My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.
Chapter 10: Personal Boundaries Fall, Intimate Talk, Bathing Anna, Pleasuring Her
Once we were done with the computer, we went out hiking at a state park to get some exercise. Anna wore a pair of tight safari pants, that hugged her butt like a second skin, and matching top. I wore jeans and a tee shirt.
When we got to a remote area where there were some large boulders, she took my hand and pulled us behind them. I was shocked when she unceremoniously pulled her pants down.
“I have to pee,” she said.
To say I was surprised would have been an understatement. I don’t think I had ever watched her pee. I felt excitement coursing through me. Unfortunately, she didn’t let me watch.
“Turn around and keep a watch out for people. You haven’t earned the right to watch me pee, yet. I know you would like that you little pervert,” she said with a smile.
I turned my back but my little penis grew hard anyway when I heard her peeing. Everything about her was turning me on.
When she was done, she said, “Give me your tee shirt.”
“Huh?” I returned.
“I don’t have anything to wipe with,” she said.
“I shivered and took my shirt off and handed it to her. She made me turn around again. A moment later she was handing me my shirt back. When I put it on, there was a wet spot on the chest and I could smell her. My penis throbbed in my sweats. I guess I was a little pervert.
I said, “I need to go too.”
I was surprised when she got a big smile on her face and said, “Okay, I will help you.”
My face turned beet red and I said, “I’m a big boy, I can do it all by myself.”
“If I am going to be in control of that little thing between your legs then I can do what I want with it, right?” she said.
“Uh, yes, I guess so,” I answered reluctantly. Obviously, this wasn’t what I had in mind when I talked about control.
I started to open my pants when she stopped me, slapping my hands away. Then I was mortified as I watched her pull down my zipper and reach in and pull out my almost hard penis.
I was struggling to understand what Anna was thinking. This was uncharted territory for us. She had always been extremely private about certain things, she wouldn’t even let me into the bathroom while she peed, let alone involve me in anything related to her personal routines.
Then, a realization struck me with startling clarity. I recalled a section I had read about FLR dynamics, which emphasized the importance of stripping away a man’s privacy, especially in the early stages of the relationship, while simultaneously safeguarding the woman’s. The reasoning was blunt yet irrefutable: a man, particularly one with a history of poor self-control, couldn’t be trusted to handle solitude responsibly.
Anna understood this about me all too well. She knew my struggles with masturbation, how it had eroded the foundation of trust between us. In hindsight, her actions were methodical, almost surgical, as she dismantled the barriers I had erected barriers that shielded my vices and perpetuated dishonesty. Piece by piece, she stripped away the privileges I had abused, leaving no room for loopholes or excuses.
The loss of privacy was no accident; it was deliberate and calculated, a reflection of her role in recalibrating the balance of power in our relationship. And while I bristled at the discomfort of it, I couldn’t deny the logic. This wasn’t punishment, it was accountability. By reclaiming control, Anna was forcing me to confront the consequences of my past behavior, and in doing so, she was laying the groundwork for something stronger, something better.
As we stood there with Anna holding my now hard penis she said, “Your little penis will have to go down first, I suppose.” She gave my erection a playful tap.
“Yes, but I can’t really pee this with you holding me like that,” I replied, trying to sound composed. “It won’t go down if you keep touching me.”
She paused, considering, then without hesitation, unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them, along with my underwear, down to my knees. The cool air hit my skin, and before I could react, she delivered five sharp smacks to my already red and tender backside.
“Ouch, fuck!” I yelped.
“Watch your language,” she warned firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate. “Now, you’ll pee now, or you’ll have to wait until we get home.”
The sting of her hand and her unyielding command worked wonders. My penis began to wilt almost instantly. My body’s urgency took over. As soon as I was soft enough, I let go, and the stream started with the force of a racehorse.
Anna giggled like a child discovering a new toy. She grabbed hold of my penis and, to my surprise, moved me around, spraying the back of a nearby boulder. It took me a moment to realize she was trying to “write” her name. Despite my best efforts, I struggled not to grow hard again under her teasing touch.
