Once upon a time I was young, attractive and dedicated to discovering what life as a submissive would mean. My rubber fetish was in full bloom and I fixated with the content of magazines like Cruella, Shiny and Harmony. The tales of BDSM and fetishism they spun had a profound impact on me and they filled me with ideas about what being a “true” submissive was like.
I don’t mind admitting I had the arrogance of youth. I wasn’t twenty yet and I knew someone as young, fit and handsome as I would be “quite the catch”. My first Mistress, a German woman in her forties to whom I owe a debt of gratitude told me as much. It was she who introduced me to my second Mistress, a lady of similar age to whom I became a sex slave.
Let’s be clear, all I was interested in was having an environment where I could wear rubber and interact with someone. The German Mistress was more into BDSM and wanted me naked, which was why she passed me onto an acquaintance of hers, a lady I shall call Lisa. As much as I enjoyed the slightly aloof and incredibly firm approach of the German Mistress, I enjoyed Lisa’s sensual approach more.
Becoming a sex slave
My first couple of sessions with Lisa were amazing. I was finally dominated by a woman in latex while I wore latex too. I’d been introduced to the idea of a “gimp” already but it was Lisa who allowed this side of my to flourish.
During our third session together, after she’d tied me spreadeagle on a bed covered in rubber sheets, she whispered, “I’m going to have sex with you. Do you want that?”
OK, I knew I could’ve said “no”, but I was nineteen, high on pleasure and being offered sex. So I lost my rubber virginity to a woman twice my age who basically used my cock as a dildo. And it was amazing!
It was during our post-session chat that she made her suggestion. I would become one of her personal slaves, specifically her “sex slave”. My function would be to satisfy her sexually as and when she required. Yes, sometimes I would be dominated in my gimp state and sometimes I would accompany her to dinner or events. But my main purpose was to fuck her on demand.
I leapt at the chance.
At first it was great. I would call her at six in the evening and she would tell me if I was required or not. If I was I’d drive the twenty-odd miles to her place and spend the night.
Sometimes I’d dress in my gimp suit and be required to perform Maid duties, showing in her paying submissives and slaves, waiting out of the way while she dominated them before cleaning up after them. Other times we’d go out for dinner or to the theatre and I would be on her arm as the trophy “boyfriend half her age”. Almost always we’d end up having sex.
Four or five times a week I was round at hers and every Sunday I spent the day with her. She taught me how to prevent or prolong my erection, how to satisfy her with fingers and tongue, how to ejaculate on command. Sex could last for over an hour or a few minutes, all depending on what she wanted.
It was what every teenage boy on the cusp of adulthood would want, right?
But there was a price. I wasn’t eating properly in the evenings. I was exhausted. I was losing sight of my fetish. To be honest I was getting bored.
Then Lisa introduced me to another of her slaves, a middle aged man who’d been in her service for years. He knelt in the corner and watched as Lisa and I fucked. She tormented and teased him while I took her in different positions. She had me take my condom off and cum on him.
Then he sucked me off.
When this man was gone and we were alone she told me about cuckolding. There were other slaves she had who fancied her, knew she had this hot young man as her personal slave and wanted to watch her fuck him.
A penny dropped.
We were having sex. Lots of sex. But there was no intimacy between us, only the distance between a superior Mistress and her inferior slave. I couldn’t talk to her about how I was feeling. I couldn’t ask her if we could give it a rest for a night, or go out for a change. If she wanted me naked and fucking her in front of other men I had no option but to say yes.
This wasn’t what I wanted.
A week later I was head to toe in rubber and sweating like a man lost in a desert. Lisa had cuckolded another of her slaves and he was giving me a blow job as she fucked him with a strap-on. I looked down at this pasty old man grunting and groaning as he was pounded hard and for the first time my head screamed, “What the fuck are you doing?”
When he was gone we sat down to talk. She sat, I was kneeling, still covered in my gimp suit. It made the conversation easier.
I told her how I felt.
“Do you want to stop this?” She asked me.
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.
She was genuinely sad. She came down off her chair and held me. She asked me if I was sure and I said I was.
“Very well,” she told me. “I dismiss you from my service.”
I knew it was said so she felt she had some control over what was happening. I accepted it for what it was and vanished from the room. I dressed, showered and collected the few things I’d left at her place.
She kissed me on the lips when I said goodbye. A simple gesture, but one I appreciated.
“Look after him”
It was more than two years before I saw her again. I was at a fetish club dressed as a gimp and on a leash behind my Mistress and lover. When I saw her I felt my heart race, remembering old times and fearful she’d make some sort of scene. That I was completely covered in latex and unrecognisable did little to calm my fears.
She slipped into the crowds and I lost sight of her.
As we left, Mistress said a woman had come up to her, half drunk with an old naked guy in tow, and made her promise to look after me because I was a great catch.
“Did I know her?” Mistress asked when she caught my half-smile.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was her teenage sex slave.”
Tagged: BDSM Relationships
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