Starting a FemDom marriage in the Vanilla Kingdom

Archive for the 'History' Category

Catching Up on the Back Story

In the coming weeks, I’m going to be doing a lot to promote the blog.  I’ve also noticed an influx of new readers thanks to my return to the Sugasm feed.

Because of this, I wanted to create a summary of the story thus far.  The crucial events that started all of this are over a year away now and you need some of that information to appreciate the on-going narrative.

There’s also the issue of the massive volume of content.  As part of this project, I dumped the entire blog into a single document and printed it out - it was 192 pages single spaced!  (I had no idea there was that much stacked up in the archive.)

So, in the interest of catching everyone up and highlighting the crucial posts that make up the heart of this site, here is "sub-Burbs: The Cliff Notes Edition":

The (very) short version:

Just after New Year’s Day 2007, I finally embraced my need to be a submissive.  The problem is that I was married and chose to live out this realization with a Domme I met on the Internet instead of my wife.  In April of that same year, I confessed my affair to my wife and, in an outcome that shocked me completely, She decided to allow me to serve Her and became Miss Jacqueline (MJ).  Ever since, we’ve been working toward balancing our D/s lifestyle with our vanilla marriage and the birth of our daughter in early 2008.

The long version:

The road that brought me to this point was not only a really rocky one, but also an incredibly well documented one.  I was writing every single day chronicling the near destruction of my marriage and my intense struggles as I tried to come to terms with who and what I was.

Over time, the site became the portrait of a lost man as he tried to reconnect with his wife after a horrible betrayal and his redemption through service.  I’ve kept the entire story here (with the blessing of MJ) as a lesson to those who are on the same path I was in the hopes that they may learn from my mistakes.


These posts document my history from my first sexual awakening to my first submissive inklings to my first steps into BDSM.

Mistress Trecia

Fast forward to 2006.  My wife and I weren’t exactly on the rocks, but our sex life was nonexistent.  I had gone to a shrink and was put on antidepressants which just made me feel like I was sitting still watching life fly by.  I wasn’t sad anymore, I just was and nothing more.

In the late part of that year, I was looking for some erotic audio to entertain myself and stumbled across the podcast of Mistress Trecia.  She was an Internet Domme who specialized in "tease and denial", something I had never previously experienced but was immediately drawn to.

I won’t even pretend to understand what made me send those first nervous e-mails in January 2007.  I do remember thinking that I was just reaching out to better understand the BDSM side of my sexuality and that there was no way anything over the Internet could have any major impact on my life.

I was, of course, horribly, horribly wrong.

The bottled up submissive inside myself that I had managed to hide for 10 years came rushing out and I completely lost control of the situation.  No one put a gun to my head - I fully admit they were my own bad decisions.  However, I was swept up in a rush of emotion and lust and temporarily lost myself.

I worked out a financial arrangement where I was paying Mistress Trecia a monthly fee so I could get regular webcam and phone sessions and be in constant contact with her.

Right around that time, I started this blog as a tribute to my new Mistress.  Due to the nervous nature of my first e-mails to Mistress Trecia, she dubbed me her "timid boy" and I immediately adopted that as my on-line alter ego.  I registered and named my blog "Confessions of a Timid Boy - My Journey Into Subspace".  I was assigned the task of writing daily as a tribute, but the writing for me became a way to think out loud and to process the rush of emotions I was experiencing.

"The Wife"

Right around this time, I stopped taking my anti-depressants and told my wife I had found a radical new counselor who was going to help me find myself again. 

In order to hide my new relationship, I found all sorts of ways to lie to my wife.  My denial was so deep that I blogged on several occasions about my hope that someday Mistress Trecia and my wife would work together so I could remain happily married and a sub at the same time.

The Trip

Within a few weeks of first contacting Mistress Trecia, I decided I was going to travel up to Minnesota and visit her in person.  I told my wife that this new counselor of mine was holding a retreat for some of her patients and that it would be helpful and therapeutic for me.  I had to keep spinning lie after lie in order to make it work, but I was so deep into the relationship with Mistress Trecia that I never considered the eventual cost of all this selfish deception I was using to get what I wanted.

On March 28, 2007, I drove from Chicago to Minneapolis and spent five days with Mistress Trecia.  Just so you don’t think I’m a complete monster, I did have several crying jags racked with guilt throughout the week during times I was alone in my hotel room reflecting on the insane situation I had put myself in.  The blog was supposed to be a devotion to Mistress Trecia in those days, so I didn’t blog about any of my guilt or doubt. 

The Fallout

After I returned from my trip, I continued my service to Mistress Trecia, but had finally realized that I couldn’t keep up my double life.  I had to confront my wife and discuss what was going on.

I started with more lies (always a great way to start a new relationship) and "came out" about my submissive nature without telling her I was already in the service of a professional Domme.  I was still clinging to the insane idea that somehow Mistress Trecia and my wife were going to team up someday.

On April 21, 2007 (our 16th wedding anniversary), my wife told me that she had given it a lot of thought and that she wanted to be my Domme.  Rather than embrace her, I regarded her with suspicion thinking that she was just trying to hold on to me by any means necessary and got incredibly mean and nasty during the ensuing fight.  (The real irony here was that my wife trusted me enough to let me travel to Minnesota to attend a "counseling seminar" with a woman she didn’t know and I didn’t trust her enough to accept her word that she was willing to embrace D/s to help complete me.)

The following day, cooler heads prevailed and we discussed D/s in greater detail and I realized that she was honestly interested in trying out a D/s marriage for both our sakes.  During that talk I realized that in order to serve my wife I’d have to say goodbye to Mistress Trecia, so I asked her to release me from my service immediately thereafter.

On April 24th, I confessed everything to my wife and gave her the URL to my blog.  She seemed to take it pretty well, but once she started reading the full depth of my betrayal came to light and she was rightly incredibly angry.  (She ended up staying up the entire night and reading the blog in one 8-hour sitting.)

