As mentioned in my story My Journey Into An FLR, here is a continuation which delves deeper into an episode that stands out in Jason and Anna’s shared history—a camping trip they embarked on to mark their anniversary. While some elements draw from truth, this narrative leans heavily into the fictional, offering a more vivid retelling of their adventure. During their stay in the wilderness, the couple encountered two women whose presence would, unbeknownst to them, enrich and solidify their relationship. The new friendships blossomed, influenced by a chemistry that neither couple could deny. Intimacy and adventure interwove, blurring the line between friendship and something more far more daring. Their time together explored the boundaries of trust, freedom, and love, setting the stage for nineteen immersive chapters that chronicle profound discoveries, and emotional revelations. If you haven’t read the Journey, I suggest you do before starting this new story. New to this story? Start with Chapter 1! Thank you for reading! – RG John
Chapter 9
The conversation had taken a fascinating turn, one I hadn’t anticipated. Anna, with her characteristic blend of academic insight and disarming frankness, was holding court on the historical tapestry of discipline. I found myself utterly engrossed, realizing with a jolt how narrow my own understanding had been. It wasn’t just about the here and now, the personal dynamics I was learning to navigate; it was a thread woven deep into the fabric of human history.
“Women, you see,” Anna began, her voice a low, compelling murmur that drew everyone in, “have exercised discipline over their men since time immemorial. And it wasn’t always the neatly defined male/female dynamic we often assume today. Think further back, to those rigid boarding schools for young boys, designed specifically to ‘take the fight out of them,’ to instill obedience and conformity. The very purpose of some of those institutions was to break unruly spirits.
“And then there’s that curious little book, ‘Gynecocracy,’ penned in 1893. It tells the tale of a young man, dispatched to a school populated almost entirely by young girls, run, I believe, by his aunt. He emerges from that experience, according to the narrative, a transformed individual, a true gentleman, having learned the undeniable power of strong women. Now, I don’t for a moment imagine it was a true story, but it’s a telling artifact, isn’t it? It reveals that even then, the concept of women disciplining men held a certain intrigue, a place in the public imagination.”
She paused, letting the historical tidbit settle, then leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous intensity. “But moving beyond the annals of history, in my own experience, I’ve discovered discipline to be not merely effective, but, as I hinted earlier, profoundly stimulating. Just picture it: delivering fifty strokes… or perhaps a hundred. Consider the sheer magnitude of that power—the rush of adrenaline that floods your veins. To reduce a grown man to tears… it’s a sensation that defies easy description.”
Molly, who had been listening with an expression of increasing astonishment, finally found her voice. “You… you make him cry?” The question hung in the air, a mixture of disbelief and fascination.
Anna’s response was immediate, unhesitating. “Oh yes, quite often. It bothered me, at first, I confess. There was a moment of unease, a flicker of guilt. But then I realized: it’s as intense and as rewarding as the act itself. There’s something undeniably powerful about witnessing a man cry… how frequently do you encounter that? Women, we cry all the time; it’s expected, accepted, even encouraged. But when a man cries, it carries a weight, a significance. It’s a catharsis, a cleansing, even a healing process. It’s good for their soul. Any dominant woman, truly committed to the role, should be prepared to take discipline to that profound level.”
On this particular point, I found myself in complete agreement. A vivid memory surfaced: the aftermath of my own discipline, the raw, emotional release, and then Anna’s arms around me, her whispered reassurances of love. It had been healing, undeniably so.
“And then,” Anna continued, her voice softening, though the intensity in her eyes remained, “afterward, when you hold him close, when you whisper those words of love, when you acknowledge his submission… that, too, is intoxicating. Your body, your very core, will be humming, soaked with arousal by the time it’s all over. Ninety-nine percent of the time, after I’ve disciplined Jason, he finds himself on his knees, his mouth on me. He his amazingly enthusiastic too. And the orgasms… they are truly unreal.”
