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."

He nodded and I pushed a pillow beneath my lower back, breasts exposed and bouncing pertly with every movement, parting my legs so he had a full view of my shaven pussy and the wet trail that was on my thighs and glistening on my clit.

I knew I was hot, I knew he loved watching my pale skin and full nipples, that not being able to touch me would drive him crazy. As he stared with unblinking, hungry eyes he desperately jerked at his throbbing dick, one hand clutching the arm of his chair with white knuckles.

"Get on your knees."

He quickly did so, turning his camera down so that he was looking up at me, still wanking himself furiously at the new angle, precum dripping from his head. "You are going to watch and imagine this is you, understand?"

"Yes, Rose." He meekly replied, out of breath and reaching up to hold onto the desk with his free arm.

"You will thrust pathetically into your hand as if it were my tight, wet, little pussy and you will tell me how good it feels and how much you want me. If you start to feel yourself getting close to cumming you will beg me for it. If I say no, you will immediately stop touching yourself and send me something."

I spoke, rubbing the thick dildo head up and down my slit, letting it sink an inch or two into me occasionally.

For a second I allowed myself to praise the tightening of his bicep as he gripped the wood, his hips bucking away primally, and took the time to tease him, parting my soaked lips and dragging my wet fingertips over myself before sticking one into my mouth to suck on it. He met my gaze and moaned audibly, expression frozen with concentration and a lust-driven frustration.

"Slow down, tiger," I giggled, truthfully enthralled with how ragefully aroused he was and how much control I had over him despite it.

This man, so powerful and dominant in many ways was wilfully at my mercy entirely. His hand stopped almost as if by my will instead of his own, and his eyes pleaded desperately with me as it began to gently fondle his balls, deliberately working to his shaft and almost torturously up and down.

"It's going to cost you a lot to even think about filling my little cunt up with your cum."

The hushed statement did nothing short of drive him crazy and I watched as his eyes closed against the shivers running down his form.

I laid back easily, waiting for his attention to be back on me and, when it was, I slowly began to fuck myself, twisting my body and moving my legs up to fit more and more of the near nine inches into my dripping hole as I moaned.

“Your little pussy feels so good Rose, oh my god you’re... you’re really taking that whole thing. Oh fuck, oh fuck, I want you so bad. I have for years, since we met I’ve wanted to pleasure you with my mouth and my cock like this.”

He was groaning between his breathless words, all the while almost astoundedly thrusting into the fisted hand he was bent double over, astonished at how my small frame was capable of taking so much.

“What a dirty man,” I gasped, roughly shoving the dildo in and out of myself as much as I could take it in and bouncing with the movement, “wanting to fuck me when I was so young. It sounds like you deserve a punishment.”

Sitting up on my knees quickly I faced the camera to look him directly in the eye, “Put your hand up.”

He moaned in what almost sounded like pain and, for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to listen to me, his hand still jerking hard at himself as he tensed up, but then he was raising the palm toward me, dick bouncing in its absence.

Giggling, I lowered myself onto the dildo, slowly impaling myself and letting out whimpers of pleasure as I did, my face contorting in his view in ecstasy I began to ride it, tits bouncing above my flat stomach and parted hips.

“Send me fifty, now. I want to see it come through. And do not touch yourself until you are done.”

He nodded and began setting about his task before watching, palm still raised, as I took myself to orgasm, my moans becoming cries. I could see an almost imperceptible jealousy that he hadn’t truly been the one to give it to me when I finally came down. The notification came through as I finished, dripping onto my sheets, and he waited for me to nod before he tentatively licked his hand, reached down and began to once again stroke himself eagerly to the sight of me turning myself onto my hands in front of him and slowly inserting the dildo once again.

The new angle afforded him a perfect view to watch what he wanted most to be himself, and I took advantage of this distraction.

“Tell me about how you wanted me when we met.”

He stuttered and gasped, “you were so beautiful, I wanted to make you cum over and over, I know it was wrong and dirty but I wanted to please you. Doing what you told me to, made me so horny for you, I thought about you every time I came.”

I could hear his movements getting more erratic, his words coming out breathlessly, and I turned to face him, watching his body tensing and twitching as he began to reach his climax.

“Dirty, Michael. Palms up.”

His other hand had found his balls and were squeezing them as he roughly pumped his cock, he met my eyes with a look half of unmasked, raw desperation half of oncoming pleasure.

“Now.”

That was all it took, he let go and crumpled in on himself, moans of pain escaping his chest as his face fell, dick red and rock hard.

“Please,” it was whispered and drained.

“I want another sixty dollars, you’re to wait thirty minutes while I tend to something, keep yourself hard, do not cum.” He looked defeated at me and I felt my stoicism melt.

“You’re doing well, baby. It’ll be worth it I promise.”

The small words of encouragement were enough to bring him up a bit and he cracked a smile at me, clearly still wracked with lust and frustration.

Once he’d sent it, I hung up, my heart snapping against my ribcage as I dressed in the nicest black lingerie and shiny, new high heels he’d bought me. I equipped myself with the few things I needed and covered the attire with a stylish brown overcoat. My hair was naturally ruffled and I allowed the pink cheeks and plump lips to go uncovered, too excited to bother anyway.

My car’s engine throbbed under me, clearly eager for the midnight mission, as we sped along the freeway to the bustling inner city.

I had visited his building, having had the address from a redirected parcel delivery, only once without his knowledge and it was absolutely exquisite. Centred in the city it boasted beautiful views and expensive, glass and concrete finishes.

The doorman was kind enough to direct me, after a cunning excuse about surprising my boyfriend, to his floor without calling in and I was happy to finally be alone in the elevator and speeding ever upward.

"You’d better be ready."

The messaged swooshed as it delivered and I hesitated before stepping out of the lift and into the corridor his door was on.

It was harder still to bring myself to swallow my own nerves and knock, but once I had I felt the calm overcome me. I was still in control. To say he was surprised to see me was an understatement. A towel around his waist, hair ruffled and messy, he stared at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads.

I untied the simple knot on my coat and allowed the material to fall away enough to reveal the little underneath, tilting my head at him in a question.

“So all that remains to be asked,” I leant in slowly and tiptoed to brush my lips against his earlobe, “is, are you ready?”

Wide-eyed, he nodded and gently wrapped an arm around me to pull me inside softly. Any charge he took was respectful and cautious, aware that he was not the one to be choosing anything.

“I will always be ready for you, Rose.”

It was honest and he met my gaze as he said it.

For the first time I kissed him, let his tongue explore my mouth and his hands run everywhere he could reach, causing shivers of pleasure to escape from me. I pushed him backwards, letting his towel drop with my coat as I guided him to his bedroom and pushed him back onto his bed, crawling on top of him.

His dick poked at my stomach and I grabbed it firmly to jerk it efficiently, bringing him steadily back to where I’d been keeping him before. I could see on his face that my work had been far more intense than his had.

“It had to be for me,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

I was swift in pushing my panties to the side and running the head up my dripping slit before penetrating myself almost fully with it. He cried out as I did, caught off guard and sensitive from the evening’s proceedings, but soon he was moaning and twitching his hips up to meet mine, making me cum and spilling into the orgasm I’d been denying him, filling me up with his load.

We gasped into one another, his fingers running through my soft hair tenderly, plastering kisses across my forehead and cheeks.

“You are something, Rose.” He chuckled.

“How else was I supposed to get that gas money to get here?” I winked and he just shook his head.

“How else, indeed.”