This is a confession about a first meeting with Miss Zarita.
I met Miss Zarita in SL over a year and a half ago, one lonely night. I tp’d into a femdom sim I had heard other subs mention, compellingly named the Dominion. I had no real expectations. I certainly had no idea my entire life would transform and that a completely amazing path would unfold. My hopes that night were far more modest. I thought that perhaps I might be allowed to sit and observe, maybe even chat a little with a domme, and hopefully just be around the lifestyle I deeply craved.
I was truly amazed and nervous when Miss Zarita started talking to me. Heart pounding in my chest, I knelt, listened, and was blown away. The following months were a blur. I came to understand so many things about myself under Miss Zarita’s guiding, transforming, kinky and evilly imaginative influence. I had intimate relations with marmalade. I learnt that denial can drive a boy to the point of insanity (in my case after the unimpressive duration of 3.5 weeks). I learnt what it felt like to truly dwell in a powerful, dominant woman’s shadow.
Many, many unforgiveable mistakes and failings on my part later, and I found myself once again at Miss Zarita’s feet in SL. My life had changed considerably, and I lived only one hour’s flight from Her. As I knelt at her feet, She shocked me, to my core, yet again by suddenly telling me that She would consent to meet with me, in the flesh.
Terror, jubilation, excitement, panic, exultation, arousal all flashed through me, and I stayed in this state of aroused submissive confusion for weeks, and felt it even as I stepped off the plane and realised that I was in Miss Zarita’s town now.
I checked in to the hotel, and restlessly waited the few hours until I was finally to meet Miss Zarita, She who had seen inside me. Who had hurt me and who had nurtured me to the point of transformation.
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I’m nervous. More nervous than I ever remember feeling in my adult life. My stomach is in knots and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.
I am sitting in a swanky bar in the heart of Melbourne, decked out in my best suit and the coolest shirt I have ever owned, which of course Miss Zarita helped me choose. (I don’t do cool without close supervision). I sip my scotch as I wait for Miss Zarita to text me, trying in vain to distract myself by listening to the vanilla folk milling about me, doing their best to seem devastatingly interesting to one another. Women preen, men strut, and it all seems so distant and remote from the kind of encounter I will soon be having. I wonder, not for the first time, if somehow my subbishness shows in my face. I hope a waitress won’t come over to me and say, ”Sorry Sweetie. No subs allowed”.
Pushing such stupid notions out of my head, I play over the rules of engagement Miss Zarita has set out for me when first we meet. I am to find a quiet, out of the way place in the bar, and when I get Her phone text that she is a few minutes away, I am to order her the best champagne they have. When finally she does arrive I am to kiss Her hand only, and then ensure that She is comfortable. Pathetically I play this sequence out in my head, over and over, so thankful to have some guidance on how I am to behave. Ashamed as I am to admit this, I also go over the “opening line” I will say to Miss Zarita, when finally She is here, in this room. I cant quite remember what it was, but rest assured it was pretty lame. Something about it being great to see Her without having to send Her a tp. Yes I know. Groan. Like I said, I need strict guidance and ideal conditions in order to achieve cool.
I find myself looking anxiously out of the window into the bustling street, my whole body tense and vibrating with the knowledge that somewhere out there Miss Zarita is getting closer, and closer.
I hold my phone, waiting for the buzz that tells me she is arriving. Checking it every few minutes, time seems excruciatingly slow and I am in a hell of thinking through how I should behave, how I should be, what I should and shouldn’t say. I am lost in my mental rehearsals, butterflies in my stomach when there’s a sudden unexpected firm tap tap tap on my shoulder .. I jump… and turn and … oh my god she is there!
How could I be so naïve to think that Miss Zarita would give me a nice predictable way of meeting with a script to follow.
I am so surprised and caught unawares that I completely forget the protocol and lean in to kiss her cheek and then stop as she sharply says NO and slaps my cheek! Arrgghh.. god god what was I supposed to do! Why didn’t I write this down on little index cards!.. I stutter an apology and finally collect myself enough to bow and kiss her hand and help her to her chair. I completely forget my clever opening line and instead say something like “You tricked me Miss! I was waiting for you to buzz me!”
Oh my god what a first meeting. From the very first instant I am off balance and entranced and a gooey mess of subby goofishness. But it was just right, somehow. That is me in SL and in RL. Eager, well intentioned, submissive and goofy as all fucking get out.
The weird thing is, strangely my discomfort put me at ease!
Sitting there gazing at this amazing, dominant, sexy woman, I realised that SL and RL were really no different in any meaningful way. We talked, we laughed and all the while I felt Her dommeish mojo radiating across the distance between us, coiling about me like a smoky serpent. More than once I glanced at the floor at Her feet and had to resist the urge to slide off my chair and find my knees at Her boots. Her air of dominance mesmerised me, and made my submissive heart ache to murmur yessssss Miss to anything She asked of me.
It was pure elation to feel that same familiar energy exist between U/us in the flesh. It was just the same only vastly more compelling, to finally see Her face as she laughed, her smirk as I squirmed, and to see Her red, red fingernails as She toyed with the glass of champagne in front of Her.
The next few days were a blur. An amazing, life changing blur. Hmm how many times have I said amazing in this confession? Oh who cares, amazing amazing amazing.
We went to dinner after drinks, and it was here that Miss Zarita started to truly toy with me. As part of my preparations for meeting Her that night, she had me place a remote controlled cock ring around my cock and balls. At the restaurant she extended Her hand and asked if I had something for Her. I knew what She meant. Heart pounding I reached into my jacket pocket and gave Her the remote control.
