Content Warning: This story is meant for adult readers only. It contains mature themes meant for entertainment purpose only. The content herein should not be considered educational or advisory in nature. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Text-Only Version
Writing this takes me back years. Four years, to be precise. The times were different. I was still u/iskinky92 on Reddit, but my account was just a means to look into the raw wild world that Reddit offers. I was a doom-scroller on Reddit, looking for the next account which had those series of genuine pictures, which would have me obsess over them.
This story, is about the time I met Bhumi. And yes, I met her on Reddit, and when I did that, I didn’t have the excuse to talk with her because I wanted to interview her for The Wild Indica. There’s a reason, the story has not been around on
in all this time — it needed time to finish brewing.It’s been sometime since I wrote something about me. In fact, if I have to go back, the last detailed story that I had written in first person, was Twice the Fun, and that was close to a year ago. I didn’t want to be shackled by the limits of reality. I wanted to create things out of the thin air, to experience things which had not happened. I started writing about Usha for that reason, I wrote about Sumera for that reason. To have some fun.
So, what changed my mind? A girl in the Starbucks. I didn’t get much sleep last night. After all, I had only one night with her. No, and I won’t go in a convulated backstory of how that girl led me write this story.
You see, this isn’t the first time I am writing about Bhumi. In fact, I had put out our story as one of the first ones when I started writing here. I read it now, and groaned at every other sentence, not out of pleasure, but with disgust at how sloppy I was, in telling you the story. So, here’s a redo! Happy Reading! Oh, and if you are reading this in your inbox, make sure you allow loading for the pictures.
1
I met Bhumi, once, in March 2020, right before the country shutdown. She was the only woman I was with for many months to come after that, and for that reason, I had played out what had happened that afternoon, in my mind, in a constant loop.
I met her, not on a dating app, but on Reddit. Yes, the same place where every other profile claiming to be a woman is, well, a lonely man, trying to jerk himself off while he hears what you want to do the woman he has imagined himself to be.
It started with a post on r/MumbaiGW. The subreddit is full of posts of women asking men to do something or say something. They are laughably fake. This post though, was so simple, that it felt true. This post was by a ‘female’, who was simply seeking Doms in Mumbai, for an introduction to the kink life. It was probably 1130 PM at night, when I commented on her post. Fun Fact — I checked the post today, and it has 2 upvotes in total. I don’t know what’s wrong with Reddit, but the real ones often slip away!
I don’t remember the exact contents of our chat on Reddit. And I tried looking it up, but, they have all been deleted. In fact, when I texted her this morning, she had to accept my new chat request. It’s been a while since she has posted anything, which was probably a good thing, else my DM wouldn’t have gone through to her. And, I didn’t have her WhatsApp number anymore, until this morning, because, every time I have changed my phone, I have lost some numbers, despite trying everything to back them up!
What I remember from that Reddit chat was of it being a performance. A performance to be what I was not. I am not a Dom. I’ve never identified myself with that label. I mean, if you have to “say” you are a Dom, it pretty much defeats the purpose. And about kinks; that one is a little too on the nose. This entire website as Kink built into it, but the mainstream definition of kink is very… broad. Anything can be kink. Fucking women in open blouses. Or making them wear eye makeup, so that they get smudged when they are blowing you. Or making them wear bangles just so that you can hear your thrusts when you are fucking them. Whatever rocks your boat.
So, it was a performance of me, knowing everything mainstream about being a dom, without ever identifying myself as one. And, it was also a performance of knowing whether the person on the other side of the Reddit DM was actually a woman.
After a few days of texting on Reddit, I moved the conversation to Telegram. Her Telegram profile didn’t give anything away. It should not, if you intend to give away your Telegram on Reddit. After a week of texting on Telegram, I asked her what I have always wanted to ask her — how does she look?
“I am short, and curvy,” Bhumi had said. Now, those two things, are big weaknesses for me. There is absolutely nothing to dislike about someone who was short, and a body that had places built in it, to be grabbed. I asked her to send me a photo of her, without her face, because it was her body that I was interested in.
It took a couple of days, and finally she sent me a photo, which changed the way I was looking at the whole thing. When we started texting, talking with Bhumi, was more of a distraction from the mundane. I wasn’t sure if she was what she was saying, which was fine, as long as she was willing to do what she was saying.
And she was saying a lot of things. The name she gave me for herself, Bhumi, was way too simple for the kinds of things she talked about. Bhumi knew what she was talking about. And yes, she was four years older than me, and I have to say that she was wiser than I am, four years later.
