Submitting to Her(30)

It had started with the loss of my virginity at the end of high school in the sunny corner of a Pennsylvania cornfield, when Sally Donovan had grown tired of me kissing her and nothing else. After a stern talking to from my father in the Baptist-inspired name of sex education, I had been under the impression that if a guy attempted intercourse with a girl before their wedding day, it would be deemed a sexual assault, with the guy ending up in jail. Sally had told me to quit stalling and lie back so she could get a condom on me, and then she'd straddled me without so much as another word. At the time, I think I was so overwhelmed by the loss of my cherry and the life-transformation that represented that I completely missed the underlying thrill of being ordered to lie back and allow Sally to make use of my equipment for her own ends.

There had been Eliza Reeves in first year of college, the first girl who had ever worn proper lingerie for me, and the first and only girl prior to Zoey who had ever actively asked me to go down on her. God, how hot had she been? She hadn't the prettiest girl in the world, but so sexy and curvaceous in stockings and suspenders and all that lace, showing off the kind of outfits that couldn't be anything other than clothes specially picked out for sex.

Helena, a redhead I met in my first real job, selling classified ads for a newspaper before that whole part of the industry was shut down by Craigslist. She'd had the dirtiest mouth of any woman I'd ever met, and while she had never dominated me, her running commentary whenever we screwed had made me harder than any girl before, and told me exactly what kind of things got her going, which had ultimately served to ensure she came at the end as well as I did.

I even recalled a one night stand with a girl called Rita that happened at some point when I was 26 or 27, because that particular night we didn't have a condom, and she hadn't been in the mood to go down on me. I'd spent that night tonguing the alphabet over her clit until she'd rolled over and gone to sleep. The experience had been memorable, although at the time I'd been seriously disappointed not to go the distance with her.

Perhaps I had now re-engineered my memory in the light of my new-found obsession, but the fact was those few encounters had certainly lodged in my head out rather than the countless others had simply faded into the ether. If I'd only recognized at the time what was going on, and why it had been so hot.

When I thought about it, I'd been waiting for Zoey all my life.

Where did it all go wrong? I suppose as I matured, moved away from home and found the confidence to actively pursue the opposite sex, like many men I took the line of least resistance - going for the girls who literally threw themselves at me. Hey, if they were pretty, why wouldn't I go for them?

Only, with almost all of them the fires of desire were quickly quelled. Even though the sex might be distracting for the first night or so, it quickly became routine, even with a string of different women.

Looking back, it's easy to get depressed that there was nearly a decade of my life that was essentially wasted as I never got to truly appreciate the women I had been with. Sure, now I can see how selfish I was at the time, but until Zoey came along there was really nothing to help steer me in the right direction - the vast majority of those girls did not want to show me how to satisfy them properly. Maybe they didn't know how, either.

But it doesn't help anyone to have regrets. At least I discovered my tastes eventually - some people live a lifetime without finding out.

I'd heard about the whole dominatrix thing back in college, of course - I wasn't a complete innocent. Like many people, I thought domination and submission was all about freaky whips and chains, medieval torture equipment and so on, all pain and horrific debasing humiliation. I didn't see that there could be different shades of power within a relationship, that there might be a particular level of female authority that would hit the sweet spot for me.

And sweet it definitely turned out to be - to have a sexy, empowered female become my own personal goddess.

Our own relationship did not always maintain the same power balance, either. It's worth noting that sometimes Zoey would be in more of a mood for equality, or decided to reward me with a little time off from the sterner side of her authority. She could be incredibly soft and almost demure at times, sweet like candy, playful, flirty. Other times she'd be strong and put me firmly in my place.

The denial of orgasm was strangely important to our fledgling relationship - it was a long, long time where she did not allow me release. It wasn't always easy for me, though I feel it was a help in keeping me motivated to tend to Zoey as she deserved.

In fact, the way in which Zoey controlled my access to her made our relationship seem strangely like the first times I'd been with a woman - uncertain as to what I'd be allowed, constantly hopeful she'd let me take the next step, and always finding that the biggest reward of all was Zoey's happiness.