“So, tell me about yourself,” purred Mistress Ashley from across the table. 

Mistress Ashley was one of the most well-known dommes in the Seattle area, specializing in just about everything in the world of BDSM. She was a 29-year-old intellectual blonde who stood 6’2 barefoot, with a busty athletic build from her collegiate basketball days. She wore a tight black dress that revealed her luscious curves, sporting thin black nylon socks and red lipstick that could pierce through an armored truck. She was everything that I thought a woman should be.

It was the moment of truth, as I had saved up a few checks over the last two months to be able to have an in-person session with her, and here she was— asking me about myself while she sat inches away from me. Her natural musk was amazing, as the smell of her YSL perfume mixed in with the slight smell of her armpits. We had set up an introductory dinner to go over protocols and other important information before our session the next day. I had to ponder for a few seconds before I could come up with a worthy answer for her question. 

“W-well, my name is Chris, I’m 24-years-old, I work retail for a living, I played varsity volleyball in high school, but I never took it serio-“

“No silly, I already got all of that information in the initial application process. I want to know the real you. I want to know of your desires, your motivations. Why did you come to me?”

I was shook by the directness of her rebuttal. Her polite nature and charisma definitely took the edge off of such an intricate question, so I felt inclined to answer as honest as I possibly could. 

“For as long as I could remember, I’ve always been a submissive person in the bedroom. But sometimes I feel like it extends even deeper than that— I feel like I’m a submissive person in general. I love to be taken advantage of, but I have trouble articulating that when I go out on dates. It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s a good start!” she replied enthusiastically, nonchalantly scooting herself closer to me. 

We were at a local bar in Downtown Seattle, and the booth we were in seemed to shrink more and more as she got closer to me.  

“Think of me as your safe space, Chris. Talk to me about your fetishes that you had listed when you applied to see me, because I think they’re more than valid.”

Coming right out with the big guns, are we? 

“I have a particular fetish for a woman’s sweat. There’s the physical aspect of it all— the natural scent of unwashed armpits, the allure of a sweat-stained sports bra after a workout, the essence of it all. It drives me insane.” 

“I absolutely love the sweat fetish community! You know, my first ever video shoot was a man being forced to worship my sweaty feet after a workout. It actually made me feel like a queen, being worshipped like that,” she responded. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she’d had sweat fetish-based sessions in the past, which gave way to even more honesty oozing from within.

“See? It’s awesome!” I giddily joined back in with. “I think the sweat fetish is a cool one because it involves so many other fetishes along with it, you know, like foot fetishes, armpit fetishes, smothering-“

“Giantess, perhaps?” she slyly retorted. 

Huh, she nailed it. 

From my perspective, macrophillia was one of the most taboo fetishes out there— goddesses the size of buildings roaming around and preying on poor little men, completely using them however they saw fit. I’m sure that other submissive men had this fetish too, but to me, it was always something to hide and feel shameful over. My embarrassment was written all over my body language, but I shyly agreed with her. 

“It makes perfect sense, does it not? You love being taken control of by dominant women, and it would only make matters far more intense if the woman was ten times the size of you, yes? Don’t you agree with me?”

“Yes, Mistress Ashley,” I agreed. 

Unfortunately, the laws of physics surely prevented such a fantasy from happening overnight. It was impossible for me to shrink down to the size of a doll, let alone have a woman grow to be ten times her normal height. 

“So, now that I know you a little better, I guess I should let you in on a little bit about myself,” Mistress Ashley whispered in my ear. Now she was right next to me, thigh-to-thigh, the smell of her heavenly perfume and damp pits infiltrating my nostrils. 

“I chose to be a mistress for many reasons— I’ve always dominated men throughout my life, starting out when I was a young teen. I’d coax my male friends into letting me tie them up, or I would punk the bullies in my middle school. As I grew older, I was able to figure out that I enjoy power dynamics quite much. Nothing turns me on more than taking and holding the power in any given situation, and that’s why I get to enjoy what I do for a living every day.” 

My palms became sweaty and clammy, as my legs started to shake under the table from arousal. My erection couldn’t have been harder.

“If I’m being honest, is there any power dynamic more satisfying than a man being shrunk down to twelve inches in size and being in a giant woman’s clutches after a grueling workout? Hahaha!” I nervously chuckled. We were both two vodka sours in, so I wasn’t holding back one single iota. 

“But I’m not naive,” I continued. “I know that could never happen.”

“Now hold on, what makes you so sure that could never happen?” she inquired. For such a bold statement, her tone suggested that she wasn’t kidding. My curiosity was peaked. 

“I…well…I mean, it’s just the laws of physics. There’s no technology out there yet that could ever do something like that. That’s some sci-fi shit, with all due respect, Mistress.” 

She had a challenging look in her eyes. “You know, I’m sure anyone in their right mind would agree with you. So how about we do this— come to my dungeon tomorrow at 1:00pm sharp for your session, and we can discuss this further. Sound good enough for ya?”

It was a deal. 

We spent the rest of the night getting to know each other over a wonderful meal, going deeper and deeper into each of our psyches, revealing all of the intricacies that played into our sexual interests. Not only was it a riveting conversation, but it was very educational, perhaps even inspirational. As someone who never had the chance to talk about their true sexual desires with someone, it was a very cathartic moment for me. I paid for the meal, we said our goodbyes, and we parted ways until the next day. 

I knew I was in for an amazing session either way. Mistress Ashley was stunningly beautiful, intelligent, personable, and most importantly— she knew exactly what I wanted now.  

There was no going back.