Question time
What was your first Real time experience with a Mistress like?
Were you nervous, how did it go?
Was it what you expected, wanted?
Did your fantasy and reality match?
My first real-life experience with one I called "Mistress" at the time was life-changing for me.
I have had the pleasure of knowing other dominant women as friends for much of my adult life, and I have had as lovers partners who identify as dominants and switches. Barring a single relationship in my youth which I did not properly conceive as one of power dynamics at the time — despite it clearly being so due to the disparity in age and money between I and she who effectively kept me for those months — I had never, theretofore, felt comfortable in the role of submission. Which is to say that those dominants and switches who were my lovers found their joy in those aspects with others, and our relationships focused on other things.
About a year ago, I was several months into a relationship with a lover who seemed to really get me. In the course of philosophical pillow talk, I had confessed that I had never experienced subspace or the other cathartic joys of submission that I have seen in others; that, despite my familiarity with the care and maintenance of subs (to include having a pair of service subs, and one of whom lives with me) I fundamentally, at the core of it, do not know the submissive experience. We resolved to change that, and so I cleared my affairs, set my household to attend itself without me, and for a few months I gave myself to her.
The very first day of serving her, similar to how my own sub still serves me, was joyful for the sake of novelty and in some small measure for the sake of pride. I knew how to do plenty of things, and I made it almost the entire day without breaking character, without misbehaving, without trying to top from the bottom. Almost.
I've never been a masochist at all, but like many dominant women I pride myself in my resilience and willpower; which is to say, I suffered when I was punished, and I did not like it. But there was pride in being able to take it, at least at first. In time, one's form slacks, especially when not used to being on this end of things and not accustom to enduring it. As is the way of such things, as soon as I failed once it was not long until I failed more. Knowing that the only thing causing the pain to continue is my own stubborn desire to endure it led me to grasp for motivation. Gratifying my own ego, showing off how tough I am, was only enough to get me to reset positions. I couldn't stop myself flinching once I had begun to suffer, not for that alone. My lover, whom I called Mistress, knew me well enough to keep pushing me without hurting me.
Over the course of the weekend, I never found the resolve to properly endure punishment. In time, with sufficient training, I'm sure we could have effected that. But we did manage to slip me into subspace for the first time in my life. I regard that Sunday — in which I rose from sleep at her feet, lived the entire day without even the passing thought to call home to check on the affairs of my own household, and attended her through the entirety of the day until it was time for bed — to be the single happiest day of my life to date. We later ended the D/s aspect of our relationship, owing to my own need to focus on the care and wellbeing of those who depend on me for leadership. But those months in her service, and especially that first, weekend-long session, remain pleasant memories for me.
It was nothing like the fantasy. It was better. It was intoxicating. I could have lost myself to it, and perhaps were I not the domina of my own household I might have fully surrendered myself to chasing that selfless bliss. I am happy to have tasted submission. I know its joys now first-hand, and I think I am better in my own role for having done it.
