A month later and a world away from a domination session in grey South West London, I found myself ambling along the sun-drenched coastline of a bustling resort in Lanzarote. Though I was still romantically entangled with Chanelle, this holiday had been charted on my calendar long before she became a constant in my life. Accompanying me to this Spanish haven were a handful of friends from work.
Under the clear azure sky, I meandered along a neatly paved promenade. To my right, the boundless blue ocean unfolded in rhythmic waves, mirroring the sky above. On my left, the stark, charcoal-coloured landscape spread out, a barren canvas punctuated intermittently by resilient palms – a stark juxtaposition to the sparkling sea.
It was during this tranquil walk that a woman halted my progression, her eyes scanning me over - a perfect prospect for her handmade bracelets. My wrist, already adorned with a colourful tapestry of bands, was an open invitation.
The woman, a portrait of grace and elegance, was swathed in a billowing orange summer dress that danced with the breeze. Taking my hand gently into hers, she began weaving her magic around my wrist. Her ebony skin, marked by the wisdom of her years, gleamed in the Spanish sun. She had an air of the nomadic about her, a free-spirited essence that came alive when, without preamble, she delved into an impromptu psychic reading.
"You are on your own here, but you have a girlfriend waiting at home?" She questioned. Her words rang true, and I nodded in affirmation. The woman continued, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "She's blonde." But Chanelle was not blonde. She was Filipino, with dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders and beautiful brown eyes. Did I tell the medium this? No. For some reason, without thinking I said, "no, she's black, so dark hair." The lady asked what her name was, I told her, "Jade." The woman, finishing her craft, smiled, clamped her hands around mine and said, "this will bring you and Jade luck." I handed her a few euros, a modest price for her simple but meaningful piece of string turned bracelet, and bid her farewell.
The encounter with this lady made me think, something that always comes easily when alone on a long walk. As I contemplated my past actions, an unwelcome realisation washed over me. I had let Jade down, betrayed the trust we had painstakingly built. We had shared a unique dynamic, one in which I had invested my time in understanding her desires and fetishes. As a mistress, she always kept me on my toes, something I crave in a relationship.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't been back on my path for more than a ten minutes when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Out of the blue, after a silence of over a month since I had broken off our relationship, it was message from Jade. The unexpected contact from her caught me by surprise. She started off casually, inquiring about the current state of my love life. I responded, admitting the lack of depth in my feelings for the woman I was seeing and noting how she paled in comparison to the fierce and exciting Jade.
Then she confessed, stunning me with her frank admission, "To be honest, I messaged because I missed the way I made you suck my pussy. It's tough having no one to serve me." Her words stopped me in my tracks. Stunned, I sat on the low wall running along the coast path. Her powerful, unashamed honesty reminded me of what I had been missing.
"I miss having no one to serve," I replied, "and your pussy is the best I've ever had." The memory of her, the power she held over me, was intoxicating. But Jade wasn't going to let me back in so easily. She reminded me of the pain I had caused, the times I had let her down.
I tried to explain, that I had come to understand myself better and how important my submissive side was to me. I wanted her to know that I craved a dynamic where I was owned above all else. I told her, "I've learned that you are the best thing for me right now, I promise not to fuck up again."
Jade remained hesitant. She pointed out my lack of respect, reminding me of the proper way to address her as "Miss J." She confessed that she missed having me serve her but was skeptical about trusting me again. I apologised again, being sure to use the full phrase, "I'm sorry, Miss J."
In a bid to make me prove my worth, Jade tasked me with writing an essay on why she should take me back, along with a narrative detailing my deepest fantasies. I accepted, promising to deliver them by the in end of the day, perhaps a little slower to fulfil a request from Jade than usual as I was on holiday.
Sat on a bench in the Spanish sun, I put my fantasy into words, tapping the vivid story of submission into my phone. It began with me lying helplessly on a table, under her complete control, aroused an intense desire within me. There, on the cold surface, she would have unfettered access to my most vulnerable areas, free to experiment as she pleased.
Miss J would begin with a careful exploration, her hands cupping and squeezing my balls with a practiced ease, assessing their weight and responsiveness. Following this initial inspection, her focus would shift to my cock. Miss J, with an unwavering intensity, would bring it to life, stroking me into a state of hardness, taking measurements with clinical detachment.
Then the real test would start, a game of endurance, as Miss J set out to gauge my tolerance of pain and pleasure. The rules were simple and unforgiving. As her grip on my balls grew tighter, she would continue to stroke my cock. If I could withstand the intensifying pressure, I would earn my release. But if at any point I tapped out, the stroking would cease, leaving me teetering on the edge, denied the pleasure of climax.
