My First Submissive

This true-life story chronicles my first experience meeting a straight white jock who didn’t know he was looking for someone to serve.  Meet Whit, my very first submissive.

I had my start during my first year at a Michigan University. On the first day of moving into my dorm, I met Whit. Your typical white jock with all-American good looks and built like a gymnast or wrestler.  He seemed to be extremely outgoing and very interested in meeting me. In the early 90’s, race relations were getting better thanks to the cross-over appeal of gangsta rap and hip hop culture in general.  I believed that many young, new generation whites felt more confident about approaching Blacks.  When Whit stepped into my room and introduced himself, we started talking about our majors.  During the discussion, he noticed a mini Nerf basketball hoop attached to my door, picked up the ball and I suddenly found myself engrossed in a game of dorm room basketball. He had the height and a lot more muscle but I had the skill. I could tell this wasn’t a sport he excelled at.  At one point, while he was trying to block me, he kept backing his butt up against me to prevent me from having a clear shot.

Now I’ve been blocked before while playing basketball.  It’s just natural that bodies will bump that way.  But never like that.  It seemed almost intentional.  But I said nothing… I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy it.  The boy had a really nice bubble butt, for a white boy.

Semester ONE

Over the course of the semester, we started hanging out more since we had three classes together.  My Black roommates started joking with me that I had myself a secret admirer.  That “someone” had jungle fever.  I knew they were joking but they weren’t the only ones to notice how “attached at the hip” Whit was becoming.  I didn’t immediately see it as I’d never had a white friend before and was enjoying the attention he was giving me.

One of our routines was walking to the local 7-11 together.  Whit would find me wherever I was just so that I would walk over to the store with him.   It was a good half mile away and we always walked along the train tracks as a shortcut.  It was kind of private as it cut through the campus away from the sidewalks, open spaces basically any areas where other students would normally gather.  During that time, Whit would open up about his life, goals and concerns.  It was a side of him nobody ever saw but me.  Around others, he was the obnoxious, cocky jock guy nobody seemed to like.  Always obsessed with his fitness and randomly flexing in public to show off for the girls and other jocks.  Trying too hard, in my opinion to fit in.

I’d later come to realize that it was because of low self-esteem.

This came to a head one day while I was chatting with Whit’s roommates.  I had stopped by to meet up with him but he had stepped out.  His roomies had invited me in for a beer while I waited.  They were very verbal of their dislike for Whit and wondered how I put up with him.  I knew Whit was a bit of a loose cannon around others he felt threatened by and this situation was no different.

At some point, Whit had returned and was listening in to the conversation in the hallway.  After one of the roommates said something particularly insulting, he burst through the door and started yelling and threatening them.  He had crashed through the door so hard that the door frame had splintered.  I thought things were about to get physical so I made an immediate exit as it had not escaped my notice that Whit’s good ol boy roommates were probably card-carrying members of the NRA.  Hunting rifles, nasty tobacco chew spitting and all.  Growing up in Detroit, you learn self-preservation and mastering the art of removing oneself from a potentially dangerous situation.

I got the fuck out.

Whit found me later at the library and apologized for his behavior.  After dealing with campus security and the resident hall director, he went searching for me.  He was frantic and nervous that he had scared me off with his violent behavior and rushed to explain what happened and to apologize profusely.  I didn’t need an explanation.  In the hour it took for Whit to find me, I had already figured out why he had flown off the handle like that.

Semester Two

After winter break, Whit and I had only one class together so spent less time as study partners.  At this time, I had met a nice couple, Rob and Amy, in one of my new classes.  They were both competing bodybuilders and we hit it off almost immediately mainly due to my interest in physical fitness and the art of body sculpting.

My new friendship did not go unnoticed by Whit.  He began turning up at our study locations pretending to be on his way somewhere.  I saw him checking out Rob and started almost sneering.  I caught Rob’s expression as he seemed confused by Whit’s reaction.

Later on, Rob asked me if he’d done anything to upset Whit and I said no jokingly saying that he was jealous of Rob’s development.  I knew deep down that I was right.  Whit viewed Rob as a threat to our friendship.

