He has been my virtual Dom for a while now. We met in a glorified chat world with porn star avatars. Through these interactions and some voice and cam sex, he has come to control everything. He tells me when to eat, determines where I can go, how to act and what to wear. He lives thousands of miles away, but He marks my body nearly everyday. I am His canvas, His muse. He demands twenty spanks on the right ass cheek, I inflict the contact at his command. His voice, my hand, his marks. My body is His. My holes are His. He is my everything.

The taboo world of bdsm and D/s relationships has been glinted at in mainstream literature. In the early 50’s, a woman hid behind a pen name and gave us “The Story of O”. And it was this intriguing tale that brought me into the web of leather and latex. O’s ability to submit entirely and live at the control of another, traded as property and beaten with the same hand that caressed, all struck a chord with me.

I wanted that, but I did not know why.

Over the years, several men have tried their hand at Dominating me. All of them ran for the hills, arms a-flailing within a few weeks. The overall theme being that I am too Dominant to be a Sub. I tried my hand at Dominating and although I am a natural leader and provider of support, I do not feel the instinctual need to control others. With rejection still stinging, and all hope lost, He steps into my life with the words…”Canadian and educated…nice.” He plays some mind games with me, testing me out, watching the seed of my desire to please Him appear in His palm. He gives me points for good behaviour, teases me and takes His rightful place on a higher intellectual level, physical level. I am in awe as I find my place relative to Him.

By conversation number two, the seed is planted and I am capitalizing His pronouns and standing behind Him at all times. Already He has earned that. He makes me feel special, adored as He gets to know me calling me Princess and Sharmuta. (That has got to be good right?). He expresses His views on Dominance and submission, his preferences and desires come out as warnings.

"I like to mark up my canvas, you know. I expect a lot but give a lot in return. Women are to be behind and below men, as that is where they belong.”

I listen and enjoy every conversation. I do not try to fit into his mould. I do not try to figure out expectations to meet them with exerted effort. I do not ask even myself what He wants from me. I just interact, just me.

Within a few weeks, I am considered ‘under consideration’. He thinks He likes me, maybe He will collar me, someday. As our online relationship develops, He takes more and more from me, making me want to give more and more. What could possibly be more empowering than having someone want more of You? We all yearn for acceptance and love. Few can imagine it at this depth.

I choose to give Him the pleasure of controlling me, telling me what to wear. I want Him to track my every movement through my real life. This sexy, strong man wants to know where I am and what I am doing at all times. He adores me enough to want me happy, pushing me to set goals and better myself. Could I do this without Him? Maybe. But human interaction is the basis for all growth and development.

He gives me so much in His taking.

Never in my life have I been treasured and protected as this man has come to treat me. As we cam for the first time and I am presenting the weakest part of me, my physical appearance and rock bottom self image. He accepts that, too. He takes more and more from me, mesmerizing me in voice chat, brain washing me into opening up and letting Him take everything He wants.

He is so soft and gentle and caring as he squirms deeper and deeper into my head and my existence. I start to define myself differently, looking through His eyes. He tests me at every turn, bringing out the best in me, making me see the worst and driving me to want to change it. He nourishes me, watches me grow and blossom as He takes more and more control. Never do I hesitate, never do I question whether I should let Him, He just takes.

I don’t have a collar but will earn it. I am now defined through my relationship with Him. In my real life I walk differently. With bruised ass cheeks and breasts, perpetual wet panties, I know I am His as I strut through my day. With every interaction I have, He is half a continent away, but He is there with me. I act as I know He wants me to act, I talk and present myself and give forth the effort as He would make me. I want to make Him proud and elevate Him through my actions. He deserves that. I have started to let my thoughts drift to seeing Him in real life. Feeling the sting of His hand on my face, my ass. Feeling His fingers claim me, his physical power overshadowing any sense of control I have and feeling Him truly claim me, mark me, make me his property.

I have visions of standing in an airport, anxious to greet Him and breathing in my vulnerability as I feel His eyes on me, but I am helpless to find Him. I will see Him when He wants me to see Him.

I imagine spending hours worshipping His body, touching, caressing, kissing every inch of Him. Learning His sensitive points, giving Him what He wants from my hands and lips.

I try to envision being restrained and at His hand, but this is hard to imagine. I cannot fathom the depth of the vulnerability, the intensity of the ache as He does what He pleases to my flesh. My mind reels at the idea of feeling Him punish me, the force of His hand leaving an impression on my body, the rush of blood to the site of impact, the warming, the sting.

I surprise myself as some images float into my head, of truly being His. Locked away from the rest of the world and only existing as He needs me. The only meaning in my life being the fulfillment of Him and His needs. This sounds freeing and comfortable, though frustration creeps in, as I know this is not possible. Real life is real life.

For now, I am His as He will take me. He is always in my head. I hear Him and I listen. In my life, I have always wanted one thing. In all my ambitious efforts, one thing drives me everyday. I want to make an impact. Imagine the ability to fit into someone else’s existence and change it, compliment it and move both parties up in the world. A match so ideal that a cycle of giving and taking and giving and taking seems perpetual and infinite. Regardless of where He takes me from here, I am His and I will be forever changed as a result. I think He will be as well.