Permission

As usual, I arrived thirty minutes before she was expecting me. Parked three rows from her apartment building, I sat in the car, preparing myself. My inner monologue ran in circles, reminding me again and again what was likely.

"Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up." My mouth had started whispering it out loud. I took a deep breath. She'll probably say no.

I braced myself for all the humiliation about to come my way. No matter how much I debased myself for her, it was never enough. Sighing, I reminisced, as I had so many times before, about the promise that got me into this mess.

It was difficult to believe that I'd only been twenty-one. I was so young. My submissive desires, successfully repressed until then, had grown to a blazing hot fire that I couldn't control. I wanted to live them out, but I was terrified. The intensity of my desire frightened me, but so did the idea of giving in to my fantasies.

The internet was new back then, but practitioners of female domination could be found in the back pages of alt-weeklies. Just scanning the ads made my heart skip, my stomach twist into knots, my whole body shake. Calling and hanging up in fear became a regular routine. I remember standing on a city street, at a pay phone, listening to a recorded message thanking me for having the courage to explore the world of female domination, and those words, just the words, doing something to me deep inside, and weeping as I hung up.

It was in this fevered haze that I found myself recovering from a break-up. It had been another short-lived vanilla relationship, another romance turned sour. In the aftermath, those desires, never spoken aloud even to myself, asserted themselves with a vengeance. I was beginning to believe that vanilla relationships weren't for me, and I was ready to admit it.

One long afternoon at work, submissive fantasies drowning out any possibility of getting something done, I realized I'd be alone for the weekend. Daydreaming the end of the day away, I was overtaken by a series of ideas.

I'd meandered my way home that afternoon, stopping at different dollar stores so that it wouldn't seem so weird that I was buying so many votive candles at just one. Finally home, I was surprised at how nervous I felt, considering I was alone. I was far too unsettled to eat, so I got right to business, clearing all the furniture from the dining room, the only part of my rented house with a hardwood floor. Carefully, I arranged the multitude of little jarred candles in a wide circle on the floor, stomach trembling. The only thing left to do was wait for sundown.

My hand shook as I lit each candle around the circle in the empty room, dusk having just fallen. After lighting the final one, I stiffened my resolve. I double-checked the doors to ensure they were locked, then rushed upstairs to my bedroom to strip. Shivering and naked, I slowly walked down the stairs and turned the corner, into the dining room.

I spent a minute looking at the circle of flame I had set, before taking a deep breath, stepping over the candles and into the glowing ring. As I took another deep breath, I imagined the three women that I most often fantasized about whenever my submissive desires struck hard. Of all the women I knew personally, these were the three that seemed not only beautiful, but also the most competent and self-assured. The three that just seemed superior. I tried to visualize each of them, dressed normally, standing just outside the circle of candles in a small group, watching me. It would be to them, or at least to the idea of them, that I would make my confession.

Naked and nervous, facing these imagined women, I knelt. I bent over fully, face to the floor, palms in front of my head flat against the hardwood. I tried to speak loudly and clearly.

"Jessica. Ashley. Samantha. I have a confession. I know that I am a slave. I realize that now, that it's not just an occasional kink. I fully believe that I was placed on this earth to submit to women, to serve them and obey them. I honestly believe that each of you are my superior, and so I'm making this confession to you."

Another deep breath. I felt queasy. I felt as if these three were really in the room, watching me, waiting for me to continue.

"I promise that I will never again have a relationship with a woman unless there is at least some element of submission to her involved. Unless we both understand that she is in authority over me. Explicitly understood, that is. Stated out loud. I promise."

I wondered what Jessi, Ashley and Samantha would think if they were really here.

"I promise that I will begin searching, this week, for a way to make these fantasies real. I'll search through that subculture, however it works, and honestly try to find a woman to submit to. I may not feel comfortable or safe submitting to the first or second or third woman I find, but I promise that when I find the right woman, who is willing to have me, I won't back out. I will place myself under her authority and obey her. I know that I need to be under female authority, and I promise that I'll try my best to make it happen. I promise that I won't avoid it."

I waited even longer before continuing. Trying to decide if I really wanted to make this next promise, I sort of shook in fear. Finally I decided that if I really believed these things, I needed to make this commitment.

