I have been a lover of femdom from the instant I first felt sexual inclination; though it was only recently I resolved to truly take the plunge and palpate viscerally its myriad wonders—to have done unto me by a flesh and blood human what my soul had forever yearned for. Having now emerged reborn and rejuvenated on the other end, I can say without a doubt that the impeccable Lady Jay Cherie was the perfect choice of practitioner to share my first BDSM experience with.
Storytime:
Before entering Her space, I told myself subconsciously I'd kick off our encounter by spouting off some cliché like: "Wow, you look sTUnNiNG!" No such performance came to pass. With barely a foot in the door, my mind melted into unsculptured putty. A rehearsed regurgitation of "Wow, you look sTUnNiNG!" would have been an utterly disingenuous, indescribably felonious understatement. There was no need for me to say anything at all. There She was, shorter than me by all objective metrics—though, spiritually, a towering, commanding, overpowering aura whose precise analog I had never before chanced upon. Evidently stunning. All it took was a single palm placed upon my back, ushering me all the way into My Lady's domain, to undo all of my preconceptions. Despite Her not yet fully being "in character", I could sense with crystal clarity the menace and sadism emanating from Her every fingertip, and it sent a deep-seated shiver up my spine. At this introductory stage, I could barely hold eye contact, if at all—too intimidating and downright regal was Her presence. In practically no time at all, (in the blink of an averted eye, if you will) I became Her more than willing thrall. When it came time to serve, a switch I always knew I possessed deep within flipped for the first time, and I renounced my whole self to the earthbound Goddess before me; demeaned my whole self with glorious dignity. From there came a whole slew of invigorating new sensations I had not at all expected to taste. Being primarily a leather-worshipping slut myself, I hadn't requested of Miss Cherie too much in the way of pain play; but oh boy did it ever arrive—thunderously and with tyrannical glee—much to my helpless elation. I discovered, among countless other things that unforgettable evening, that my pain tolerance is far higher than I gave myself credit for. She didn't have to do any of it: the binding, cropping, flesh rending, cock and ball slapping, or waxplay—but She did. And I can only interpret this assault on my senses as a wholly generous gesture, My Lady working in earnest to tailer for me a fresh experience and intuit all that makes me tick. While I can now say with certainty that not all of it was wildly arousing and to my exact taste, I, regardless, immensely appreciate the forethought and meticulous care Miss Cherie put into crafting our intimate time together. I have a feeling She sensed in my application a dormant desire to try new things, and She was more correct than even I myself could have ever known. One thing I was reluctant but willing to try was CEI; an act I always found extremely arousing when viewed via pornography, but had never even half-heartedly attempted in reality. We both knew in the moment though, that I would do it—lap it all up like the desperate, crazed fiend I had become. The putty had by this point had been finely sculpted in the image of an ideal pet. It was done...... and I mean, it tastes just like it smells, it wasn't really gross at all i dunno wat i was even worried about...... Anyway, several deep breaths later, I returned to the self of my own construction and we discussed the experience. I definitely did not talk about all I wanted to, but seeing as my whole self was still reeling from what felt like a fever dream, I feel that's perfectly understandable. We then parted ways with a great, big hug—and that was that. I felt ALIVE—pained and sore in all the best ways. Reborn, rejuvenated—more myself than I had ever been in recent memory...... Trials, tribulations and hardship be damned, I try always to live life with my head held high... and now, I have been vindicated—assured that I will continue to do so forever, because now I know what it is to live with with my head held low; to bow before another. I choose my master. I choose who I bow to. No one else but me, myself, and Them. Though it may not be for some time yet, we will meet again, and hopefully create something even more transcendent than our introductory encounter. I can't thank you enough, Mistress, for officially inducting me into the world of femdom.
Storytime:
Before entering Her space, I told myself subconsciously I'd kick off our encounter by spouting off some cliché like: "Wow, you look sTUnNiNG!" No such performance came to pass. With barely a foot in the door, my mind melted into unsculptured putty. A rehearsed regurgitation of "Wow, you look sTUnNiNG!" would have been an utterly disingenuous, indescribably felonious understatement. There was no need for me to say anything at all. There She was, shorter than me by all objective metrics—though, spiritually, a towering, commanding, overpowering aura whose precise analog I had never before chanced upon. Evidently stunning. All it took was a single palm placed upon my back, ushering me all the way into My Lady's domain, to undo all of my preconceptions. Despite Her not yet fully being "in character", I could sense with crystal clarity the menace and sadism emanating from Her every fingertip, and it sent a deep-seated shiver up my spine. At this introductory stage, I could barely hold eye contact, if at all—too intimidating and downright regal was Her presence. In practically no time at all, (in the blink of an averted eye, if you will) I became Her more than willing thrall. When it came time to serve, a switch I always knew I possessed deep within flipped for the first time, and I renounced my whole self to the earthbound Goddess before me; demeaned my whole self with glorious dignity. From there came a whole slew of invigorating new sensations I had not at all expected to taste. Being primarily a leather-worshipping slut myself, I hadn't requested of Miss Cherie too much in the way of pain play; but oh boy did it ever arrive—thunderously and with tyrannical glee—much to my helpless elation. I discovered, among countless other things that unforgettable evening, that my pain tolerance is far higher than I gave myself credit for. She didn't have to do any of it: the binding, cropping, flesh rending, cock and ball slapping, or waxplay—but She did. And I can only interpret this assault on my senses as a wholly generous gesture, My Lady working in earnest to tailer for me a fresh experience and intuit all that makes me tick. While I can now say with certainty that not all of it was wildly arousing and to my exact taste, I, regardless, immensely appreciate the forethought and meticulous care Miss Cherie put into crafting our intimate time together. I have a feeling She sensed in my application a dormant desire to try new things, and She was more correct than even I myself could have ever known. One thing I was reluctant but willing to try was CEI; an act I always found extremely arousing when viewed via pornography, but had never even half-heartedly attempted in reality. We both knew in the moment though, that I would do it—lap it all up like the desperate, crazed fiend I had become. The putty had by this point had been finely sculpted in the image of an ideal pet. It was done...... and I mean, it tastes just like it smells, it wasn't really gross at all i dunno wat i was even worried about...... Anyway, several deep breaths later, I returned to the self of my own construction and we discussed the experience. I definitely did not talk about all I wanted to, but seeing as my whole self was still reeling from what felt like a fever dream, I feel that's perfectly understandable. We then parted ways with a great, big hug—and that was that. I felt ALIVE—pained and sore in all the best ways. Reborn, rejuvenated—more myself than I had ever been in recent memory...... Trials, tribulations and hardship be damned, I try always to live life with my head held high... and now, I have been vindicated—assured that I will continue to do so forever, because now I know what it is to live with with my head held low; to bow before another. I choose my master. I choose who I bow to. No one else but me, myself, and Them. Though it may not be for some time yet, we will meet again, and hopefully create something even more transcendent than our introductory encounter. I can't thank you enough, Mistress, for officially inducting me into the world of femdom.
