A freed man

Coming home is my liberation, as paradoxical as it sounds given that I am a submissive bitch devoted to a young master, but that is how it is.

I am an executive at a company and I am in charge of a workforce whom I direct with a firm hand. My workdays are long and heavy; I am subjected to constant stress and to permanent decision-making that I must face without hesitation. This daily activity makes me feel like a slave; a slave to numbers, to results, to meeting objectives. For that reason, when I arrive home at night and prostrate myself before my Lord to await his orders, I consider myself a liberated man for the first time that day.

At home I limit myself to obeying. No proposal comes from my mouth, nor any hesitation when it comes to doing what I have been ordered; I never give my opinion unless my master expressly asks me for it. Not thinking, not choosing, nor deciding; accepting without doubt the orders received from the master is my greatest satisfaction.

We are a couple that is apparently quite conventional, except for the great age difference. My lord treats me exquisitely in public, and any outside observer might think he is my nephew or a close relative given the affection he shows me and the naturalness of our behavior. My friends and acquaintances think it is a relationship of convenience where we both win; my lord manages to satisfy his economic and material needs and I have a stallion willing to keep me more than satisfied in bed. They are right, because my lord has my sexual needs more than well attended to, and I do the impossible so that he is also attended to in these and in his material needs.

It is a relationship that arose casually, after a release in the dark room of a sauna, and that has lasted over time. First an exchange of phone numbers, then new sexual encounters that kept rising in intensity until we both showed ourselves as we really were and escalated into unconventional practices while we grew fond of each other. In those first encounters we established our limits, but as our relationship has progressed my young lord has gone on crossing them all. Today we have only a couple of red lines left and I am convinced he will end up crossing those too.

As he established himself as the lord of the house, he occupied all the ground that I gradually yielded. Without drama, without bad vibes… I adjusted to my subordinate position and he brought out the dominant inside him. Everything happened behind closed doors; publicly we maintained that convention of people with excellent manners, who “know how to behave,” but when the door of the home closes, each of us assumes our voluntary roles.

I never argue with any order, and my severe male gives plenty of them. His youth keeps his libido high, turning him into a stallion who constantly needs to unload fluids and tensions onto the proud slave I have become. I never thought that being naked at home all day would become a n...