After a rough couple of days, we started to reconnect and MJ decided that she still wanted to give a full-time D/s marriage a try.  MJ locked a steel collar around my neck (one that looked like a necklace so I could wear it 24/7) and I became her servant.  The days that followed in the summer of 2007 was an amazing time in our relationship.  We ventured out into the local BDSM community in Chicago, joined a private BDSM club in the city, and even traveled to Colorado together to attend Thunder in the Mountains.

During that time, I dropped my original blog name and design and it became sub-Burbs, a celebration of our Femdom marriage.

Baby Makes Three

In July 2007, we discovered that MJ was pregnant.  We had been trying for years and this was a complete unplanned shock and surprise.  After we returned from Thunder, we had a long talk about the fate of our D/s arrangement now that she was pregnant (and with a high-risk pregnancy at that). 

After an emotional discussion, MJ released me and removed my collar.  The blog went dark for weeks at a time as we went back to our normal marriage.  This time, however, things were different.  The amazing summer we spent together brought us a lot closer and made me fall in love with MJ in a whole new way.  Despite getting engaged three months after a chance encounter when we were 19, we actually are perfect for each other.   We were both confident that our D/s lives would resume in some fashion after the baby came.

Our daughter was born in February 2008 and once MJ had recovered from the difficult process of giving birth, we had a long talk about our D/s future.  We are still figuring things out, but we have reconnected sexually and both agree that there is a place in our lives for D/s and that we are committed to finding the right balance to make us both happy. 

Stay tuned as our story continues…

I’m happy to answer any questions either privately or in the site’s comments.  You can reach me directly at


Dinner Service

Last night, we got home at our usual time and I set about making dinner.  (In the last few weeks, I’ve been taking over the role of a house boy, doing all the cleaning and cooking.)  It wasn’t anything too fancy - I baked some chicken breasts and tossed them together with a little alfredo sauce, broccoli, and whole wheat pasta.

I brought a plate to MJ who was already in her chair queuing up the movie we had rented the night before ("Music and Lyrics").  As I started to set the plate on her side table, She looked up at me and sternly said "Stop".  I halted in my tracks, wondering what was going on.

MJ motioned for me to stand in front of her, then said "Kneel".

Flushed with the full force of the submissiveness of the gesture, I knelt before Her, head bowed, and offered the plate up with both hands.  She took it from me, tasted the food, then motioned for me to come closer, pulling my head to her chest and stroking my hair.

"Good boy," She said, her lips pressed against my ear.

When she let me stand to go fetch my own plate, I was walking on clouds.  That simple gesture just lit me up and gave me the satisfaction of doing well and pleasing my Miss, something that completely feeds my submissive nature.

Back when we were both living in California, MJ and I saw a marriage counselor who recommended the book "Codependent No More" since, obviously, anyone who gets pleasure from doing things for other people is completely broken.  You should always do for yourself, right?  Anything else is unhealthy.

It’s taken me about 14 years to realize that service is what I crave more than anything. 

When we had Arthur and Fenny over a couple of weeks ago, Art kept telling me I didn’t have to keep fetching them drinks and snacks while we were talking.  All I had to say was "This is what I do" and he completely understood. 

I am a submissive.  I live to serve.

I’ve always been like this to some degree.  I was heavily involved in peer support groups and charity organizations as early as junior high and always enjoyed knowing I was either taking the burden off of others or that my work made them happy.

After I embraced my submissive side earlier this year, I’ve been looking back at my life with that context and there were so many signs I should have seen, my love of service being just one of many.  Why my true nature was so hidden from me I’ll never know, but finally looking into myself and discovering it has brought me a world of happiness and peace.

Once MJ was done with Her dinner, She snapped Her fingers, called me by saying "boy", then told me to bring Her some dessert.


Contentment at last…

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History - Hitting Bottom

After Mistress Natalie pushed me aside and my only sources of income dried up, the ugly situation that was my life turned downright nasty.

Since I "needed" crystal meth and had only a small amount of money, I started forgoing utilities and rent.  It wasn’t long before I got my eviction notice.  I thought it wasn’t that bad and that I could live in my truck while I figured things out.  What little sense I had left kicked in and I realized I needed a plan.

Then, something weird happened.  I can’t even begin to explain why the following events happened.  For a short time, I thought it was nothing less than divine intervention.

The day after my "let’s try homelessness" thought process, I got a call from my wife.  I hadn’t talked to her in almost two years at that point and still don’t know how she got my number.  (It was even more fortuitous because the phone was due to be turned off a couple of days later.)  We talked for about 4 hours about our relationship and where everything went wrong.  The day after that, my mother called and offered to pay for me to move back to Chicago.  (She and my wife swear to this day that they had no contact during that time.  It was just fate giving me a free pass back to the straight and narrow.)

I called my wife and asked if she would consider starting to work things out between us if I moved back to Chicago as a show of faith that I was serious.  She said that she wouldn’t promise anything, but that if I was there she would be willing to at least talk about it.  I called my mother back and said that I would be willing to move, but that I was doing so for my wife’s sake alone.  She agreed and said she just wanted to have me home.

Somewhere deep down inside, I knew that crystal was killing me.  I was 6′1" at the time but weighed about 140 pounds, my hair was falling out from malnutrition, and I was making unbelievably bad decisions about my life.  I knew that I needed to quit and figured that a drastic life change might help.

I rented a big moving truck, filled it with my stuff, and hitched my pickup to the back.  I then went to say goodbye to the one friend I had left - my drug dealer.  As we were discussing my move, it dawned on him that I was quitting crystal.  He threw a little extra into my baggie for me (a huge  gesture in drug dealer terms) and then said he really would like it if we stayed in touch.  I looked him dead in the eye and said that it was something that I would really like as well.  We both knew at that moment it was the last time we would ever see each other.

I then started the long drive from San Diego to Chicago.  That’s when fate stepped in yet again to help me change my ways.

