my petticoat, within easy reach of Her teasing fingernails whenever the whim takes Her. A red haired wig was fitted that complimented the spectacular make-up, and finally my black studded leather dog collar with leash attached. The hardest part was stepping out of the door of the apartment where we were staying and into the waiting cab. The Mistress had done a spectacular job on me. If the driver of the cab noticed in his rear view mirror that I wasn’t a female, it certainly didn’t show in his reaction or manner as he drove us across the city. A short walk from the cab to the barriers at Folsom Street was nervy, but at the same time exhilarating and we were both complimented by the donation collectors who manned the barrier, on how we looked. “Wow, you guys look fantastic”, one of them smiled as we entered. This was my first venture into the realm of public humiliation for the sake of the Mistress’ pleasure and amusement and I was in an almost constant state of arousal throughout the whole afternoon.
However, It wasn’t all plain sailing by any stretch. Over the following months I discovered that I was still very conflicted. Something I had secretly desired my entire life, that is, to be completely owned by a lifestyle Dominant Woman, was now within my grasp but the cost was to forego an entire previous life, alienation from friendships forged over many years, the stresses of another impending divorce, family conflict. All of this took its toll on both the Mistress and myself. The Mistress however, was strong throughout. She knew and often reminded me that while the choice was still there to be made, She knew what I was, and deep down so did I, and that I could never be happy within a vanilla relationship regardless of how much love existed within it. I had to face the truth about myself, and If I could do that, She would lead me to the very places I had always desired to go. A deep, loving relationship based on the mutual understanding of each other’s sexual and emotional dynamics. We both took the step toward a full 24/7 D/s relationship very seriously. It isn’t something to be entered into on a whim. This wasn’t a game. We were contemplating entering into the real thing and both of us had to be absolutely sure it was what we wanted and trust each other to devote ourselves to our roles.
Eventually though a decision had to be made. By this time the Mistress had re-located to Los Angeles California to work for a company called Fetish Chat Live, an online sex chat service that offers subscribers the opportunity to experience a professional Dominatrix over a live video chat network. Nearby to the company headquarters, a number of Pro Dommes, including The Mistress, live and work full time. The Mistress, after consulting with Her colleagues decided that in addition to serving as Her personal 24/7 slave, I was to fulfil the role of house slave to the resident Dommes. This was the moment of truth. After deliberating for a while, I decided that I would finally take the plunge. After all, there was only one way I was ever going to find out if this was what I truly wanted. The Mistress was and still is confident that for me, there’ll be no turning back. I made the decision then, to join on Her terms.
The Mistress made it very clear regarding how my new life would be. I was first given a set of house rules, which I am to memorise until they become second nature. The rules I am told will be amended and added to as and when The Mistress sees fit. The house rules are divided into various categories. General House Rules outline how I am to conduct myself with regards the entire household, while the Personal House Rules relate exclusively to my owner, the Mistress Xavialune. Perhaps in the next post, I’ll itemise these rules in detail.
As daunting as these rules seemed at first glance, I was naturally excited at the proposition. Who of us wouldn’t be? I was told that my “new life” would begin immediately on my arrival, and so I quickly made the necessary arrangements, booked a flight to Los Angeles, and here I am.
I was met at the airport by the Mistress and Her colleague and close friend Mistress Moxie, who I got to know on previous visits to LA. Mistress Moxie is also an admirer of my professional work and we’d all become firm friends. Due to a delay in leaving England for my connection to LA, my checked baggage didn’t make it and I was told this would follow me out on a later flight. This was unfortunate because the sissy maid uniform, along with some leather restraints were in there and the Mistress had wanted to present me to the household sissified, and now because of the delay that would have to wait a day or so. On arriving though we were met by the Goddess Lady Remedy Anne and I was able to please the Mistress by immediately adopting the grovelling position and greeting Her in the proper fashion. Crawling forward to the Goddess Lady Remedy Anne’s feet, I kissed the floor six inches from the toe of Her leather boots. Pleased and purring, She lifted Her boot above my head, and rubbed the sole of the boot gently on my hair, as if to use my hair to clean them.
Once settled the Mistress wasted no time in putting me in my proper place. The Mistress had given me a list of what I would be expected to bring with me and the amount of male clothing I was allowed to include was meagre. A few shirts, a couple of pairs of trousers and minimum male underwear. All of this was taken from me and locked into a chest secured by a heavy chain and padlocked. The key was put on a lanyard, which the Mistress either wears around her neck or conceals. Now completely naked, I was handed a pair of Women’s panties and told that from now on, it would be the only underwear I would be allowed. Should I be required to venture out on errands to the store, or to fetch lunch, I would have to crawl to the Mistresses feet and passionately grovel and beg for my male clothing. Once the errand is complete, I must return the clothes to the Mistress and adopt my former semi naked slave state.
As my collar and leash was still in my delayed luggage, the Mistress put a posture collar around my neck and attached a temporary leash to it. Thus, completely naked save for the panties, collar and leash, I was commanded to crawl behind the Mistress while She introduced me to the rest of the Domme household, all the time being instructed to kiss Her shoes and feet while they cooed around me, stroking my head or tickling behind my ear as if I were the Mistress’ cute puppy dog.
