Bella's Essay #3- A slave’s perspective on femdom


What is it about women that makes me long to hit my knees and worship them? Is it the graceful lines of their bodies? The curves of her breasts and hips under the well tailored clothes, the long legs encased in silk stockings, the heels that arch her foot just so. Is it the smile on their faces? The way they seem to know just what I’m thinking even before I realize I’m thinking it. Is it their voices? The quiet commands that I seem to just jump to obey?


It’s all of these things and so much more!
I’m not what most people think of as a submissive male. I have a successful business, a loving family, and financial security. I have appointments, clients, even people who work for me tirelessly. I have a house, children, pets, and a nest egg. For all intents and purposes, I lead a rather charmed life that many people envy me for.
But there’s something that was missing from the idyllic setting, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Until I met Her. And then my whole world changed. It started simply enough. I came to work one afternoon, running a little behind because I had to drop my wife off at her workplace. She was sitting in my secretary’s normal seat, making some notes in a spiral notebook. I stopped, a bit confused, and she introduced herself as Bella. The temp agency had sent her over to fill in for my secretary who was taking an extended leave of absence for “personal” reasons. I was a little shocked, because normally, Jean told me every move she made, but apparently things were to proceed apace. So I gave my hello and went into my office.


The moment the door closed behind me, I felt myself start shaking. She was beautiful and sophisticated, her voice a low lilting purr that I couldn’t get out of my head, and a smile that made me weak at the knees. When I sat down behind my desk, I could almost feel those eyes still on me, assessing me and giving me that slow smile. It was like she knew a little secret that she wasn’t sharing. I put it out of my mind, but every time she came into my office, and there were PLENTY of reasons for her to come in, I found myself staring at her. Her movements were graceful and she carried herself with an air of self confidence that lingered long after she’d gone. I became so accustomed to her presence, thinking about her long after I’d gone home for the night, that the morning I came in, two weeks later, to find Jean back at work, I couldn’t help but feel a crushing disappointment. So imagine my surprise when, at lunch, I received a small ivory card with an engraved invitation from an unknown sender. Inside, on the card, was a written message in a handwriting I’d come to know all too well. It had an address and a time, and the letter “B” in closing.


I cleared all my appointments with Jean, called my wife to let her know I was meeting a client for late night dinner, and waited anxiously for the time to arrive. The address led me to a large brick house, unassuming and charming, and as I approached the red door, I found myself hesitating before knocking. I asked myself what I thought I was doing, why was I there…but before I could answer them, the door opened and Bella stood there. She took my breath away. She was wearing just a black corset and jeans, but there was something alluring about her demeanor and I eagerly followed her inside. Over the next few hours, I found myself begging her, repeatedly, to be hers, only hers, until that mantra was the only thing in my head. The things she did to me, the exquisite torment she put me through, the way I gave of myself, utterly and completely, I was hers. Crawling back to my car that night, I knew that things had changed for me. I knew that I existed for her. And I was oddly content with that. I had become more than I thought possible, and her lessons were ringing in my ears.


I found myself through her guidance, and continue to fall to my knees before her. I couldn’t be happier or more fulfilled than I am now. And for that, I will be infinitely grateful!
-Miss B’s boy

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