Her candor was, once again, a jolt. It might have been the wine, loosening inhibitions, but it wasn’t just that. There was a deliberate quality to her voice, a subtle theatricality. She wasn’t merely recounting; she was selling an idea, planting a seed. And judging by the wide-eyed expressions on Molly and Sandra’s faces, I could tell that seed was taking root, finding fertile ground.
“Alright, Jason,” Anna’s voice cut through the lingering silence, a playful command. “On your knees. It’s time to take care of our guests.” I complied instantly, moving to kneel before Sandra first. With practiced ease, I unlaced her hiking boots, my hands gentle as I began to wash her feet. I was just about to begin the massage when Sandra surprised me.
“Can I… request something else?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. She was looking at Anna and not me.
“Of course,” Anna replied, her tone calm and encouraging.
Sandra hesitated, then spoke, barely above a whisper. “I… I want him to kiss… kiss my feet.”
Her cheeks flushed as she stared at Anna for approval.
Molly looked at Sandra with surprise.
“You may,” Anna said without a flinch, like it was an every day thing.
Sandra extended her other leg, slowly and almost shyly. I shifted over, lowered myself, and cradled her ankle in my hands. Then, gently, I brought her foot to my lips and kissed the top with soft reverence.
She moaned, a quiet, involuntary sound.
I moved to her arch, then kissed each toe, one by one—slow, careful, intentional. Sandra gasped and locked eyes with me, her breath quickening.
“I’ve always wanted to have my feet kissed,” she admitted, breathless now. “It’s a kink of mine… but I’ve never had a man willing to do it.”
I finished the first one and moved to the other, this time licking the sole of her foot and then between her toes. I gave her the royal treatment… holding nothing back. She moaned and squirmed. I felt her shiver and I swear she had a little climax. I felt her body tremble and her hips squirmed a bit.
When I was done, I set her foot down with care. Sandra let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Jason,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” I said. I then used the oil on her feet.
“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” she moaned. “Especially after all that walking.”
Once I finished with her, I moved to Molly and did the same—gently washing first, and even though she didn’t ask me, I kissed her feet like I had done with Sandra. She obviously appreciated it but wasn’t as excited as Sandra had been. I think she got more pleasure from the submission of me than the actual act.
I massaged her with the oil, kneading away the tension from the hiking today. The scent of lavender and sandalwood filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of the wine they were drinking. The cabin, nestled high atop the tower, felt like a sanctuary, a world away from everything else, governed only by Anna’s rules.
When I was done with her legs, I looked up from my kneeling position on the floor. “Is there anything else I can do for you two ladies?”
Molly stretched her arms over her head, her movements languid and satisfied. “Can he massage my shoulders? My backpack was heavier this time—had to carry all that wine and my shoulders are killing me. But it was worth it.”
Both ladies smiled, a shared look of contentment passing between them.
“Absolutely,” Anna said before I could respond, her voice smooth as silk. “Jason actually took a massage therapy course. He’s very good.” She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and ownership.
Sandra perked up from her armchair, her interest piqued. “Oh, then I want one too.”
“Perfect,” Anna said, beaming. “He’s here to serve us. Use him.”
I saw both ladies look at each other, their eyebrows raised in a silent, thrilled communication. The word ‘use’ hung in the air, charged with possibility.
Anna gave me a pointed look and winked. I couldn’t help but smile back. This was my purpose. I was the living, breathing testament to her philosophy, the poster boy for her lifestyle, her mission, her burgeoning movement.
Then Sandra, her gaze fixed on Anna, asked the question that had been simmering beneath the surface. “How much is it to join this little club of yours?”
Anna grinned, the expression of a businesswoman who knows she has a premium product. “A thousand a year and a small fee for each meeting.”
Sandra didn’t hesitate. “Sounds worth every penny, especially if I could find someone like Jason. You’ve got my membership.”
Molly raised her glass in a toast.
