Confession by Lee

I had been coming to these nearly-weekly events for a couple of months.  Following a rather traumatic divorce, I'd decided to relocate back to Chicago and to re-engage in real-life BDSM activities, which I'd completely avoided during my years of marriage.  Rather reserved by nature, I'd known that it would take a while to re-immerse myself into the lifestyle community, and I was fine with that.  So, I'd been coming to events hosted by this local group, but staying toward the back, at the periphery.  Tonight's gathering was a typical discussion meeting.  As usual there were perhaps a dozen Dommes present, a couple of invited Doms, and 20 or so submissives; a large enough group that someone like me could keep a low, quiet profile.  There was a presentation on shibari techniques, followed by a broader discussion, with a break for refreshments in between.

As appropriate, the Dommes took their refreshments first, then the subs.  I was among the last of the subs to approach the table for coffee and a piece of cake.  After filling my cup and plate, I stepped back, bumping into some.  I became flustered when I turned and saw it was one of the Dommes.  I'd seen here at several of the meetings, but had never spoken to Her.

“Please excuse me, Ma'am,” I sputtered out quickly, my cheeks flushing and my head bowing, both without any conscious effort on my part.

The Woman flashed me a brilliant smile, shaking Her head and not moving even an inch.  “No problem,” She said in a rich voice.  “I've seen you here before, haven't I?”

“Yes, Ma'am, I think You have.  My name is lee,” I stuttered out, immediately regretting that I'd not simply answered Her question rather than volunteering information She had not asked for.”

“lee,” She said, swirling the word around in Her mouth for a moment, almost like She was testing a wine.  “That's a good name for a sub, short and simple.  Like 'boy' … quite appropriate.”  As if I weren't flustered enough already, these words nearly caused my knees to tremble … and I was entirely uncertain if She were teasing or serious.

“Are you here alone, lee?”

“Yes, Ma'am, I am.”

“Well, I'd like for you to join me for the rest of the meeting.  Set your coffee down, please, refill my cup, and you may bring the cake … I'll be eating that,” She said coolly, entirely matter of fact, handing me Her coffee.  “I'm sitting in the front; join me there.”  Then She turned and headed back to Her seat.

Setting aside my cup and refilling Hers, I hastened to comply.  When I arrived at the front of the room, She smiled, said not a word, but pointed to a pillow on the floor beside Her chair, on which I melted to my knees, my heart pounding.  Turning Her attention from me, She continued to chat with another Domme, only after several minutes touching my shoulder and taking Her coffee.  After several more minutes, She also took the cake, again not speaking a word to me.  As She conversed and enjoyed Her refreshments, I watched the group begin to congeal again for the second part of the program.  Those who had drifted off for private conversations began to return; the host Domme was having Her boy reconfigure some of the chairs for the panel discussion.  I was shaken from my mental wanderings.

“lee.”

Turning my head slightly, I saw that She was leaning down, holding a small bit of cake in Her fingers for me.  I lifted my gaze up to meet Hers and She nodded encouragingly.  Carefully, gently, I took the cake in my lips, oblivious to any taste it might have had, my sensations entirely overwhelmed by this simple, telling act of submission … something I hadn't done in what, decades?  But I was not given long to savor the moment.  Before I'd even had time to swallow, She asked, a steely edge to Her voice: “What do you say?”

“Thank You, Ma'am,” I was able to rasp out, hoping I didn't spray out any of the cake I was struggling to down.

“Good boy,” was Her simple response before turning Her attention away from me, back to the conversation quite literally above my head.

As the host Domme was calling the group back to order, I heard a voice whispering in my ear, my nose catching a whiff of Her perfume.  “I hope this goes without saying, but while you are here, you don't speak or move without My permission.  Understood, lee?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good boy.  And keep your gaze on the floor.  I want you listening, not looking.”

For the next hour or so, I listened intently to the discussion that focused on ways to mark a submissive. It was a fascinating discussion, including both subtle and explicit, temporary and permanent ways to mark a sub or slave.  One Domme went on at some length about She made Her boy wear wear toe rings and anklets, which made me shiver, almost able to imagine the feel of such items under the business  suits and wing-tip shoes I wore on a normal work day.

