A Journey to My Master in 3 Parts

 Part II-Doc Hollywood

                                         

Morning awakening: May 24^th, 2012 9:00 AM- what had i done? Rushed to the computer, there i was, a self proclaimed newbie submissive. Boldly listed on the internet for the world to see.

I had paid for 3 months of access so why not look around?  i would never send anyone a message. I looked and looked and became fascinated with what i was reading.  This was a whole world i had not even known existed. Many of the Dom profiles i could not relate to but…..there were a few that seemed like sane, rational people with an edge.  They caught my eye. I knew one thing; if i were to send a message, i would do it in daylight, while i was wide awake and thinking rationally.

Two days passed, i read the same profiles of Doms over and over. I was the proverbial kid in the candy shop. Looking back, i really was as naive as that child. Candy couldn’t hurt me; it is too good to cause pain. Also like that child, i totally savored the first bites, begged for more and was duly rewarded.  I would be safe. I would be sane. I would

go lightly into this new world and all would be well. I would fall in love with my Dom and he with me-just like my novels.

Real time realities were of course very different. I was contacted by a few Doms, expressing interest. I smile, remembering the first Dom i replied to; he did not respond back. No surprise there, rather than a cautious few lines, i told him all about the new, submissive me, or who i thought i was back then: all terribly disjointed and needy as hell. Poor man. The next Dom i replied to was an IM- you have heard his story already- i replied to him in French. I will not call him a poor man nor excuse my bratty behavior. A few others contacted me but they seemed a lot too extreme for me. I sent polite but negative replies.

I sent my first message. The Dom seemed sane and intelligent. His profile name included the words Pain and Pleasure. I was still so naïve that i had not a clue that he was a sadist.

His reply came a few hours later: “I would love to introduce you to my amazing world, but your smoking is a deal-breaker.” [I had been a smoker for 45 years. Nothing and no one had ever begun to get me to stop.] I read his reply, shrugged to myself, and closed his message.

I sat very still, just  thinking- 2 minutes, 5 minutes, not really sure, but in the end, i reopened his message and replied, “ Thank-you, you are right and I have just quit smoking.” And indeed I did-cold turkey- immediately and completely.

Three days later, I received a new message from him: "Let’s talk”

And so began my first D/s relationship. I will refer to him as Doc, a shortened version of the nickname a friend gave him: Doc Hollywood.    

I was flying; i was on my way to this brave new world i had chosen. We started with IM. He quickly decided that would not work and wanted to talk on the phone- but not right then, he was busy.  In an hour, at

6 and by the way, send him a photo-clothing optional. I promised a photo by 5:30. Missed that deadline. Got a message telling me he was waiting on the pic?  And by the way, he had to go out, so call him at 6:15, not 6:00. I was frantic, needed a pic, camera battery was dead, and i had to make that call. AND-it hit me like that V-8 commercial. I was so being tested.

I luxuriated in the process. Doc got me to quit smoking, had me mindlessly following his directions, and i had yet to even speak to the man. Yes, just call me the flying sub and i was flying blind or was it by the seat of my pants? I was late making the call by 2 minutes, but got a ‘good girl’ for quickly stating that i loved the gyrations of the past hour. I was so proud of myself for having the intelligence to see what he was doing. Did i bask in his praise? Did i sit back and wait for his next directions? Of course not!   I proceeded to lecture him about calling me a good girl- i was much too old to be called a good girl, said I. I blush rosy red when i think of it now.

Doc was a very patient Dom and understood i had no experience whatsoever. At the same time, he liked to introduce me to new concepts and ways of thinking very abruptly. His reply to my lecture was a throaty chuckle, a pause and then, ‘I will call you slut. You will call me Sir.” I remember little else of that conversation except that it was a lesson in how and when to call him Sir. I also remember that i never wanted it to end.

Just like that, apparently, i had become his submissive. We spent the next 2 weeks texting, IMing, e-mailing, talking on the phone.  I was given small assignments, mostly writing in a journal and sending him my thoughts, but also exploring new ways of thinking about life and the world. He had a remarkable brain that worked somewhat differently than most. I thrived. The physical aspects of a D/s relationship seemed a hazy fantasy.

Then i got an e-mail that said he was passing through town on business and would like to see me for a couple of hours. The moment of truth was nearing. Was i truly submissive? Would i give him control over me? Could he be a sexual predator? I had no benchmark. He wanted a meeting in private. I wanted a meeting in public. We compromised with a trip to a beach that had some secluded sections.

It was a week before we were to meet and we spent the week in a flurry of communications. He quickly added two stipulations:  he wanted a shave and a massage during our meeting. I was so baffled, i ignored this comment. It was repeated. I quickly found it did no good to dodge his desires. I could do that quite well in the vanilla world, but it worked here not at all.

 I was given directions to watch some Utube videos on how to give a superior shave. I complied; i was learning not to question his directions, no matter how much they confused me. I was also told i needed a cleanly shaven pussy, was to wear a skirt, and no panties. ‘For the beach?’ I asked. ‘Yes’ he said in a tone i dared not question.

We were to meet for coffee, and if i was comfortable, go on to the beach. He was there when i arrived, working.  I waited. I tried to sit still. I tried to remain calm.  This day, this time, this place, this man, this must truly be the beginning of the new me. I could not speak; I could not look directly at him. We drove to the coast, we took a tram to the beach, and we walked to a fairly secluded spot.

Beach interlude: an order to spread my legs, fingers in my wet cunt, a massage, my mouth on his cock, my hair twisted, pulled, a slap to my face, a dip in the water. Back to the tram, his car, the coffee shop, my car. Home alone.