A French Student's Journey into Dom

France, 9 a.m. on a particularly chilly Monday in January. Constitutional law exam. As I entered the austere lair of the lecture hall, my gaze swept across the rows stretching before me. In the third row, my eyes landed on Sarah, who waved at me with a quick gesture of her hand. I responded with a knowing smile and a wave as I made my way towards the board displaying the seat numbers for the exam. Mine was 253.

As I turned around, I clumsily bumped into someone standing right behind me, likely waiting to check their seat number as well. I quickly apologized and, as I looked up, I discovered a young man slightly older than me, maybe by two or three years. Delicate strands of hair framed his face, while his glasses gave him an air of intelligence. When I say I looked up, it was more like tilting my whole head, as his stature towered over mine. This young man was definitely not my type: he perfectly embodied the cliché of the intellectual bourgeois with an angelic face. Too polished, too conforming to my usual environment. He apologized in return, smiling. I went in search of my seat.

The exam went splendidly for me. I escaped from the lecture hall about thirty minutes before the end and settled on a bench in front of the door, where Sarah could easily spot me. Engrossed in reading "The Ten Loves of Nishino" by Kawakami Hiromi, a book I had just borrowed from the university library, I realized how rare love stories were in my life. It was true that I was not very demonstrative, I admitted it. A bit shy, I had a penchant for solitude. Except for Sarah, I tolerated very few human beings around me. As I got carried away by the words of my novel, a male voice echoed above me.

"Madame is a reader, in addition to being a rugby player!" he declared with a hint of amusement.

Of course, it was the boy from earlier.

"Well, I am studying law after all," I replied with a proud smile.

"That may be true for reading, but less so for tackling!"

He laughed. I gave a polite smile.

"I'm Arthur, nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, Léa."

We exchanged a cordial handshake.

"Well, I won't disturb you any longer, but you dropped this earlier and by the time I picked it up, you had already gone into the rows," he returned my gloves, neatly rolled up, that I had clumsily dropped.

"Oh! Thank you, I would have been in trouble outside, with this cold."

He smiled at me and then walked away.

Over the course of the semester, our paths crossed a few times within the university, and we also found ourselves in the same basketball class. He turned out to be a talented player, and with his advantageous height, he was virtually impassable for his opponents. Mid-semester, during a training session, he collided violently with me as he turned around abruptly, forcefully throwing me backward. The searing pain radiating from my lower back elicited a muffled cry from me. Stopped abruptly in my tracks, I found myself lying on the floor, vulnerable, while the pain intensified with each passing second. Overwhelmed by remorse and concern, he rushed to my aid, expressing sincere apologies for this unfortunate accident. He helped me up carefully, supporting my faltering body until we reached the nearby bleachers. Lying on the stands, I tried to alleviate the persistent pain pulsating in my back. In a mischievous gesture, I joked that he was finally getting back at me for our previous eventful encounter.

"Nonsense, this time you got hurt, it really embarrasses me! I'm sincerely sorry," he replied.

Seeing that I was taking it lightly, he returned to the court and I remained seated in the stands. At the end of the training session, as twilight gradually settled in the gymnasium, he approached me with an unexpected proposition, a hint of audacity in his voice.

"I'll walk you home, if you're okay with that. I'd like to make it up to you for my clumsy gesture," he said, his eyes fixed on me with a glimmer of interest.

I wasn't expecting him to hit on me, both literally and figuratively. Despite that, I responded calmly, accepting his offer.

"Don't get any illusions, but I gladly accept. A little help wouldn't hurt," I replied, concealing my emotions behind a teasing smile.

That's how we left the gymnasium, heading to the subway and eventually making our way to my apartment. He entered my apartment after me, and I closed the door behind him, being careful not to lock it. He looked around curiously as I headed to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

"Make yourself at home, you can sit on the couch!" I called from the kitchen.

I joined him in the main room. With care, I placed the teacups on the table and sat down next to him.

"So, you claim to want to make it up to me? I warn you, it won't be easy," I said in a teasing tone, adding a touch of mischief to our exchanges.

"Ask me anything, I'll do it," he replied calmly, revealing unwavering confidence.

"Are you really sure about that?" I questioned, trying to test his limits.

"Certain," he replied without hesitation.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

A brief moment of silence ensued, leaving me perplexed by my own audacity. I didn't want things to take an inappropriate turn between us, but I couldn't help the urge to mock his arrogance.

"Very well, then remove my socks and massage my feet," I challenged with a hint of defiance.

Without a word, he took hold of my ankles one by one and placed my feet on his thighs. With remarkable gentleness, he removed my socks and then proceeded to massage my feet. His hands applied subtle pressure on each bone, providing a welcome relief to my tired soles. The initial surprise at his determination quickly gave way to deep relaxation, prompting me to recline fully on the couch, my eyes closed.

After a few moments, a slight moan escaped my lips, betraying the pleasant sensation that was spreading through me. I sensed a slight pause in his massage, undoubtedly surprised by the sound. That's when I began to feel something in his pocket, instantly realizing it was his erection in full expansion.

"Don't tell me I stumbled upon a fetishist..." I murmured, still with my eyes closed, trying to put words to the unexpected situation unfolding.

"I'm afraid my member is giving away my thoughts," he replied, amused.

"Pervert!" I exclaimed teasingly. "I really picked the perfect challenge by asking you to massage my sweaty feet. Now I find myself fulfilling the ultimate fantasy of a fetishist... What a fool I am."