"I promise that I truly believe that, as a man who is born to be a slave, I have no right to experience an orgasm without female permission. I promise, Jessica, Ashley and Samantha, that I will never again ejaculate, that I will never again have an orgasm, unless a woman has given me permission. A real woman who knows me. Explicit permission, each time, for each specific orgasm. And if I fail, I promise to punish myself." I paused and sighed. "I'm absolutely serious. I promise."

I shook. I was sort of scared. This was serious. I knew, however, that without a serious commitment, I'd never end up where I belong.

For at least an hour, I remained kneeling before my three imagined confessors, silent. Eventually, I blew out all the candles, but remained in the circle until dawn. I didn't really sleep. The next several days I had to force myself to research clubs, meet-ups, munches. I didn't want to back out. I was serious about this commitment.

Now, waiting in the car, I was surprised at just how serious I'd been, all those years ago. Those promises changed my life. Within a couple months, I was kneeling before Miss Katie, giving myself to her. Nine years I served her as her slave. Later, Miss Hannah had owned me for two years, Miss Elisabeth for three.

The difficult times had been the in-between days. Months or years when I'd been unowned, trying to make my way without firm female authority in my life. I'd done my best to keep my promise to myself, not to just start jacking off at will, not to stray away from the habits that I knew would lead me back to the feet of a woman who wanted to own me.

It used to be a lot harder. It was so awkward approaching women from the scene, asking just for them to control my orgasms. Before the rise of keyholder culture, before I knew anything about chastity devices, the temptation was horrid. The times I failed, I at least punished myself. I administered real punishments, not just sexy ones. I grounded myself, missing out on places I wanted to go. I placed TV, internet and music off-limits for weeks. I knelt on the hard floor and wrote thousands of lines, silently, until my knees and hand both ached.

I wondered how long it would be until I was owned again. I ached for it. I was looking, having conversations with dominant women, but nothing had yet worked out. At least I had someone to hold me accountable.

My phone beeped. She had sent a text. "You may come in now."

My legs were wobbly as I stood and closed the car door behind me. The air was crisp, but I could feel sweat running down my side. Within a minute or two, I was at the apartment door, opening it, and stepping inside.

My shoes and socks off, then shirt, pants, and underwear, I shivered as I walked into the kitchen, naked except for my locked silicone chastity tube. Madison was waiting on one of the high barstool type chairs, one leg crossed over the other, facing away from the counter. She snapped her fingers, and pointed at the floor in front of her.

I walked directly in front of her, then began to kneel. Madison wore jeans with a stylish rip just above her left knee, and a long-sleeve t-shirt, some light shade of purple. Her brown hair, almost shoulder length, was a little unkempt. She hadn't been awake for long. Madison's soft brown eyes bore into me. Kneeling on the beige tile, my face came to rest just above her pink-trimmed tennis shoes.

"Thank you Madison, for seeing me today."

"Do you have something to ask?"

She seemed so young. Or I seemed so old. It struck me that Madison was roughly the same age I had been when I'd made those promises all those years ago.

"Yes, Madison. May I please have permission to masturbate, Madison?"

A pause. Finally, Madison spoke.

"Maybe..." Her sing-song voice seemed to taunt me. "If I feel like letting you." Imperious. She was enjoying this. "First, you know what you need to do. Beg."

"Yes, Madison."

Madison loved the sound of begging. It amused her. I'd lost track of the time I'd spent here, begging her for release, almost always to no avail. I slowly let my face descend almost to the floor, arching my back, then tried to cast my eyes upward, toward Madison. She was glancing down at me.

"Please, Madison. Please. Oh please oh please oh PLEASE may I come? Pleeeease! I beg you Madison, I BEG you! Oh Madison, I want it so bad, I feel like I need it I NEED it! I know I always say that but this time it's been so long and I feel like I can't take it pleeeeease!!"

Madison was smiling cruelly. I felt my cock growing, pressing painfully against its sheath. I started to whisper.

"Please. Please Madison, may I? I beg you. I beg you. Please."

Every word was a long, desperate breath. I began to speak in a louder voice again.

"Oh Madison I BEG you please! Please let me masturbate, let me ejaculate, oh please oh please oh pleeeease!! I know I don't have any right to do it, but you can let me if it pleases you, Madison oh PLEEEASE!! Madison oh Madison oh MADISON please!!"

