Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman (20 page)

BOOK: Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman

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I swear, Regina, is the answer to any shame or guilt I ever felt about being kinky. She makes it feel so natural and acceptable. She makes kink feel as ordinary and emotionally fulfilling as putting on a favorite song. It’s just a great feeling. God, even her hair is beautiful!

Even though a slave owner is probably not supposed to tip their emotional hand, I started with, “Wow. Your mistress is very impressed with your outfit. For a slave, you look stunning.”

Without raising her eyes to me, she responded, “Thank you, kind Mistress.”

In my customary manner, I grabbed her by the wrist and led her into my house, closing the door behind me. I dragged her straight over to the living room and commanded her, “Assume a downward dog position.” And her perfect yoga body struck the familiar pose that I had seen so many times in class. But in her outfit, in her slave collar and gloves, it was beyond sensual for me. It was an aesthetic mind bomb.

I sat on the couch in front of her and commanded her to raise her head and look at me. As her eyes met me, I felt her burning lust… and started masturbating before her. Her face was warm and focused, but I could read little else of her. It was clear she was trying no
t to reveal her thoughts to me.

Then I commanded her, “come over here and pretend my feet are a cock that you crave.” And with a “Yes, Mistress,” she crawled over and began licking and sucking on my toes as if there was no bigger turn on to her in the world. She was moaning and completely overtaken by the task. She was in another world and she licked the arches of my feet and sucked each toe. What’s funny is that this sort of contact with my feet would usually have me busting out in ticklish laughter. But the treatment from Regina was so direct and sexually charged that laughter was far from the moment.

It was really hot to watch her take her sweet time in massaging my feet with her mouth. All the while I was playing with myself. Finally, I was getting really close. I ordered her to stop with the feet treatment, and to go across the room and watch me. I wanted to come in front of her as she watched, just like the dreams I had had. As I carried on, it was obvious by her urging expression that she was really enjoying being the voyeur.

As for me, I took in every square inch of her as eye candy. I loved looking at her figure and posture. She stood a little awkwardly in a pose that was completely unpretentious, feet slightly pigeon-toed and her hands clasped gently and submissively behind her back as if she were in handcuffs. The collar on her neck struck a formidable contrast to her feminine gracefulness, as her eyes gazed on me intrusively. I stroked myself ever more rapidly toward climax.

Throwing all modesty aside, I let my orgasm gush at full force, rolling with it, writhing, working it as deeply as I could. Regina was softly biting her lower lip in solidarity with my experience. I closed my eyes for the final rush of passion and exploded with a primal moan that would have indicated harsh pain in any other context. It lasted and lasted until I finally collapsed like a spent dish rag, slipping off the sofa and right onto the floor.

After a few moments of gaining back my senses, Regina took it upon herself to slowly walk over to me, coming to a rest with her feet just inches from my head. It was unusual for my slave to take any action whatsoever without being ordered to do so. But there she stood, towering over my head as I lay on the floor. Then, shockingly, she looked me straight in the eye and deliberately put her right boot to my lips. My first thought, was, “How dare her!”

But before I even processed that notion, my hands grabbed her boot and pulled it tight to my mouth… where I started licking her sole with the same passion and commitment that she herself had used on my toes. I was imagining her licking my feet and replicating that same action on her boot. It was other-worldly. It was a drug. I was not in my house or my mind, I was in a mysterious roman orgy where dreamlike lust cascaded around every inch of my body.

It didn’t matter that I was in a submissive position, serving my own slave. It was pure sexual fire that was more an expression of our desire for each other than of which body part was receiving which stimulation. That was all irrelevant in light of the power of our passion. This stunning woman was sticking a boot in my face and I was attacking it as if my hunger for her could never be satisfied. If she had only offered her pinky instead of a boot, I would have been just as fervent. But the boot had the added sexuality of allowing my fetish to access my lifetime of self-shame.

Only with enraptured lovers can boundaries be so blurred, if not invisible between physical versus non-physical, dominant versus submissive, respect versus disrespect, shame versus confidence, and leather versus skin.

Regina’s expression looked equal parts pained and turned-on. She had this darkly curious gaze and was completely captivated by watching me work on her foot like this. But she also showed twinges of fear… like when a child deliberately acts naughty as they test the boundaries of authority. Oh, she was naughty alright.

Gradually, I started coming to my senses and realized that I was practically making love to the shoe of my own slave. My intellect finally put the brakes on my libido and interrupted the scene. I frustratingly shoved her boot aside with, “Keep your disgusting feet off of me!” Regina, instantly falling into full submission, realized she had crossed a line. She pleaded desperately, “I’m sorry, Mistress. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me! Please, let me make it up to you!”

I sprung to my feet, then immediately slipped my fingers under her collar and pulled her head in close to my face. “You need to be punished.” With a firm grip on her collar, I dragged her forcefully to my small laundry room where I pulled her head toward the ground until she ended up on all fours like an animal.

