F and K had very different dominant natures. While certain actions may have been similar, the root cause of and motivation for said actions were different. K's style was more sexual and playful. F's style was much much darker.
F was a sadist. Even before she accepted me as her sub I could tell her desires ran deep and into a realm that was a bit scary to me at the time. I had read about it, but never experienced it first hand. F had 30+ years of fantasizing under her belt and a good number of years
being able to act out some of those in controlled environments (play
parties, Domme gatherings, etc.), but she had imposed a limiter on her
nature that seemed to dictate what she felt was realistic or not (although she remained unfettered in her dreams).
When you interact with Dommes (or subs), you tend to get a feeling for their D/s interests and the relative strength of those desires. Themes will often form and you can begin to perceive whether something is a singular fetish or symbolic of a bigger picture. e.g. one person might have a fetish for branding, while another might get off from "symbols of ownership" and therefore, also gets off on branding. F's primary interest was cruelty. If I had to display it graphically, I would guess it would look something like this:
F wanted to know about all of my desires and fantasies. I was able to share and explain them much more easily than I was before, but I did wait to reveal the fur situation until a bit later. When I did get around to the latter, F had mentioned having some tactile experiences in her youth, but nothing recent. She wanted to explore it since the knew it was an interest of mine so she went to the store and tried some things and loved how it felt (in addition to the historical connections it had to royalty/power). That was all the convincing I really needed to do on that front.
F wanted to know everything about what I had done with K. I told her about everything: the play, the assignments, the dynamics, etc. I could tell she was taking mental notes. When dealing in D/s it was easy to read F. If she liked it she would giggle or laugh, if she opposed something she would scoff, and if something inspired an idea in her that she had never thought of before, she would let out a sound something along the lines of "oh...." and have a big grin on her face.
F continued a lot of things that K had begun. I was to address her as Mistress. I was to keep a journal. She wanted me to send her an additional writing, drawing, picture, or reading material each day. She added a few rituals. When she arrived I was to be kneeling at the door, help her out of her shoes and help her into her slippers, and kiss her feet. After she was seated I would kneel and present a collar and my neck for her to place it upon me, kissing her feet and thanking her when it was completed.. I was to kneel and kiss her feet every time I entered or exited the room she was in. I was either standing or kneeling, sitting in a chair was a privilege that was above me.
While K had wanted to keep me in my subspace, F wanted to push me into slavespace and keep me there most of the time. During our play she would explore ways to trigger my space as well as transition me through them. F found uses for each state, subspace for when she wanted me to be able to act independently, such as preparing a meal or giving her a massage, and slavespace for just about everything else. We did find two ways to trigger my slavespace. The first was what K had used, which was humiliating fur items. The second took a bit more time involved a process of restraining me and then using a mix of corporal punishment, physical bullying, and verbal scolding/mocking until I would weep. To explain it in detail, she would chain my hands behind my back, take me over her lap, pinch my genitals between her thighs and spank me with either a hand or an object while telling me how I deserved it and sometimes just being mean, e.g. "waaah, it hurts, oh boo hoo!" If I struggled, she would press her thighs tighter or reach under her leg and grab my scrotum and give it a fierce tug.
F also had a different approach to my feminization. The worse it made me feel, the more it embarrassed me, the more I hated it, the better. She didn't have a "thing" for forced fem, but she loved to use it to make me suffer emotionally. She would reinforce this with her words, "Oh, look at the sissy in fur, you look absolutely terrible and ridiculous. I don't know anyone who would want to dress like that, you should feel ashamed. Although, you should be happy too because it amuses me." F took things to the next level as well. She bought me a bra and panties, but soon found the bra, as uncomfortable as it was with the underwire digging in, wasn't very useful since it protected my nipples from her torture. We went out shopping and bought a light pink turtleneck sweater (that was a size too small) in a material that was sure to be prickly and irritating, especially on the nipples. This was added to the slave uniform and it would itch badly and rub my nipples raw after about 30 minutes. I went bottomless or in panties after that, F felt anything else gave a slave too much privacy, and if it covered my penis/bulge it might be less embarrassing.
