Femdom Love Affair Redux Ch. 01

Prologue and Extended Notes for the introduction to this Novella series.

If you are impatient, the hot sex starts in section 3 of this chapter. As a warning, the story does involve Femdom related issues, online sex, and various acts of BDSM. However, there is also an attempt at serious character development and plot.

This is an experiment for me! Several chapters are already finished, others partially. Depending upon the interest, I will post them. This story is a bit of an emotional and stylistic rollercoaster. It is intentional. It is meant to be more of an impressionistic collage within a coherent and linear story.

It can sometimes be brooding, literary, and maybe philosophical. This story series tries to explore the human aspect of such things as Femdom and BDSM in the context of a serious and deeply troubling modern issue - a failing marriage. If you like such an analysis, cool! if not, there is still sex (go directly to section 3). I hope you like the metaphors, intellectual puzzles, and allusions to the classic literary works that I adore (and my own very modest ones here on Lit). And sex! There are even some physics concepts mixed in! As I said, a bit of an intellectual collage.

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Typical Warnings/Disclaimers: It goes without saying that this is a work of fiction in all aspects. All fictional characters are portrayed as adults and fully aware of their actions. There were no stuntwomen/stuntmen; all fictional characters performed the fictional scenes themselves! Nobody was hurt before, during, or after its writing. No harm was done to animals, only a slight discomfort to my cat, who waited patiently for her meal while I finished this story. The movies/videos described in the text do not exist; they are also fictitious. There is no music nor theme song; so no royalties to "the machine" - sorry!

Feel free to drop me a message, with your comments, questions, and/or thoughts.

Now to the story! Good luck on the journey! Good luck on the rollercoaster!

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1 The Wasteland of the Forgotten

"OK, honey, we can talk once I get to the hotel," Katya said as she was about to leave.

He had helped her bring her small suitcase to the airport taxi that had just arrived in their driveway. It was a dreary, gray, and rainy April day. One that evoked a reminder that winter had not yet passed. The low clouds produced a fog that created a drizzle from all directions. The world seemed smaller. It seemed only to contain them, as she prepared to leave. It would be a brief and efficient farewell, one rapidly dispatched with an economical gesture and promise of that eventual text message.

Katya had a business trip. She worked in an IT consultancy firm and was responsible for the installation of a system in a hotel construction project in Dubai. The hotel was being constructed by the Russian investment firm Stanoff and the architects VWD Architekten from Berlin. She had become an expert in surveillance in her former job at the Ministry at the Special Ops Advanced Technologies department. Her new consultancy job had been a lucrative windfall since it was a way to cash in on her skills. But in meant being away from home quite a lot. The trip was going to be intense and she would be gone at least a month or maybe more.

"Have a good flight, Katya. And, at least try and enjoy the hotel and relax a bit."

"You will call the children each day?" she replied, as she ran through the last-minute checklist in her mind.

"Yes, yes. Don't worry, you know they are fine. Besides, between sports and homework, they are busy," he reassured her that their children were fine at the boarding school upstate.

"C'mon don't worry about things here. It will be fine."

He helped the taxi driver put her luggage in the trunk, as she entered the back seat. Her door was still ajar so he could kiss her goodbye. He walked over and placed one hand on the backdoor above the window, and bent over to meet her gaze.

One would be forgiven to interpret her anxious facial expression due to her pending trip. It was not that. It was not that at all. It was them. That is what worried her.

"Have a good flight and relax!" her husband Alec said.

Alec's lighthearted tone bothered her. Here she was going to be gone for so long, and he did not give the impression that he would miss her in the slightest. In fact, Alec was looking forward to some "alone" time without marriage responsibilities.

"I will. I love you, Alec. I will miss you a lot. Will you miss me?", she asked with a searching expression.

"Of course I'll miss you too," he said without the sufficient sentimentality that she beseeched.

He loved Katya, but he was looking forward to being able to be alone. He was thinking of his recent masturbation habit and he planned on dedicating time to his newfound addiction of Femdom and feminization porn.

