Happy femdom story: Melissa Cohen

This is a long and wonderful happy femdom story about Melissa and her boy, Joseph. They have been together nearly 10 years now, and their story is absolutely fascinating and utterly unique. Not least because Joseph was a Catholic priest when they met…

Enjoy :).

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Author: Melissa Cohen

Our Origin Story

I am a newbie looking to be properly initiated into submission.

I am single, no kids, and somewhat flexible in my schedule. I know that I have a lot to learn, but I am great at serving the needs of others. I am looking for occasional play as a bottom and perhaps more. If you feel like taking a chance on a new guy, just let me know.

I met Joseph online, which is a pretty common way to meet people in this “scene,” although not the most promising for long-term prospects. In my eight years of involvement up to this point, I have met only a handful of people online that turned out to be who and what they said they were, and none that were ultimately compatible with me for anything more than a friendship or an occasional play-partner. So what I expected out of this encounter was nothing more than that, and in fact, a whole lot less.

Joseph’s profile popped up on my homepage one day, which meant that he was online fairly recently and fit within the criteria I had selected: Male, submissive, under the age of thirty-five, and living within fifty miles of my house. He had posted one nondescript picture of himself, but it told me nothing. It didn’t even show his face, but at least I could tell his body was average and on the slim side, which I prefer in a boy.

The content of his profile was mundane, but he did sound sincere. I was at least impressed at the amount he’d written, unlike most who either put nothing at all or a quick cookie-cutter paragraph about how they are seeking a “stern mistress” or “strict domme,” of which I am neither. I honestly can’t say why I decided to drop him a line. The profile made reference to his inexperience, but even if he had not said so, I would have known. The reek of newness stood out to me from miles away.

Maybe it was the smell of the uninitiated that drew me in—or, as he would tell you, it was something greater than either of our wills that brought us together. Either way, it started one day in early June when I wrote to say hello. I asked him if he’d had any luck and wished him well, but that was about it. Joseph wrote back to me that he had chatted with a couple of women, but nothing more, and thus began our conversations.

After chatting online for two weeks, during which time he didn’t start to get on my nerves, annoy me, or piss me off even once (a promising sign!) I suggested that we meet. Joseph was a little hesitant, and explained he had been warned by others that it was a red flag when someone asks to meet so soon. I told him that someone who wouldn’t meet so soon was a red flag to me, as I’ve been strung along by many submissives who claim to want to get to know me but either never commit to a meeting time or just don’t show up after we make plans. Still, given his newness, I didn’t think it unreasonable to wait a little bit longer.

My expectations were still exceedingly low after years of playing this game:

Meet a man online (the one in twenty that doesn’t turn me off from the first conversation). Chat for a couple of weeks. Arrange a time to meet in person. Watch nothing come of it either due to basic incompatibilities or finding out that the man in question wasn’t who he represented himself to be. Rinse and repeat.

So went the cycle of my attempts, a veritable “parade of losers,” as my friends were known to refer to my quests for a submissive.

So what’s a little more time online? I knew it would end the same way it always did. I truly believed that this one, as promising as he seemed from our time conversing, would prove worth nothing more than an hour of my day for a coffee meeting and maybe, if things went really well, giving him a taste of a fantasy here or there as long as he was attractive enough to me (physically and intellectually) to warrant my time.

We continued talking without firm plans to meet up, but much to my surprise, Joseph brought up the topic within a couple of days and declared that he was ready to meet. He had reached the point in his life where he felt as though if he didn’t step out into the “real world” now, he just never would. We made plans to meet at a coffee shop near my house and I told him very bluntly (perhaps hoping to calm his nerves) that I expected nothing to come of this meeting. As new as he was, I advised him to explore and meet people but not venture into a relationship until he had a better idea of what he wanted. In fact, I think I told him specifically not to enter into a relationship with anyone, period, during his first six months of exploration. I also told him that there was no way he would be what I wanted or had been looking for. My experience with newly exploring boys has been that they are unreliable and unpredictable. I wonder if I said all of these things to guard myself, and my own emotions, against what may have been a strong intuition of something more with him?

Well, as I now know, the universe (or possibly God) has a way of teaching us lessons that way—throwing us what we need when we least expect it, and proving us wrong at the very moments we are most sure we are right. Despite everything I believed and thought I knew about the way this worked, I was knocked upside the head with a cosmic two-by-four and shown I didn’t know much of anything after all.

As it would happen, that coffee meeting was to be the day I met my slave.

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Not everyone is lucky enough to have a written record of the first two years of their relationship. It wasn’t intentional, but I love writing and I love learning as much as I can about what’s going in inside my partner’s head.

So, when Joseph and I began our relationship, I instructed him to write in-depth emails to me on days we could not be together. I, in turn, wrote detailed responses and sometimes my own unprompted musings. Over the course of a couple of years, we had more than enough to create a book. While our love story might be interesting enough to some people on its own, the fact that Joseph was an ordained Roman Catholic priest when we met makes the story all the more intriguing—or so I’m told.

Our entire love story is captured in “Collared: The Story of a Sir and Her Priest” (Amazon or Lulu.com).

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Spoiler alert: It is presently 9.5 years later and we are not only still together, but married both legally and within the Catholic Church!

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I would like to leave you with one more short story, which I feel encompasses the nature of our relationship so well. I wrote this three years ago and it’s still as true as ever.

The Roots of my Tree

We were lying in bed and I was having a meltdown.

My work-week was terrible. In fact, my last 2 months were terrible. The pressure and stress of accomplishing what must be done each day often paralyzes me with panic. The vast quantity of work keeps me at the office hours beyond anyone else. And at night, I relive the challenges of the day through nightmares in which clients demand I redo time-consuming projects over and over again. Not all that different from the nightmare I live during the day, actually…

So we were lying in bed and I was letting out all this frustration, anger, and fear, and my boy had his arms around me.

“I wish there were something I could do to make you feel better. To get rid of this stress.” he said.

“You already do. You are the only thing that gets me through all of this. The only person who can make me feel better.”

He hugs me tighter and says, “You’re so strong. You deal with things I could never deal with and do things I could never do.”

He doesn’t see it… despite me telling him for the past 5 years, how strong he actually is. He sees me as this pillar. An unmovable mountain. But he never grasps that he is the sturdy base that I stand on, the foundation of my skyscraper, the roots of my tree.

I tell him this again as we lay there. I try to make him understand that as strong as he sees me, I know he is equally strong. For he acts as my grounding: the solid footing beneath my feet. Without which, I might be an impressive facade, but one easily blown over by the weathers of life. With him, I see my own potential not just as potential, but as reality. And I carry him along with me, effortlessly, as I reach it.

And as I tell him all the ways that he is stronger than he gives himself credit for, I am no longer melting down. My mind clears and the world makes sense again.

See? See what power you have over me, even as my submissive, servant, and property? You have the power to remind me of my own strength, which allows me to remind you of yours.

And I realize, as I have a million times before, that the real strength is not in me or in him. It is in us. What we do together is greater than either of us could do alone and even greater than the sum of our two parts.

This post is part of an ongoing project to share positive happy femdom relationship stories. If you’re in a joyful femdom relationship and have a story you’d like to share, I’d be delighted to have it. Please see my call out request for the details, and send it on to me.

If you like this story, you will love my ‘Happy Femdom Stories’ books :). Click the covers to get them on Amazon.

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