I moved from my spot on the floor, stepping behind her chair. Suddenly, Molly pulled her sports bra off and dropped it onto the floor, leaving her breasts totally exposed. I suppressed a gasp as I looked down at her gorgeous tits. My hands were shaking as I placed them onto her shoulders, just inches away from her naked breast. I could see her nipple rings sparkling in the afternoon sun light.
I slowly poured a stream of warm oil across her shoulders, watching the golden liquid glide down the pale skin of her back making sure it didn’t crest her shoulders and run down to her tits. My palms and fingers tingled with anticipation. My little guy was trying to break free from its cage.
It was difficult enough and an exercise in supreme self-control, not to let my hands drift forward, over her shoulders, to cup those gorgeous breasts in my hands. However, that would have been a transgression, a selfish act that would have caused more pain for me in the long run than I could endure. My pleasure was in the denial, in the service itself.
“Oh my God, that feels so amazing,” she said, her voice a soft, breathy moan.
I could see goosebumps rising on her arms… and even on the top’s of her breasts. I could see the nipples hardening and pushing the rings out. It wasn’t the cold—the fire in the hearth was roaring. Her nipples swelled visibly, hardening into tight peaks.
Sandra glanced over to Anna, her expression a mix of envy and curiosity. “So, how do you find guys like Jason?”
Anna smiled knowingly, taking a slow sip of her wine. “Well, like I said, they’re rare. And even when you find one with potential, you have to train them. Honestly, it’s not something I ever set out to do. Jason… well, Jason was a chronic masturbator when we first met. I caught him and was so furious I nearly threw him out. But he was the one who suggested the cage.”
“Really? Why?” Molly asked, her head tilted back slightly as my thumbs worked the knots at the base of her neck.
“Because he knew he couldn’t stop masturbating on his own,” Anna said matter-of-factly, as if discussing a faulty appliance. “That’s the thing—they won’t stop without help. It’s an addiction for so many of them. Once you lock them up, though, they can’t even touch their little things and, most importantly, all that sexual energy gets focused entirely on you. That’s the secret. It’s not about punishment; it’s about redirection.”
“Does it hurt to wear it?” Sandra asked.
“Jason?” Anna said.
“No, as long as you take care of yourself. The truth is, the smaller ones are more comfortable,” I said.
“There are smaller ones than that?” Molly asked “It looked pretty small already to me.”
Sandra could see my cage and her eyes grew wide and she shook her head in amazement. “He looks like he is trying to get hard right now.”
Anna laughed. “He can try all he wants, it isn’t going to happen.”
“How often do you release him? And you mentioned he doesn’t have penetrative sex with you… do some women in your group allow it?”
“Every couple sets their own rules,” Anna said, gesturing with her glass. “It’s a bespoke arrangement. Some do allow penetration, especially if the guy has a big enough cock… which Jason doesn’t… he has a penis, not a cock. I mean, look at it. Step back Jason and let them get a better look.”
They had seen it before at the falls, but Anna never hesitated to present me when possible. She was proud of her accomplishment.
I did and I could see them stifling giggles, their hands pressed to their mouths in a futile attempt to contain their amusement. The sound was like needles against my skin, each suppressed laugh a reminder of what I had become in this carefully orchestrated dynamic that Anna and I had cultivated over the months.
I felt my cheeks flush, that familiar heat of embarrassment and excitement washing over me in waves. Her casual dismissal of my size in front of her friends was part of the ritual we had developed. The contradiction of shame and desire had become my constant companion, and Anna wielded both emotions with the precision of a master craftsman.
The air seemed heavier as Sandra and Molly exchanged knowing glances.
Anna stood completely at ease with the situation she had orchestrated. This was her domain, her rules, her world and I had become an integral part of it.
When the giggles finally subsided, Sandra leaned forward with obvious curiosity, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Can we see what he looks like with the cage off?” The question hung in the air like a challenge, and I felt my stomach drop even as other parts of my body responded with traitorous enthusiasm.