On a stretch of desert highway in the dead of night near the border of Arizona and New Mexico, my next life changing event would play out.  I had been driving all day and well into the night.  My crystal high was wearing off, so I was getting a little shaky behind the wheel.  Then, out of nowhere, I saw something run in front of my truck and swerved hard to avoid it.  To this day I don’t know if it was real or a hallucination.  The swerve was hard enough that I started to lose control of the truck.

After a few attempts to get back on the road, I felt the truck start to tip and it crashed down onto the driver’s side, sliding for almost 40 - 50 feet across the desert highway.  I remember distinctly being drivers-side-down with my computer and all the stuff from the cab on top of me wondering how I was going to get out when the world started spinning.  When it was done spinning, I shut off the engine, opened the driver’s door, and staggered out onto the highway.

I didn’t realize it at first, but a semi that was right behind me was blinded by the cloud of dust that my skid caused and didn’t notice my truck in the middle of the road.  It slammed into the bottom of my truck with so much force that it sent my 15′ rental truck airborne, high enough that it righted itself in the air and landed back on its wheels.

Yeah - holy fucking shit was my thought, too.

While most of my stuff was damaged by tipping the truck over, getting hit by 30-tons of speeding semi pretty much vaporized everything I owned.  In some crazy-assed miracle, I managed to survive with a sprained ankle.  (I noticed later that the nails that held the heel onto my right boot were bent and fractured from the force of the impact.  My foot must have been against the floorboard when I was hit.)

I was in serious shock and another trucker came up, found a blanket and forced me to lie down in the road.  Somehow, I had enough presence of mind to refuse to be taken to the hospital by ambulance.  (I figured they would do a drug screening first thing and realize I was high as a kite.)  I caught a ride to a hotel from the tow truck driver.

The next morning, I could barely move and couldn’t walk at all so I called the paramedics and they took me in for x-rays only to find out that I was the luckiest bastard in Arizona that day.  At the tow yard, I picked through the pile of splinters that used to be my stuff and managed to salvage a suitcase full of clothes and a few other mementos.  My dad then wired me money for a plane ticket and I flew home.

Everyone in my family was shocked to discover how horrible I looked.  After some greetings, I went to my new temporary home in my mom’s basement, crawled into bed, and slept for almost three days.

Almost as if a switch had flipped, my life started turning around.  My ankled healed until I only needed a cane to walk (something I was able to wean off of over a few months).  The website I had finished just before leaving San Diego got bought out by the Tribune Corporation and they offered me $20,000 to help them transition the code.  Once I was better, I started looking for jobs and almost immediately found a very lucrative position with a huge global law firm (where I work to this day).  With my newfound financial stability, I was able to get a nice apartment and start to reconcile with my wife.

I made one final bad decision at that point, one that I wouldn’t fully understand until these last few weeks 9 years later.  I decided that I needed to mold myself to the ideals set down by my wife.  I was completely broken and needed to be rebuilt, so why not tailor myself and my personality to everything my wife wanted?  I could be her idea man!

Well, that was really dumb because over the years, I’ve lost track of who I am and what makes me tick sexually.  I’d become incredibly unhappy to the point where I started taking antidepressants just to stop considering stepping in front of every bus that crossed my path as I walked through the city.

My quest to repair myself is still ongoing, but I finally understand my big mistake.  My wife has even acknowledged that she hates  that I’m trying to always cater to her whims.  She wants me to be my own person, but after almost a decade of trying to be something I’m not, I need to find myself again.  Mistress Trecia has been the first person to start to see the real me emerge after all this time and I’m blessed for her help and honored by her commitment to helping me fulfill and protect my inner-most desires.

I hope that with her excellent mentoring and guidance as well as the confidence I’ve managed to find as I grow more comfortable in my own skin, my quest to find the real me will be interesting and enjoyable.  After the ride I’ve been on thus far, the rest of the journey just has  to be downhill.

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History - Mistress Natalie (Part 2)

So, my adventure began with Mistress Natalie.  As we continued our relationship, I started to learn more about her as a person.  She was a stay-at-home mom and her Domme gig was just for fun but one that she took very seriously.  (Nearly every piece of furniture in her house looked normal during the day but had a hidden BDSM component to it like the sofa with hidden tiedown points or the giant cage that held a ficus and stuffed parrot when it wasn’t holding a human pet.)

I was one of two boys that she had in her service.  Her and her husband did some of the parties I had previously attended in addition to being part of the more exclusive swinger set in San Diego including being frequent guests at "Hillside", a mansion in the hills that was the true upper crust of the scene.

In addition to some mindblowing scenes, Mistress Natalie also spent time talking with me about what it means to be a submissive.  We discussed my trips into "subspace" and for the first time I started feeling like maybe I wasn’t a complete freak.  She was very well read on the topic as she, like myself, had quested to understand the D/s dynamic and what made her wired like she was. 

Meanwhile, in real life, the start-up I was working for was quickly failing and we started losing staff since paychecks were few and far between.  Before too long, I was the last programmer there and needed to single handedly develop code for all of our clients.  A coworker and former roommate of mine asked if I’d ever tried crystal meth and said that might help me become more productive.  I agreed and he hooked me up with his dealer which gave me a nearly limitless supply of crystal (for a price, of course).  I was able to work longer and harder, sometimes sitting in front of the computer and writing code for 70 or 80 hours straight without sleeping.  Before long, my appetite for crystal was costing me all of what little money I had meaning I started eating less and less to make it affordable.  (During the really dark times toward the end, I would pick up a .99 Whopper once every 2 - 3 days.)

Because of this, my only connection to things outside the office was Mistress Natalie.  With her getting in my head and under my skin and me putting my heart and soul into my service to her, I started to fall in love with her.  She had no idea what was going on when we weren’t together, so she had no reason to doubt my feelings or motives.  (In all fairness to myself, my feelings of love were very real.  In talks with Mistress Trecia, we discussed how a sub is supposed  to give their heart to their Domme but it’s up to the Domme to handle it correctly.)

Despite the fact that she was married, we started actually "dating".  We’d meet in hotels for some passionate love making sessions and do other things to take our relationship outside of the D/s boundaries.  Mistress Natalie’s husband began to suspect what was going on and confronted me a few times, at one point asking me to walk away.  As I was pretty focused and had fallen hard for Mistress, I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.

