Well, it looks like it’s biography time again. And since you all (I think) really enjoyed the story of my first submissive and how I got started in BDSM, I hope that you will all enjoy this newest tale. However, this one is ever so slightly different, in that it’s actually not got an ending. Not yet. One day, it will, and it may have a happy one, or maybe it won’t, but rest assured, either way, it will be put it on here for you to read, enjoy, sympathise over and whatever else you care to glean from it.
Also, another huge difference will be that it’s not JUST me writing this story. Becca will be joining me and helping me with her comments and embellishments. You see text in pink? That’s her talking. Say hello, babe. (Hello!)
So, once again I will change names to protect those in my story, because it’s only fair. Except Becca. Her name is real. She is happy and proud to be named as this is OUR story; not just mine.
In early February of 2016, I was invited to a Facebook group that was invite only, and devoted to fans of (shall we say) ‘dubious’ humour. Sick jokes, offensive memes, etc. My friend Josie had known my sense of humour was rather on the dark side, so invited me in. She was right to do so, as there were some cracking things there, none of which I can share with you because, well, what happens there, stays on there – until people started getting banned for posting nudity, etc.
One day I saw a new girl posting, her name was Becca, and although she was pretty, she was also in Spain and engaged. Shame, but there you go. Her posts were very welcome, and she was clearly VERY popular with the males of the group (because these guys were clearly of the opinion that girls that post rude jokes and memes MUST be up for a fuck). I could tell she was better than that, and I just enjoyed her postings. (To be fair, I honestly had no clue what I was doing or what I was supposed to do in the group, but after scrolling a while I realized that it didn’t matter, as long as I found it funny, someone else probably would too)
In late February, one of the regulars – and I don’t remember who – decided it would be a laugh to post risqué photos of themselves in a bid to persuade the females in the group to do likewise. It worked too. Josie did it, other girls did it, but not Becca.
Not yet anyway.
In early March, one morning, she decided to post two photos of her body (clothed but suggestive) one in what looked like a nightie (actually, it was lingerie, I was wearing a thong… I’d never sleep in that… Rather be naked), showing her gorgeous bum and another showing cleavage, but nothing else. She said, at the time, that she was feeling low and in need of an ego boost, which she got in spades. Plenty of compliments, plenty of innuendos and she enjoyed the attention (I’ll always remember, in a completely shallow and narcissistic way, how seeing the first comment to those pictures, “Christ!” made me feel). However, one ‘man’ (using the term loosely) decided to ask her if she felt that whoreing herself made her feel good about herself. She had a brief argument with him, and decided to take the photos off the group.
However, it was too late. This ‘man’ has stolen the pics, and put them on his wall for HIS friends and followers to see, and asked them how they felt about a woman displaying herself for an ego boost. What a cunt. (Bearing in mind that he only ever screenshot his comments, not any of my retorts or his agreement to them… he attempted to make himself out to be the nice guy in shining critical armour to his Facebook friends)
Obviously he was told by mutual friends to take the pics off his profile and that he was completely out of order by putting them up in the first place. He was also booted from the group for breaking the rule stating that what happens in there, stays in there. (Yes, I know there’s a certain amount of irony in that the start of my story is in there too and yet, here I am. Number of fucks given: 0) (His page and what he had done was also screenshot and posted in the private group so all the other members could see what had happened and to warn the ladies to be careful what they post of themselves)
Becca was distraught. She felt betrayed, humiliated, abused, victimised. Why were her photos stolen and posted elsewhere, when she was far from the only woman that posted? I watched her (justifiably) threaten to quit the group (I also suffered my first “Slut Shaming” since high school, with many of the women in the group, amongst them, Josie and another that had posted way more suggestive pictures than mine, begging the group admins to give me the boot for calling unwanted attention to the private page). I decided to quickly send her a note via Facebook messenger, giving her my support and apologising for the actions of that other bastard.
Turns out it was the best thing I could have ever done.
You know how everyone can remember where they were when Kennedy got shot, or when Diana died, or when 9/11 happened? Well I can remember exactly where I was the first time Becca replied to me. I was stood near a Pret a Manger on Great Newport Street, in London. Maybe I’ll take her there one day… (I sadly don’t recall where I was, I was just feeling too sick about the whole thing to really pay attention to anything. I do recall how sweet He was. How He made me smile. How it felt to know that someone from the group was not just messaging me to get more pics… He was genuine and really cared that I was OK)
We swapped messages all day. Some small talk, she appreciated my message, thanking me for the support. We did some very gentle flirting (It seems gentle to me now, but then, I thought it was quite outrageous) and my BDSM version of gaydar took over. There was something very subtly submissive about the way she spoke. (I still, genuinely have no idea what He’s on about or how He detected it… I’m just impressed that it worked over I.M) Before you ask, no I can’t quantify it, it only makes sense in my head…
I took a chance and confessed my lifestyle choice – and awaited the ‘oh that’s nice, but I’m not really into that, but thanks for the chat, bye!’