Anna’s eyebrows raised slightly, and for a moment I thought she might decline. When she hesitated, Molly quickly chimed in with barely contained excitement, “Oh yes, please?” Her eagerness was palpable, and I could see the genuine curiosity burning in both women’s eyes.
“Okay, if you insist,” Anna said with that sly smile I knew so well, the one that meant she had been planning this moment all along. Nothing with Anna was ever truly spontaneous; every humiliation, every revelation was carefully calculated for maximum impact.
I closed my eyes tightly as my face grew red again, the heat spreading down my neck and across my chest. Anna stood gracefully, reaching for the delicate silver key that hung from the chain around her neck. I held my breath, knowing what was coming next.
In spite of everything – the audience, the embarrassment, the vulnerability – my body betrayed me completely. As the cage fell away, I sprang forth as hard as my limited anatomy would allow, and an involuntary moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I wanted nothing more than to disappear entirely.
Only our doctor and Only our doctor and Anna’s closest friend had seen me uncaged since Anna and I had begun our female-led relationship. To say I was embarrassed would have been a dramatic understatement; I felt exposed in ways that went far beyond the merely physical.
“Oh my God,” both women exclaimed simultaneously, their eyes widening with a mixture of shock and fascination, and giggles, that made my mortification complete.
Anna placed a possessive arm around my waist, her voice taking on that matter-of-fact tone that somehow made everything both better and worse. “Now you see why his little thing is no good to me,” she announced with casual authority. “But he is an amazing man in every other respect. His service to me, both sexual – meaning his mouth – and otherwise, more than makes up for any shortcoming in the equipment department.”
The flush that crept across both women’s faces spoke volumes about their unguarded reaction. I watched as they exchanged glances, clearly wrestling with the awkwardness of their spontaneous response to what they had witnessed.
Molly’s expression softened into something approaching regret as she offered her apology. “We’re sorry Jason. We were just surprised.” Her voice carried genuine remorse, though I could still detect traces of the shock that had initially overtaken her features.
Sandra quickly echoed the sentiment, her own discomfort evident in the way she fidgeted with her hands.
Anna’s arms tightened around me protectively, her voice cutting through their embarrassment with characteristic directness. “No need to apologize. I know he is embarrassed, but he understands his limitations. Most men wouldn’t even attempt to compensate for their inadequacies, let alone succeed at it the way Jason does.”
The warmth in her tone, despite the bluntness of her words, dissolved much of my humiliation. This was our reality, our dynamic, and Anna’s approval was the only validation that truly mattered. I had surrendered not just my physical desires to her, but my entire sense of self-worth, and knowing that I fulfilled her needs made everything else bearable.
With practiced efficiency, Anna secured the device back in place, her movements casual and matter-of-fact as she continued. “Some women use periodic releases as rewards for compliance. I prefer a different approach. Jason earns his freedom only when I find entertainment in his desperation, or when the opportunity for prolonged denial presents itself. Otherwise he never gets out.”
That was it, and as blunt as it was, it was true.
“Ever?” Sandra said, startled, leaning forward in her chair. “Then how does he… you know… finish… you know, cum?”
“He doesn’t,” Anna said simply, letting the word land with its full weight.
Both women gasped in unison, their eyes darting from Anna to me and back again.
“Never? Seriously?” Molly asked, her voice a whisper of disbelief.
Anna nodded slowly, a serene smile on her face. “Never. Jason doesn’t want to have a released—or even have a full climax. Sometimes he used to get a ruined one, a sputtering, unsatisfying little thing. But now, since we’ve incorporated pegging, that’s his release… except for maybe once or twice a month when I let him get fully hard just so I can admire the effect I have on him.”
Sandra looked utterly baffled, shaking her head. “Why wouldn’t he want to climax? That makes no sense. It’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“I will let Jason explain that,” Anna said.