“This is actually kind of fun,” she said, laughing. “I don’t know why you guys can’t ever hit a target.”
“It’s easy to say that when all you’re aiming for is a boulder,” I replied, my tone dry, though I couldn’t entirely mask my amusement.
She burst out laughing. “I suppose you’re right.”
When I finished, she gave me a few brisk shakes before tucking my penis back into my pants. Then, with a satisfied grin, she patted my crotch like she was handling a possession of hers. And in a way, if we continued down this path, it would be hers entirely.
When we got home, I went to my room to continue researching, while Anna retreated to her office to work. Near dinnertime, I prepared a nice chicken dinner. Cooking has always been something I enjoy, and I try to focus on healthy meals, so I take my time with preparation.
We sat at the table, me using a cushion, to Anna’s amusement.
We had a normal, pleasant dinner. Anna talked about her work, her friends, and some of the challenges she faced with difficult colleagues. She mentioned a new young attorney, Michael, who seemed kind and respectful but wasn’t sure if he’d thrive in the cutthroat environment. He agreed with her about some of the more difficult personalities in the office, which she found refreshing.
I didn’t have much to contribute. Without a job and with little to share about my recent days, I simply listened. It felt grounding after the turbulence of recent events. For a while, it was as if none of our challenges had occurred, though I knew they had and that they would reshape our lives for better or worse.
After dinner, I cleaned up, and Anna returned to her office. When I finished, still trying to draw her favor, I went to the bathroom and prepared a bubble bath. I dimmed the lights, placed scented candles around the room, laid out fresh towels, and brought a bottle of wine.
When she walked in, wrapped in her bathrobe, I stood to leave.
She smiled and said, “You may stay and assist me during my bath.”
Her words delighted me. She was allowing me into her personal space.
“Take off your clothes, please,” she added.
I was shocked but also excited. I thought she might be letting me get in with her… we had done it many times in the past. The excitement was dulled when I thought about my still red ass.
Now standing there naked, my body reacted visibly as I grew hard, and I caught her shaking her head with mock exasperation, though she was smiling.
Her bathroom is huge with a large walk-in shower, and a Jacuzzi tub in the center that two people could fit in easily. As I said, I was often in that with her as we drank wine and shared our thoughts. Now I simply posed at the side, waiting for her orders.
I helped her into the tub and then the told me to sit on the rug beside her. I wasn’t entirely disappointed.
She glanced at me, noticing my arousal, and teased, “Does it stay like that all the time now?”
“It didn’t used to,” I admitted, “but it does when I’m around you, or even think about you.”
“Good answer,” she said with a mischievous grin, taking a sip of wine and settling back in the water. “I could get used to this.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, though I had a good idea.
“This,” she said, gesturing around the room with her glass. “My own bathroom again, and you doing things for me without being asked.”
I smiled. “Then you should get used to it.”
Her eyes sparkled as she said, “There’s something else I could get used to.”
“I’m all ears,” I said with a laugh, “ears and a hard-on.”
She chuckled. “I could get used to what you did to me last night too.”
“You mean eating you half the night?” I joked. It was the first time she had mentioned it.
“Yes, and that little tonguing in back. You were relentless,” she said, rather breathlessly.
“I’m am glad you enjoyed it. I am available any time you need me,” I said.
“I will definitely keep that in mind,” she said.
Then she added, “Oh, I printed out some articles from the websites you gave me. I’d like to read them in the tub. Could you get them for me?”
I hurried to her office, curious about what she’d chosen. Skimming through the documents, I noticed some of the titles and felt a surge of nervous excitement. Among them were articles on advanced FLR dynamics, including topics like “Milking Him, FLR and Cuckolding” and “Pegging for the Caged Husband or Lover.”
Several sections were circled in bold pen, including one about the psychological impact of chastity on men… a topic that had initially convinced me to pursue this path.
I returned to the bathroom, handing her the documents as she lounged in the tub.
“You can wash my legs while I read,” she said, lifting one from the bubbles.
