written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Submitted by the author
It took many years for me to get over my traditional male conditioning, to accept myself as a male submissive. The whole process began a long way back when I was about fifteen; I am still tall, and was then an athlete, and was regarded by the other youngsters and teenagers in the mixed boarding house where we lived, as their leader. It was a role I had personal doubts about, but I acted it out well enough to convince the others, I thought. But I later learned that night time conversation in the girl’s dormitory was about the unfairness of the male-run world, resentment at favouritism shown to us boys by the women who ran the place, and how girls were better than boys.
I found out that the women generally are better than man, in the sense of each being beautiful in their own way, generally more intelligent on a one-on-one basis, stronger if not undermined by either gender, and some have natural authority, in an experience which changed me for life. My education and training began one afternoon when I was on the floor in front of a fireplace, reading, I was on my own. I was taking a break, laying on my back, when one of the girls came in.
Odette was about a four feet tall (1.4m), and had Italian features from her mother, long dark hair, brown eyes, really nice body and well-formed legs. She smiled when she saw where I was, and decided to amuse herself by standing on my chest in her slip-on school shoes. So, in a matter of seconds I was looking up at her laughing down at me as I adjusted to her weight, while she was expecting me to tip her off and the fun moment would have passed.
But that didn’t happen. I genuinely felt I was where I belonged, and so was Odette. When she found she was still on top of me I saw her reaching the same conclusion, and then saw the realisation that she had me under her control cross her face as she went from confusion to taking an opportunity she had been looking for. She took some small steps down me to my groin and then turned and as she headed towards my face she said, “I am going to enjoy giving you the treatment you deserve, and you are going to do as I say!” And standing on my chest she used my forehead to drag her shoes off, and then she massaged her authority into my face in her sweaty nylons, and my mind sank down under the power of her scent and under my acceptance of my humiliation, which grew into fulfillment as her pleasure and satisfaction manifested themselves. At the same time I remember trying to agree with her about my submission to her, which was made a little difficult because there were moments when she was using my mouth to express her complete superiority over me, when she wasn’t using the rest of my face.
From then on until I emigrated, Odette reinforced her domination over me. I found when she gave me instructions when I was under her feet as hearth rug, foot stool or whatever and whenever, they had a compulsion to them: I really understood I was there to do as she said. For example, she made me take over cleaning the silver cutlery, which she loathed, and then claiming credit against other chores because the cutlery had been done, leaving me to say, do the drying up in her place. It almost goes without saying Odette would round the day off by going into my bedroom later and administering more trampling to make sure I understood my place.
As mentioned above, I did emigrate, but I think of Odette with loyalty and gratitude, and I hope she is with someone who makes her happy. I did hide for years from being a male submissive, but the condition always emerged as one where I am truly fulfilled, and fortunately my wife is quite happy to have someone who is really very easy for her to get on with.