He gave her a quick kiss. "Bye, talk to you later. Call me when you arrive," he said with flightiness as if she were going across the street to the supermarket.

He closed her door and waved. He turned around and started to walk towards the house. He turned and gave a quick wave before entering the house.

Katya stayed watching him as the driver started the taxi car, and slowly pulled out of the driveway. She wiped the condensation that fogged her window to continue to retain the image of him. But, the drops of rain blurred her vision. She tried to bury her increasing anguish as she searched for a small emotional indication from him. There was none. And then she was gone.

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Here, absent were the echoes of passion from these two once intimate lovers. No final embrace. No hint of some sadness or slight affliction before the departure. Where did it go? The passion. The yearning.

Katya became lost in the often surreal and disconnected images that unfolded in her mind as the taxi drove off amongst the sounds of rain and traffic.

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"Do you remember running together amongst the Hyacinths?" I asked.

We were young then! My hair was wet and my arms were filled with Lilacs in the midst of a warm April breeze. You pulled me close and kissed me. We ran and ran through the tulip gardens.

You told me, "HURRY UP, it will be TIME!" You ran ahead and then turned around, "HURRY!"

Then, you took me in your arms and embraced me as if you would never let me go!

The evening crawled and slithered into the cold evening like a silent thief. I searched your eyes, but you could no longer speak. You became silent. I shook your shoulders and implored you. I pleaded with you. But then, I became aware. I wasn't sure if you were dead or alive. And, I was so saddened. I felt the frosty silence in the garden. Despair overtook me. I did cry.

Then, in that terrible violet hour, that wretched old blind man sitting on the bench - he Tirisius, who throbbed between two lives - had perceived the scene and foretold the rest.

****

On that day, just like today, the world was so diminutive from the fog. It enveloped the runway on which they stood like dense cotton. The plane, the girl, her past lover. Only them. The urgency. The sensual last moments. It was then when Ilsa's tear-filled eyes search those of Rick's.

"But what about us?"

He responds, "We'll always have Paris. What we had, we lost it until you came back to Casablanca."

She tries to retain the moment, tried to make it last. Her eyes search his, "When I said I would never leave you..."

He interrupts her, "And you never will."

****

"Come! Let's sit out here in the high grass."

We walked there together, hand in hand. It was in the back of your family's farmhouse. From there, we could see the street and the house next door. But it was the end of summer, and the grass was high.

"Look, your hair is the color of this straw."

You moved the strands of my blonde hair that draped in front of my greyish-blue eyes. I smiled, then tilted my head down with bashful innocence, but lifted my eyes to meet yours.

"You are so pretty with this daisy tucked behind your ear," you tell me as you touched me. You paused, "I love you. Do you love me?"

Then you kissed me and we gently fell back to lie on the ground. You held my hand and we looked up at the endless sky. It was as vast as our perception of youth. But the large puffy clouds knew better as they changed from one dream into another. They had been here before. They had been here with other lovers who shared the same embrace.

You touched my breasts. You removed my sundress and we lay naked. We tempted to get caught. It was our rebellion and proclamation that we could love.

But then, the last warm breeze of that summer came. The clouds changed their shape, and they disappeared.

****

Katya continues to stare out the window. These wandering memories of her subconscious played out in her mind to replace the present. The rain and traffic seemed distant. Her window fogged over again. The glass-covered with beaded raindrops, coalescing to form streams, like tears. Her eyes became moist, and the entrance to her nose flushed. She felt hollow. Very hollow.

"We are the hollow men; We are the stuffed men: Leaning together; Headpiece filled with straw; Alas!: Our dried voices; when. We whisper together; Are quiet and meaningless; As wind in dry grass; or rats' feet over broken glass; In our dry cellar." - T.S. Eliot. "The Hollow Men"

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2 The Marriage

Alec and Katya have been married for more than 15 years. Alec had made a name for his law firm in some important cases. That together with Katya's new and lucrative consultancy career made them both financially well off. They had two well-adjusted and healthy children that studied in a private boarding school upstate. All indications were that their marriage was idyllic. They both loved each other very much as well. That was not the problem. The problem was that underneath this veneer, lie a festering and simmering truth.