A couple of weeks later, Mistress came to see me at work and asked if we could go somewhere private.  It seems her husband confronted her as well and gave her an ultimatum - him or me.  Since I wasn’t the father of her child, she chose him and basically said "It’s been grand, but get lost."  (In all fairness to her, I was quickly beginning to lose my mind and was obviously wasting way as I started losing weight at an alarming rate.  I was hardly a catch to leave a husband over…)

I was devastated and driven immediately into a really dark place.  As crazy as it sounds, Mistress Natalie was the only thing keeping me grounded, so her pushing me away just accelerated my downward spiral.

Despite all of my hard work, the owners of the start-up I was working for finally pissed me off enough to the point where I quit.  (They took a piece of technology I created to analyze search engines and started using it in a very unethical and slightly illegal manner to cheat the indexing spiders, something I wouldn’t stand for.)  One of our current clients immediately came to see me with an offer to work for them exclusively as they had just landed some venture capital cash that was contingent on me getting their site up and running.  I was partially solvent again and was able to get an apartment and also further feed my deepening addiction to crystal meth.

I mourned my parting from Mistress Natalie every day.  I know now the extreme intensity of the emotions I was suffering through was the result of crystal magnifying everything, but then it was as if someone had ripped out what little soul I had left.  With nothing to really live for any longer, I completely fell into the abyss, consuming all the crystal I could get my hands on, barely eating, and at one point just completely stopped showering.

Eventually, my new web work gig was done and the money started to dry up.  My new habits needed a solid influx of cash, but I was in no condition to go out job hunting.  I keep getting my unemployment checks from the start up (since they weren’t paying me, the employment board considered that as being laid off), but my 12 months of those were just about up as well.  My life was about to bottom out in every way imaginable, but I’ll pick that story up later.

What really hurt most about my relationship with Mistress Natalie ending is that I felt I was really on the verge of discovering what D/s and subspace were all about.  During our sessions, I was able to find that blissful place and Mistress and I would have incredibly in-depth discussions about what it was like and what it meant.  Our relationship imploded before we really nailed down any solid answers.

It’s been 10 years since Mistress Natalie and I parted ways and until meeting Mistress Trecia a month ago, I had managed to completely bury all of my D/s tendencies and desires.  Of course, my sex life was horrible, I felt unhappy and unfulfilled, and saw a couple of ineffectual shrinks to try and discover the one thing that I should have known all along.  I am a sub.  Serving a Domme is part of who I am and the core of my sexuality.

I fully admit that this new knowledge scares the hell out of me because I don’t yet know how to incorporate it into my current life or my troubled marriage.  All I do know is that opening the door again and letting myself revel in this role that I cherish so much has brought me more joy in the last month and has reinvigorated my sex drive and overall outlook on life.

Up next - hitting bottom…

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History - Mistress Natalie (Part 1)

I’ve been putting this off for fear of not being able to do the tale of Mistress Natalie justice, but also because this part of my history is embedded in some pretty deep wounds that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to opening again.  I’ve also discovered that I had a lot to say about Mistress Natalie, so this is going to be the first of a few posts.  I’m going to post them over the next two or three days so I can finally and completely tell this important part of my past.

Because of the amount of work I was pouring into the small company I was working for, I gave up all relationships (including hanging out on the BBSes and at the parties) and just focused on work.  After a couple of months, a friend of mine mentioned that he knew a friend-of-a-friend who would be perfect for me and help me fulfill my unquenched need for servitude.  A meeting was arranged through his friend at a local sandwich shop.

When I arrived at our meeting, I got my first glimpse of Mistress Natalie.  She was sitting at a table with a girl of about 5 or 6 who I assumed (correctly, as it turned out) to be her daughter.  I came up and before I could introduce myself, she locked eyes with me said sternly "NO  titles" then looked at her daughter and back at me.  I acknowledged that I understood what she meant and we began to talk.

With her daughter there, it was mostly small talk.  What kind of books did I like?  Had I seen any good movies?  How did I know Dave (the friend of a friend)?  She revealed that she was married, but that her husband didn’t really participate in her "hobby".  We talked and shared our meal for almost an hour.  She then started the process of cleaning up and getting her daughter ready to go, but paused for a moment to hand me a card.  One side had an address written on it and she locked eyes with me again and said "This is my address.  If you’re interested in taking the next step, be there at 9 p.m. sharp on Friday."

I was a little worried about meeting Mistress Natalie as I knew nothing about her style as a Domme.  I did have a good vibe about her, but as my life choices were becoming more and more suspect, I didn’t even fully trust myself.  After some serious meditating on the issue, I decided to go and see what would happen.

Our first meeting started out badly as Mistress Natalie lived in a part of northern San Diego that I was completely unfamiliar with.  I ended up getting lost and showed up almost 15 minutes late.  There was a note on the door that said "Come in, lock the door behind you, and wait", so  I did as I was told.  The house was dark and lit only by candles and after a few minutes waiting by the door, I heard Mistress Natalie’s voice from around the corner say "Turn around, put your hands on the door, and close your eyes."

The combination of being in a strange place in a strange situation as well as knowing I was going to catch hell for being late made me start to tremble as I "assumed the position".  As soon as I was in place, I heard someone move around behind me and a moment later felt a blindfold being slipped into place over my eyes.

"Turn around."  Completely blind, I turned around and could sense that Mistress Natalie was just a few feet in front of me.   She then added, very matter of factly, "Strip."

I quickly removed my clothes and the feeling of being blind and completely exposed was pretty overwhelming.  A few minutes passed and I suddenly felt a hand grab and firmly hold my cock making me almost jump out of my skin.  "You’re late."  I started to stammer an apology, but Mistress Natalie cut me off saying calmly "Shut up.  Follow me."  Using my cock as a leash, Mistress led me into another room.

