Michael was the first, and only, submissive I ever met in person.
For my nineteenth birthday, he had been the one to buy me my first car. It was a goal I'd never thought I'd reach with a submissive, but one that had secretly excited me tremendously long before I'd learned what exactly I was. The act had marked a more than noticeable shift in our relationship.
We'd met when I'd been a bratty sixteen-year-old, disconnected from her peers and seeking the direction of an older, more mature man. He was twenty-seven, working for a law firm in New York, a few miles out from where my family lived at the time, and active on a website I frequented in search of erotic fiction.
At first, the relationship was purely friendly, though we clicked in a way I'd not yet been fortunate enough to experience. Our personalities weighted perfectly against each other, despite my attraction to his well-crafted body and charming personality, and soon our time was consumed with one another. I'd speak to him during school and in the odd hours of the morning, and he showed no desire to push the platonic boundaries that existed between us.
We became closer over a year or so, the nature of our interactions shifting from constant talking to Skypeing, late night phone calls, shared emails, gifts I'd demand he sent me and eventually, predictably, cash.
He didn't seem to mind it, in fact, the requests seemed to bring a sly, devilish grin to his face and he'd swiftly follow my audacious commands, a staple in our ongoing discussions. In turn, it didn't take me long to realise that making him spend his money on me, show what it meant to do so, made a hot spell of desire pool between my legs and in my stomach as I watched him.
It had started with a small thing, a simple pair of designer glasses I had wanted for weeks, I raised in conversation one night, a cup of hot chocolate on my bare, upright knee as we spoke.
"I want them, don't you think they'd make me look hot?" I'd teased, and he'd chuckled softly.
"Certainly, although Rose I always tell you, you already are." He winked and a burst of confidence was ignited within me.
"Buy them for me. Attach a note, say they're for your Rose." My gaze was serious and locked onto his honey eyes. For a moment they widened in surprise and he looked as if he may question me. "Now, do it. I'll send you the link."
He didn't speak, surveying me for any sign of a smile, something to give away the joke. But I remained stoic, calmly pasting it into our chat and hitting enter before meeting his incredulous look again.
I didn't have to say anymore. He almost immediately set about linking his shiny golden credit card and selecting the express delivery option, and by the time we were done I could almost sense the same excitement I felt, hear his breathing getting heavier as mine did. Almost.
From then on I kept the requests simple and fairly rare at first, not wanting much anyway and hesitant to lose the ability to boss him around financially.
Still, whether or not he was then finding himself more interested in me, neither of us broached the subject and I'd find myself frazzled and horny after each time, desperately fingering myself off camera and resisting the urge to moan his name when I'd tip over the edge of my desire. I knew he could not know how much it aroused me.
As time passed we grew closer, the tributes he'd begun to regularly give me becoming more and more deliberate. Lingerie, pretty clothing, shoes, a replacement PC, a camera, all on top of cash he'd pay me for things I wanted to do.
We never acknowledged it, but it became inherently ingrained in our relationship, and it surprisingly never strained anything.
All through this time, I harboured a deep, unsettling crush that developed into something a lot more intense for him.
But I found my first sexual relationship, one I'd share with him on occasion, and for a little while my thoughts strayed from what I wanted most until I realised that no amount of sex could quite satisfy me.
It was around then that he bought me the car, and I found the term femdom, a perfect explanation for what I'd been experiencing for so long. I never told him.
By then I'd taken to keeping up our call times and following them with a long session of fucking myself with a dildo I'd bought for the exact purpose. Sometimes I'd pretend to be ill or unable to come on camera and I'd listen to his voice and watch him, instructing him to send me things or to perform menial tasks for me as I bent myself over and fucked myself hard with it, holding in my moans and gasps.
The night he told me about it we'd been talking for hours into the evening night before my nineteenth, joking and laughing at one another.
"I have something I want to do for you." He'd said abruptly, honest and clearly nervous.
"Oh?" I quirked an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"Well, I don't want to tell you, but I want you to tell me to do it."
I thought for a moment, rubbing a finger over my bottom lip. "That's quite a risky request. Give me a clue."
"It's big, it's a big thing. In truth I've done most of it already, there's just one more part. But it would make me happy to do it, I know it's what you want."
I found myself staring into those golden eyes, transfixed on them and how much I'd come to trust them. "Do it," I whispered tentatively and he nodded once before pulling up something on his computer.
He tapped away for a bit, pulling out his wallet and focusing intently on what he was doing as I took the time to admire how utterly gorgeous he was. After a few moments, he settled and looked me dead in the eye as my email chimed with the notification of a new mail. I clicked carefully and read through what was in front of me.
There wasn't much to it. A receipt, a well written thank you and a registration form. I clicked on the first document and scanned it, processing what it all meant.
It was the registration for an Audi A3. Black, brand new, sleek and in my name.
The shock came first, but it took little time for it to recede and make way for the usual arousal, an overwhelming, surging kind that didn't let me hold back my moan. I clicked away quickly to pull him back onto my screen, and it was impossible to miss the bulge in his own pants before he quickly moved himself out of sight.
We locked eyes, both breathing heavily, and it was one of many times that I wished he weren't on screen. That I could push my hand down below his zipper and grab onto the erection I knew was straining to be free to stroke it into fullness and wrap my lips around it.
But neither of us mentioned it, still buried in our denial, and all that escaped was what felt like an insufficient thank you.
After that, I started seeking a submissive. It was hard to find anyone with any salt to them, and I was by no means a natural, to begin with, but I did manage to begin and end a few relationships with a handful of subs I found online. A few were decent, we got along fine and I found some enjoyment in fulfilling the hidden desire I had had for years.
Our friendship became more flirtatious, steadily leaning toward something more, and I slowly developed my own understanding of what it was, beyond my attraction to him, that turned me on so much about our engagements.
It was one night, nearly a year later, that it all came out.
I had been fingering myself off camera, commanding him as I watched him, to get ready for my usual business of satisfying myself, when I had slipped and turned my camera on.
There wasn't much to be seen at first, I was shirtless, with one nipple pinched between my fingers, my hair a mess around my face and my cheeks rosy, lips parted a little, but beyond my belly button was out of shot and only my arm could be seen extending downward.
We stared at one another in silence for what felt like forever and I was about to start apologising, explaining somehow, when he spoke.
"Jesus Christ, Rose," he was breathless, eyes taking in the little of my body he could see, "is this because of me?"
I wanted to lie, I had always had a policy of not exposing myself to my subs, keeping our relationships purely one-sided as much as they knew, but another incredibly loud part of my brain was screaming at me to just tell him the truth. He was different after all, it was more than just a sub I'd taken on for experience.
And so I did.
By the time I'd gotten it all, everything about the three years we'd known each other, my little habits on and off camera and the truth about how attracted to him I was. He was visibly aroused, the tent in his pants more than a little obvious and I found myself overcome with confidence again.
"Take your cock out," I instructed after staring silently at him for a moment, sitting up and putting my laptop on the desk next to my bed so that I could spread myself out in front of him, dildo in hand, "and your shirt off," I added as an afterthought.
He followed orders immediately, shedding his shirt to reveal toned, yet not overly muscular skin I couldn't help but awe at, belt snapping loose, pants pushed hurriedly down his legs.
"Lick your hand and stroke yourself, but do not cum and do not take your eyes off of me. You're going to do everything I say."