Miss Monica’s Pets

Excerpt

Before I begin to describe what has happened to me, I think it best that I tell you a little about myself. I’m not going to recount my life story here. If I did it would only bore you. So, I only want to say what is pertinent to the predicament I found myself in until just a few short months ago.

My name is Carl. I’m a 45-year old male, a person whom all his friends and acquaintances would describe as a “nice guy.” I work as a computer engineer in a large consulting company, make a reasonably large salary, and am well regarded by my firm’s clients. I play golf and my twelve handicap makes me a desirable partner in weekend foursome matches. All in all, I’m a guy who is well-liked, but who doesn’t make much of an impression on anyone. I’m just another person who you’d enjoy knowing, but whom you probably wouldn’t think much about one way or another.

What would surprise all of the people who do know me, however, is that I am sexually submissive.

I’m exclusively heterosexual, you understand. But I do have an overwhelming desire to submit to a dominant woman. I don’t know why I’m this way and really don’t have any interest in knowing what has caused me to be the way I am. I only know that nothing is more exciting to me than the idea of kneeling at the feet of a strong woman and doing whatever it takes to please her.

This being the case, I can easily understand why there is a strong movement in current society to accept the less stereotypical expressions of sexuality. Gay men and women. “After all,” advocates argue, “no one decides to be gay. Whether they’re born that way or not, they have no control over their desires.” I agree with that and I’m very supportive of what these people are trying to accomplish. However, I can’t help but wonder why other forms of individual preference and individuals like me don’t get the same consideration.

I mean, I’ve never made a conscious decision to want to be abused by a woman, yet I’ve known since I was a child that I was “turned on” by the idea of being spanked by a strong-willed lady.

Somehow, however, guys like me do not get any sympathy. We are regarded as perverts. It’s as if we really did make a conscious decision to be what we are.

To be very specific, I’ve fantasized since childhood about being taken over the lap of a stern woman and spanked. I’ve imagined countless situations in which I’m punished in this manner. The women in my fantasies are turned on by disciplining me and they force me to orally satisfy them after the spanking.

I am what I am and I’ve been that way my whole life. I refuse to apologize for it, but I also do not talk about it. My co-workers, my golf buddies, and my neighbors would be surprised, and probably shocked, to know that I long to be used and abused by a strict female.

Even if I have always been aware that the reality of such treatment may not be inclusive and fulfilling experience of my carefully cultivated fantasies.

I’ve been married once, but my sexual desires were incompatible with those of my lovely wife and we were divorced after only a couple of years when it became clear that our respective desires would never dovetail. So it was that I became a confirmed bachelor, one who would give everything he owned to find a dominant woman to would take control of his life.

Complete control!

If you’re reading this, it’s quite likely that you’re a fellow submissive and you understand exactly what I’m saying. I’ve lived a quiet life of sexual desperation and spent a lot of time on the Internet looking at Femdom porn and chatting on websites. Sites assured to attract guys like me.

I’ve also regularly paid professional Dominatrixes. I can afford it and these ladies come as close as possible to satisfying my strange desires without providing the release I know only reality can bring.

I did, however, have a pet peeve with these women.

It seems to me that whenever I began a relationship with a Pro-domme she wanted me to tell her exactly what my interests were.

Did I simply want to be spanked?

Or did I want her to put a strap-on around her waist and fuck me up the ass?

Did I want to be “forced” to put on panties or did I want to spend an hour kissing her feet?

Did I want to kiss her ass, push my tongue deep inside her anus or would I rather have had her sit on my face and be smothered by her pussy?

Now, I’ve always had have strong preferences in all of these areas, but what I really wanted was to please her. In short, I wanted to be an instrument for her pleasure. I thought I’d be happiest if I were convinced that she was dominating me in ways that turned her on and that she really didn’t care whether it was precisely what I wanted. What invariably happened, however, was that I’d tell her about my most secret fantasies and she would do everything she could to accommodate me.

Now, I know this may sound unreasonable to many people, but I left these encounters frustrated. I couldn’t escape the feeling that as the “customer”, as it were, I was in charge of the session and that she had only done her best to do exactly what I’d asked and paid for.

As I said: unreasonable.

Many Dominatrixes accuse us subs of attempting to “top from the bottom” – that is to be in control rather than relinquishing control – and it’s my belief that they encourage us to do this by asking us what we want rather than insisting that we do what they want.

I’ve wanted for years to find a truly dominant woman, one who was aroused by abusing me in whatever way pleased her, not a woman who tried to please me by using me in the way I wanted to be used. The financial considerations in my interactions with professionals seemed to make that impossible. They wanted me to be satisfied so I would come back for more. It was a case of “pleasing the customer” and it was hard to explain that, at least in my case, the customer was focused on pleasing them.

A little over a year ago, I was ranting about all of this in an Internet chat room when the lady who changed my life asked me to join her in a private chat. Her name was Monica and she wanted to know if I really meant what I’d been saying. When I said that I most certainly did, she probed for details and eventually suggested that we should meet. She said she lived about an hour’s drive from me, so I quickly agreed.

What happened at that meeting is where my story begins.