Ms. Julia lays in bed on her side and falls quickly into a snoreful slumber after her usual bedtime orgasm.
It's not the snoring that keeps me awake, however. It's spooning her with my locked cock nudged up against her crack. I don't fall so easily to sleep. I guess I spend so much of my thoughts worrying that I'm doing everything right, just the way she wants it, as perfectly as she demands. Knowing that she wants me spooning her, that she wants my arm and legs in the perfect spot, and that she doesn't want me to move, keeps me from falling asleep.
In some regards, I'm her pet. She grooms me, primps me, decorates me. In other regards I'm her servant. I paint her toenails, massage her, cut her hair, comfort her, and help her cum to sleep. But there's something greater going on. She's redefined me into a symbol of subservience.
It's not just a kink that she wants me permanently collared, nude, hairless, and kneeled at her side. She truly believes that this is where men really should be. She's convinced that women have a more superior psychology in balancing their intellect with emotions. She believes women make better managers and leaders. She believes that if the tables were turned 180 degrees, where we all lived in a woman's world, humanity would have advanced much farther than we have today.
"Did you know that before the Roman Empire, there were societies where women did all the leading?" she asked me once. She went on to say that men were still valued and respected; they just had their place, the same way women have had theirs, barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.
I realize that I'm just part of a utopian fantasy that she has managed to create between her home, her work, and her friends.
I know that most men would only entertain this concept as sexual play, knowing that the man's world is still reality. And I also know that in today's world of gender equality, I should stand up for my freedom and rights. On the other hand, this life I find myself in feels right for me. Its how I spent my years growing up. Its exactly how I see myself.
Perhaps it's a coincidence that we found each other. Although, I'm reminded by both Fatima and her friends that I didn't just land in her lap, and there were other men/boys who preceded me here.
In some strange way, I want to be the last.