The Domme at whose feet I knelt – I still did not know Her name – said nothing more to me during the discussion.  I could hear Her shift Her position above me, though, and once more She held down a piece of cake for me to eat from Her fingers … tugging gently at a lock of my hair when I whispered my thanks to Her.  Otherwise, the only other “communication” W/we had was when somewhere in the back of the large room, a door closed loudly.  Instinctively I looked up, turning toward the origin of the sound.  Almost immediately, I heard the snap of Her fingers and saw a long, expertly manicured finger pointing down to the floor, a silent command to relower my gaze, which I obeyed.  Cheeks burning for a moment, I assumed O/others had noted this, too.  As the discussion rolled along, my own attention was distracted, wondering to what extent I'd just been “marked.”

Having lost most track of time, I was a bit surprised when the meeting drew to a close and the host Domme thanked all of U/us for attending and reminded the group about an upcoming social event.  As those around me rose to leave, so did the Woman above me.   Pointing to the empty cup and plate, which She's placed on the floor beside me, She said: “Take these things back to the kitchen, lee, then return to Me.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I replied before scurrying away to obey as quickly as I could … anxious and very uncertain about what, if anything, would happen now.

When I returned, She was chatting amiably with Another as the room was clearing.  I didn't know whether to kneel again, but She saved me from anguishing over the matter by excusing Herself from the conversation and turning to me.

“I have enjoyed meeting you, lee.  Thank you for joining me.”

“It was my pleasure, truly, Ma'am; thank You.”

Warming me with Her smile, She continued.  “If you have to go, I understand.  But, if you have time and would like to talk more, the evening doesn't have to end right now.”

Relieved, but not surprised, that She was taking the lead, I nodded my head eagerly.  “I would like that, Ma'am, thank You.  I can stay.”

“Good,” She said, a tone of true pleasure – I hoped – in Her voice.  “Wait for Me by the door.  Head bowed, lee … and you are to speak to no O/one.  Understood?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I said, feeling the familiar burn in my cheeks.

So, I stood to the side of the door, watching the feet of those, Domme and sub, as T/they exited.  Mind swirling about what had happened this evening, I lost track of time and didn't fully realize when She approached until She urged my chin up with Her finger.  There was no smile on Her face this time, just a rather flinty look, almost a frown as She pushed my chin first one way, then the other, taking in my looks before forcing my head back down and saying simply: “Heel.”

As I had imagined in any number of on-line, Second Life scenarios, I heeled behind Her … two steps back, slightly to Her left, gaze focused on Her black boots, which were the style that season and didn't necessarily give Her away as a Domme.  She led me up from the basement of the community center where the meetings were held, out into the cool night air of the parking lot.

“Did you come by L, lee?”

“No, Ma'am, I drove.”

“Do you mind leaving your car here?” She asked.  “I assure you, I'll get you back safely.”

Smiling a look of trust, I replied.  “Not at all, Ma'am”

Without another word, She led me across the parking lot to Her car, a late model Volvo, which She unlocked and waited, while I opened the door for Her.  “Get in,” was Her only response.

After I had buckled myself in, She cleared Her throat and turned to me.  “As I hope you realize, lee, I'm a very serious Woman … serious about all aspects of my life, but especially about Gynarchy and Female supremacy.  I have watched you for a while now at these meetings, and you interest Me.” Perhaps registering the look of surprised appeciation that flickered across my face, I sensed rather than saw Her smile.  “That surprises you?”

“Yes, Ma'am, I guess it does.”

“Good.  A boy should be a bit unsettled.  Now, as I was saying, I'm interested in you and would like to get to know you better.  But, and I stress this in all seriousness, as in all things, W/we will do this MY way.  Period.  Full stop.”  She paused a moment, letting Her words sink in.  “Let Me assure you, lee, that I know the difference between hurting and harming … and I will NOT harm you.  I will ask you to trust Me on that point.  For I am used to be trusted … and obeyed.  When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed, quickly.”  Again She paused.  “Of course, you can always refuse an order.  But, if you do, this” – and She left ambiguous exactly what “this” was – “is over.  I will wish you well, but W/we will not see each other again.  I'll stress this one more time, W/we will do things my way.  Understood, lee?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I said, hoping my voice did not betray all of my trepidation.

“Good,” Her tone lightened a bit.  “W/we will see how this goes.  I am strict and demanding by the lights of most in the lifestyle, but not unreasonable.  I may ask you to do some difficult things, lee, but I will never put you in harm's way.  I take my responsibilities as a Domme as seriously as I take my prerogatives.  And I fully expect you to take your responsibilities seriously, too … and W/we would not be sitting here now if I didn't have good sense that you will.”

