I gave myself to my Girlfriend for Christmas

To the FemdomU Forum,

I’ll never forget the Christmas I was completely broke. I had nothing to give her, nothing to put under the tree, and my pride was eating me alive. But then I had what I thought was a clever idea—what if I was the present? I stripped myself bare, dug through the closet for a roll of red wrapping paper, and spent an embarrassing amount of time wrapping my naked body as best I could. I tied a ridiculous gold bow around my neck and wrote a tag that said, “To: The Love of My Life. From: Your Obedient Gift.”

I expected her to laugh when she saw me. I thought it’d be funny, lighthearted—a cheeky way to save face. But when I knelt down under the tree, completely exposed except for the paper and the bow, she didn’t laugh. Her expression changed to something sharp, dangerous… possessive.

“You’re giving yourself to me?” she asked, her voice low and cool as she stepped closer. I nodded, already feeling more vulnerable than I ever had.

“That’s what this means, Ben. If you’re my present, then you’re mine. My property.”

My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, so I nodded again. She smiled then—the kind of smile that could melt you and terrify you all at once.

“Take the paper off,” she said simply.

I hesitated, hands shaking as I began peeling off the wrapping. I felt so stupidly small, kneeling naked at her feet while she towered over me in a velvet robe. When the last shred of paper was gone, she grabbed the bow still tied around my neck and yanked it slightly, pulling me closer.

“You really have nothing else to give me this year?” she asked. I whispered a “no,” barely audible.

“Then I’m keeping you. And I’m going to make sure you understand what it means to belong to me.”

She led me to the couch by the bow, pulling me like a helpless pet. I was trembling as she sat down and made me kneel between her legs. She tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Repeat after me,” she said. “I am yours. You own me.”

“I… I am yours. You own me,” I stammered, feeling my face flush red.

“Good boy,” she purred, leaning forward just enough to press her lips to mine—soft and slow at first, then biting my lower lip, hard enough to make me gasp.

“Now let’s see if my new property is worth keeping.”

She made me lie flat on my back right there on the floor, arms by my sides like a perfectly wrapped present she was ready to open. “Don’t move unless I tell you to. Don’t speak unless I ask you a question.”

And then she used me—slowly, purposefully, as if savoring every second of unwrapping the gift she now owned. Her hands, her mouth, her words were all commanding. I was completely under her control. She teased me relentlessly, dragging her nails down my body, forcing me to beg her to touch me properly. And when she finally mounted me, her movements were unhurried, deliberate—she made me feel her ownership of me in every breath I took.

At one point, as she rode me to the edge, she leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You’re mine, Ben. My body to use. My toy. My gift.”

“Yes,” I gasped, helplessly arching beneath her. “Yours… I’m yours.”

That Christmas, I gave myself to her, and she took me completely. Every inch of me. Every thought. Every ounce of pride. She claimed me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. And from that day forward, I belonged to her—fully, utterly, unwrapped.

Yours in submission, Ben