The best part of texting with Bhumi was the little nuggets of pleasure, that you get when the woman on the other side, actually tries to put her thoughts down, and be in the conversation. It’s an underrated skill, and too many women get away with being shit at conversation, because there are too many messages to reply to. But, Bhumi wasn’t like most women.
And I know that she must be in the middle of a message hailstorm, because I was texting her at a time when she was a frequent on r/IndiaTalksSex, r/BDSMAdvice and tons of other discussion forums about sex. And one thing I know about Reddit is that, a lot of week-old accounts, just need a quick wank, and they would love nothing more than to get it by texting someone who even has a chance of having a vagina.
Whenever I asked Bhumi a broad question, she will reply with something which was both thoughtful and sexy. It was a constant tug of war between my brain and my dick — whether to contribute to the conversation, or derail it by being blatantly sexual about it. Most of the times, my dick won.
Me: What does being a submissive means to you?
Bhumi: Being a submissive is about trust and surrender. It’s emotional, and in that state I feel safe enough to let go of control and place my trust in my partner. It's not just about the physical acts; it's the mental and emotional connection that forms when I can fully submit to someone who respects my boundaries and cares for my well-being.
Me: And how do you build that trust?
Bhumi: Communication.
Me: I see. Communication like this?
Bhumi: What do you think we are doing here?
I’m not good with boundaries. It is a terrible thing to say, but, pushing the boundaries is what I do. And, if I didn’t do that, I’d have nothing to write about. But, it’s almost never about the boundaries. It’s about how you push them. With Bhumi, every conversation was on the table.
Me: What sorts of things you are okay surrendering to?
Bhumi: Depends on you.
Me: That’s a dangerous answer.
Bhumi: I know.
Me: Okay, we will start slow. Drop whatever you are doing right now. Take off your clothes. Get down on knees, and show yourself to me.
Bhumi: Wow.
Me: That wasn’t the reply I was expecting.
Bhumi: And I didn’t expect to feel this way.
Me: So, how long do I have to wait?
Bhumi: Depends on if I end up touching myself while doing the thing you asked me to.
Me: I’ll wait.
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I didn’t expect to work. It was lazy, and to use a post-2020 word, had no rizz. But, Bhumi replied to me about ten minutes later. If you keep reading the story, you’d see that it’s the only thing that went right on the first try.
In the photo that sent me, she had stripped down to her panty and bra, just as I had asked her to. And she wasn’t lying earlier about being short and curvy. Her breasts, were the kind I could spend hours on, just staring, and tracing them. And her entire body felt like a delicious little submissive package to be tasted. But, the thing that pushed me over the edge, was the message from her that followed that picture.
Bhumi: Is that all, Sir?
I don’t easily get flustered. But then again, it takes way more than a picture to make me fully hard. And, if I am being honest, it wasn’t even the photo. It was the capital S.
With trembling thumbs, I started typing.
Me: Let’s meet tomorrow.
Bhumi: Oh. Where?
Me: I’ll text you the name of the hotel. I’ll pick you up by 12 PM.
Bhumi: That’s too soon. I don’t check-in on first dates.
Me: It’s not a date. I don’t see how we can have safe boundaries for you to surrender at a Starbucks.
She didn’t reply immediately. I took the time look up a few hotels in Bandra, because it was closer to where to she said she lived.
“Why a hotel?” she replied half an hour later.
Before replying, I sent Bhumi the hotel I had chosen.
“Because, it’s neutral. There will be a lot of things for you to be nervous about. I don’t want it to be in a place which was mine,” I replied.
“Okay, why not my place then?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to be too comfortable. Where’s the fun in that?” I said.
It took her another hour, but her reply was short, “I will be around this at 12 PM tomorrow.”
I’ll be honest — I was nervous about this. This was Reddit. And we met through a post about BDSM. And the first and the last letter of that acronym can be troublesome with strangers. Then there was the matter of her being submissive. She was beautiful and big. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel her body, and to dominate that body. But that wasn’t me. 4 years ago, I wasn’t somebody who went out of their way to dominate someone. In fact, I detested that word in the bedroom.
It should be about pleasure; but in this case, to pleasure her, I had to make her submit to me. The fact that the premise of us even talking to each other was her willingness to submit, meant that I had to go beyond what I saw, beyond what I thought was okay, and at the same time, make sure that I don’t push to places that she didn’t want to go. It was a slippery slope, and I had spent the entire night before meeting her, either thinking about her or stopping myself from jerking off fantasizing the things I will make her do.
