A Femdom Bachelorette Pt. 01

(A note to readers: This is my first story. The first part is entirely setup, but the whole thing is written and should be in my profile. Further chapters include chastity, pegging, corporal, public play, and more. Constructive comments are more than welcome, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.)

Part I

"So...is this for real?"

As far as emails go, I got a few just like this every week. I answered them all, knowing that it was going to be a while before I connected with the right people. I responded that it was entirely for real, and that I was happy to chat further if there was genuine interest. She responded quickly and we moved to messaging back and forth.

"So you're, like, the house slave?"

"I can be. How interested or experienced are you with kinky sorts of things?"

"Experienced enough. Interested enough to be emailing a guy talking about Femdom Bachelorette Parties."

"Fair enough! Honestly the experience can be whatever you want it to be. You could have an amazing, perfectly normal Vegas trip except on Saturday night you all get to spank the hell out of a man. You could be completely pampered for your entire trip by an attractive butler/masseuse/chef/chauffeur that only you know is in chastity. You could take turns leading me around on a leash or head into the dungeon to torture my nipples for an hour before splitting me open with a strap-on." I had a feeling I could be fairly open or forward with this woman.

"Alright this might be shallow of me but the website doesn't have any pics of you. You're kind of talking about being in the middle of our weekend." She was right. I sent pictures. I wasn't a bad looking guy and I worked hard in the gym to maintain a balance between size and definition. She responded to the pictures: "Not bad."

"Thank you," I replied.

"How do we know you're not a serial killer?" This struck me as the kind of question that would come from someone who was seriously considering things, and I started to get excited.

"Well, I'm offering to put myself in pretty vulnerable situations, so that might be a question I should be asking you."

"Ha, true."

"But seriously, if you want to move forward with a visit I can provide references." I had an ongoing, occasional thing with a pro domme who had agreed to speak with seriously interested parties if I needed that.

"I don't know if I'm ready to say I want to move forward. Let me think about it."

"Take all the time you need."

Two days later I got another email. "Alright I don't know what kind of information you want to keep private but I have to ask how the hell somebody ends up doing something like this."

I knew people might ask this kind of question, and even as I read her email I wasn't sure how I wanted to answer it. I ran through the short version in my head:

Worked IT in a large casino. Sunk $1000 into bitcoin in 2011 because why the hell not. Sold half my coins when it looked like the world was ending (March 2020.) Found just the right house backed up against just the right hill. Spared no expense in turning the house into a luxury resort and hollowing out the hill into a dungeon I could only dream of. Reached a point where I needed twenty years dreaming about women dominating me to produce something beyond pros and girlfriends half-heartedly spanking me. The next year or so was spent getting into the scene, leveraging my relationships with the pros to host some parties, schooling myself in all things BDSM, and waiting for someone to find my site offering a femdom bachelorette experience extraordinaire.

"The short version," I finally wrote, "Is that thanks to timely and lucky investments I am able to devote myself to the things I find most interesting."

"Vague but answers the question, I suppose. OK, I'm actually interested. Two questions: Cost, and what do you need to know about us?"

I hadn't really decided on cost. I didn't need the money, but one of the things a pro domme friend had told me was that advertising it as free up front was going to get me attention I didn't want and/or "up the creep factor on something that isn't entirely un-creepy to begin with." I thought that was fair, but I also liked the vibe I was getting from this woman.

"This is not a money-making project," I sent back. "I don't know if that seems weird, but I'm not going to pretend like I'm not getting something out of this. The use of the house and the space are something of a gift to those who would join me in what I hope is a unique experience."

"Damnnnnnnn." she wrote. "You've seen your house, right?"

I had seen the house. I had designed it. I had sketched out the game room with pool table, roulette and poker, and karaoke. I had built out a gym that would hopefully cover those who lifted heavy and those who stuck to cardio. I had re-done the bathrooms, putting in spa tubs and rainfall shower heads and heated towel racks. I had insisted on genuine leather for the movie theater seats. I hunted down the Spanish tile factory that doesn't have a website so I could get the pool just right.

I had pursued the dungeon with the same passion. Sometimes I just sat and stared at the gear wall in the main room. Hand-stitched leather cuffs. Every gag in existence. Paddles, canes, floggers, clamps, Wartenberg wheels, all carefully laid out in racks. A St. Andrew's cross, a spanking bench, a bondage rack anchoring one end of the room, a room-length mirror opposite them. A steel cage just big enough to be almost comfortable, and a standing cage in one of the corners. A wet bar tucked into the corner. Off the main room was a walk-in closet stuffed with latex and leather and role-play stuff and anything else you could want, next to that a bathroom with a huge shower that a bound person could crawl/squirm into in case somebody wanted to piss on them. If you pressed on the right part of the mirror, it swung out to reveal...well the best way to describe it is a serial killer's basement. It's cinder blocks and stone and it has all manner of horrors. It was a distinct vibe and it was my favorite place on the property. Many feverish nights spent thinking about being kidnapped and confined in that basement, heavy iron collar around my neck, dreading the footsteps that meant the return of a gorgeous sadist.

"I have seen my house, yes." I wrote back. "We could work out a fee if it made you more comfortable."

"What about a dollar?" she asked. "My friends and I are treating the bride and paying $1 would make it easier to give a vague but truthful answer when she tries to find out how much we paid."

"$1 would be fine. If we are moving toward concrete plans, it would be good to know a little bit more about you and your group."

