I couldn’t help but wonder… what if a guy had treated me the way Regina does, adoring me and longing to spend another second together? Would I ever have met someone who inspires me to be my true self? Would I ever be able to throw myself sexually into a relationship without feeling ashamed about being kinky? Would I ever have considered crossing the stigmatized gender line to be with a woman?
Whatever the case, a single month has brought the surprise of my life. I have discovered that being in love transcends gender and old models about how life is supposed to work. I know that sounds dopey and cliché, but I feel like a different person since meeting Regina.
I have never felt freer or more in tune with my sexuality. She has no dick, but she has so much more. To share my kink with someone who doesn’t judge me is the most amazing thing. She probably feels the same way. Ninety-five percent of people would be repulsed by real BDSM, the kind that is not based on gimmicky notions of vinyl corsets and black dominatrix wigs with the Bettie Page bangs.
So there I was, holding tight on to Regina as we bopped around the city on her electric scooter having the time of our lives. It felt like the most beautiful city on Earth, vibrant and thrilling. We zipped over to the Marina district, which immediately reconfirmed my love of the city. The fog was smothering the Golden Gate Bridge but the sun was everywhere else. Alcatraz was winking at me in the sunbeams. Windsurfers and sailboats were zigzagging around the bay.
I had a micro fantasy of renting a sailboat and restraining Regina below deck in the cabin while sharing drinks with a few friends on deck as we sail the bay. Of course, the guests would have no idea my slave was on board. Every so often, I would disappear to the ladies room where I would take a detour by the slave’s quarters to fondle, kiss, and torture Regina.
Then I had another micro fantasy about Alcatraz. See, when people are kinky like me, almost anything in daily life can kick you to a feverish lust. So about Alcatraz, I’d love to be mega-rich and rent the island for a full week. I would drag Regina into that compound in manacles and shackles. I could lock her up in the darkest cell and be her fucked up prison guard. She would have to sleep on the cold concrete floor with no blankets with her neck chained to the floor.
Occasionally, I would enter through the giant iron door and give her a meal of plain rice… after she polished my boot with her tongue and begged for a bite to eat. Sometimes, I would take her to my warden quarters and lavish her with a two-hour vacation of a hot shower, toasty flannel jammies, a cheese plate, and a bottle of merlot. And I would rub her delicately and show her the softest side of my warden personality. Then it would be off to her cell again where she would have no light and would not know weather it was day or night. She would not know if she would ever escape. I would be her lifeline to human touch. I would own her.
Poof! Fantasy over as she commented, “Shit. We’re running out of the charge on my scooter. We better stop for breakfast and charge up.” So we crossed our fingers and hoped to make it to Rose’s Café. Too bad! The bike pooped out two blocks away at Greenwich and Fillmore. “We’ll push it,” she resolved. We both got off the bike, two cute girls in high boots and bedhead hair, and she began to push the bike. I immediately jumped in to take over. She had no business looking that beautiful and pushing a motorcycle.
But I wasn’t pushing for three seconds when a fine gentleman from the street, briefcase in hand, jumped to our rescue. He said if we wouldn’t mind holding his briefcase, he would push the bike. And so it went. It seemed like the sight of two girls, a dead bike, and a businessman was an interesting sight; We got quite a few looks.
After a few minutes, we made it to Union St. We would be able to coast downhill the last block to the café. We rubbed the guy’s ego a bit with our feminine wiles, and he was on his way with a smile. Oh, and he turned around for one parting shot directed toward Regina: “Your boots are magnificent! Absolutely great!” Regina responded through a coy smile, “Thank you. I borrowed them from her (pointing to me). She has a boot fetish and wanted to see me in them.” The guy delighted in trying to process this, then gave a wave and was off. The kindness of strangers!
We hopped on the bike and rolled a little above walking speed down the slight grade to the café. I asked Regina what we were supposed to do with the bike after breakfast. She said, “No worries. Watch.” She lifted the seat to reveal a little compartment which held a seventy-five foot extension cord. She grabbed the plug and sauntered into the café. A moment later, she came out without the plug in hand and a telling smile. The bike could charge while we dined and then we would have enough juice to make it to my house for a proper charge.
Once we were seated and ordered, Regina had a request:
REGINA
Meg, Let’s not talk about the weather here, ok?
ME
Why, is something wrong?
REGINA
That whole scene last night wiped me out… emotionally.
ME
Is there anything you want to talk about? Are we cool?
REGINA
(Sharing a warm and sincere smile)
Everything’s great!! I’m in heaven with you. I love being your object!! I love the game!! It’s like yoga, I love it so much… but you can’t do yoga all day… or dessert for that matter.
ME
I getcha.
REGINA
And maybe I’m a little afraid of losing you to the mistress. I need both of you, not just one or the other.
ME
And I need both of you! But I’m extra horny these days because you have come to my sexual rescue and allowed me to experience a fullness that I have never known in my life! Thanks, Regina.
