If I close my eyes, I can still remember his voice, the way his words were almost loving at first. He sounded affectionate, telling me how I was his, and he would satisfy my needs unlike anyone I had met or would meet again. He wanted me to call him by that name I loved, and I did, loving each and every second of it. He talked about how he would use me, and at first it fed every desire I had.
As our ‘relationship’ progressed, he became frustrated with me. He didn’t like that he couldn’t call me when it pleased him, that I still cared what my boyfriend would think. He demanded that I find a way to house sit more often. Then he told me my body was his, that my boyfriend wasn’t allowed to touch me and if he did, I was to tell my ‘Daddy’ right away.
He wanted me to write him an email every day, that he would get before 11am. Telling him exactly what I had done that night, what I had thought, what I had eaten, what I was thinking. He wanted me to exercise a certain amount each day and give him a record of what I was eating. He demanded videos of me doing….well things I didn’t want to see myself doing.
It didn’t sit right with me, it made me think I didn’t have it in me to be a good sub…..that if I were good I would do all that he asked and say screw the consequences. Only that fiery, stubborn woman my mother raised to not take any shit from anyone raised up her head and said um….NO.
My rebellion started small, I would write really generic ‘journals’ to him, or not exercise and say I had. I would wait ten minutes then twenty to text him back. It’s not surprising that with my change came another change with him.
I quickly moved from his sub to his slut. He was no longer ‘Daddy’, I started to call him Sir with a certain amount of disdain I’m sure he heard. It was no longer him that would fill my belly with his seed. No I was his breeding slut and anyone and everyone he wanted would use me, fill me and leave me in a heap at his feet. He was going to show up at my door one day and I would be kneeling at his side to service anyone he chose.
He’d go into detail about the men he would let use my body. Tell me every little detail about what they would do to me what they would say to me and how they would look at me. He’d expertly wind me up and then make sure by the end of the conversation I knew that he was the alpha and he could treat me any way he wanted. Every time, every time I would get off the phone or close my email feeling dirty, like a piece of garbage.
My excitement faded, our conversations and texts still could send me over the edge but the after glow was less of a glow and more of a growing resentment and disgust.
Towards the end I could tell that he knew this wasn’t working for me. Every conversation was getting just that little bit more aggressive, and every text a little more derogatory, but it took getting my phone bill, for the reality to set in. When I read the balance due I think I had a mini heart attack….over $1000 to have some guy half way across the world talk to me like I was some stupid, worthless piece of trash that was there for a quick fuck and nothing more.
I didn’t feel special, I didn’t feel like it was me he wanted, I felt like any ‘slut’ would do.
To his credit he offered to wire me money to cover part of the cost of the bill, but by that time I was so upset, so disappointed in myself I was too proud to accept his hand out. During our last conversation I heard a baby crying in the back ground…..hurt and angry I confronted him on it. Turns out his wife just had a baby…..and he never worked in North America.
Two words to describe him:
One word to describe me:
The whole charade was all of 3 months, maybe…..and even with the bad experience I was hooked…..seriously hooked….there was this rush that came from ‘belonging’ to someone. A surge of adrenaline that raced through me a lightening speed when I heard the words, “You’re mine”. I knew I wanted that.
Yes I was still tied down by my boyfriend, but what I wanted was becoming clear……I wanted a man. A man who would be able to take control over more than just his own life, but guide mine as well. I didn’t want to be a piece of meat, I wanted to belong to one man and feel that possessiveness and have it mean something.
And so my search began.