The meal was a torment of arousal for me, as Miss Zarita had fun playing with Her toy. “What does this one do?” She would ask me as she set the cock ring to an agonisingly sexy rhythmic throbbing. She smiled a devastating smile over Her drink as I tried to pull myself together enough to explain how it felt, trying hard not to groan so loudly that the people at the table next to us heard. The throbbing of the vibrating cock ring driving me crazy, I watched open mouthed as Miss Zarita nonchalantly placed the remote control in Her cleavage for safe keeping. I think all I managed to say was “oh my ggg….”
Not long afterward, Miss Zarita dropped something and I hurried forward to pick it up for Her, only to feel Her hand at the back of my head as I started to rise. “stay down” she commanded as I felt Her press my head to the floor. There, in a restaurant in RL, I suddenly found myself utterly humiliated and completely exposed for who I am in front of a sea of open mouthed vanilla folk. I was in subby heaven, as finally I was permitted to get up, blushing furiously, to take my seat again. Casually she dipped Her fingers into Her champagne and had me suck it off. Our dinner coming to a close, Miss Zarita reached out and pulled up my sleeve, and with her lipstick wrote in big lurid letters the word SLUT along my forearm. I sat there, feeling completely liberated, and submissive and grateful to be so branded for all the world to see. My self consciousness boiled away to vapours, I found I could just revel in being an owned submissive bitch in the presence of an amazing domme and Woman. When Miss Zarita stepped away a moment, I smiled at the waitress who sidled over to ask me if everything was alright. “Oh yes” I said … “everything is very alright”.
What a night.
I couldn’t possibly capture every single moment that passed between us in the following few days, so will have to mention just a few memorable moments.
I must mention my first paddling at Miss Zarita’s hands. Oh I have been spanked and paddled a bit before, but I now realise I had noooooo idea what it felt like to be truly paddled. On that first night Miss Zarita well and truly showed me, reddening my subby arse cheeks with her favourite “SLUT” paddle. Im not ashamed to admit, I was begging for mercy by the time Miss Zarita had paddled me to Her satisfaction. She took a picture and showed me a big welt across my ass. The word slut clearly glowed out on my tortured ass cheek. A picture is available on request :P
There were moments where I felt frustrated, denied and humiliated to the point of oblivion. Miss Zarita wanted a bath. After running it for Her she grabbed me, and shackled me hand and foot and slid a gimp mask over my head. Suddenly I was lost in darkness and all my sensation suddenly cut down to the bare minimum. Suddenly my mouth zip was opened and Miss Zarita shoved her panties into my mouth, and draped Her clothes over me. Groaning and dying to see, all I could do was kneel helplessly and listen to Her bathe, wishing I could catch just a glimpse. It was a torment of wanting and listening, confined in the leathery prison of the gimp mask.
There were also moments where I felt impossibly stupid and goofy. One night Miss had me dressed up as a maid, and I was teetering around in high heels cleaning up. I stumbled and fell over onto the glass coffee table sending the heavy table top crashing to the floor. For what seemed like an eternity, dressed as a maid, blowing my hair out of my eyes and stumbling around in my high heels I struggled to lift up the glass and put it back on the legs. All the while Miss Zarita was laughing at me hysterically while I turned redder and redder, mumbling apologies and just WISHING that never happened! By the time I got it fixed though I was laughing too, and just gave up on trying to retain any semblance of dignity. Oh and I learnt something.. high heels are hard! I don’t know how women do it. Miss Zarita frequently took great pleasure in making me feel goofy, in fact. For example, one night in a restaurant she had me sit across from her in a restaurant with my mouth open, while she aimed popcorn at my mouth. The times she missed I had to scuttle off and pick it up off the floor! I think people were watching my blushing antics as though it were cabaret.
Perhaps the most amazing moment though was near the end of our first time together, massaging Miss Zarita’s legs as She fell asleep. This was a moment that to me captured everything. Attending to Her I felt such trust flow between U/us and I felt tears in my eyes to just have the amazing privilege to be able to be there, for Her. It was so open, wonderful and fulfilling to just be Her boy, trusted and near, and there for Her pleasure. It was beautiful, and it will stay with me forever.
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All good things must come to an end, and finally the cold Melbourne morning arrives where I have to jump on a plane back to a difficult life, and away from the closeness of the magical D/s bond I have felt, ever-growing, between us. It’s painful. Almost too painful to contemplate. As I am about to leave, Miss Zarita lifts my shirt, and writes with bright red lipstick in big, bold passionate letters the word “Slut”. I love seeing those letters there. In the airport on the way home I go to the bathroom and lift my shirt just so that I can see it again. To me that word there means “opened”, “obedient”, “cherished”, “submissive”, and most of all it means “owned”. It makes me happy, even as the sadness of parting so soon cuts into me.
In meeting and parting, this magic hangs in the air. I have been owned, used, humbled, cherished and enjoyed, by a Lady whom I respect, admire and revere. How unforgettably wonderful that is.
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Post-script
As I finish this confession about the time I first met Miss Zarita in the flesh, I am in a little unit in St Kilda. Shackles are around my wrists and ankles. I’m waiting for Miss Zarita to return. The circumstances of my life have changed a great deal. I have made some extremely difficult, but right, decisions and a completely different life suddenly spreads out before me. I’ve now visited Miss Zarita three more times, and the joys of serving Her have grown and intensified with each visit.
I am a very lucky boy, and I await the mysterious future just as I wait for Miss Zarita to return tonight: with joy, hope and a thrilling excitement too deep to express, and yes, a healthy dose of trepidation ;)
Thank You Miss Zarita.
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