I leaned over and kissed her briefly on the lips. That one little kiss sent the electricity of hope and caring through my whole body. I was in love with this woman. She must have felt the same thing because she took my hand from the table and held it close to her cheek as if she was hugging me dearly.
“Hello, Girls.” interrupted an unknown male voice from the side of the table. We turned to see a couple of lads looking at us with pickup lines ready to roll off their tongues. They were a couple of dot-commers, you know, in their 20’s and loaded with stock options about to go public in a major way. I was able to size them up so quickly because they were very confident, but very nerdy, and accessorized on the high-end. One’s shoes were one-of-a-kind leather booties that felt like Nieman Marcus. The other had designer prescription glasses and a Tag Heuer watch.
Dot-commers like these have just enough moxi to come out with this: “Say, would you two like to have some lunch guests?” Nieman Shoes chimed in: “ By ‘guests’, he means we’ll pick up the tab.” Regina and I shot each other a look and approved the deal in our glance. We simultaneously gestured for them to pull up chairs. Nieman Shoes continued:
MR. NIEMAN SHOES
I’m Josh; this is Dave.
The conversation continued:
REGINA
(Extending her hand)
Pleasure.
JOSH
How about a bottle of wine for the table?
ME
It’s lunchtime. I think we’ll pass.
DAVE
We saw you on the scooter and thought we should stop by and say “hi.”
ME
We’re glad you did.
DAVE
(To Regina)
Is your name Wi-fi? Because I’m feeling a connection.
REGINA
Yeah, I’m feeling it… as strong as a dialup modem.
(The guy’s face turns dejected)
Just kidding.
(Gesturing to the empty seats)
Sure. Pull up a chair.
ME
Actually, I didn’t give her permission for that.
DAVE
Whoa. What are you, her owner?
REGINA
As a matter of fact, she is.
JOSH
(Thinking it’s all a joke)
She owns you?
REGINA
Yes. She certainly does.
JOSH
You mean, you’re her boss?
ME
In a manner of speaking, yes.
REGINA
She even told me what to wear today. She has a boot fetish.
DAVE
Wow. Ok. Well how about you ask your “boss” if you can give me your phone number?
Regina and I both start laughing. Then:
ME
Awesome!!! You can come over and give us both backrubs.
(Changing to an unsmiling tone)
We’re a couple.
You should have seen both guys’ eyes widen! They were a little embarrassed too. But Josh was quick on his feet to save face:
JOSH
And an amazing-looking couple you are! Too bad people like us will never get to shower you with the man’s love you deserve.
ME
Thanks. We’ll enjoy showering together instead.
REGINA
She’s not really my boss. You can’t own a person.
DAVE
Either way, you two are gorgeous. Your beauty rivals the graphics in “Call of Duty”
ME
I have an idea. Let’s get the waiter to take our pictures together. You two can Instagram it and tell everyone you had a great lunch date.
Both guys were overjoyed at the proposition.
We all got up and stood by the table. Josh flagged down a waiter and handed him a phone to take the picture.
We used all our feminine allure to make this a photo that any guy, especially dot-commers, would be thrilled to show their friends. They could put it on their office cork board. “Cheese!” and the picture was snapped. The boys thanked us profusely and then headed out. We sat back down to continue our meal and conversation:
ME
I bet those fuckers are rich!
REGINA
Did it give you pause? Would you want to be with a guy like that?
ME
I would be a whore. There would be no reason in the world to be with a person like that. I would never fit. I could never be emotionally or sexually satisfied.
REGINA
Me neither.
After the meal, we thought we should split up for the rest of the day. She had laundry to do and I had to take care of some errands. We could have done everything together, but I think we were both feeling like a little air between us would be good. It’s super important for everyone to have their own space. Besides, we had had a pretty incredible and intense few days and there is no way we could keep that pace up without flaming out in our lives outside the relationship.
She unplugged the extension cord and we headed out on her bike with a nice new charge!
When she dropped me off, we both got a little melancholy and decided to have dinner out together, making a promise not to play the game or end up at either of our homes together. Dinner would just be Regina and I catching up. The mistress would have to stay home and pout.
I finished doing my errands and paying a few bills, still buzzing with thoughts of Regina. It was a pretty warm day (which is funny because Regina had been wearing thigh boots), so I thought I’d hit the beach and crash on a blanket.
I went to Ocean Beach. First, I took a walk along the water, then put out a blanket and crashed out. I was asleep in just a couple minutes. Everything felt cheery and magical. I must have slept a really long time because I woke up, freezing from a foggy breeze coming in.
I checked the time and found out it was almost 6pm! I was supposed to meet Regina at 7. Shit. I raced home as fast as I could and jumped in the shower at 6:28 to wash the sand off. At 6:50, I called Regina to let her know I was running a tad late. She was already at the restaurant! Well, it wasn’t really a restaurant. We were meeting at Steep Brew, a basic burger/Americana pub at 17 and Rhode Island St. We thought a mundane place would be less sexually charged than a fancy romantic joint.