I was breathing hard, every breath desperate. Madison smirked, then spoke.

"That's WAY too dignified to really count as begging, Chris."

I took a deep breath, then let out a long sound, something between a groan and a whine.

"Grrrhhhaaaaaaaaauuughhh!" Oh Madison! I'm SO desperate oh God oh Madison oh God oh Madison Puh-leeeease!" Again, I made a long sub-human sound.

Holding my arched back position, I tried to stick my butt up as far as it would go, then rocked it back and forth, then rotated it, again whining unintelligible whines.

"Uggghhaaaaah! I'm DESPERATE Madison! I BEG you I BEG you I BEG you Madison oh God oh Madison I pray to you please oh please I BEG you it's so awful I need it so BAD Yheeeeeeahhh!"

Gradually I lifted from the position I was in, just enough that my face was again even with Madison's tennis shoes. Slowly, firmly, I pressed my lips against the discolored rubber tip of her right shoe, kissing it, then kissing it harder. I paused briefly to whisper-beg.

"Please, Madison. Oh please."

More kissing.

"Oh please, Madison. Please will you let me get off?"

I started to lick the rubber tip of her shoe sloppily before I again whispered.

"I beg you, Madison. I beg beg beg you."

Taking all of the tip of her shoe in my mouth, I began to suck, hard. I could feel the pattern of her sole on my tongue, and a little cut on the rubber tip pressing into the roof of my mouth. I sucked even harder, listening to Madison laugh. This time I raised my voice loudly.

"Oh Madison Pleeee-ase!! Please Madison I beg you, I want to come so BAD!"

Again, I lowered my face to the floor. With my hands on either side of my face I slapped the tile over and over.

"Madison!! Oh god oh Madison please!! I truly beg you with everything I have! Aaaaaaagggghhh!"

Pressing my lips against the floor, I began to kiss the cold tile.

A whisper. "Please, Madison, please."

A shrieky scream. "Please! Madison Pleeeeease!!"

A normal voice. "Oh Madison, I know you don't have to let me but I want you to I ask you to I BEG you to let me Madison PLEASE!!" I know you're my superior, you're better than me in every way, and only you can decide to let me, oh Madison oh MAAAA-DISON please let me oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please..."

I was blubbering, nearly crying. I pressed my face again to the floor and began to kiss. I was surprised to hear Madison's voice.

"That's enough."

Here we go, I thought. She's going to tell me no. Just like always. I raised myself so that I was kneeling upright.

"I'm in a good mood today, Chris. I just might let you."

Holy shit. I'd had my hopes up, but I didn't actually expect this.

"Th-thank you, Madison."

Madison slid off the stool.

"Let me see if I can find your key."

I hoped she was joking. Surely, I thought, she knew exactly where my key was at all times. Surely. Regardless, Madison was in another room for several minutes. When she returned, she told me to stand. I obeyed.

Madison stood before me, and opened her hand. In it was the little key I hadn't seen in so long. I let out all my breath in what seemed like a collapse.

"Oh THANK you Madison!"

"Hands locked behind your head, Chris."

"Yes, Madison." I obeyed. Madison put the little key in the little lock and spung it, and removing it, took my tube in her hand, sliding it down and off. My cock expanded, growing quickly into a full erection. It felt so weird to be loose, to be unlocked.

Taking care not to actually touch me, Madison unclasped the ring behind my balls, removing it. I'd honestly forgotten how this kind of naked felt.

"Now, Chris. Without touching yourself anywhere, get down on the floor. Lay down, face down, then I want your hands locked behind your head again."

"Yes, Madison." I was way too excited to be nervous, but I was nervous anyway.

I lowered myself to the floor, then folded my hands once again behind my neck. The tile felt cold against my entire front side, but my naked erect penis pressed against it felt wonderful. Unbelievably wonderful. I tried not to move, not wanting to spurt too soon.

A few seconds later, I felt the rubber sole of Madison's shoe resting on my butt, then pressing into it. She was standing over me, her foot resting in the crack, straddling the inside of both ass cheeks. This felt strange. I'd been humiliated by women many times in my life, but this still felt weirdly embarrassing.

"Stroke against the floor, Chris. As I guide you."

"Yes, Madison."

