I’m the other woman and I’m here to share my side of the story.
Let’s scale back to 2016…
You’re all aware by now that the three of us met through mutual friends at a party, but what you don’t know is what Queen Mo and Master James are like when you first meet them. I was told about both of them prior to the party. That I would really get along with Queen Mo, for we share similar passions (oh, if they only knew just how right they were!) for writing.
Upon introductions I was instantly captivated by Quean Mo, her presence alone is like a disco ball on a dance floor, all flourishing hair and permeating giggles. She is bubbles floating in a spring breeze and carries an enigmatic sparkle about her. James too commands attention. His eyes are soft and telling of something altogether deeper, wiser, yet his smile is playful, and somehow provocative. The two together are electric, magnetic; one cannot help but be drawn in.
I watched them that night, while I was engaged with others, and wasn’t sure if my desire was to be like them, or be in a relationship like theirs. My then relationship was flat, that’s all I can really say.
I was confronted by those facts that night, which ensnared me to a path that ultimately (obviously) led me here. An entire story in and of itself. However, at that particular juncture in 2016, my inner conflicts arose and spoke to me as I silently sought out James and Quean Mo where they stood on a patio deck overlooking a lake. Fairy lights haloed around them like fireflies, their heads bent close and softly talking – with intent? Perhaps.
I caught eyes with James.
It was brief.
But I felt it; a very unexpected feeling down there.
I had begun to throb.
Something about the two of them made me feel sexual energy. I recall how my breath quickened and my stomach tilted, in a very demanding way. I was turned on – by the two of them!
Please, let me state here and now that none of us had ever discussed anything of a sexual or sensual nature at this point. All very PG stuff going on. I pried my gaze from them before they would catch me still staring, and retreated into the throng of guests. A little while later Quean Mo pulled me aside for a chat. I couldn’t figure it out but it felt like she was flirting with me…
I identify as straight, and don’t have any sexual needs to be met by a female. That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate and revere a woman’s body, mind and soul, and oh how I did with her. I was all heat and breathless words as we spoke, unaware of her sexy lifestyle. (As an aside, the next day I got myself off hard from the pulsating grip that had overtaken me.)
Then, life carried on.
They relocated to France. I relocated as well, with my then partner and our child. Our lives took very estranged routes; however, Quean Mo and I stayed in touch. She tentatively introduced me to her blog. I was immediately enthralled, taking my phone into the privacy of the washroom where I wouldn’t get caught, to devour her articles. It was then I started to recognize themes in my own life that made me understand I too have fetishes, and that I identify as a submissive – and not just in the bedroom. I am 💯submissive, in all areas of my life.
As I read through her articles, particularly of James and his Dominance, I began to feel the power of the sub in me, and an insatiable hunger to be claimed.
A couple of years later, having moved back to the US, becoming single and starting a low key OnlyFans account that I spoke about with Quean Mo over voice texts – both of us were curious about each other’s creative outlets. For mine though, I was seeking more. It came down to the fact that while I know I’m subby, I still hadn’t been with a true Dominant. I had discovered some likes and dislikes, but I craved being owned. Wearing a collar and leash. Being claimed by my Master and pleasing him, for his and my ultimate pleasure.
A random monotonous day.
Received a random titillating text.
Why not Quean Mo?
James and I had never really spoken past the time of the party, so when he queried as to whether I’d want to get together with them when they travel to see our other friends, my interest was indeed piqued!
The text itself was not titillating, it was the connotation, reading between lines that gave me jolts of excitement. And perhaps there was absolutely nothing to his text at all, except to coordinate a time to meet up when they come to visit.
Buuut if I didn’t feel it out, I would never know what kind of fun they had in mind?
I had to find out. So when I coyly suggested a “certain kind of fun could be had at a certain type of venue” I felt his thrill emanate through the phone. James and I carried on a conversation that quickly led to me subbing myself out to him. In a panic I wrote to Quean Mo to tell her so she wouldn’t think I was being sneaky. She was actually beside James and he was giving her a play-by-play account, and in that, my anxiety quelled.