But it didn’t come.
Instead I got the confession that submission was something she had felt for a long time but had not been with anyone that she felt able to explore with. Her fiancé Tony was very vanilla and although he attempted certain acts like spitting, choking, spanking, his heart was never in it. She was frustrated but had come to accept that this was it, it would never get any better. (At this point in my life, I had just recently, VERY recently been humiliated by Tony. I had explained to him what I was, who I was. I had asked him, almost begged him to explore a D/s relationship with me. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do, opening myself up like that to someone. Tony just laughed in my face and asked me to not bring it up again. I immediately confided in Kevin… There was just something about Him that I knew I could trust)
Now, at this point, I must make it clear: I am not and have never been one to go for people who are not single. I usually steer clear of that minefield. But this time, for Becca, something urged me to stay, to see where it went.
So I did. We flirted more, we swapped more intimate details, more history… And continued to do this for a few days (over 2000 messages in the first TWO days!). We swapped vanilla pics, phone numbers, stories and we promised each other that it was never going to be anything more than ‘fun’. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, she was in one and besides, she never falls in love, not ever. So fun or ‘training’ would be the aim.
She requested that I train her in the submissive arts and my heart leapt. How could I refuse? She’s stunning and submissive, eager to learn. I also knew that other ‘alleged’ Doms were sniffing around her, from the FB group – hello Piggy Eyes, if you ever read this – so I thought that by taking her as my trainee sub, I’d also be protecting her. Anything to justify the relationship! (I barely understood what BDSM meant, let alone being someone’s submissive. I asked sooooo many questions, sometimes the same ones just differently worded, to try to grasp what I had researched, if what I had learned was factual. I wanted to impress Him, something I’ve never wanted to do with anyone else)
It wasn’t easy to start with. Becca had other admirers and haters both of whom tried to warn us off each other. Some guy called Daryl was PMing her begging for a relationship, telling her I was bad news, and how little I knew about her compared to how much he knew and how much he cared. He stopped talking to her the moment he realised she didn’t live in the UK. Shallow much? Also Josie was warning me that Becca was only using me as a bit of fun, to distract her from her life. In her words, “there’s no way she’ll give up her cushty life in Spain to get with someone she met on Facebook.” Actually, that was the biggest boost I could have had – I now needed to prove Josie wrong.
Becca and I spoke as often as we could, as work and private lives would allow. The more we spoke, the more I liked her. The more we spoke, the more she relaxed. She started calling me ‘Sir’, we masturbated together, phone sex… She eventually grew brave enough to spoil me with a topless photo (which I still have - and I look absolutely terrified in) and the relationship grew deeper.
She even took a recording of a sex session between Tony and herself, for me to listen to. I told her I played it and enjoyed it. What I didn’t tell her was how fucking jealous it made me. And I hate feeling jealous, it’s a destructive emotion and a sure sign that deeper emotions are now in play.
Yeah, feelings. I had them, and I was falling fast. But struggling not to. We had already agreed that if we had feelings, that we’d call it a day, and part as friends. But I couldn’t bring myself to end things, yet. It was too good. It felt ‘right’. So I sucked it up and carried on, knowing those feelings would never be reciprocated. (He told me that if I was falling in love with Him, to please tell Him, to be honest, and I requested the same. We had gone into this with the agreement that it would be no more than fun… But I was scared to admit that I was feeling something for Him. I knew I was because the idea of telling Him goodbye hurt and I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I lied, to Him and to myself. Told Him I wasn’t feeling anything other than desire. He seemed to believe me, which made it easier to lie to myself about it)
More talking, more revelations… Hard limits, soft limits, fantasies, her bisexuality, her lust for her colleague Maya… Ah yes, Maya. The gorgeous 21 year old co-worker. (Turned out that she was also bi, also dabbled in BDSM and really wanted to take Becca to London for a weekend, so she could experience the Torture Garden. But Maya will feature more later…) (Ahhhhh… Maya… The first woman to catch my eye in over 10 years… almost obsessively)
Thanks to the ‘magic’ of Skype, we video called each other as much as we could. It was very noticeable that over the course of the days and weeks that we’d been chatting, that she was relaxing, becoming more comfortable in her submission, slowly coming out of her shell. She once said to me “I won’t ever get naked, I don’t even like doing it for Tony!” and obviously, I believed her, whilst hoping I could get her to change her mind (I even hated walking past the mirror in the bathroom on the way to the shower… All I saw was the bad, never trying to find the good. I would even wake up if I accidently brushed my hand over my own stomach. I couldn’t understand how anyone could find me attractive). She became brave enough to expose her breasts on camera (and they are spectacular, trust me) in addition to photographing them (Another part of me that I was terribly self-conscious about… I didn’t like them, I didn’t find them pretty. I thought them disproportioned and in need of reconstruction). We could even masturbate together, watching each other, telling each other how attracted to each other we were. Becca showed more, as did I (Showing more of myself to Him was one of the most nerve wracking things I have ever done. I was terrified of rejection, of Him not finding me attractive once He saw the parts of myself that I loathed. I took on a “fuck it” attitude and bared way more than I felt comfortable with… And he didn’t run! I genuinely felt sexy for the first time in a long time).