Putting Her hand to the key, She spoke again.  “So, lee, it's your choice.  You may leave now with My best wishes … or stay … and obey.”

It didn't take me half a heartbeat to reply.  “I will stay, Ma'am.”  And, without another word, She started the car.

W/we drove for some minutes through the nearly empty night-time streets for several minutes in silence, me with my eyes lowered, just barely able to take in which direction W/we were heading.

“Are you curious where I'm taking you?”

Nodding, I spoke softly.  “Yes, Ma'am, I am.”

“But you have not pestered me by asking, which is good.  Trust me.  When I want you to know something, I'll tell you.”  She gave my knee a quick squeeze with these words before returning Her hand to the steering wheel to pull us into the small parking lot of a small diner, locally famous for being open 24 hours and serving excellent greasy-spoon food to diverse customers.

Seeing that I was poised to jump out and get Her door, She laughed, amused.  “Calm down, lee.  I'll tell you when to get out.”  Turning to me, She said, “But first a few rules.  I expect your best behavior, even – especially – when W/we're out in the vanilla world.  Do NOT be overly explicit, but I want constant and subtle expressions of your submission.  I suspect I don't have to tell you this, but just to be clear: keep your gaze lowered and your mouth shut.  You are to speak only to Me and only when spoken to.  Clear?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I responded, at which She granted me permission to get out and open Her door.

Leading me into the diner, She greeted the hostess, who seated us in a booth at the very back.  She slid into the seat next to the wall, leaving me to take the facing seat, where I could see only Her.   A slight look of irritation crossed Her face.  “I won't make you do it again, lee, but next time wait for My permission to sit.  I'll tap my nail on the table when You may do so.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I whispered, voice lowered in the public place, although it was nearly empty.

As She opened Her menu, I did the same until Her glare and sharp words stopped me, causing my blood to run cold for a moment.  “No,” the word was spoken like an order given to a misbehaving puppy and caused me to set the menu down immediately.  As She perused the offerings, She said nothing more until She'd closed Her menu, decisions made.  “When you are with me, I don't want to see you even touch a menu.  Menus imply choices, lee, and when you're with me, the only choice you have to make is whether you'll obey me.  I will make all other choices for you.  Are W/we clear?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” I replied meekly, my intrigue with this Woman increasing.

When the waitress came, She ordered a cup of coffee for Herself and – after soliciting advice about what was freshest – a slice of blueberry pie.  Nodding to me, She told the waitress: “He'll have a glass of water, no ice.”  If the waitress was nonplussed by the fact I did not order for myself, she did not show it.  In this part of town, at this time of night, I'm sure she saw all kinds of human behavior.

As W/we waited for the coffee, pie, and water, She began to tell me a bit about Herself.  I learned that She was of Hungarian extraction, a medical doctor specializing in Women's reproductive health, divorced, no children.  She mentioned that Her interests outside of BDSM included travel and modern art, expressing a vague dissatisfaction with the fact that Her career afforded the salary for such pursuits, but not nearly enough time for them.

When the waitress had served U/us, She sipped Her coffee and examined the delicious looking pie.  Seeing my gaze shift to the pie, She chuckled.  “Don't get your hopes up, lee; you've had your treat for the evening.  But I must say that I'm impressed that you seem to learn quickly and have not taken the liberty of drinking your water.” Saying this, She tapped Her nail twice on the table top … and I lifted the glass to drink.  “One small sip, boy, then put the glass back down.”

“Thank You, Ma'am,” I said softly after I'd swallowed the allotment of water, which felt wonderful in my mouth, parched as it was with anticipation.

As She sipped Her coffee and enjoyed the pie, She occasionally permitted me to drink from my water glas and quizzed me about my life.  As W/we chatted, it became clear that She already knew a good bit about me. I almost physically squirmed at the thought – simultaneously concerned and aroused – that She had been stalking me.  Stalking … not in the perverse sense of that word, but in its original sense … I felt like Her prey.

When She had eaten the last bite of the pie, She dragged Her finger across the plate and held it up, smudged with a swipe of the blueberry filling.  “Lick,” was all She said.

Having no idea who was watching or how they might take this, I hesitated for a moment before obeying, leaning across the table and sampling the sweet taste from Her finger.  When She withdrew Her finger, I leaned back, noting the frown on Her face.

“You hesitated, lee.  I thought I'd made myself clear about that.  Do it again and you'll regret it.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Collecting Her purse, She stood and ordered curtly: “Pay the bill, leave a VERY good tip, and then come back to the car.”