From a simple innocent text…
And wouldn’t you know, desires kindled, safety formed, even though the mystique of the experiences had yet to translate in real time, because of the fuse – The tether?
The one true Quean.
She commanders the entire trifecta. Without her, this dynamic wouldn’t have the same fire. Her turn on is mine. Is also his. And her turn on is his turn on.
Her turn on is sharing and knowing, perhaps listening. And when she knows everything, my throbs turn into a painful insatiable ache. I need him to want me and fuck me so she can reach her climax. I know no bounds with them. Everything is something yet to be discovered.
The build up…
In essence, Master James is patient. He has honed his Dominance like a craft, creating a safe space for free play. Emotional intelligence is his game and it shows. Emotions occur like fireworks or a flood, they happen in varying degrees and combinations that can be unique to each individual to experience.
James anticipates that he may not know what emotion is going to arise, and be felt, and so he asks questions, uses empathy, contextual stories to help relate (but asks first, if he may tell them). He feels out the temperature before and during every sext because he is aware it may not be the same as the last. He is conscious of the female cycle. He remains calm, poised, and ready to discuss anything. In all of this, he fosters an environment and relationship built from compassion and of trust for his sub to grow within and feel at ease to please (and be pleased!).
When he asked if he could tell me his rules, I felt heat on my inner thighs.
“Yes, please Sir.” I said.
And he told me, “You already know Rule #1: Always address me as Sir. Rule #2: You will not wear a bra or panties. Rule #3: You will ask if you can orgasm. Do you think you can obey these rules?”
While I couldn’t hear him, his voice resonated inside my rib cage. “Oh, yes, yes, Sir.” My fingers trembled and wrists shook as if I squeaked a response instead of typing.
While I’ve always been a submissive – it’s innate – I’ve not been with a true Dom. So, I crave to see his darkness. I feel myself figuratively falling to my knees salivating to please and take his orders. How I desire to call him Sir in person and ask for his permission to cum. And I want her to know it all, to hear everything that happens between me Master James, and watch, if she so desires. Whatever turns her on the most, so I must please James, to ultimately please his Quean.
What is happening?
To be fair, I don’t need an explanation or rule book. As long as we three continue with strong communication, the pleasure of the body and mind will only expand.
For it was when James and I finally got online, the two of us alone, I immediately felt comfortable, and safe. His eyes were gentle, and wise, like a deer, and yet I understood my position. Our conversation felt taboo, like I was doing something wrong, but I knew that I wasn’t. We pussyfooted around the main subject. Of me being his sub. He showed me some of their toys, to get a feel of some of the things I would like, and with each one a story began to unfold.
I could see the scenarios he was building, behind those eyes. And it was incredibly hot – the thrill of engaging in a conversation that subtly danced around our impending actions was intoxicating—a tantalizing wordplay.
I had a moment where my shyness took over and I could sense his delight. The conversation got him hard. I could discern it before he told me. He was being patient, taking everything very slowly with me, but when my nipples fell out of my top, his gaze intensified. Then, he requested – no, it wasn’t exactly a demand – if he could reveal the impact, I and the conversation had on him. Intrigued, I consented.
He showed me his cock growing, pulsing in his palm. And while I was turned on, I still felt like something was off.
She wasn’t there.
She electrifies the relationship. It lives and surges through her. But she wasn’t there, to know or hear us, and so, at least for that time, we said our adieu.
I wanted his cock hard. I wanted to know his desires. I wanted him to tell me what he wanted to do to me. In the moment however, my turn on took a back seat because, as it would turn out, I needed Quean Mo to be involved, somehow. Her turn on commandeers our dynamic.
This wasn’t something I expected, and yet, gives me so much comfort.
I’m very much looking forward to the next time, when we may dive in further. The three of us have discussed a naughty vid chat where she listens or gets him off while he watches me get off.
Now, that. That turns me on…
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