Dread was in her eyes and it was starting to look like she would cry. I told her to wait there and not to move a muscle. She was still as a rock as I left the laundry room to fetch some implements.

A few moments later, I returned with of a box of bondage gear, the use of which would leave no doubt about who was boss of whom.

First order of business was to let this slave understand her position in life. I took off my pants and panties, yanked her head back by pulling her hair and then I shoved the soiled panties deep into her mouth, causing her to react with a slight gag sound. I grabbed her hair and spoke to her coldly, “Do you taste me? Do you see what you did? You spoiled my fresh panties by making me come.” Then I pulled away her skirt and swatted her ass with a solid spanking. She was yearning deeply for it. I smacked her 20 times in a row in a steady rhythm about a second apart. With each contact, she moaned into my panties, growing ever more aroused as I continued.

Once her ass had a rosy burn, I stopped, kneeling down to offset some of the pain with some soft licking to the area. My tongue on her buttocks almost created the same level of moaning as the spanking. In a sense, Regina only wanted contact from me and didn’t seem to make a distinction between the kinds of contact, be it harsh or gentle.

After a few moments of licking her perfect bottom, I wanted to play things a little more strictly.

The leather bit gag was next out of my magic box of playthings. I crammed it in her mouth right over the panties, then cinched the strap firmly around the back of her head. The gag, combined with her newly fashioned “belt” collar made for a striking aesthetic. I had always wanted to live inside a Helmut Newton photograph and this was definitely getting close to that feeling! Here was a gorgeous woman on all fours with a bit gag in her mouth and a thick leather collar around her tender, alabaster neck.

Next, I commanded her to lie down on the floor, after which I pulled her slender arms behind her back and locked them there with handcuffs. From the box, I pulled out a length of heavy steel chain and chained her ankles in a cross-legged position. The chain looked imposing against the leather of our brick red boots. Taking the end of the excess chain, I locked her crossed legs to the middle of her handcuffs with a heavy padlock.

Even though this is not everyone’s idea of comfort, for a yoga girl who likes punishment from her lover, she seemed quite content. It was time to leave her for a good long time to ponder the disrespect she had shown for me.

Just in time too. I needed to hop in the shower and get ready for Victoria who was supposed to arrive only about fifteen minutes later. That’s right. I planned on leaving Regina while I met with Victoria in the living room. It’s a win-win. Regina gets her punishment, I get to visit with Victoria, and then I have a horny slave to play with after Victoria leaves. Perfect.

After finishing my shower, I checked on Regina in the laundry room. She was squirming a bit, but seemed okay and aroused. I spoke sweetly to her, telling her she was a good girl and that I loved her very much. I kissed her softly on the check and told her she was impressing me by taking the punishment so gracefully. I also asked her if anything was cutting off circulation or if there were any other physical problems with her position. She shook her head a definitive “no.”

Seeing her all tied up and helpless like that and feeling relaxed after my nice shower, I wanted to break from the game to be with Regina and tell her I’m crazy about her. But I knew that exiting the game would be a buzz kill for slave Regina who was in the SLOW process of foreplay. The mean Mistress took a few moments to give a gentle and loving back massage in the space between her handcuffed arms. She purred at the connection. Next thing you know, I was slipping my hand into her pussy and rubbing her. She was making sounds of sublime pleasure… just as… DING DONG!

It was the doorbell. I quickly rinsed my hand in the sink and left Regina in the laundry room, closing the door behind me.

At the front door, there was Victoria. My first impression, having just seen Regina’s perfect body, was that Victoria was so much heavier than I remembered. I don’t know if my perception was skewed by having Regina as a reference point or if Victoria had been putting on weight. Either way, I was really glad to see her familiar face. We have a long history together and have been each other’s sounding board for so many relationships and dramas.

She charged right in with, “You gotta any red wine in this joint?” She was like one of those neighbors on the sit-coms who pop over and help themselves to the fridge while spouting on about some goofy topic or another. Before I could answer, she had already found a bottle and cork screw and was helping herself to it.

She poured us each a glass and immediately took off her shoes and plopped on a kitchen chair. We toasted each other and hugged. During the warm-up small talk about jobs and landlords, etc, I started prepping our enchiladas and salad for lunch. She was babbling like crazy, cramming to make up for lost time together. After taking a breath, the conversation shifted to a more balanced discourse that went like this.

VICTORIA

So tell me about the new beau.

There is no beau.

VICTORIA

It’s already over? That was fast. When I dropped by a while back, it seemed like love with you… or at least something more
than the usual dating nonsense.

Well…

VICTORIA

C’mon. What’s going on?

It wasn’t a beau. It was…

VICTORIA

Was what? Spit it out already.

It was belle.

Victoria was confused. Her brain was working double speed to try to compute this concept.

VICTORIA

A “belle.” Meaning… A girl?

Yes. This is insane but I have fallen wildly in love, Victoria. I’m in love with a girl!

VICTORIA