I smiled, picking up the sponge as she began flipping through the pages. Occasionally, she murmured “Interesting,” her curiosity evident.
I didn’t know what she found interesting, but I was too busy and excited to ask now. I moved the sponge gently over her stomach, marveling at her smooth, warm skin. When I reached her hips, she spread her legs slightly, a playful smile gracing her lips.
“Not too much,” she murmured, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I want to save it for later.”
I nodded, my breath hitching at the intimacy of the moment. I had been invited to cross a personal boundary and I liked it. The chance to care for her like this felt both humbling and thrilling. As I worked, she stood gracefully, water cascading down her body like liquid silk, and turned her back toward me.
“You still have a little more to do,” she said, leaning forward to rest her hands on the wall, her hips tilted invitingly toward me.
I tried to reach over to wash her lower back, but the tub’s size made it awkward. Sensing my hesitation, Anna chuckled softly. “Get into the tub, silly,” she said.
Grinning, I stepped into the tub without a second thought and knelt behind her. I gasped as the hot water covered my still tingly ass. Anna giggled knowingly.
My hands trembled slightly as I ran the sponge over her lower back and hips, the water amplifying the softness of her skin. When I moved lower, she moaned softly, her approval a melody to my ears. Carefully, I worked between her cheeks, pausing momentarily before rinsing her clean with the handheld showerhead.
I hesitated, caught in the vulnerability and intimacy of the moment, before leaning forward and placing gentle kisses on the damp and supple skin of her gorgeous ass cheeks, working my way to the middle. I gently opened her cheeks.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly, her voice tinged with both surprise and warmth. “Save that for the bedroom too.”
She turned to face me, water droplets clinging to her flawless body. Her eyes locked with mine, her expression a mix of authority and tenderness.
“Now shave my legs and my pussy,” she said matter-of-factly, handing me the razor and a can of shaving cream. “That will be one of your duties from now on. But you had better be very careful, especially with my pussy.”
“I will, I promise,” I said.
I swallowed hard, realizing how deeply our dynamic had shifted. This was an act of trust and intimacy she never would have allowed just weeks ago. I felt a swell of pride and reverence as I knelt before her, preparing to fulfill her request. The look of her gorgeous body almost overwhelmed me.
I had to control my shaking hands as I worked carefully, making sure I didn’t cause any scrapes or nicks on her legs. It was more difficult with her pussy, obviously. Fortunately, she kept her pussy shaved smooth, so there wasn’t a lot of hair to shave off.
After finishing, I helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a plush towel and patting her dry. She stood before me, radiant and beautiful, then turned and beckoned me with her finger. I followed her to the bedroom like a man bewitched, my heart racing with anticipation.
She lay back on the bed and lifted her legs, inviting me closer. The sight of her pussy, open and waiting, took my breath away.
But I hesitated. “I… if I lay down like this, I’m afraid I might… you know…”
“Climax?” she asked with a knowing smile.
I nodded, embarrassed.
“Then I have a solution,” she said, guiding me onto my back.
She positioned herself over me, her knees on either side of my head, and slowly lowered herself toward my mouth. Her movements were deliberate, almost teasing, as she descended until her pussy met my lips. I eagerly began to pleasure her, my tongue exploring every inch with care and devotion. Her soft moans and subtle shifts told me I was doing exactly what she needed.
Her body quivered as she climaxed once, then again. Each time, she grew more vocal, her hands gripping the headboard for support. I expected her to dismount, but instead, she slid forward slightly. I wasn’t sure of her intentions.
I reached up with shaking hands, spreading her cheeks gently, revealing her delicate rosebud. I was almost on sexual overload. I had done this on occasion for one of my long-term girlfriends and she loved it. Anna seemed to like it too.
Tentatively, I leaned in and let my tongue find its mark. The moment my tongue touched her, we both moaned, the intimacy of the act connecting us on a deeper level than we had ever had in our marriage. I was delighted that she didn’t reject my overture. Instead, her movements became more urgent, her pleasure unmistakable as she rode the waves of her climaxes, one after another. Finally, when she had her fill, she slid off and collapsed onto the bed beside me, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.
