I left off in my last installment at the point where I met my wife in an online chatroom. I’ll describe her below and continue my history from there.
Shayna is a sexy brunette with brown eyes and olive skin. Being a fitness buff, she works hard to keep her 5’7’’ feminine hourglass figure well toned. She’s a technician at a home security/surveillance supply corporation. Growing up, she was as an only child who lived part of the time with her widowed grandmother, due to her parents both being in the service. She took Navy ROTC herself in college, but decided the military wasn’t for her.
Against this rather traditional atmosphere, she held feminist and later gynarchic views developed from a variety of influences. She was introduced to the concept of female domination as an adolescent when she and a friend were snooping around her friend’s parents’ house and found a stash of literature and “toys.” In addition, the Internet was a continual source, her generation having grown up with it. When she got to college, she took women’s studies courses along with her technology major, and she was exposed to feminists of many different stripes. By the time of her graduation in 2008, she thought of herself as a full-blown gynarchist. She prefers that term to similar ones without worrying about the fine points of definition.
Discussing ideas with her online before we met in person was fascinating. She felt that while most females might be inherently more monogamous than most males, culture plays a part, too. Women are taught that the man they’re attracted to both physically and romantically (the rush of falling in love) must be the right one, because women are supposed to find everything in one package. One man only, forever. That’s why a woman, when married a few years, can become depressed and restless and prone to being seduced by another man. She’s fair game for someone who makes her feel the way her husband used to. The bond she’s built with her husband through a shared past, shared values, child-rearing, etc.., loses its power to this new “soul mate.” She ends up with a guy who excites her, but is not suited to settling down.
The solution, according to Shayna, is to become comfortable with non-monogamy: One type of man for settling down with and raising a family and, for other needs, another type of man (one or two can be enough; promiscuity is permitted but not required!). I recognized that view as being similar to my mother’s. The main difference was that Mom’s had a more spiritual (Goddess-centered) basis than Shayna’s. I half-jokingly asked Shayna which type of man she thought I was. She said, “Oh come on, you already know; I don’t have to tell you!”
We discussed men, too, but that’s by the by. I’ll skip ahead to when we met in person. She lived in the same (U.S.) state, several hours’ drive away. I agreed to come up and stay for a three-day weekend. She knew all about my background by this time, and told me to prepare for a weekend of servitude.
Her two-story house was in a semi-rural area like mine, but closer to a large city. It was quite old but nice and needed only a little work to put it in good shape.
It had been raining, and the first thing she said when I hit her doorstep was, “Remove your shoes. It’s hard enough to keep the floors clean. But then now that you’re here, you can clean them.”
Shayna was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt and had just finished working out. I could see she wasn’t out to impress me — I would have to impress her. She was still hot as hell though. Her beautiful bare feet led to legs that were toned and shapely with a thin sheen of sweat, her tight shorts hugged her sexy hips, her round, braless breasts had prominent nipples that were visible through her damp shirt, and her long dark hair was in a ponytail.
“Take your bags and go put your things away in that bedroom,” she said, pointing out the way. “There’s a list of chores in there, too. I’m going to shower and then watch a DVD. When you’ve done everything on the list, let me know.”
Okayyyy, I thought to myself. No preliminaries here. Well, she did say servitude.
They were basic domestic tasks (dishes, laundry, cleaning bathrooms), but it took nearly five hours to do everything. Shayna was napping on the couch wearing a fresh t-shirt and shorts when I finished, and I waited quietly in a nearby chair until she awakened. She asked if I was finished, and I said, “Yes.”
She inspected my work and then assigned even more chores. It was late and I was really tired when I finished.
She said, “You did what I told you. I had to test your work ethic first. I had to be sure you weren’t here just for fun. Now, go take a shower, then go into your bedroom naked, and wait for me.”
Despite having been accustomed to being dominated by females, I found myself getting nervous as I stood naked waiting for her. I was hoping to be able to sport a strong erection in front of her, but it was more like a frightened turtle trying to retreat in its shell. After about ten minutes she marched in and looked me over.
“Hmmm. You’re not circumcised. That’s bad. But you look like you work out and keep fit. That’s good,” she said.
I was nervous and jabbered something about how even though I was no longer serving my family, I tried to keep fit and—
She casually put her hand over my mouth. ”I didn’t give you permission to speak, babe.”
I kept quiet and stood as still as I could. She kept eyeing me up and down as she walked a circle around me a couple of times before she spoke.
“It looks like you’re about as soft as you can be already. That’ll make this easier.”
She walked over to a closet and came back with a plastic chastity device.
I must have had a puzzled look on my face because she said, “Now, don’t tell me you don’t know what this is. You said you were chaste when you lived with your sister, didn’t you? You can answer.”
“I know what it is, but I didn’t say Jill kept me chaste. I said she kept me celibate. I wasn’t discouraged from masturbating in private whenever I wanted. It was her view, as well as Mom’s, that a man of the home should intentionally develop the habit to keep him from getting distracted by women and to become accustomed to that form of release alone.”
“That’s not my way,” Shayna huffed. She slapped my face. “Don’t contradict me, and don’t give me a lecture on your family’s philosophy every time I make a decision. I’m in complete control of your cock while you’re here. You’ll wear this, or you’ll get out of my house right now!”
I said, “Yes, Shayna.” That’s what she preferred to be called, not Mistress, etc.
She put the device on me, taking the time to adjust it properly. It really took some getting used to. It pinched and was irritating at times, but later, when our relationship got serious, she had a device specially made that was much more comfortable. I spent that weekend in domestic service and running errands for her. She allowed me to massage and kiss her feet, but that was the extent of our physical contact. I served her to the best of my ability.
Unlike my sister, she didn’t take out her frustrations on me, but if I disobeyed or made a mistake, I got an old-fashioned hard paddling or a sharp smack across the face. These decreased as I learned her ways, and in the main, she was very impressed with every aspect of my conduct. When it was time for me to leave, she let me out of the device. I was so horny I had to stop and masturbate in my car as soon as I cleared the view from her house.
I began going up to her house every weekend or more often if I could…
(To be continued...)
(To be continued...)