He interrupted his massage and started gently removing my feet from his thighs, seemingly ready to put an end to this uncomfortable situation.

"Hold on, hold on, who gave you permission to stop, you little pervert?" I retorted playfully, sensing that I was gaining the upper hand.

He resumed his caresses with a newfound intensity, guiding my feet onto his erect member beneath his sweatpants. A mixture of excitement and nervousness began to wash over me.

"From now on, you'll do everything I tell you to do, and maybe you'll get a reward in the end," I announced authoritatively, trying to embrace the role of a dominatrix with a certain awkwardness but also a piqued curiosity.

"Yes, madam," he replied in a trembling voice, consenting to my demands.

While he delicately massaged my left foot, I slightly bent my right leg, positioning my foot under his nose. A thrill of excitement ran through me as I commanded him sternly:

"Lick it."

He gently took hold of my right foot in his hands and let his tongue glide along the arch of my foot, from heel to the tips of my toes. With each sensual pass, an unprecedented audacity took hold of him: he sealed his lips around my big toe, sucking it in an obscene manner. Once his appetite was satisfied, he continued his oral exploration, dedicating himself with disconcerting fervor to each of my other toes until they were all bathed in his saliva, warm and moist.

Then, without faltering in his quest, he set out to conquer my left foot. His passion-filled tongue lingered on every centimeter of my skin, lavishing my flesh with meticulously precise attention. Each touch was imbued with an almost indecent intensity as he explored the contours of my foot with infinite patience, crafting delicious sensations with his mouth.

In this strange dance between disgust and domination, I allowed myself to be overwhelmed by a strange impulse of absolute power over this perfectly submissive man. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed me, mixing repulsion and desire in a tormented waltz. And in the midst of this tornado of contradictory sensations, the excitement of the moment took precedence over any other consideration, rising like a blazing flame fueled by the intensity of the moment.

After long minutes, I released my feet from his grasp, thus freeing my delicate flesh from his hands. As a reward, I compelled him to kneel before me. Standing in front of him, I slowly untied the knot of my sweatpants and slid them down my thighs, revealing my intimate self-hidden beneath a veil of lingerie. His gaze fixated with scrupulous attention on every detail of my panties, soaked with sweat and other fluids.

Taking my time to gradually unveil this final barrier, I began by subtly swaying my hips, allowing my panties to gradually slide down. Then, gracefully leaning forward, I completed the movement, savoring the thrill that ran through me as the intimate fabric delicately settled around my ankles. I relished in every moment of this irresistible descent into total nudity. I took two steps back, exuding confidence, and they led me to my long-awaited reward: the panties lying on the floor.

Squatting with elegance, I grabbed them in my hands, crumpling the fabric into a suggestive ball, ready to be used to honor my power over Arthur. With an imperious gesture, I ordered him to breathe deeply, to soak in the intoxicating essence that permeated my lingerie. He obediently complied, inhaling with a willingly submissive air the intimate emanations mingled with sweat. This scene, viewed from above, was so eloquent, so visually powerful. Arthur, this young man with a promising future, knelt before me, the palpable desire to escape from his pants, while my sweat-drenched panties finally found refuge in his mouth.

"There's your gift, my dear sub," I said with a voice steeped in domination, revealing my undisputed superiority.

I allowed myself a few moments to contemplate this unusual tableau, capturing every detail in my memory, engraving this image within me. Power, desire, and subversion intertwined in this forbidden scene, creating a sense of absolute control and delightful exhilaration. The boundaries of normalcy were crossed, making way for an alternative reality where my darkest fantasies found resonance.

And so, this evening took an unexpected turn. Arthur left with his precious trophy, while I retired to the intimacy of my bathtub, seeking solace in the soothing waters. The crackling of the water accompanied my thoughts, intoxicated by the sultry memories of that moment.

Lying in the warm water, I allowed myself to be enveloped in a gentle torpor, letting my fingers wander across my skin, exploring the intimate folds of my being with a disturbing delicacy. The images of the evening flashed through my mind as I traced my hardened nipples with my fingertips. Every caress, every desire-filled gaze, every sensation of control and submission blended into an erotic symphony that came alive within my consciousness.

The memory of his eager mouth on my foot, his absolute obedience, his submissive gaze--all of it fueled the burning fire growing within me. My intimate self, ignited by the memory of this daring experience, demanded the attention and satisfaction it was due.

So, with infinite gentleness, I let my fingers glide over my intimate contours, exploring every fold, every erogenous zone. I penetrated myself repeatedly with my index and middle fingers in the warm moisture of my vagina until waves of pleasure crashed over me in a tumultuous ecstasy. I surrendered to the delightful spasms that shook my body, engaging in a carnal dance with the still fresh memories of that decadent evening.

Allowing the water to carry me in its benevolent embrace, I savored the silence that filled the room, the residual shivers coursing through me like vestiges of a devouring passion. It was a moment of solitary bliss, but the indelible imprint of that evening would forever be etched in the depths of my mind, ready to be awakened by the slightest thought, the slightest sensation.

And thus, I lost myself in the abyss of satisfaction, letting myself be carried away by the tumultuous waves of pleasure until the echo of that unique evening faded gently into the depths of the night, leaving behind an intriguing enigma and a sense of unfulfilled desire, ready to be awakened once again.