Theirs had become a sexless marriage, like so many in this modern era. Ah yes, the modern love. The cell-phone era love. The internet era love. The text message love. The selfies love. The high-stakes career love.

It began with a neglected glance. The forgotten kiss. The overlooked gesture. Each perturbation, each action counteracted by its reaction. It was this vast constellation of different reactions and then opposite actions. It was the compound interest that accumulated into the bank of carelessness and negligence.

How many years? Three, four, five? Alec lost track. Ah, what difference does it make? Any advance or attempt was greeted with, "Oh honey, I am a bit tired now," or "not now, because I am so stressed out". Or for his part, "Oh don't be so sentimental," or "You know I love you, it's just that I have to work on this report." But these were the superficial tropes hiding behind the more subtle truths.

Alec so much wanted to take Katya in his arms as before. But he had forgotten how. He had forgotten how to take charge of his emotions. The familiarity and expediencies of modern marriage had dulled the edge of their once passionate life. The endless chores and tribulations of children rearing and education. Being romantic seemed so artificial against such a practical backdrop. Relegated to the puerilities and frivolities of youth or of Hollywood movies. He felt that he could not be himself.

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Blame? But who? No, it is not a question of blame. It was the unconsciousness of it all. The inability to put their finger on it. The inability to recognize that small microscopic action that produces the undesirable reaction. It was out of carelessness, not intentional malice. It is always like that. Isn't it?

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Alec's inability to control the tensions and stress of work-life didn't help to create the ideal conditions; those necessary elements of lovemaking that Katya so wanted. His idea of lovemaking lately had been a rapid fuck. Just get over the embarrassment and awkward attempts at romanticism now replaced with practicality. For him, it was now just a question of getting to the point as fast as possible. Getting to the chase! Use her like a blow-up toy with a vagina to masturbate "into". Do it quickly to avoid his feelings of inadequacy.

For her part, Katya yearned for the sensuality and excitement they once had. For her, it was only satisfying if accompanied by all those gestures and mystique that are now long forgotten. But, she too had neglected the necessary actions in those critical moments. She too had pushed such important actions aside in favor of the practical expediency of getting the kids here or getting them there. Now all what they once knew seemed lost. Now she didn't know how to return to those days.

Buried into the "Wasteland" of distant memories, "reverberating like dry thunder without rain over distant mountains." Yes, the sterile thunder. The clamor without consequence.

She blames herself letting him forget. And, he blames himself for some banal, irrelevant, and erroneous notion of his sexual prowess, that has nothing to do with it.

****

Fucking hell! In the end, we have never left the jungle. We are still swinging from trees. Still beating our chests for more sex and searching for more food on the branches. And primal, yes we are still very primitive. With all of our inquisitiveness, we are still dictated in large measure by our genetic code that was cast nearly 1.2 million years ago. Aren't we?

Oh fuck!..."Unreal City; Under the brown fog of a winter noon." This is the way the world will end. Not with a deafening roar, but with a mere unnoticed whisper. An unarticulated sentiment.

****

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and they gradually stopped having sex altogether. It wasn't for lack of their sexuality and attraction. Apart from Katya's natural beauty, she maintained an athletic appearance, unchanging from her youthful years. She exercised regularly and was as beautiful as the day they married. Alec was also in excellent shape and looked handsome and youthful.

Despite being a sexless marriage, they both loved each other. But each was trapped in their own worlds. Each reacted differently, according to their emotional and genetic makeup. Alec's reaction was an escape towards a world of rampant fantasies, quick sexual satisfaction through porn, and an imaginary BDSM world. Katya's reaction was to immerse herself in sentimental surrealistic memories of their past love. She rummaged through these distant images to identify those elements that made him love her with intensity and freshness. But this left her exhausted and with an ever-increasing emptiness in her heart. Each knew they were being torn apart. Each knew that this was causing a large separation between them.

****

Every physical action in the universe produces a reaction. All atoms move to minimize the overall energy, thereby minimizing the overall action. They say that the universe seeks balance. Perhaps, the universe is like a living being, it only wants to be at peace.