Despite my supposedly vivid fantasy abilities, the afternoon with Bhumi was nothing like I had fantasized.
I called her as soon as I reached near the hotel. There were still few minutes till 12 PM. I gripped the steering wheel, as I heard the phone ring. It rang and it rang, with no answer on the other end. I disconnected the phone, and stared at the screen.
It wouldn’t have been the first time I was stood up for a date, but it was the first time I was fool enough to believe that all this was true. I texted her my location, and waited.
It was 1210 PM, when I called her again, only to get another no-answer. I drove down the road, and parked in front of a tapri. I bought a packet of cigarettes, and lit one. I looked around, my mind forming excuses for her not answering the phone. I should have called and confirmed before I left from home. But, I wanted all of these seem smooth. And, as a result of all that, I was in a part of town, with nothing to do except smoke a cigarette.
It was close 1230 PM, when I finally checked my phone, to see if there were any replies. There weren’t any. I got in the car, turned up the volume of the music, and started driving back. It was a terrible drive back, with me spewing explicitives even at the baseline levels of idiocy on the road.
I was taking the last turn to my society, when my phone rang. Bhumi’s name flashed through the screen. I looked around, and parked the car before taking the call.
“I am so sorry!” Bhumi's voice was distinct, not sickly or crying.
I took a deep breath, my initial irritation softening a little as she repeatedly said “Hello” to make sure I could hear here.
“I’ve reached home,” I said, more curtly than I intended.
“Oh, I thought you might still be out. I was going to ask if we could meet somewhere close by now,” she suggested tentatively.
The thought of turning around crossed my mind for a moment, but then I remembered the purpose of our meeting. It wasn’t just about checking in the hotel.
“Bhumi, today was important. I hope this is the last time I am saying this — You are to what we agree upon. That can’t happen if one of us isn’t reliable,” I explained, trying to keep my tone even.
There was a pause, and then she replied with an unmistakable sincerity, “I understand, Sir. I’m truly sorry for today. I didn’t mean to cause any inconvenience.”
Hearing her use "Sir" again, just like in our texts, made my dick and heart warm at the same time.
“Listen,” I started, feeling a bit calmer, “I’m not happy about today, but I appreciate your apology. Let’s try to move past this.”
“Thank you, Sir. Can we reschedule? I really do want this,” her voice held a mix of hope and nervousness.
I thought for a moment, then made a decision. “I’ll send you my address. I expect you here in an hour,” I said, deciding to shift our dynamics into reality more swiftly than planned.
There was a brief stutter of surprise on her end. “But you said I’d be too nervous—”
“That was before you were late,” I cut in firmly. “I don’t think we should start all this by letting go of punishments. This is part of what we agreed upon, isn’t it? Understanding and accepting the consequences of our actions?”
Her silence told me she was processing, maybe recalibrating her expectations.
“Yes, Sir,” came her eventual, somewhat shaky reply.
“Good,” I said, feeling the shift between us settle into something more concrete. “I’ll see you soon, Bhumi. And,” I paused, taming my breath, “just so we are clear, there will be a punishment for you waiting here.”
Bhumi was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I will, Sir,” she said, a note of resolve in her voice now, “Thank you.”
I disconnected the call, before I broke character, and told Bhumi that she was welcome.
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I checked the time. By the time Bhumi would be there, it’d already be time for lunch. I didn’t want to pause this whole thing for food. It would be terribly artificial to restart it, after having lunch and a few drinks. Yes, we could end up in bed, but that would be nothing special, nothing more than any of the countless guys who had texted Bhumi on Reddit would do for her.
My home wasn’t in the plan. It was supposed to be a hotel, where everything was a call away, where the bed was uncreased. Nothing in my place spoke of the kind of lifestyle I was inviting Bhumi to. I’m not Christian Grey, and I don’t have a sex dungeon. And the kinds of things that Bhumi wanted were more than just sexual. I knew that because, she had managed to make my heart race, with just a few monosyllable words.
I puffed my cheeks, and let out a deep breath. I started driving, but not toward my home. I had to make a few stops, before Bhumi showed up at my place.
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Once a Sub - 2
Content Warning: This story is meant for adult readers only. It contains mature themes meant for entertainment purpose only. This post contains explicit images, which may not be suitable for public reading. The content herein should not be considered educational or advisory in nature. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental, except for instances involving widely recognized entities, which are mentioned for contextual purposes only.
Of course...
Even if you didn't reach the point, you have been able to capture my attention and excite me. GREAT