Whit became increasingly overbearing at times to the point where I would actively avoid him as I’d had enough.  He spent most of his time in the gym and the rest trying his best to hog every available time I had.

My avoiding him set off something I had not expected.  I came back to my dorm room to pissed off roommates and a hole in our door.  I’m not exaggerating.  Apparently, Whit tried to put his fist through it when he didn’t believe them when they told him they didn’t know where I was… from the other side of the closed and locked door.  Although, my roommates were built and could hold their own; even they had the sense not to directly confront an angry, irrational jacked up white male who was clearly juiced up on steroids.

The carnage continued up the hall to his room where the door was completely off its hinges and the room totally destroyed.  His roommates were nowhere to be found.  I was starting to get very concerned by this time as I’d never seen Whit get that angry.  Jealous, yes.  Annoyingly vain? Yes, but never violent.

I couldn’t find him anywhere so decided to go to 7-11 for a slushee (an almost nightly unhealthy routine by that time).  Halfway there, from behind, I hear someone running towards me and turn to see Whit. When he reached me, I actually took a step back as I didn’t like the crazed look in his eye.

He saw my expression and immediately stopped running and even backing away a little throwing his hands up to show he meant me no harm.  He asked why I didn’t come get him to go to the store and then just broke down and cried!  This was just as shocking as the carnage from the resident hall.  I never knew how important our trips to 7-11 were to him until that moment.  I didn’t know what to do as I’d never seen a man spontaneously cry, except at a funeral.

I cautiously approached and put my hand on his shoulder.  He shivered at my touch.  I asked him what was wrong.  He looked up and asked if I still liked him.  I said yes.  He then asked if I liked him better than Rob.  I hesitated but then said yes.  I felt he needed to hear that for some reason.  You would’ve thought he had just won a million dollars with the smile that lit up his face. He later confided that he was struggling with feelings he’d never had before… towards me.

He identifies himself as straight as he is only attracted to women but with me it’s different.  He finds himself wanting to please me so that I’d look at him like I did when we first met.  I didn’t know I looked at him any other way than I already had.  But, then I recalled all of the signs.  He always wanted to be around me… following me around like a lost puppy (as my roommates always joked and I became more aware of as time went on).  He sought my approval on almost everything.  He found himself insanely jealous of Rob because he had a more muscular build.  And, knew I admired Rob’s competition-level physique.  He actually thought that Rob was taking his place as my friend and felt threatened as a result.

He then confided that he had started taking steroids to get bigger quicker.  At least that explained the violent episodes and mood swings.  By this time, we were already coming close to the end of the second semester and you could clearly see that the drug had definitely helped him put on more mass in a very short period of time.  But, at what cost?  Nearly getting kicked out of the dorms and removed from campus?  Creating a hostile living environment with his roommates? Gaining a reputation as being a world class ass?

Whit begged me to not stop being his friend.  To give him another chance to change and be better.  That he needed me but didn’t know why and it made him crazy.  I stared at him silently.  Processing.  He was nervously rambling at this point and blurted out that he needed me and would do anything to keep me in his life.  Just then, I remembered something my grandmother had said to me before she passed away.

Could it be… nahhh.  But maybe?  Hmmm.

To test that possibility,  I asked Whit to meet me in one of the quiet rooms (private windowless study rooms you could reserve for an hour at a time).  He eagerly agreed.   I turned to continue on towards the 7-11.  When I noticed that Whit started to follow, I put my hand up and asked him to go now, reserve a room and wait.  He hesitated as if he wanted to say something but turned reluctantly and left.  I did notice his once proud, broad muscular shoulders were drooping a bit.

I took my time getting back to the dorm as I knew that I’d get there at the top of the hour.  After confirming which Quiet Room Whit had reserved, I knocked and entered the assigned room.  I had purchased a slushee for him too and set it down in front of him.  Whit looked so defeated that I felt bad for him.  But, I had thought over the situation during the slow walk back and knew I must do.  I told him that we couldn’t continue being friends.

He lost it.