Maybe the dynamic laws of nature operate as well on our emotions and our sexuality. Do such laws act on our consciousness? That ensemble of molecules, signals, and forces that give rise to the emergence of general collective behavior, like swarms and flocks. The millions upon millions of small adjustments, small perturbations towards the overwhelming drive to reduce the imbalance. All these microscopic reactions combine so as to restore the entire collective system towards its minimal energy from a single consequential and macroscopic action.

Perhaps. But, all this restoration comes with a cost. Everything comes with the release or absorption of energy. Sometimes great amounts of energy. Yeah, sometimes great amounts indeed! You shall see! Stick around, and you will see what I mean.

****

They originally thought it would be a girl, but it turned out to be a Boy. His father, Dr. Oppenheimer, called him "Little Boy". When he was born, grown men cried like little children and couldn't be consoled. The Little Boy had a terrible temper. He screamed so much that the heavens opened up just so that the Little Boy would calm down. And good thing he did! He finally rested after he spread out, after the separation.

But then Mike showed up. He was already grown up. And he was a real fucking bastard, a real delinquent, and troublemaker. I was really bothered by Little Boy and hoped he would be an only child. But, I really hated Mike, and I still do. I wish he had never been born. Just knowing he lives down the street fucks me up. I could no longer sleep at night just knowing he is there. Then, to make matters worse, his foreign cousin, Ivan, moved into the neighborhood. He was a real mean son of a bitch with multiple personalities; a bit schizophrenic. Do you remember those old men that cried in their sleep every day? Well, they have no more tears. With Mike and Ivan, all such tears had dried up or burnt off from the intense heat. No, in reality, their entire fucking faces were burnt off completely. From the energy.

If the Little Boy was all about breaking up and breaking out, well Mike and Ivan were really about "getting together". And you know what? That "getting back together" thing produced a lot of fucking energy, more than 60 Megatons of the stuff combined. So much, it was felt all around the world. But nobody cried. They couldn't. They were filled with far too much horror. So much, that it turned into utter despair and apathy.

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3 The Reaction

He had been looking forward to being home alone. What a feeling. No kids, no wife, no responsibilities. He entered the house and went and turned on the TV to catch up on the latest score of the game. Cool, his team was winning! After relaxing for a while, he grabbed his computer and started to do some random searches of his favorite new-found topic.

You see, Alec had become enamored with the idea of being submissive. More specifically, he became obsessed with the idea of Femdom and feminization. He had not always been into this. It was true that the idea of BDSM had intrigued him, and he even had a period of watching porn associated with cock torture. But, it was when he stumbled across a particular porn movie that changed his entire worldview.

The video seemed to be made for him. It depicted a husband and wife for whom sex had become bland. Their sex life became nonexistent until the wife started conditioning him into more and more cuckold related acts until eventually turning him into a sex-craved and feminized cum eating and cock loving sissy.

After that, it was all he could think about. Everything he searched for related to porn was about cuckold, sissy, feminization, being dominated by his wife, facesitting, CBT, CEI, JOI, and creampie eating. He fantasized about it. He desired it. He imagined that it was him in those porn videos. He sought out specialized porn sites that would help him get his fix.

He watched the same movie over and over, hundreds of times. He thought about it so much, that he even imagined himself as a submissive sissy. He thought about ways that he could become like that husband. He wanted to shave all his body hair. He wanted to wear pretty girl's clothing. He wanted his wife to cum home with her pussy filled with cum so he could eat it out of her. And, he wanted to suck cock. Very big cocks. He wanted those cocks to treat him like a beautiful woman. No, like a beautiful sexy slut girl. He started to wish that he had been born a girl.

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My dear reader, how can we reconcile this knowing what we know about Alec? He had a family and was a successful lawyer. He had always been a typical man and never considered himself feminine. He didn't have any interest in a gay relationship with another man. But, he craved cock. He dreamt of sucking on any cock and swallowing cum. He wanted to be a girl and treated like a slut.