We stopped and Mistress told me that there was a bar at waist height just ahead of me and to bend over it.  The "bar" was a padded sawhorse and before I knew it my hands and feet were secured to the ends of the horse as I balanced there with my ass in the air.  She then said "If things start to get too intense, say ‘yellow light’.  If you want to stop, say ‘red light’."

For what seemed like forever, Mistress Natalie just walked around me, her heels clicking on the floor, and shaking what sounded like a flogger.  Without warning, I heard the flogger whistle through the air as pain seared across my back and ass.  Just a few strokes later, however, I found my bliss.  Between my apprehension at the situation itself, my feeling exposed, the knowledge that I had angered Mistress Natalie, and the onslaught of pain, I slipped full-on into what I now know as subspace.

My mild experience with Mistress Debbie didn’t prepare me at all for the full force of subspace.  The pain I was feeling drifted away and I was filled with pure ecstasy.  Each blow from the lash just fed the fire (okay - how did I not realize I was a pain slut? ) and I was lost in the center of my little ball of joy.  That singular mindset came back as well, the pain still hanging at the fringes of my buzz but me now able to feel everything  from the individual fibers of the ropes hold me down to Mistress’s scent, a mixture of leather and Obsession perfume.  Mistress Trecia, for the first time, has given me words to put to this - I felt fully and completely at home.

After the lashing was over, Mistress Natalie untied me and led me across the room.  She lifted my blindfold and I saw that was standing in a candle-lit room face to face with a 7-foot tall birdcage.  Mistress told me to hop in and I did, having to sit with my knees pulled up to fit as the floor of the cage was several feet off the floor.  As I turned to lift myself into the cage, I got my first view of Mistress Natalie in all her Domme glory.  She had her long black hair woven into a bun on the back of her head, her full-figured frame was form-fitted with a thigh-length leather dress, and she had on a pair of high-heeled boots.

I paused for a second to take her in but she shooed me into the cage and, once I was seated inside (a position made even more uncomfortable by burning backside).  She latched the door and snapped a padlock on it, checking it to make sure it was secure.  She then reached into the cage and pulled the blindfold back down over my eyes.

After letting me absorb the fact that I was locked in a cage for a few minutes, Mistress Natalie spoke.  "You were late, so you only get to listen this time."  I then heard a zipper and realized she was taking off her clothes.  A moment later, she said "Hi, honey" and I heard someone kiss her.  She proceeded to have loud, passionate sex with her husband right in front of my cage and all I could do is ache and soak in the erotic sounds.

A short while after they were done, Mistress Natalie let me out of the cage, removed my blindfold and handed me my clothes.  (She watched me with an amused smirk with her arms crossed over her stain robe.)  Once I was dressed, she walked me to the door and then handed me a piece of paper.

"There are two phone numbers here.  The top number is my home phone.  I would like to talk to you tomorrow evening about tonight and to discuss what we both hope to get out of this.  The other number is my pager.  You must page me at 9 p.m. sharp every evening to show your devotion.  Do you understand?"  I said that I did and she bid me good night.

I sat in my car for about half an hour before I was able to drive, the feelings that I experienced whirling around in my head.  The next night’s call with Mistress Natalie was spent discussing subspace (she specifically asked me to describe where I went during the session) and going through a sub "application" interview that covered things I liked and what I would like to get our of the sessions in addition to covering what she expected of me.  She said that she enjoyed our time together and was looking forward to exploring with me, but that I could walk away at this point with no hard feelings.  She reminded me of her pager devotion and said that if she didn’t get one later that night, she would know that I wasn’t interested.

At 9 p.m. on the dot, I paged her with the special code she assigned me, sealing my fate and forging a relationship that would finally make me understand what is means to be a submissive.

To be continued…

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History - Interlude

Telling my life story isn’t take up as much time or space as I thought it would.  Therefore, before I introduce Mistress Natalie, I want to rewind a little bit and describe my life at the time.

After my Civil Service contract ran out, I started working for a small web development start-up.  This was the renaissance period of the web - new technology was emerging on a weekly basis, Microsoft had just decided that it should really look into this "Internet" thing, and there was a "get rich quick" vibe akin to the California gold rush.

Shortly after the company got rolling, things looked bleak.  We had some high-profile clients, but the money was running out.  The president of the company (one of the 5 of us) decided to take on a new management team, a couple of MBAs who had no vision, no concept of technology, and were two of the biggest sleazebags around.  I didn’t know all this then - I thought we were saved and that riches beyond my wildest dreams were just around the corner.

I invested my entire heart and soul into that little company.  We started creating some amazing innovations at the time.  We developed searchable websites, built a method of teaching classes over the Internet for a local junior college, created a framework to allow us to rapidly develop database-driven content sites, and so on.  It was a pretty exciting time.  We even developed a way for people to pick items in a store and pay for everything at once.  (While I am saying that we invented the shopping cart, I’m not saying we were the first.  You just had to create everything from scratch back then.  Still I should be a freakin’ billionaire  now.  *sigh*  )

It wasn’t , however, a pretty lucrative time.  In order to pay us less, the company rented a corporate apartment for a few of us to live in.  When we couldn’t afford even that, we all moved into our offices.   ("The riches are just around the corner - trust us!")

It was right around then that I finally met the woman who would show me the light - Mistress Natalie.

To be continued…

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History - Master Allen (Updated)

While in service to Mistress Debbie, she confessed to me one day that she was actually a "switch", a person who likes to explore both roles in the D/s relationship.  Since I was her favorite plaything at the time, she told me that she planned to mentor me in an effort to bring out my inner Dom and scratch her own submissive itch.

Thus, Master Allen was born.

Mistress Debbie theorized (and I agreed) that my Dom persona should be separate and distinct from my normal sub state, so she named him with my middle name and started helping find what she was sure was right under the surface.  (Once again, this should have been another clue that Mistress Debbie and I weren’t meshing at all.)

So, in the interest of exploration, I delved deep down inside myself looking for "that guy", the leather wearing, cruel Master wanting nothing more than to get women in a compromising position and exploit them into doing whatever he wanted.

