I wanted to come to her. There was something cocooning and powerful about flying to Mistress to be at her base, in her home element, where she would feel most powerful and most strong, and I would feel safest.
After meeting Mistress for the first time, when we met to talk and see if we felt good around one another, I humbly told her that I was deeply affected by her, and asked if it might be possible to see her some time. She told me should would like that. Talk about joy. I asked if I might be able to come to her neck of the woods. For some reason that I didn’t fully understand, I just didn’t want to meet her in a hotel room, didn’t want her to be on the road, and wanted her to be as close to her home as possible. In my mind this was in part about her comfort, but also in my own, I felt she would feel at her greatest power, and I wanted to experience that.
We discussed these things together, and her suggestion that I find a nice AirBnB was quite appealing. Please understand I had never done anything like this before. This rendezvous, this tryst, was all new to me. A pure adventure. I had all kinds of romantic thoughts about the kind of place I could rent. Or even what we might do. I went through a period of intense fantasy and ended up writing several short stories inspired by imagining meeting up with Mistress at different times of year, doing different things together, all in different places. It was like looking at something from many different angles, but every story was completely different except for the thread of exploration and play.
One of those fantasies became a reality some months later—better than imagined. I was anxious, excited, nervous, filled with butterflies. So much so that I got there a day early. I needed the time to calm down, to feel the place, to breathe her air, to tune into the energy. I went for two runs to clear my mind. I went shopping for food and ingredients because I wanted to make her something. I was like a wild animal pacing, pacing, excitedly waiting for Mistress to tame me. To calm my raging mind and heart.
Sometimes people say that fantasies are better than reality, and for that reason I have been very careful to empty my mind as much as possible before seeing Mistress. I don’t want to create expectations, don’t want to fantasise and then hope that she may or may not take us in a certain direction. I wish to just follow her wherever she wishes to lead, so that my submission is forged from Her. In the end with Mistress, reality is so much better, so much more than fantasy.
I can only speculate, but I believe that it is the rare Domme who is willing to lead a sub in this way. It is a lot of work and responsibility. For this I am beyond grateful. I consider it a blessing beyond compare to be in Mistress’s company, and to experience her.
When Mistress arrived I was so struck by her beauty, but also Her fragility. I could see something in Her that filled me with hope and wonder, and a desire to please Her, to tame myself, for her to tame me, and to harness my energy. She stood before me and made me kneel, to remember what was coming. I knelt before her and she lifted my chin and made me look at her. After, when I got up, I buzzed around, a mixture of skittish deer and mother hen, offering tea, asking her to taste various things I had made. I had been cooking for her all morning, had taken three showers—I wanted to be clean, I wanted to do a show and tell. I was a nervous ball of energy, flitting about and looking at and engaging with everything except Her. She watched in amused silence and then after a while, she commanded me to sit next to her. It was like putting a combination lock with the dials in place—all the numbers have to be right for anything to work, and suddenly I began to calm down, and felt things coming together. But being told to sit next to her was such a relief, I didn’t want to assume anything. Sitting there, I was ready to jump out of my skin, but then she touched my arm, and it calmed me down.
And then she fed me the things I had made for her, asking me to take my time, to savour and taste, to enjoy.
When we first met, we talked about limits, safe words, red lines, and I had told her that really all I wanted was after care. I wasn’t kidding either. And she asked what I meant by that…and for me, it is that she always hold my hand—not literally, but spiritually, no matter where she takes me, whatever unspeakable things she does to me, but that she leads me.
And that day, as she slipped my arms into bondage and cuffed me naked to the foot of the iron bed, I begged her to never take me to a place that would lower me in her eyes. To please always push me to be powerful, and to be the kind of submissive she could and would be proud of, and I cried as I said it.
She asked me to smell the leather of the flogger, and to kiss it. The smell of it was intense, deep, heady. And then, for the first time in my life, I was whipped. My mind was flying, and the dull thud of the flogger on my back was strangely satisfying. It felt good. The owners were outside the bedroom window with their children, and I wondered what they might think of the rhythmic whipping sound, and as I thought it, Mistress told me to let go, to let go of the people outside of my window, that none of that mattered anymore. That was the first of many times that Mistress has seen right into my mind just as I think about something. It is an uncanny power She has.
I knew absolutely nothing about whipping. I still don’t really. Not only had I not ever done it before, but also had never read about it, watched movies about it. I did know I was desperate to try it, and I also knew that some Dommes online were very judgemental about proper whipping technique for the sake of safety and pleasure.
Both in the moment, but also subsequently, as I tried to learn about what I had experienced, I discovered just how much care and expertise Mistress demonstrated with the flogger. It deepened my appreciation of Her art.
Mistress varied the power of her strokes, the rhythm, and what she did with the whip, where and how she struck. I could never tell where or when the blow would come, and I could feel the thud through my whole body. She would stop and talk to me, talk about breathing, pain, letting go, caress me a bit, and then start again. Just as I was beginning to tire, she stopped, undid me, and led me to the bed. My back was singing, not sharp with pain, but alive and humming, as if my skin was made up of the members of a church choir, and they were singing ethereal music.
Did it hurt? Not really. But I felt the power of the flogger as it rattled through my body. It was a heavy, thudding kind of stroke, not sharp and stinging, and every blow rattled my frame. It was a wonderful introduction, and I found myself concerned for this beautiful woman’s stamina. When I asked her if she was okay, she looked at me and then punched me in the chest, full kapow. I smiled. This was going to be a match made in heaven!
Mistress pushed me down and showed me her physical strength. Words poured from me as she sat on top of me, looking down with amused glee. She gave me a word that day to describe the torrent of thoughts cascading through my mind. We talked about body hair and scent, and then she crushed my face into her arm pit and held it there, and after, she told me that “all babies love the smell of their mommies.” I think you can probably guess what that did to me. Little by little, she is lacing my psyche with things that are related to her. She is creating a submissive landscape in which I see her, a Goddess, and in which I feel myself at her feet. At times when I talk to her I feel so small, not in a bad way, in a wonderful way. Small and safe and submissive, totally and utterly captivated by her.
Seeing her on this occasion was the day I lost my D/s virginity, having my very first play session. It was also my first whipping. And through it all, there was the most divine Mistress conducting my mind and my body as if we were musicians in the orchestra pit before her. She is so gifted, so special, and I feel so blessed and happy to have found in this Woman a teacher and a guide, someone who cares about her craft and the experiences she creates. There was something in me that knew it needed to be awakened, but she is the one who is guiding me, understanding what that means. Oh Mistress, you are my Queen, and I yearn for your teaching and guidance with all of me.
Thank you so much for taking me in.
The next day, the owner of the B&B, a very attractive woman in her early 30’s had a real sparkle in her eye when she talked to me. I don’t usually engage so much with strangers, but we talked and flirted about life for a good long while, and I could tell she knew what had happened, or could guess. It felt validating.
They say that you should wait and process for a few days after before writing, to give yourself time to process what happened. I wrote to Mistress to thank her, and to tell her how happy I was and how good it had felt to be with Her and promised to write in detail later. I also sent her an offering of thanks. I cried several times with her that day–not from pain or anything other than expressing emotion. It was a relief to know that I could express my feelings when I was actually with her, not just when thinking about her.
Each time I have been with Mistress it has been a watershed of some kind. This time was my first time, and so, shall always remain. Thank you, Mistress from the bottom of my heart, this was a beautiful experience. It also marks my first tentative steps into this world. I could never ask for more from a teacher.