The FinDom I Chose: Chapter 2
The Fetish He Talked Me into
I was interested in learning more about Master control_twink. I already knew much of what he looked like. And I was thrilled to learn that he recently turned 30, because I’m into less twinky guys, no offense to twinks. He's quite slim and he looks tall. I could already imagine looking up at him, if I were to visit him, and not only when I was down on my knees. But the thing that turned me on, besides his real Alpha energy, was how hung he is.
What I really wanted to know was how he'd like to use me. Might he dig into my mind to find my fantasies and use them to push me deeper, even if he doesn't necessarily share the same interests? For example, I was wondering if he might push me into sissification, or pimping me out to earn him money, and whether meeting in person to serve as his house slave was even possible.
He said "maybe."
Damn. Was he giving me everything or was he giving me nothing? I really wanted that to mean he was going to entertain all my fantasies, but for now, all I knew were the bits he liked based on his tweets — which were domestic service, feet worship, and perhaps some cruelty. Oh, and findom of course. A lot of findom.
I wanted him to entertain all my fantasies, but I had to wonder if he really would, and whether it would even matter, when all I wanted was to be used by him. I knew I would ultimately bend to his wishes, his desires, his preferences.
He said: "What I'm especially interested in is seeing how, over time, your writing reflects the state of your mind as I shape it. So I'm not going to directly influence what you write about, though yes, I'd encourage you to write about any and all fantasies as they relate to me."
I wasn't really sure how to interpret that last bit: "fantasies as they relate to me." Was he talking about my fantasies or his? Or was he going to make me adopt his fantasies as my own? I guess I'd eventually find out.
Earlier, he had responded to my comment about feet being a fetish I don't share: "You're right; you can ignore my foot fetish. My interests are in using subs in ways that drive them crazy, so if something doesn't work on a sub I don't do it."
His texts arrived while I was on my morning walk to get a cup of coffee. "That’s awesome that you prioritize what fucks with our minds, Sir," I wrote back. "Fuck, I just got hard on the street," I added.
"Good, it's already working," the cocky young Master replied. "But if it helps, I don't mind helping you explore submission to feet too," he added.
"Wait, what?" I asked.
"Well, you did say that it wasn't a turn-off per se, and that what turned you off was just when it became too much, right? Because you do massage feet and even lick them, you said."
"That's right, Sir," I acknowledged, wondering where this was going.
"So, you submit to feet because you are ordered to, and because you want to please men, but you're turned off when men act like you're supposed to be excited by their feet?"
"Yes Sir!" I replied. "There's a neurological explanation for why some people have a foot fetish and others don't. I don't."
"Right. You serve feet because you want to be obedient and please your Master," he said.
"Yes Sir," I acknowledged.
"Interesting," he said. "I bet that in those rare times you did get excited by it, you were just focusing on the Master and what would please him."
"Ah, I suppose, Sir," I said, uncertain.
"I bet you were," he said. "And I bet you'd find more satisfaction the more you're able to identify with your Master, because all you want is to please him. So if you internalize that his feet are a part of him, that submitting to his feet especially pleases him, you may find that you become especially eager to submit to his feet."
"Oh," I said.
"Isn't that right, faggot?" he asked.
"Ah, I guess... Sir?" I said. "The thing is I'm not sure I could get so excited about feet. They’re just feet," I said.
"You're not sure?" he asked. "Think again."
I realized Master control_twink would prefer I'd concede that I could really get excited about feet. For him. Surely he could make me serve his feet even if I didn't fetishize them like he does. But could he really make me love worshipping his feet, simply because I would come to love worshipping him? I'm not a foot slave, but I suspected that he was planning to somehow shape me into one.
He continued:
"Let me paint you a picture. And just remember that our starting point is that you are not put off by my feet. They're well manicured and clean. In fact, I just came out of the shower, wearing my white robe. You're waiting on your knees by the sofa and I lay down on it, placing my feet in front of your face. You can't help but think of how big my feet are, and in your faggot brain you immediately associate that with my large cock. You look up to see my clearly visible long bulge."
That man sure knows how to paint a picture. I could feel myself strain in my cage, and I was too embarrassed to adjust my crotch as I was now standing in line at the bakery.
His text resumed:
"Then you see my grin, as I caught you looking. 'Like what you see?' I ask. And surely you say you do. I bet you'd get hard in your chastity right then. Maybe even salivate, you horny little fag."
"Um, ah, yes Sir. I probably would," I replied, my mumbling typed out, because I like to be fully transparent with my Masters and let them see everything that's going through my mind. Especially when it's showing signs of submission, even surrender. The only thing Master control_twink couldn't see was that my fumbled texting was happening just as the queue at the bakery reached me, and I was having a hard time telling the muscular attendant behind the pastry counter what I wanted to order, while still picturing myself on my knees.
"What will you have?" he asked, snapping me out of my fantasy.
"Oh, sorry Sir," I answered, a little too quickly, and I could feel myself getting red in the face.
He chuckled. "I appreciate the formality. And I understand you like to be addressed as faggot?" he asked.
"I, what?" I asked, incredulous, looking around, relieved no one was behind me to hear what he said.
He pointed to my phone. I absent mindedly forgot to be discreet with my phone, and I'd placed it on the counter face up while I was trying to refocus and choose which pastry I wanted from the display. While I was looking at the display, the muscular attendant was able to catch a few key words in my exchange with Master control_twink.
"Oh," I acknowledged. "Umm, yes Sir." There was no point in hiding it anymore. I could finally look closer at him. He was a handsome 25-year-old man and his white shirt clung to his buff chest, so much that you could see his nipples poke through it.
He grinned, obviously aware of my gaze.
"I'll have a cappuccino and a cheese danish please," I finally said, trying to sound normal.
"Coming right up," he replied, and I went and took a seat at a table, while I continued my text exchange with Master control_twink.
"I think that settles it then, faggot," Master control_twink said.
"What do you mean, Sir?" I asked, at that point not even recalling where we were.
"I mean it doesn't really matter if you're not into feet. If you do come to visit me, you're going to do a lot of foot worship and you're not even going to resent it. You'll be so happy for the opportunity. You'll be so happy to be at my feet, massaging and licking them whenever I want. Isn't that right, faggot?" he asked.
"Yes Sir," I acknowledged. "I'm sure I'd love worshipping your feet, Sir." I really meant it. Somehow it already seemed so natural.
"Good boi," Master control_twink said.
The hot attendant walked over just then. My god, his legs were muscular too — thighs and calves accentuated through his black trousers. He set my cup down on my table. I picked it up to take a sip but I was too distracted by his legs, and then his massive bulge, that I didn't watch out and I dropped the cup on the floor. I instinctively got down on the floor, wiping his shoes and then the floor with a couple of napkins.
"That's alright, boi, I'll get you another one," he said as he patted my head and walked away.
House Slave Fag