Unexpectedly, I found him in there, but that persona was orbiting a core of pure pain and raw, horrible emotion. 

I’m assuming my inner Dom exists due to the semi-consensual abuse I suffered at the hands of my Scoutmaster when I was younger mixed with all of the abuse I suffered at the hand of my mother.  Whatever created it was black, dark, and dense, a solid core of all the things I had worked so hard not   to be.

Mistress Debbie and I did some minor playing to warm up, but eventually she said i was ready to plan and take on a whole session.  I started by having "deb" kneel at the end of the bed and lay onto the mattress bent at the waist.  I secured her wrists with ropes tied to the headboard so she was stretched forward and then tied her knees spread on the floor so she wouldn’t be able to close them.

I took a flogger I had bought especially for the occasion and started whipping her back and ass, something which deb really responded to.  Then, I took an industrial strength vibrator and held it against her cilt while I spanked her bare-handed.  When she was good and warmed up, I moved forward and shoved my cock into her without any warning causing her to gasp and try to move back against me.  After a few thrusts, I took the vibrator and shoved it into her ass.

deb’s reaction was electric   and she started to go absolutely crazy.  Between her reaction and the vibrator (which I could feel from inside her), I quickly was able to cum and then completely pulled out leaving her hanging.

Then, something…..odd…..happened.

I started to flog her again, but I found myself consumed by a rage I can’t begin to explain.  I had a desire to inflict intense pain just make deb suffer, an over-the-top feeling that overwhelmed me to the point where I stopped the session and untied deb.  She immediately attacked me and we had a nice moment of consensual sex, but afterwards we discussed what I was going through.

Mistress Debbie seemed to think it was no big deal, but it felt like I was channeling pure evil.  As I’m writing this, I’m wondering if maybe that is the opposite of subspace that I was feeling, but I can’t imagine that’s the case.  This was something that I didn’t want inside me, something that I couldn’t imaging being able to keep restrained on a leash during a session.  In other words, a horrible menace.

That entire experience scared the shit out of me and convinced that some things were meant to stay buried.   (Thank you, Indiana Jones, for another important life lesson.)

Update:  Mistress read my blog post and had some amazing comments on it,

First, she said that "dark, black, and dense" are three words that should never describe Topspace.  We both agreed that those feelings were the condensed pain of my childhood brought to the surface in one, giant push.  She also said that Mistress Debbie should have been nurturing me, help me to become who I am supposed to be and seeing me for who I was, but instead was forcing me to take a role that was a completely different person (with a different name, no less). 

Even though I was wielding that flogger, it was still her in control calling the shots pushing me to be something I’m not by channeling all of the horrible energy from my darkest times.  Ick.

I’ve actually wrestled with that event for quite a long time.  I’ve always been concerned that I was a borderline serial killer with this unmasked rage and violence lurking just below the surface.  Mistress Trecia said that we all   have that within us, but that because I’m aware of it I can control it instead of the other way around.

Once again, Mistress reached straight into my psyche and helped me deal with something that has severely haunted me that I needed to purge.  This is why I’ve become so devoted to her in such a short amount of time - she can see into my soul and understands me better than I understand myself. 

She has more intuition that all of the shrinks I’ve seen put together and is not afraid to be frank and candid nor to let me explore my deepest, darkest secrets and desires.  It’s only been three weeks, but I’m already eternally indebted to Mistress Trecia.

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History - Mistress Debbie

Previously on timid boy:  After the separation of my wife and I, I started hanging out at a variety of swingers parties around San Diego.  It wasn’t long before a met one of the fixtures of the Heart On San Diego BBS, Mistress Debbie.

I remember our first meeting vividly.  I was sitting on a couch sipping a beer and wondering if I should get naked and join the group of cute women that just headed into the pool when this woman came over and sat down right next to me.  She introduced herself, then told me her on-line handle.  It turns out we had actually been chatting on-line and I had told her about my interest in D/s and my dissatisfaction with finding a suitable partner.  Like most people you meet on-line, Mistress Debbie was nothing like how I pictured her.  She was little over 10 years my senior and was a fairly "Rubenesque" woman with gigantic anime-worthy breasts which she assured me were all natural.  (I hadn’t even asked, something that should have probably been a warning sign…)

She was married, but had an open relationship and was looking for a new "pet" to play with.  She was not a professional lifestyle Domme, but did have some experience and she was a central player in San Diego’s swinger’s scene.  She then told me to strip and sit back on the couch (which I did) and she proceeded to straddle my lap, pinning my arms back with her hands while she placed her lips against my ear and started describing in graphic detail what I could expect if I visited her at home the next day.

Needless to say, I took her up on her offer.

On the surface, Mistress Debbie looked like a dream come true.  We started playing together quite a bit and I quickly became known as "Debbie’s Pet" at the local parties.  She had a make-shift dungeon set up in her garage and I was frequently left hanging by my arms while being subjected to all sorts of flogging and spanking.  We also played some games with her husband, their favorite being to strip me naked then tie me to a chair at their bedside, after which they would engage in some of the raunchiest sex I’ve ever been witness to.  If I was good, she would usually stroke me to a climax and then let me sleep at the foot of their bed like the family dog.

It only took a few months, however, before the shiny veneer cracked and I started to see what Mistress Debbie was really made of.  First, she was very well off, even by SoCal standards.  She used her money to ensnare people into her service.  Any favor or financial assistance she offered usually meant that you were hers, whether you were a sub or just a friend.  While that worked in the D/s setting, I started to see many of her friends start to distance themselves as she acted more and more superior to those around her.  The money, I soon discovered, came from a lawsuit when her adopted son suffered brain damage after strangling on his wheelchair harness due to an inexperienced bus driver.  That made it the most evil kind of blood money possible, especially considering how she threw it around and used it as a manipulation tool.