The introductions made then, I crawled at the heels of the Mistress back to Her spacious living area, whereupon She and Mistress Moxie prepared my slave file. This was a binder containing all of the relevant rules and practises that I would be expected to memorise and adhere to. These included the aforementioned House Rules, along with the first batch of slave positions that I would have to learn and execute in response to minimal hand or vocal gestures on the part of my Owner and Her colleagues. On the wall is a sign which reads, ‘FORT FEMDOM WELCOMES IT’S LATEST ADDITION, PRISSY SISSY PINKBOTTOM’ – a ‘pet’ name that the Mistress uses for me sometimes. Next to this is a white board that lays out a daily schedule of chores, such as making all the beds in the rooms of the house, emptying trash, vacuuming, cleaning, organising laundry etc. The schedule included a merit-star system; blue stars that could be earned with good, obedient behaviour, and black stars, which would be awarded whenever I displeased my Owner and my keepers. Blue stars can be traded in for treats when a sufficient number has been accumulated. These treats included the honour of being face sat; prolonged tease and denial treatment – a favourite treat with the Mistress, who greatly enjoys tickling and playing with my cock and balls thereby keeping me hard and aroused for long periods of time. Black stars of course, when accumulated, result in punishment, whippings or extreme humiliation exercises, the most dreaded of which for me at least is public babification.
Due to the deeper relationship we have, the Mistress differs from many Female slave keepers in that She actually enjoys penetrative sex with Her personal slave. Whenever the whim takes Her, I am to present myself for Her pleasure. Naturally when this occurs I’m not allowed to ejaculate. The Mistress will ride my cock until one, or more commonly multiple orgasms are achieved and most often, I’m also commanded to pleasure Her with my mouth and bring Her to climax that way, in addition to Her fucking me. It’s not uncommon for these frenzies to last two or even three hours at a stretch, and throughout I’m expected to suspend ejaculation on pain of extreme punishment for failing to comply. Fortunately I have very good self control in this department, although the Mistress now sees this as a challenge and makes every effort to get me to lose control and ejaculate. These methods include the raking and tickling of my balls and my dick while She rides me, or manipulating my penis head with her fingers moisturised while She forces me to inhale Her foot, crotch or ass scent. The Mistress also intends to train my ass to take Her strap on dildo and tells me that I will always be attired in such a way that She can take me on a whim any time She chooses.
The Mistress also enjoys forcing me to smell her intimate scents. She insists that all my senses should be filled with Her presence in the form of intimacy.
Taste – when She has me lick Her between Her legs or suck and lick Her Divine ass.
Touch – when She has me stroke Her body or massage Her ass, legs, back, shoulders or feet.
Sight and sound – when I’m instructed to kneel beside Her and worship Her as She works.
Scent – when I’m commanded to put my nose in Her ass crack and sniff Her, making sure that She hears and feels me doing it. Or sniffing Her crotch – often while She is seated talking to colleagues or working on camera – and Her favourite, having me sniff at Her toes and feet, sometimes bound, while She rakes my cock and balls with Her long finger nails. Scent training also includes putting my nose or mouth to Her anus when She feels the need to expel gas. This never ceases to amuse Her and She greatly enjoys making me grovel and beg for the privilege. The Mistress has devised what She refers to as my ‘fart mantra’, which I am to memorise and recite quickly and fluidly whenever She feels the need to fart.
“Please Glorious Supreme Goddess Mistress, your dog slave baby sissy maid begs to sniff you..Please mistress, please let me breathe in your divine farts.. they are worthy of worship and I plead with you, on my knees, to put me in my special place and let me smell them.”
You will note that one of the titles I am forced to use is “baby sissy maid”. Unfortunately for me, the Mistress has a predilection to babifying me either as a form of punishment, because She knows this is a genuinely horrifying aspect of humiliation for me, or for Her own pleasure. Seeing Her personal slave forced into the role of a baby sissy maid is a big turn-on for Her and She is threatening to do this to me on a whim. What’s more, She also tells me that She intends to do this for the pleasure and amusement of Her colleagues. No amount of begging, grovelling or pleading on my part has changed Her mind on this subject. Before my arrival She and Mistress Moxie visited a local store and bought some items to aid my humiliation when they babify me. The items included a bag of extra large baby diapers; a baby rattle; a sippy cup; a pink bib featuring a cartoon picture of a lion, and a stuffed toy blue heart with the words, MY BABY, on it; a baby bonnet and a pair of black, satin, adult baby lockable booties. The Mistress is also consulting with a colleague about having an adult baby high chair custom made, complete with metal rings to secure me in place, whereupon I will be force-fed. I shudder to think with what. I live in daily dread of the words, which, She has told me, will initiate the humiliation. “fetch your baby things to me slave, Mistress wishes to play with baby-boo.” On hearing them I’m to bring the items to Her on my hands and knees, offer them to Her, then kiss or lick Her shoes or feet. I will then be put into hand and ankle restraint bondage, forcibly dressed in the baby clothes, placed on a leash, and forced to crawl at the Mistress’ heels and endure whatever humiliations She has planned. She’s also arranged a kind of ‘day-care’ programme with a couple of Her colleagues, should She have to work with clients during the course of the humiliation.
Added note: As I type this, I’ve been completely stripped, put into a make-shift nappy, the pair of black baby booties have been padlocked into place, the leather wrist retrains have been put on me, and the aforementioned baby bib has been tied around my neck along with two pairs of the Mistress’ soiled panties, which, once this entry is completed and the last of my chores are done, I have to mouth-wash in the Mistress’ presence.
Tomorrow we venture into West Hollywood to an event hosted by ‘Fetish Nation’. The Mistress and Her esteemed colleague, the Goddess Lady Remedy Anne have been specially invited to attend and I’m told I will also accompany them. I will be collared and leashed and completely sissified. My previous experience at the Folsom Street Fair will no doubt serve as preparation for this public humiliation, but I’m still very nervous about the prospect. In my next post I will relate the experience, and give an outline as to what constitutes a typical day here.
Mistress Xavialune’s dog slave baby sissy maid sabrina vox.