Controlled submission

Let me explain a little bit about how submission works for me.

I once spent an hour licking a man’s feet.  That was the entire session.   Spoiler alert, unlike much of what I’ve written so far, there’s not much graphic sexual detail in this post.  But that exhausting and tedious foot worship was the start of one of the most interesting submissive relationships I’ve had.

I chatted online with this man, off and on, for months. It almost never started.  I had looked at his profile but there really wasn’t much to see.  Only one pic, and although it was a pic of him, you really couldn’t tell much from it.  Nor from the minimal text supplied.  In his 30s, maybe 40s?  Not white, but not obviously any specific race or ethnicity.  Maybe in-shape, maybe not?  I’d probably clicked on him purely because the banner said “I control: U submit”.  The profile was not much more than a sentence that said he would always be in complete control, and was only interested in men who could handle that.  Interestingly, he didn’t say he was looking for a man who wanted that.  Only that the guy had to be able to deliver that role.

It was enough for me to be intrigued, but I didn’t send a message or acknowledge interest.  There were some red flags for me.  Total control is a great concept, but it requires an immense amount of trust, and that takes a very long time to establish.  It’s not the sort of thing that can be quickly established from chatting online.  The more likely outcome would be a negotiation of boundaries, limits and safe words. In other words, partial but not complete control.  And all too often that could end up with the sub having more control than the Dom.

There just wasn’t enough detail in his profile to know where things would go, or whether I would find him attractive (and I don’t just mean physically).  I toyed with sending an exploratory message, but I chickened out. Too many unknowns, and too much likelihood for time wasting.

About a month later I noticed that my profile had been viewed by a few guys.  No messages or likes.  Just views.  Maybe it was that periodic thing where the app’s algorithm suggested my profile to some other guys.  Not likely much use, because the programming was sadly lacking in sophistication, but nevertheless I looked at who had looked at me.

I didn’t remember the pic but as soon as I clicked on it and saw the text I suddenly realized it was the Complete Control guy.  Hmm, now I had looked at him, then he had looked at me, and now me at him again.  There was nothing in his profile by way of instruction.  No indication if he welcomed first approaches or not, or how to proceed.

My first reaction was again to just leave it alone.  He hadn’t sent me a message, and my profile is pretty clear about my role as a submissive.  But a few hours later, and for reasons I can’t fully explain, I went back to his profile and sent a simple message:

“Thank you for looking at my profile, Sir.”  

I made no offer of service.  No request for information. No pandering to his supposed superiority.  Nothing other than an expression of gratitude. And I made a mental note to remember I had done this hoping that (unless he changed his pic and banner) I wouldn’t accidentally click on him again and look like I was creeping.

Apparently it was the right approach.  Within a day he started a conversation.  I replied promptly to every message.  Answered his questions.  Never asked anything, or for anything, and never sent a message unless he had asked me something.  Sometimes he would message several times a day.  At other times weeks would pass before I heard from him again. I stuck to his stated goal that he would always be in control and so I never initiated anything.

Our conversations were very much about what he wanted, and what experience I had.  He never once asked what I liked or wanted. Instead, he was constantly probing to see whether I would indeed submit to him.

We quickly established that there were indeed some boundaries he would not cross.  My profile said the usual stuff about no blood, permanent marks or scat.  But also no photography or video of my face, tattoos or piercings that could identify me.  He simply acknowledged that he had read this and agreed.

He never used the letters TPE or CNC, but these ideas were underpinning much of the chat.  For example, he asked if I owned a cage.  Several, I replied, but that no-one held a key to any of them currently.  He stated that his ultimate goal was key ownership for his subs and asked what that would look like to me.  I went out on a limb in answering this, in part because I’d often thought about this, but also because it was an opportunity to see if we really would have common ground.

So I wrote to him that I would like to one day be in a situation where a man controlled all access to my cock, not as a role-play game, but for real.  But that it had to make sense on a practical level.  I have a foreskin, and hygiene would need to be taken into consideration.  Also, in my mind, controlling my cock wouldn’t require it to be locked 24/7/365.  I would only be caged, for example, when I left the house alone without the keyholder, or in some circumstances with him, but there would be no need to be caged if we were both at home. It would also be necessary for me to be caged if I was alone at home while he was out.  

There might be times when I had a key, to perform daily cleaning, but with methods of supervision to ensure that all I was doing was hygiene.  Air tags, and emailed pictures could be an effective way to prove obedience too. His control of my cock meant my cock was only used when he wanted it to be. It would be off limits at all other times either because he was there to ensure that, or through denial of access.

This turned out to be a wonderful fit for how he viewed control.  He wasn’t interested in a prison warden approach, but an obedience mentality.  Control (in this case, chastity) would be achieved, because we both wanted it, not because he forced it upon an unwilling subject.  I would be giving him control of my cock because I wanted him to have it.  He would be taking control of it because he wanted that ownership role.

To be clear, there would, from time to time, be other things I wanted from him but would never get because he had no interest in them.  Likewise there would be situations where he took control against my preferences, at least initially or temporarily.  I’ll explain some of those in time.  But for now I’ll tell you that we started out with a much less ambitious version of cock control during play sessions.  It was enough that we were on the same page for where it should ultimately land if circumstances allowed.  