“Wow,” she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction. “I didn’t know I could feel like that. That was… incredible.”
“Everything was perfect, amazing,” she gushed. “You were so gentle, and thorough.” With an emphasis on the “thorough” part. Then she added, “Especially that little trick you did… uh… you know, back there.” She actually blushed.
I smiled knowing exactly what she meant. “I loved doing it,” I said.
“Then, keep it on the menu,” she returned with another blush.
Then she asked an interesting question, maybe the most important question of all in regard to sex in a FLR.
“Did you do all that for me, or you?” she asked.
The question caught me off guard, but it was one I had pondered silently for some time. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, wanting to give her an honest answer.
I wanted to clarify. “You mean spending all that time eating you and making you climax?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I did it for your pleasure,” I said finally. “I enjoyed it very much… all of it. But if I’m being honest, it’s not something I would have done unselfishly before. I would’ve wanted something in return. Now… now I know there’s no chance of me climaxing tonight. The only reward I get is knowing I’ve given you pleasure. I’m not fully there yet, but I’m getting closer to being entirely selfless about it.”
She smiled, her gaze soft and approving. “I like that answer,” she said. “It’s honest, and I can tell you mean it.”
There was a pause, and then she asked, “How long has it been since you… you know, jerked off?”
“Uh, two weeks, I think,” I admitted, hoping the vulnerability might lead to a little leniency or reward.
She simply raised an eyebrow and said, “That’s a long time for you.”
I stifled a laugh. She didn’t have to tell me. But even as I lay there, unfulfilled, I felt strangely content. Her pleasure, her happiness—it was becoming reward enough.
She said, “Why don’t you get your shower and then we can watch some TV in the living room.”
“Okay,” I said as I got up with my boner waving in front of me. It was unattended and physically unloved, but I knew I had to get used to that.
Before I got to “our” bathroom Anna said, “Use your bathroom.”
For a moment I paused and realized that apparently this wasn’t our bathroom and bedroom anymore. It was hers.
“You will still be sleeping on the sofa … well, after you take care of me later tonight. Tomorrow you can find a bed, night stand, lamps, and such for your office/bedroom,” she said.
“Oh,” I said in a disappointed tone. My office would now be my bedroom.
She picked up on my disappointment and said, “These are the new house rules which are made by me alone, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said and headed for the guest (my) bathroom.
Continue to Chapter 11
“Then, a realization struck me with startling clarity. I recalled a section I had read about FLR dynamics, which emphasized the importance of stripping away a man’s privacy, especially in the early stages of the relationship, while simultaneously safeguarding the woman’s.”
This is excellent and talked about often enough. I agree … the stripping away of a man’s privacy is essential in all forms of FLR. How it looks is unique to every relationship. In ours, it means that I am often completely nude while we are alone in the house.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in the military, but one of the first things they do is systematically strip away your sense of privacy. During my time, there were no toilet stalls, just toilets lined up side by side, forcing everyone to abandon personal boundaries. This lack of privacy was paired with rigorous discipline: grueling physical activity, endless push-ups, running, cleaning toilets, or standing for long stretches holding your weapon over your head. Each task was designed to test and humble you.
Perhaps one of the most striking and symbolic acts was the head shave (and taking away your civilian clothes). For many, hair and clothes serve as a form of self-expression, a protective layer of identity. Stripping that away left you feeling exposed, vulnerable, and maybe humiliated. None of this was arbitrary; it was deliberate. From what I have read, in an FLR, having the man naked while at home leaves him exposed and vulnerable.
In the military, every step was part of a calculated process to break you down, to dismantle the person you thought you were, and then rebuild you in the image they required… a better man.
Interestingly, this process isn’t exclusive to the military. Many women, particularly in female-led relationships, employ a similar principle when reshaping their partners into better husbands, fathers, and lovers. It’s about deconstructing old patterns, breaking through resistance, and guiding them toward becoming the man they want and need. As you will see in future chapters of the Journal, everything that is done to Jason… removing his privacy, caging, pegging, denial… is leading to a new and better man.