This changed when Victoria's Secret launched their sexy Santa collection that year:
After scouting from a distance, I assumed that pacing back and forth in front of VS while peeking into it was probably going to draw more attention than just going in, so I bit the bullet and took the plunge. If I had to guess, there was probably about 50 women in the store. Not an exaggeration. I was the only man. So much for being inconspicuous. Of course, I couldn't find the damn things. After making a lap through the whole store I was finally approached by a salesgirl asking if she could help me find something. I said yes, mentioned the item and said "my girlfriend found it online and wanted it" (it was actually easy to say this, since it was mostly the truth). She knew what I was talking about but informed me they had received their first shipment, sold out on the first day, and expected more to be delivered on Wednesday, and probably out on the floor for sale by late afternoon. She added that the first few shipments of them always sell out almost immediately and that someone else was looking for one earlier and after calling other stores, all of them within 30 miles had sold out as well.
I returned Wednesday. What a difference a couple of days make. The mall was so crowded you could barely walk without getting bumped into by someone. I got to VS and the entire store was rearranged so that the checkout line could be snaked around with security ropes for the entire floor near the registers. This meant all of the merchandise, which had been comfortably spaced out before, was now compressed into 2/3rds of the available floor space. There were probably 90 women there today and again, not a single man, but jackpot, I could see where they were. I sort of felt like a creep, standing in this tiny isle cramped near a corner and separated from them by 3 groups of young women shopping together. I could see 4 of the skirt on the shelf while the herd slowly moved along. The first group stopped, and checked them out, talked about them, and put them down, and moved on.
The second group arrived. "Oh my God, I'm so going to get this. You should totally get one to wear for Todd on Christmas." 2 skirts left. The next group moved to them and I could sense a backup of about 4 groups behind me. "What do you think?" one asked, holding it up. "It's kind of slutty isn't it?" "I don't know, I think it's cute. I'll get one if you get one." "I'll think about it." She put it down and they moved on. Relief. Like lightning, I quickly grabbed one and moved on to the back of the herd again. About 10 minutes later I finally made it to the checkout line... with about 35 people in front of me. Within 2 minutes, there was at least 15 people behind me as well.
Feeling awkward as hell, I decided to use the time-honored tradition of a fake cell phone call. Pretending to make a call, I started having a relevant fake conversation. "Hi. They had one so I got it. I'm waiting in line to checkout now. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Uh huh. I work until 5 tomorrow. That sounds good. Uh huh. Okay, I'll see you later." That managed to kill 90 seconds and I had hoped at least projected the idea I was buying this for someone else. 56 minutes later it was my turn to check out. "Make sure it fits" rang in my ears. A quick peek at the tag showed "One Size." After declining to join the mailing list or applying for a VS credit card, I asked the clerk if she knew what waist size the skirt would fit since it was for my girlfriend. She replied probably up to about a size 6.
"Do you know what that is in inches?" My face ignited into fire.
"I think maybe about 30 inches?" she said with great uncertainty.
"I guess we'll give it a try. Can I get a gift receipt?"
"Sure, do you want the matching hat as well?"
"Umm... sure why not."
She asked another clerk to pull a hat. I paid for them and got the hell out. On the drive home I tried to remember the last time I had a 30 inch waist. I arrived home and F was online.
"I got it."
"Does it fit?"
"Let me check."
I took off my pants and tried pulling it on and no. I removed my boxers and tried again. Still no. I pulled it to the sticking point. Shifted my body and gave a tug. One side slid up an inch. I tried to suck in that butt cheek. It slid up another inch. I twisted my torso the other direction and pulled. That side went up an inch. After several minutes I finally managed to get it on. It was very tight and dug in, but it was on. When I sat down in the chair to reply to F, I felt my bare ass on the chair.
"It fits... barely."
"Took you long enough."
"It was a struggle."
"Hah. Good. Does it cover you?" I stood up and looked in the mirror. The bottom of the skirt stopped about an inch above my genitals and the majority of my ass was exposed.
"Haha. Wonderful. Make sure you have it on when I get there."
To be continued.