I felt Madison's shoe press forward on my butt, and I moved myself forward along the cold, smooth tile. Oh my fucking god. It felt amazing. Madison's shoe pulled back on my ass, stretching and hurting the skin, as I stroked back against the floor. Forward again. Back again. This was too slow. I tried to speed up. The instant I did, Madison pressed her foot down hard into my butt.

"With me, Chris."

"Yes, Madison." This was so embarrassing but felt so good. Another stroke. And another. Way too slow for me, but I held myself back. Another stroke and another and another, and I knew something was coming, way too quick, my cock twitched and spurted, and oh my GOD my god my GOD that so good feeling of relief washed over me, even as I tried desperately to keep stroking in time with Madison's shoe, another spurt, another, and oh god I tingled crazily all over, so very very good, so good I'd forgotten how insane this felt, absolutely amazing, and I groaned, groaned loud, and Madison laughed, and kept rocking my butt back and forth slowly, and I took a deep breath, then slowly came down from the amazing high, and started to go soft, and felt sticky against the cold tile.

I felt so relieved, and also so humiliated. This always happened after one of my infrequent orgasms. Madison continued to push my butt forward, then back, with her shoe. She knew I'd already come. I could just imagine the devilish look on her face. I kept stroking my softening cock and sticky pelvis against the floor. Again. And again. And again. I tightened my hands against the back of my neck. I took a deep breath. Madison's foot continued to guide me forward and back, forward and back.

"You done yet, Chris?" Finally. She was still pushing me, making me stroke.

"Yes, Madison."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, Madison! Thank you for letting me have an orgasm. Thank you!"

Forward. Back. Forward. Back. My flaccid cock was getting raw. Forward. Back. Finally, mercifully, Madison stopped. She slowly removed her foot.

"Get up on your knees, Chris."

"Yes, Madison."

I did so. I felt wobbly.

"I assume you know you'll be licking up all the semen you got on my floor."

"Yes, Madison. Of course, Madison."

Within seconds, my face was again pressed into the floor, this time in my mess. Dear god. As many times as I'd been forced to do this, by various women, I'd never gotten completely used to it. I still sort of hated it. It was humiliating, and awful, but necessary. For someone like me, there was no ejaculating without swallowing.

Tongue against the tile, I licked. Salty bitter taste blended with the goopy texture. Yuck! I swallowed slowly, trying to work the semen down my throat. The first pangs of nausea hit me. I still had more to swallow. Another lick, another swallow. Yuck! One more big lick, one more fitful swallow, my face scrunched in disgust, and it was all in my stomach.

I was thankful that gobs of it hadn't stuck to the floor, but were stuck to me, caught in the hairs along my pelvis.

"Stand up, Chris. Keep your hands locked behind your head."

"Yes, Madison."

I stood, balancing the best I could as my knees straightened, elbows out wide as my interlocked fingers gripped the back of my head. I felt sticky, naked and stupid.

"Don't you dare move your hands. Absolutely no touching yourself. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Madison."

Reaching behind her, Madison grabbed two bowls. She stood in front of me and I saw that one bowl was filled with water.

"Spread your legs."

"Yes, Madison." I let my bare feet slide outward until my legs were spread wide. Still gripping the back of my head tight, I took a deep breath. Madison held the empty bowl between my legs, right below my exposed cock and balls. She held the other bowl level with my pelvis, and began pouring.

Holy shit it was cold! I winced as cold water cascaded through my pubic hair, down my rapidly shrinking cock and into the lower bowl. Madison concentrated, taking care not to accidentally spill any water or touch me with her hand.

When the first bowl was empty and the second was full, Madison switched them, and rinsed me again. Then again. Then a fourth time. Then a fifth. Finally, she walked to the sink, still looking over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off me.

Dribbling a little soap into one of the bowls, Madison filled it with water, then dropped my chastity device and locking ring into it. She swished the bowl around a bit, took them both out and rinsed them under the sink, before setting them on a towel to dry. Somehow, she kept at least part of her gaze on me the whole time, watching me to make sure I didn't try to touch myself. I watched Madison watch me, feeing all kinds of self-conscious, feeling especially naked without my cock cage, and starting to feel even more nauseous now from the semen I'd swallowed.

Madison plopped back down onto the high stool, right in front of me. She held her bare hand inches from my cock, making me tense in excitement. Then she moved it up and down through the air, fanning my penis, drying me.