In my fantasy, as the pressure grew and the pain became harder to bear, my instinctive reactions were silenced by Miss J. My moans of discomfort were met with a stern command to be quiet. As I struggled to contain the sounds of my distress, the situation escalated further. She removed her panties, stuffed them into my mouth, and straddled my face, effectively gagging me. Stripped of my voice, all I could do was endure in silence.
Despite the escalating pain, my determination prevailed. The promise of release spurred me on, and when the moment came, it was as intense as it was painful. As I shot my load, she delivered a punishing punch and slap to my balls, exacerbating the intense sensation of my orgasm.
Covered in my own release, Miss J declared that I needed to be cleaned. Still seated on my face, she began to pee. As she stood, her hot piss sprayed over my chest, an added layer of degradation to the spectacle. With a final act of dominance, she removed her panties from my mouth, leaving me on the table, covered in a mix of piss and cum.
I sent the fantasy to her, hoping it would prove the lengths I was willing to go for Miss J, and the boundary-pushing experiences I craved under her control. The tale was well-received, though she dismissed any immediate possibility of living it out. She made it clear that my current role was to make amends, not to enjoy my fantasies.
I felt the need to confess my fear of her anger. I told her, "Seeing you again scares me because I know you are angry. You're going to hurt me aren't you?" Jade assured me she wouldn't, "I don't have plans to hurt you, just make you work hard, but she warned that should I make a mistake punishment awaited, adding "The second you mess up one detail, then I will hurt you." I accepted this, telling her "I'm yours, you can do what you want with me," and knowing that this was my path to redemption.
Then I return to the notes app on my phone and began typing my essay. I laid bare my regret and longing, admitting my newfound understanding of my needs. I highlighted my realisation that being dominated and punished by Miss J held more importance for me than a conventional relationship. I expressed my desire to serve her again, to make up for my mistakes. The essay read:
I'm acutely aware that I don't deserve you and it's crystal clear how much I've let you down. We had cultivated a deep level of trust and understanding. I'd devoted time to discern the things you enjoyed, and you, as an exceptional mistress, continually kept me intrigued with a tantalising mix of tantalising conversation and intentional cruelty.
My decision to end our arrangement was instantaneously regretted. The timing had nothing to do with your stay with me, but I found myself entangled in a new relationship that escalated rapidly, promising a different kind of intimacy. However, I couldn't be the man who serves another woman whilst deceiving her.
My longing for you surged more quickly than I anticipated. The act of worshipping you, tasting you, was perfection personified. Your body's unique scent and taste became an irresistible lure. Your allure was so strong that I could spend an entire day with my face nestled between your cheeks.
To be utterly honest, reaching climax with the other woman was an uphill struggle. My thoughts often meandered back to you. You've become all I think about when I masturbate.
I've recently understood that right now, being under your control, experiencing the blend of humiliation and punishment you deal, outweighs the appeal of a traditional relationship. Discovering the satisfaction of being under the reign of a strong woman has been a revelation, a need that I now can't do without.
I also recognise that finding a better domme than you is an impossible task. Your beauty and your exquisite body make worshipping you a natural act, as though every cell in my body is programmed to submit to your command.
You've begun to train me effectively, teaching me to accept you in ways I never imagined. Over time, I know you'll escalate the intensity, using a larger strap-on to assert your dominance, something I know you are keen to do.
I'm aware of how to serve you, and I know I can demonstrate the dedication you need. Serving you dutifully for over a week, without resistance or complaints, has proven this. I'm the ideal slave to assist in your personal development, capable of providing support with your CVs and letters. It pains me that I haven't been there to assist you with these tasks.
I've missed you, Miss J. I'd go to great lengths to show you how eager I am to be under your ownership again. I regret not being the slave you deserved, but I'm confident we can rebuild the trust we once shared. I promise to strive to satisfy your every command.
Despite my words, Jade voiced her doubts, stating, "One thing I have to say... It doesn't mean that much to be because I'm the one who made contact with you, I don't know if I can believe it." I understood her reservations, but promised to prove my sincerity.
After some deliberation, she decided to give me another chance, scheduling a visit for the following Tuesday. She tasked me with more preparations, including purchasing a collar and chain. Jade seemed excited about this, she said, "I'm really going to enjoy dragging you around by the collar." She added, "It's your new uniform. The second we step through your front door it needs to be on."
With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, I readied myself to serve Miss J once again, telling her, "It will be an honour to serve you again." As I faced this new start in our unconventional relationship, I was acutely aware of the challenges that awaited me, but was more than willing to meet them head-on.