In hindsight, what happened next was really fucking obvious. I had fallen in love with Becca. However, I knew (or rather, I believed) that confessing this would be the end of ‘us’. We had promised each other that it was friends only, just harmless fun. But the more we talked, the more I found out about Becca, her life, her past, her family, the more I wanted to be with her. To be the man she deserved, the Dom she wanted and future she never thought possible. But I did not dare tell her. How could I?
And it burned inside me. Every single time we spoke or texted, I wanted to tell her “I love you” but knew it would scare her away. Besides, it sounded crazy. Falling in love with someone you had never met, who was already engaged, in a foreign country, with no means or apparent desire to be anywhere else. Yet, the burning got worse. (I was terrified at this point… I was lying to myself, lying to Him, telling him that I was slightly “flying”, when in reality I was freefalling fast and the ground was close… I could feel the imminent “splat” and really didn’t know what to do other than keep going).
Again, I can remember the exact place I was when I dropped my guard and told Becca the truth. It was on a DLR train, pulling into Shadwell Station. I remember telling her I needed to confess something, which obviously got her curiosity stoked and then texted her “I love you”. I put my phone in my pocket, my heart was racing like never before and I awaited the goodbye text. Surely this would be it.
But once more, it didn’t come. I got a text asking if I wanted things to end (hell no) and that she needed time to think about what had happened. (“FUCK!... FUCK!... FUCK!... WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!?!?!?! GAHHHHH!!!!” Was what was going through my mind when I read His message… We had agreed that it wouldn’t come to this, that we wouldn’t fall in love. I was terrified He’d walk away, and when He said he wouldn’t I was relieved and also worried… What the hell was I going to do?)
I pride myself on being an excellent judge of character, only rarely being proven wrong or disappointed in people but something told me that Becca felt the same as me, but could not and would not say so because of Tony. (I hinted on both my Instagram and the private group that I was in love with Him, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it… Say those three words… Not yet anyway. The following picture expresses my feelings at the time perfectly).
We carried on talking, and I didn’t mention my love for Becca, except when she spoke about it. I was fine with that, my feelings were out and proud, I’d put my heart on my sleeve and I was prepared and expecting it to be ripped off. But then, out of the blue, Becca asked me to call her, which I did (I was at work and had to find somewhere quiet-ish to do so) and she simply said “I’m only saying this once, so make the most of it because I won’t be saying it again. I love you.” (Barely a month after we had started talking and I decided I had to tell Him, be honest with myself and with Him. It was a relief to finally say it…)
I could have cried. I didn’t, because I was at work but damn. It was perfect. Well, not quite perfect, I wanted to hear Becca say those words without being drowned out by the machinery and workers in the warehouse. And she did. She changed her mind slightly and said that on that specific day, she will say it as much as she or I liked but after that it would never be mentioned again.
That lasted a day.
Fuck it, we had fallen in love and I didn’t care. I had found my missing piece. Someone that ticked pretty much all my boxes (OK, so she’s a natural blonde but genuinely didn’t care by then) and yes, it was going to end in heartache but it just felt right… (I was scared of hurting Sir. I could deal with it, I’m used to heartache and being left, but the very idea of hurting Him almost killed me. I loved Him too much and I knew I needed to walk away, for His sake… I just couldn’t. I was selfish. It felt too right)
Becca and I had grown so deeply attached to each other, and it was far from just sexual. Just weird coincidences like a joint love of marmite, mushy peas, pigging out sessions, pickled eggs… We even began finishing each other’s sentences, knowing how the other thinks, and feels. The relationship became almost symbiotic, which is frankly bizarre as we still had not met but somehow, some way, we had meshed so tightly that distance was irrelevant. (I could hardly wait to get to work… it meant I could see Sir, talk to Him, hear His voice and look into His eyes, granted it was through a computer screen, but it was almost perfect. I was eager to continue training, to make Him proud)
Of course, there were complications. The obvious ones being that if we wanted to meet (and we do/did) then it would involve one of us spending money and time to get to the other. If it was me, I would need to time it perfectly, as there was no way Becca would find the time to be away from Tony as much as she wanted. If she came here, would she be able to leave Tony at home or would he insist on accompanying her?
Enter Maya......
(TO BE CONTINUED!)