Another thing that didn’t seem like too big a deal at the time was her taste for drugs and friends that enjoyed the same.  I would become well acquainted with one of her friends, another amateur Domme named Mistress Bonnie.  Mistress Bonnie had a full-time live-in, her husband Robert.  While at home, he would be her full-time sub, performing housework and basically just doting on his Domme.  Mistress Debbie loaned me out to her on occasion, usually to be put into a French Maid’s outfit and clean her house.  As a reward after one housecleaning, she tied me down in a stirrups-type position after which she told Robert to shave my cock and balls then bring me to orgasm orally.  (Man, that was hhhhhhhhhhhhot…)

While all that was great fun, Mistress Bonnie introduced me to an even harsher Domme, Crystal Meth.  While I wouldn’t end up hooked until almost a year later, tweaking out during her sessions started me down a slippery slope which would end in full-blown drug addiction.  [More on that later…]

What finally ended my relationship with Mistress Debbie is when she did the unthinkable - she broke our trust.

I was doing pet duty at a private party in the ballroom of a ritzy local hotel and Mistress said she had a surprise for me.  She took me up to her hotel room and tied me up.  She then said she’d be right back and proceeded to leave the room, returning about 15 minutes later with a man I’d never seen before.  She then offered me to him as a gift to do with as he pleased.  Now, up until this point, I only had a few other "bi" experiences, and since my first was a semi-consensual session with my Scoutmaster when I was 14, I immediately started to freak out.  (Oral sex is one thing, but he made it clear he intended to use me in every possible way.)  It was right then that I did the one thing that I hadn’t done before or since - I said the "safe word", the one previously agreed upon phrase that was supposed to stop the session.

As you can probably guess, Mistress Debbie completely disregarded the safe word and things moved forward.

The guy fondled me for a little bit and started to lick and suck various parts of my body, but before things went much farther, Mistress Debbie decided she was sick of my carrying on and told the guy to stop.  The two of them went at it on the bed for awhile and then she sent him away.  I actually didn’t know what to say to Mistress Debbie right then, but she acted like it was just another session.  A few days later, I called her and said I wouldn’t be coming by any longer.  She tried to use some money she had "loaned me" to guilt me into staying (she paid for a new transmission on my car to replace the one her sister destroyed after she had borrowed it without my permission - not really my fault nor a loan, but there you go), but I managed to stay firm and stay away.

Through the grapevine, I heard that Mistress Debbie took my rejection really hard and didn’t understand at all why I was upset or walked away from her.  She supposedly started doing things to try and please me, including getting gastric bypass and some plastic surgery (including breast implants), something that further proved that she didn’t know me at all because (a) I like big girls and (b) I hate fake breasts more than anything.  (I like breasts of any size as long as they are real.)

Free of Mistress Debbie, I dropped out of the scene for a little bit.  Further exploring my "I must be gay" theory, I actually tried dating a few guys.  One guy, Master Luke, ran a video production company where he tied up guys on camera.  We didn’t last long nor ever try a D/s scene, which is probably good because our first session was to be a filmed feature.  (He did give me the option of wearing a mask, but said he would pay me extra if I agreed to show my face.)

After that, my bad life choices got exponentially worse.  In one case, I started rooming with a lesbian couple, only to discover that one of the girls was actually bi and kind of sweet on me.  We started a relationship behind her girlfriend’s back which ended in tears and bad feelings for everyone.

I also hit the end of my Civil Service contract and stopped working for the government all together.  (I had a pretty hefty security clearance and they said staying on would mean upgrading to a higher level, something that would mean an FBI background check.  Given all of the above, I really wasn’t keen about having my sexcapades on my permanent record.)  After a little looking around, I found a job at an Internet startup company (this was just when the web started to go commercial) with little money and fewer clients.  I threw my heart and soul into my job, something that would come back to bite me during the months that followed.

Next time, on timid boy:  After not getting paid by the company, I start sleeping in my office and, since I was the only programmer left at the company, began using meth so I could program for 72 - 80 hour stretches without stopping.  I would then meet Mistress Natalie, the one woman who would show me the light and finally make me understand what subspace is all about.

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History - Mother

While I hate to leave anyone hanging, waiting for the lurid tales of my time with Mistress Debbie, events today dictated a little rewind to talk about my mother.

My immediate family got together today for a family portrait, meaning my mom, sister, brother-in-law, nephew, and wife were all in the same same room, huddled arm in arm, and smiling for the camera.  It was a little tense, but I normally get along pretty well with my mom these days.  This is mainly due to the fact that my sister and I have (for the moment) given her a complete pass for the abuse she inflicted on us as kids.

To this day, I don’t ever remember my parents fighting.  I’m assuming they did so in private, because one day my mom picked me up from the library and, sitting parked in our garage at home, told me that she and my dad were getting a divorce.  I was 10.  While I was devastated at the news, things really went downhill from there.  My mother apparently thought my father didn’t discipline us enough, so my sister and I were quickly left with no buffer for her wrath.  Whenever she thought we were not behaving (an elusive standard that changed from day to day), she would smack us in the face as hard as she could.  She was always telling me to "take it like a man" and would hit my sister and I a second time if we flinched. 

Shortly after the divorce, my mom’s lover Bill moved in with us.  (From what I can piece together, they were actually having an affair long before my dad was out of the picture.)  She also belonged to a swingers group (made up of members from our church, if you can believe that) and had long weekend getaways with her female "best friend" (who, my sister and I are 99.9% sure, was also her lover).

When I finally got bigger and stronger than my mother, she got angrier since she couldn’t punish me the way she wanted.  (I remember the last time she tried vividly - I caught her wrist in mid-swing and stared her down until she walked away.)  This lead to some doozy fights once I became a teenager.  One time, we were in a screaming match with her at the bottom of the stairs yelling at me at the top.  I decided I was going to kill her and raced forward to grab her neck in my hands.  I ended up tripping and falling down the stairs taking all of the neatly hung family portraits down with me.  It was painful and poetic at the same time.