"Okay, that's plenty fair. There are going to be four of us. I'm 29, I'm kinky as hell, a switch if you must know, and my best friend is always wanting to hear tales of my erotic adventures, so before she gets hitched I want to give her an honest-to-god taste. If the end result of this is that she enslaves her husband-to-be, well, I would consider it the best dollar I ever spent. Everybody who's coming is within four years of my age, plus or minus, and they're all open-minded enough that at the very least they won't mind chilling poolside while the rest of us wear your ass out."

I felt myself stiffen in my boxers. I wanted desperately to know more about how she meant that but I didn't know if that might derail us from making firm plans. She went on to tell me a little more about some of the personalities who were coming, and we narrowed down a few weekends so she could find one that worked for everybody in her group. They were, of course, the very first group I was going to welcome into my home, so the schedule was wide open, but she didn't know that. We arranged to have a video conference in two weeks, and I encouraged her to think more about what kind of role she saw for me in the weekend so that I could be adequately prepared. She agreed to think about it and we both signed off. I walked out to the dungeon, stripped down immediately, and humped a couch cushion while I imagined four gorgeous bachelorettes laughing at me. It did not take long to climax.

Two weeks went by quickly. I spent time thinking about shows they might enjoy, a menu I could plan if they asked me to cook, activities at home or on the town they might like, anything I could think of I jotted down. Kendra and I emailed a few times to pin down the dates, a Thursday through Monday slot in mid October. I got on the call with Kendra late on a Thursday afternoon and I immediately felt at ease, like I was talking to a member of my tribe. I hoped she felt the same way. When I asked what she was thinking in terms of my role in the weekend, Kendra smiled at me. "I don't do anything by half," she said. I think we want a slave. Can you handle being of complete service to four different women?"

"I can," I said, realizing I needed to somehow project both confidence in myself as a sub and humility. "It sort of depends on what you expect from your slave, but I wouldn't be doing this if I couldn't put my whole self into it."

"That's fair," she said. "Another way to put what I think we want is..." she paused, thinking. "Object of use."

"Use?" I asked.

"Use," she said with more certainty. "We're coming out for an indulgent, luxury weekend. We don't want to fetch a drink. We don't want to make a meal. We don't want to pick up our own towels. We don't want to have to think about what we want."

"Slave I can do," I interjected. "Mind reader is something else. I have to point to the fact that this will be my first time meeting any of you, not counting our communication here."

"True true," she said. "Would it work if I put together an information package for you? Outline some of our typical preferences, what we like to eat, drink, do?"

"That sounds great," I said, reassured. "So are you just thinking about ultimate domestic servitude?" I hoped my tone wasn't giving me away here. I was down to be servant to four strangers for a few days but this girl described herself to me as 'kinky as hell.' I had spent two weeks dreaming up all kinds of stuff.

"Look at you," Kendra said, smiling at me again. "If I didn't know better I'd say I could see you squirming in your seat!" I tried to smile back, I guess I was more transparent than I thought. "It's not just you," she said, further confirming that she was reading me well. "I know a lot of submissive men. Anyway, the truth is I don't want to make wild, kinky promises, because interest in that is going to vary a bit in intensity and style between each group member, and I don't want to speak for them."

"That's fair," I said.

"But," she continued, "I've been going over and over the pictures of the dungeon you've got and if I know our group, and I do, I cannot imagine that a facility like that is going to go unused." I'm not sure how to describe the look on my face in response to that but she laughed. "Down, boy." We both laughed for a moment. "Look, Rob. Is it OK to ask you to trust me on that front? I have a lot of experience and I'm going to enjoy dreaming up some group activities, some things that might be fun for just you and me, some ways to make the best use of our object. You haven't said anything about limits."

"I haven't," I admitted. "Safe, sane and consensual. No scat, no blood. Yellow/Red safe words being respected. If you guys are drinking it might be best to avoid some things, like serious rope bondage. My experience is that my thing here isn't attracting the most hardcore of hardcore players." I was definitely implying I had done this a few times already, but I figured that couldn't hurt.

"Well that isn't how I'd describe myself, sure, and I'm the most experienced person in our group. That's a good point about the drinking. OK, I think I get where you're coming from. And I'm not anticipating hardcore play, we'll be able to talk as we go and if you agree to trust me to guide things then I will promise to check in and pay attention to where you're at."

"I like the sound of that," I said, and our conversation drifted to a short lull. "Wait," I said suddenly. "What do you all want to be called? Am I spending a long weekend a the beck and call of goddesses, princesses...?"

She laughed. "Let's start with Ma'am and see where things take us."

"Yes Ma'am," I said, laughing with her. The call went on for over an hour from that point, feeling somewhere between a first date and a job interview. We got to know each other and my good feeling kept building. I found I had a huge grin on my face after we signed off.

We checked in a few more times as the weeks and months passed, both of us agreeing that things were still on track. As October drew closer I got more and more excited. A little bit embarrassed to admit that I added a few more strapon harnesses and dildos to the dungeon collection, making sure I could cover a party of four. Hey - better to have and not need than the opposite. Kendra sent me the dossier she had mentioned, and I was able to plan out food and drinks that the women would love. I had the house professionally cleaned from top to bottom and I cleaned the dungeon myself. I rented a Range Rover to take the party around in. I fluffed the pillows. I felt very, very ready.