Eventually we got to the point where I was spending a small fortune on daily use of new air tags until we got to the point of me holding my own key.  I filmed a considerable amount of video of me removing the current tag, cleaning my cock, and inserting a new tag with the new number showing, so that he could verify that I had not jerked off during that time unlocked, and that I was still wearing the new numbered tag the next day. I have no idea how many of those videos he actually watched.  He would occasionally make a comment about something he saw, but that was rare.  For my part I took this obedience incredibly seriously and never once breached my rules. 

Knowing that he could watch the videos brought me immense peace of mind.  He was in control of my cock and I didn’t have to worry that he might question my loyalty because the videos proved it.  It also meant that I would get on with my day much more productively because masturbation simply wasn’t going to happen.  Sure, I could suck another man’s cock, or get fucked by a football team, but in reality my cage was usually a cock-block to random strangers.  One look at my cage and they would lose interest in fucking me.  I’m still not entirely sure why. 

Giving him all the decisions about my sex freed me up to get on with so many other things.  I saved a lot of time not looking for sex and it gave me a feeling of deep satisfaction to know a man cared enough to want to own my cock.

We had more conversations about how he would be in control.  He was probing to see if I was just talking a good talk, but would ultimately fail to walk a good walk.  He asked what I would do if I was told to stand facing a wall for as long as he wanted me to.  I responded that I would ask for permission to urinate first in case the wait was longer than my bladder might handle.  I also asked if we could establish an end time to the event that would allow me to still be at work in the morning.  He seemed to like that answer.  I was being pragmatic, but also indicating that it was my intention to obey.  That particular scene never transpired, but there were many times I was left waiting interminably while he went about his business.  

For example I once spent five hours in a bar, pretending to drink a beer, in his line of sight but never looking at him, while he hung out with some friends.  I was there only in case he might want me for something, though that never transpired.  Eventually I received a text that said the session was over, and noticed that his group had left the bar.

I often acted as his driver when he went to parties and events.  Typically my instructions were to wait in the car so that he could leave immediately if he wished.  Sometimes he would come out to the car much sooner than expected just to verify I was indeed still sitting there. Once he came over to the car, opened the door and unzipped his pants.  He said the line for the washroom was too long, and emptied his entire bladder down my throat, then went back to the party for another two hours.  I think to this day he has no idea how much I enjoyed that, and silently begged for it to be a regular thing.  Sadly it only happened that one time, although there were a few times when he drenched me with his piss at fetish events. Using my throat as his urinal was a practical use of me as property.  Pissing all over me was about marking his territory, and perhaps attempting to humiliate me, in front of others.  I was willingly compliant for both, even though they were very different submissions.

But I’ve gotten very far ahead of that first in-person session, licking his feet for an hour.  You’ve probably figured out by now what that was all about.  Our initial sessions were always at hotel rooms when he was in business meetings.  For quite a while I didn’t know if that was only when he was in town, but it turned out he lived locally and his company gave him a room for certain events.  For my first test he had me come to his room one evening and told me it would be a very simple task. All I had to do was demonstrate obedience.  I had to follow his instructions, no more, no less.  I should not add anything or ask anything.  The session would end when he said so.

He was wearing a bathrobe that hung open when he sat down.  He put one foot out in front of him, on a footstool and told me to lick it, and not stop until he said so.  Half an hour later he changed feet on the stool and told me to continue.  You can probably imagine how boring and tedious it was to do nothing other than lick feet for that long. It’s repetitive and brought me absolutely no pleasure.  To be clear, I don’t have a foot fetish.  And given that this never happened again, I suspect that he doesn’t either.  It was all about testing whether or not I would do exactly as I was told.  And trust me, I did.

But here’s the thing, I spent most of the hour meditating.  In fact the time flew by quite quickly because I turned my mind to a mental exercise of building a wall, brick by brick.  In my mind I was watching a bricklaying video and replicating it.  Mixing mortar, applying it with a trowel, placing the brick.  And then again, and again until the first row was complete and then starting on the second.  I never finished the wall.  The moment I tried to focus on a brick, some thought would rush into my brain.  A task I had to do tomorrow.  A conversation I’d had with a colleague. But as soon as something like that would happen I’d return to laying bricks in my mind.  I made the time pass by concentrating on something else that I was in control of and only giving minimal heed to the actual licking of Sir’s feet.

He spent most of the time scrolling on his phone and casually jerking his cock with one hand.  He had what I would call a goldilocks cock.  Not too big, not too small.  Not too thick, not too thin. It was a handsome cock, and in all aspects, just right.   I eventually serviced that cock in many, many ways over our sessions, but that first time all I could do was look at it.  

A lot of subs would have made a play for sucking his cock, or begging to be fucked.  I’d eventually learn that Sir was a good top, a perverted Dom and a prodigious cummer, but for this first session I stuck religiously to my instructions.  Eventually he took his feet away from my mouth, stood up and exploded a load of cum across the carpet.  One drop, and only one, landed on his foot.  He told me that I could have that drop as a reward for my obedience to his instructions.  I thanked him and licked it up. And with that the session was over and I was told to leave.

It was a full week before I heard from him again.  I have no doubt that was also a test, to make sure I didn’t challenge his total control by contacting him uninvited.  I passed that test too, and the following months and years were a wonderful exercise in submitting unconditionally to his complete control.

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