A few times, I ran away.  Once, I spent two days in a movie theater at the mall.  (I worked at the mall sporting goods store and knew all the maintenance passageways.)  During another, I slept in the stairwell of a nearby resort hotel.  Eventually, though, I’d call my dad for help and he’d drag me back.  He swears now he didn’t know any of this was going on, something I’m also still dealing with.  While I get along great with my dad, I still feel on some level that he turned his back on my sister and I because he didn’t want to get between us and our mother.

So, you’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with BDSM, right?

I’ve read in the past (and had at least one of my shrinks tell me this as well) that men who were physically abused by their mothers from a young age tend to develop a fetish for wanting to be dominated by women.  Supposedly, at some level, we associate the abuse we suffered as love and need that "attention" again to feel whole.  While I agree with this theory on some level (I mean - look at me!), I also don’t think that can be the only factor at play in my case.  Even if it is 100% true, buying wholly into this theory would mean that I would picture my mom as I was naked performing my assignments for Mistress and that is just way too much for me to wrap my head around.

Although I’m starting to make peace with the D/s part of my sexuality (thanks, in large part, to Mistress Trecia), I’m still puzzled about what to do about my mom’s past abuse.  Leaving home at 19 for the Navy (and moving 8,400 miles away to Japan to boot) did shock my mother into finally doing some reflecting.  My sister said she thinks my mom actually went into counseling for awhile.  Once, my mother actually tried to apologize for what she had done, saying that it "was just how people disciplined kids back then", something that is at the very least a real stretch and at most an outright delusion on her part.  Still, I give her some points for the effort.  We’ve also developed an uneasy but amicable relationship and we get together as a family several times a year to share a meal and play some boardgames.

The array of shrinks I’ve seen over the years (more on them later) all seem to think that I should just forget about the past and let it slide.  She’s made progress, they say, and what would be gained by rehashing the past?  I’m also at a loss over the situation.  If I do confront her, what outcome do I hope to achieve?  Would an apology finally let me bury this?  Am I prepared to eject her out of my life if she refuses to acknowledge her wrongdoings?  Is there any resolution that would make the situation better all these years later?

Mistress Trecia had one idea that had actually never occurred to me - using face slapping in a session to try and take back some of the emotional turmoil I suffered.  I don’t know if that will accomplish anything, but admit that I really won’t know until that first blow lands on my face.  Part of me thinks it will just be typical punishment like a flogger or crop, but something tells me there is a walled-up dam of emotion there just waiting for the proper catalyst to finally burst.

I’ve been wrestling with these issues for almost 27 years now, so I don’t ever expect a solution to just fall out of the sky and am fully prepared for these things to go unanswered long after my mom is gone.  Hopefully, I will eventually find a way to make peace with this part of my past.

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History - Tracie and Randy

When we last left our hero (me), I was living in Japan having the time of my life.  During that time (right around the first Gulf War), I flew back to the states long enough to get married.  From the time we were engaged to the time we were married, more than two years had passed.  During that time, we had actually seen each other a total of 27 days.  Our entire engagement was conducted via letters and tapes.  Needless to say, when we actually had to live under the same roof, our relationship changed somewhat.

Despite my best attempts to stay in Japan and bring my wife there, the Navy shipped me back stateside, dumping me in San Diego.  My wife and I got a crappy apartment and tried to figure out how to turn our virtual relationship into an actual marriage.  Not surprisingly, it didn’t really go that well.

I was extraordinarily unhappy, but rather than understanding that I was reacting to the new lack of freedom, incompatibilities between my wife and I, and the sudden responsibility of having to run a household for the first time, I instead figured my sex life was lacking in some way.  My wife and I tried some BDSM to "spice things up", but we just don’t mesh in that world in any way.

Then I started to question my very sexuality.  Could I be gay?  That would certainly explain things.  (It turns out that not only was I not very good at keeping gay relationships going either, but I also wasn’t gay.  [More on that later.])  I then thought I was a poly and that the only way I’d be happy is to start swinging.  (While this sounds like a huge leap, I will mention that I found out when I was in high school that my Mom was a bi swinger, something that just added to my heap of sexual identity problems.)

Back then in the dark days before the Internet, you could socialize with people on-line by connecting your computer to your phone line and dialing into a Bulletin Board System.  One of San Diego’s most popular spots was called "Heart On San Diego".  (Subtley was not their strong suit.)  My wife and I both started chatting with folks and I became more and more convinced that swinging was the answer to our problems.

My wife, in the single most selfless act I’ve ever seen, started trying to find a compatible couple.  Enter Tracie and Randy.  They were both swingers that lived near us, were a former Navy family, and were both interested in D/s play as Dominants.  This was the perfect arrangement!  My wife set up a date and we met them at their house.

After a dinner and some mild chit chat, we wound up in the living room, me sitting on the couch with Tracie and my wife sitting with Randy.  It only took a few minutes, but my wife’s good graces wore out and she demanded that I take her home.

In the car, we fought.  And I mean FOUGHT!  We must have been a sight, the two of us screaming at each other at the top of our lungs as we cruised home down the 805. 

It was then that I did something that has become the biggest regret of my life.

I dropped my wife off and went back to "play".

Yeah, I know.

Tracie and Randy (who asked to be called Mistress and Master) tied me up and we played all night long.  It was my first consensual "bi" experience and first D/s "session".  The fact that I was nervous and a whirlwind of completely screwed up emotions at the time, coupled with Tracie and Randy’s inexperience, meant that I still had not discovered the magic that is subspace.  I still had a really good time, though, and the sex was fantastic.

As you can probably imagine, the aftermath of that experience was pretty extreme.  Initially, I told my wife that I had just crashed on their couch and nothing happened.  Two months later, I confessed the truth and she left, taking our car and driving back to Chicago.  Shortly thereafter, the Navy decommissioned the command I was working for and I was offered an early out.  I took it (along with a tidy pay bonus) and picked up a Civil Service position doing computer work on the base.  My salary was about three times that of my Navy pay, so I quickly moved into a better apartment and started to attend parties thrown by various swingers groups around town.

At a party two months later, my life would be irrevocably changed when I met Mistress Debbie. 

To be continued…

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