It had been a week or so since I had submitted my personal advert.

The one where I offered gratis cleaning and handy services to dominant women. The one on the kinky social site.

I was in the last days of my bookstore job, and I had officially checked the hell out.

After a good three years at this place, things had changed a lot. And mostly for the worse.

The closest members of my work family had already bailed.

I had two torrid love affairs here. They were just bad, embarrassing memories now.

Corporate meddling killed my creativity, and my growing Spanish section. There was nothing here left for me.

Taking a break from lifting heavy stacks in the back, I checked my email to see something awesome.

A domme had hit me up! I was starry-eyed to see how bossy she was in the message…

I checked her profile, and read up on how cool she was. She was an absolutely flawless Queen. I adored everything about her.

Strawberry blond hair tied up in a bun, a bit more than a decade my senior, tall, and a lithe figure that made me want to fall to my knees and compose verse…

We spent the next few days exchanging messages and getting to know each other.

She was very educated, and it turned me on.

She had a doctorate in a super hard science. We liked the same books. She was very bossy, very stern in her language with me, and I dug it. I dug it even more when I would see the occasional crack in the armor whenever I made her laugh, or said something cheeky.

We exchanged sexy photos at work. We both agreed that I needed to clean her place ASAP.

I had a really bad day before our first session.

Family troubles. Arguments with the boss. Disagreements with friends.

I was over all of it. This was a brand-new start for me. I freshened up in the work bathroom, and changed my clothes in the car. I was off to worship a new Goddess.

I showed up to her home with the bottle of red wine she instructed me to pick up.

She thanked me calmly, took it from me, then put it away. I wouldn’t drink that night.

She didn’t want me to clean at first. I was a little disappointed.

She wanted me to sit with her in a cozy little nook of her hippie-ish kitchen.

We watched vintage music videos and talked for a while. She wasn’t as dominant as she had been over text, I noticed. A bit reserved maybe. Meeting new people and all.

But little by little, our preliminary awkwardness melted away as we got to talking about Femdom.

Then, while we were singing songs together, I was given the privilege of removing her sandals. My heart skipped a beat, no lie.

We continued with the music for another long while, her soles slowly taking up more of my face, me inching my way closer to the floor beneath her, and her hot, dominatrix spirit flaring up and taking over, her smile growing wider.

Her laughter teasing my cock harder and harder.

With her slender toes exploring my mouth, I was already halfway in subspace. I felt every curve, every playful wiggle, and every dominant step she delighted in giving me.

She was divine. I couldn’t believe she was my first patron, I adored her.

There was something poignant beneath all of this fun, though. Not bad…but definitely a shade of blue there to paint it.

The way she moved with such a specific type of passion… the way she could flip from bossy and dominant, to profoundly grateful and huggable…

I knew what it was. This particular type of sadness was very familiar to me.

I could even taste it in her when she allowed me the great honor of servicing her.

I would confirm it a later date, when she and I spent a tearful, therapeutic moment watching the fireworks from her balcony that 4th of July.

You see, my goddess was lonely.

We had found each other at such a correct time, it seemed.

Two wanderers that shared each other’s burden for a while.

She had needed a servant to hold her, and I needed to be called a good boy.

Hmm…

For the sake of protecting the innocent, I’m going to call this beautiful soul… Ms. Persephone.

Based on a book she had on her shelf that we bonded over.

I loved serving her. We would have more dates after this one.

The next day, she had texted me that she had drank the wine at home herself, thinking about me beneath her.

I adored being useful to her. The sun felt warmer that day.

I hadn’t cleaned anything that first session, but I had absolutely made a Goddess happy.

To be continued…

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