A Life Completed

The words had hardly left my lips when I regretted them. Julie didn't respond at all--in fact she simply left for her room without speaking to me. Not a good sign.

Relations had thawed slightly by morning, but I was subject to a gnawing guilt that I didn't know how to address.

Julie had a beautiful little room set up as a library and, walking in to give it a quick dusting, the solution hit me. Later that day, I went out to the bookshop and picked up a small, leather-bound journal. On the first page I wrote "Confessions."

When Julie arrived home, the book was on the hall table, with my notations of all of my offenses and ungrateful thoughts for the day recorded.

She looked through it. "How shall we handle this, do you think?"

"Goddess, your correction can absolve me."

And so the weekly spankings were agreed upon. Thursday evening she would read my week's confession and determine the appropriate penance. After she had finished, I would kneel, my reddened bottom touching my bare feet, while she noted the week's penalty and signed it as complete. I would also then sign and place the book in my room for the next morning. As the weeks past, Julie began to enjoy the weekly correction perhaps even a little too much, adding a wooden paddle and riding crop to her tools for the occasion.

This little ritual also gave rise to another.

I had been blogging about our relationship for a while, though the readership was hardly extensive. At her request, I started a weekly video feature. I would kneel down, wearing only collar and cage (though the latter was not visible) and read from the book of my transgressions and punishments. This feature grew our traffic considerably, to the point that Julie proposed another feature--a weekly Q&A from me about our life.

The videos were somehow ok, because I could pretend no one was listening. It was much harder to be there, vulnerable and facing questions. Some were simply interested:

BicuriousGirl: "Have you always been a submissive?"

SubTimmy: "As long as I can remember I have fantasied about submitting. But I have only really explored and extended those feelings with Goddess Julie."

SlutBoy42: "How did you meet Goddess Julie?"

SubTimmy: "She read a post I wrote and contacted me."

Some of the questions were impertinent:

AlphaDog: "Do you moan when she is fucking you?"

SubTimmy: "Always--I fueled totally owed when she is taking me."

And some were just from trolls:

FroggyS: "Hey bitch-boy--too bad you can't grow a pair and give that girl of yours the pounding she needs. Have you always been a pussy?"

SubTimmy: "My Goddess decides how my body is used. And it amuses her for me to have to answer questions like yours."

But whatever the question, I always had to answer--Julie's rule. In fact, she watched every episode, and gave "suggestions" after each.

"You didn't tell them that you only come now when I peg you."

"Why didn't you confess that you were punished for lazy tongue work this week?"

The thing was, I came to enjoy the chance to expose myself this way. I found myself explaining not just what was happening, but why I lived like this and why I felt safe and protected by Julie, even, or especially, when her hand was smacking me as hard as she could.

Julie was also working on her exhibitionist side--except what was being exposed was me. Before we met, she had done a fair bit of entertaining. At first when I joined her, I had just gone to my isolation room during her parties, but slowly, she starting having me join, wearing coarse cotton trousers and shirts, bring her friends drinks and cleaning up after them. Often, her visitors were too polite to say anything, but Julie got very animated whenever anyone did bring up the subject.

"Why is he in bare feet?" asked a young woman Julie did yoga with.

"Because I asked him to be. He's actually enjoying wearing clothes--they aren't usually allowed in the evening."

The woman looked at me with a strange, and perhaps hungry expression.

Another time, a young woman from Julie's charity approached me hesitantly.

"Are you ok?" she asked in a whisper.

"I am--thank you for asking."

"Will you get in trouble for talking to me?"

"Only if I am rude or unhelpful," I answered.

"But why do you let Julie treat you like this?"

I paused. "It isn't a question of let. I need someone like Julie to lead me through life, and she is wise and kind enough to help me realize my true, subservient self."

The woman looked baffled, and Julie led her away, whispering in her ear.

One day, Julie came home more excited than I had seen her recently.

"Alica's coming to town!" she laughed.

I knew that Alica had been her roommate in college. She was of Czech extraction and Julie talked about her surprisingly often. Alica worked as a lawyer for a big multinational and traveled more or less incessantly. She tended to drop by a couple of time per year, though not yet whilst Julie and I had been together.

"I want to try something," Julie murmured, looking at me appraisingly.

And so, when Alica arrived the following evening, I opened the door for her. I wore only a collar and a pair of leather briefs that chaffed rather seriously.

Alica smiled and kissed Julie on both cheeks. "You weren't kidding--he must like you a lot if he'll wander around like this for you."

Alica then smacked my bottom.

Julie's instructions for the evening had been very clear: I served dinner and drinks, standing silently behind her waiting for instructions.

Alica drank a worrying quantity of the rosé that Julie had brought in specially from France by her wine merchant. However, aside from being even more giggly as the evening wore on, she seemed completely unaffected by her continually emptying glass.

Julie wasn't keeping pace with Alica, but I could tell she was getting more than a bit tipsy. When we moved into the living room, she pushed me into a kneeling position next to her and sat caressing my hair and raking her nails across my chest whenever Alica looked her way.

"Fancy a weekend in London?" Alica asked. "I've got some tickets for a show."

"Ooh--yes please," Julie answered.

"Great--we can use the company flat if you want. Bringing the boy toy?"

"No--I can get a sitter for him," Julie answered dismissively. She leaned toward Alice, trying to touch her hand. Alica rocked back in an elaborately casual way, and Julie's hand rested instead on the cushion.

They chatted for a few more minutes, with Julie almost pulling my hair with her caresses.

Abruptly, Alica got up.

"Well, you two clearly have some unfinished business for the evening, and I have an early plane. So nice to see you--I'll text you about the London thing. Don't get the boy up--he looks, well, not comfortable, but content."

And Alica sashayed out the door.

"Stay there." Julie stood up and went to her room. She returned with the riding crop. Pulling down the ridiculous leather shorts, she started in on my bottom with an anger I hadn't seen in her before. After about ten swats I was yowling, and by twenty, I started to sob.

She stopped instantly.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, starting to cry herself.

She led me to the bedroom and, and after donning some fluffy pyjamas, cuddled up next to me.

I had never been in her bed before except when she was fucking me.

"She just does that to me. I was madly in love with her in college, and she just saw me as her best friend. I think that part of how I approach relationships now is so that I will never again be in a position to be rejected like that."

"I will never say no to you, goddess." I kissed her hand and held her tightly until she slept.

The next morning I woke early, and brought her her coffee, naked and collared as I always did. I knelt in front of her as she sipped it. The perfect start to another day.