I zipped over there as fast as possible and made it just about 12 minutes late. “Hey, Stranger,” she welcomed. We hugged and I sat down. It was funny, we had been so intimate and exposed to each other in private that now it almost felt like we were college roomies meeting after 5 years apart. It was like war buddies getting together later. We had to reacquaint ourselves with each other in the light of the everyday world.
Clearly, we still had a giant chemistry toward each other, but we both wondered if there was more to explore with each other than kink. We bounced back and forth with some meaningless small talk, while trying to size each other’s personalities up. Would we be best friends if we had never explored kink together?
My question would be answered within the first 5 minutes of ordering. We were at a table where my side was the booth and Regina’s side was a chair. Regina left her chair and came over to park on my side in the booth, scooting in as tight as she could to me. That quasi-awkward start across the table only turned out to be the result of two people with entirely different lives suddenly trying to merge with someone new.
Surprisingly to me, being close to her physically in that moment was a much stronger feeling than my fear about being seen in public “with” a girl. It was that same excitement I remember feeling in junior high when I went on a date with a guy I really liked and he put his arm around me.
It was shocking that someone could actually like me enough to hold me in public and not be ashamed or nervous that it would damage their reputation. Maybe it is my self-esteem, but I have often felt like an imposter in cases like that. You know, they must think I’m someone else from my façade. Or… maybe they wouldn’t be so affectionate in public if they knew the real me inside.
I was always fine in public as the life of the party… the “hot” girl in the black dress who would do daring things. But when things got up close and personal, I tended to be less confident. For me, it has always been easier to fuck like a whore than to have someone hold my hand.
In retrospect, I think I also felt like my kink was shameful and could never be revealed. So in a sense, I was somewhat shallow with people who were interested in me. I didn’t want them to know that there was something wrong with me.
But there I was with Regina. She had primed the pump by sitting so close to me and suddenly I felt safe to reciprocate the touching. I was rubbing her neck and ear as we chatted about the vanilla parts of our lives.
She told me how Tucker is really complex. He has an amazing sensitive side, super empathetic. He writes poems like this one Regina pulled out of her purse to read me:
“Love is a triangle between a healthy body, a healthy soul, and a friendly smile. Love is mommy when she reads to me and looks at me.” Remember, this kid is only 9!
Regina said it is really common for him to write and say things like this. And he doesn’t always focus them on her. He tends to exude this sensitivity that seems out of place for a kid his age.
But Regina went on to describe how he is complex. While he does have this extremely sensitive side, he also has a bit of a self-righteous streak. It is common for him to put others down and judge others. For example, Regina says Tucker often says stuff like, “That guy has a big fat gut! He shouldn’t be drinking that soda.”
So Tucker has this yin yang thing that seems a little extreme on either side. Regina tries to never talk about people pejoratively or in a judgmental way and she didn’t remember her ex doing it either. She thinks it is the way Tucker is coping with the divorce somehow. But he does well in school and seems to have balance, so she isn’t worried about him.
After explaining all this about Tucker, she hit me with a zinger: “Can you believe how blue the sky was today?”
Shit! I was coming to terms with trying to be close to this woman and she has to haul off and start game playing. I really wanted to be with Regina, not that fucking slave. I wasn’t in the mood. We never came up with rules ab
out what to do when one person wants to play the game and the other doesn’t. Great. Frustrated, and being yanked out of my warm and fuzzy bubble, I scoffed as the Mistress, “What do you want? This had better be good.”
Regina, I mean the slave, apologized for bothering me, but said she wanted to give me a present. She handed over a box with a bow on it. I opened it to discover a very expensive-looking black leather corset. This was the kind of corset that was functional, not just lingerie. It was boned and had a very stiff feel that could easily be laced up tightly to constrict breathing and also substantially suck in one’s waist.
I always thought corsets were sexy and feminine, especially when they were the real thing like this one. A flimsy little lace one wouldn’t do it for me.
Regina looked at me for approval of the gift she had given me. I wasn’t quite sure how to react so I just decided to be honest.
“Come with me,” I commanded, leading her to the bathroom. She followed me across the restaurant and into the single toilet bathroom where I locked the door behind us. I took off my top and bra and held the corset in place against my bare skin. “Lace it up,” I told her. The corset was foreign to both of us and she struggled for a moment to figure out the lacing in the back.
But it wasn’t long before I felt the leather tightening up to my tummy. Corsets are designed to be laced from the center first, then tightened outward from the middle. She was really cinching my stomach and I was literally feeling constricted.
She heard my groans growing as the tightness increased toward discomfort. She had the awareness of my discomfort and finally started moving outward on the lacing. The corset was pulling in around my chest and also around my lower back and I was getting turned on. It was a half-cup corset and gently lifted my breasts up as it got tighter. My nipples were exposed just above the top of the leather.
When Regina got everything about as tight as I could stand it, she tied off the balance of the string firmly around my waist. The thing about a corset is that the more you tighten, the more left over string there is when you are done. I would say there was at least 5 feet of extra string when I was all cinched in. I could actually feel my pussy getting wet from the mere act of being constricted by Regina.
Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman Page 12