Whit crumpled to the floor and asked what he had done wrong.  I took a step back towards the door and he quickly got back to his feet and practically demanded that I tell him what he did so he could fix it.  I frowned at his tone.  He lightened his immediately and said he’d change, whatever I wanted.  Sadly, I knew that I was the only real friend he had on campus and he was fighting hard to keep me.

I said that there was one thing he could do.

He simply said anything.

I asked if he was sure.  He said he’d never been more sure in his life.

I told him to kneel in front of me.

It took a moment but he did as he was told.  He was scared, visibly shaking a little and looked very vulnerable.

I asked, are you in love with me?

The expressions that crossed his face made me smile.  It was confusion, surprise, outrage and something else all mixed into one.  I knew he was seriously conflicted.  Blind-sided but I needed to know his answer before I proceeded.

In a small voice, he said yes.

At this time, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that as I was expecting a hell no.  I knew I was at least bisexual (by that time) but had never been with a man sexually and was curious.  So I took the next step.

I told him to kiss my shoes.

He hesitated too long and I turned around to walk out.

I felt his hand encase my wrist in an iron-like grip and turned and socked him hard in the jaw.  A defensive reflex but it surprised both him and me.  I recovered immediately and told him to never lay his hand on me unless I told him to. Then commanded him to do as he was told or I walk away for good.

He dropped down and kissed my shoes without hesitation.

Three Years a Slave

Whit helped me experience having my first sub then eventual slave.  He was also my first male sexual experience, and I his.  During the two years we developed our relationship, he told me that he knows that he is straight but with me he can be anything I wanted him to be.  But only me.  He has felt no attraction for any other men.

By the third year, Whit found out from an ex flame in college that he had gotten her pregnant.  DNA testing was accessible at this time and tests confirmed he was the father.  Whit always wanted kids and wanted to be apart of his child’s life.  And, I allowed him to be.

The problem was that the kid’s mother had moved to his home state of Florida.  I lived in Michigan.  He only got to see his kid once every couple of months when the child came up to visit its grandparents.

Whit served me faithfully and never regretted his decision but I knew he wanted more time with his kid.  I gave him permission to travel frequently to Florida whenever I saw depression setting in.

Eventually, I decided to let him go.  He fought tooth and nail to get me to reconsider and even going as far as to offer to give up his parental rights.  I couldn’t allow that to happen.  The kid loved Whit and I didn’t want him to cheat the kid out of being its father.

So I eventually came up with the following solution…

  • Reduce service to part-time/seasonal.
  • Allow him to retain his status as my sub/slave (long-distance)
  • Order him to relocate to Florida and focus on his kid.
  • Visit me at least one weekend out of the month.
  • Finish his degree in Sports Medicine.

Whit didn’t like relocating as he was worried I wouldn’t need him anymore.  He was still highly co-dependent which was natural in the relationship that we were in.  He relied on me for everything.  Advice, direction, stability (outlook on life), friendship, emotional (satisfying his need to serve and making me happy) and physical.

It was hard the first couple months.  There were a few emergency flights from Florida but over time, he settled into his new role… as dedicated father.  Eventually, his service to me became inactive but he retains the right to stay in touch and to be of service if I ever needed him for anything.

He’s now happy with the arrangement as he knows its my will.  And that’s all that really matters in the end.

Years later we still keep in touch.  He graduated and now works for one of the major Universities in Florida utilizing his Sports Medicine degree.  I’m “Uncle” to his kid and he’s now married (yes, I allowed that).  As I said, he was true to his word that he would never be with another man after serving me.  His new wife is also a submissive so they have that in common.  They are happy together and that makes me happy.

It also makes me happy knowing that Whit would be at my side at the drop of a hat if I wanted him to.  After all this time, I am still his number one priority by his own admission.  Although, he knows I prefer that he focus on his family.

I am fortunate that my first foray into the Lifestyle went so well.  It was unexpected and that’s what makes it significant.  Neither one of us had any formal Lifestyle training but we still instinctively knew our “roles”.

I strongly believe that the key to a successful Lifestyle relationship is possessing a natural tendency towards identifying who you really are.  Whether that is Dominant or submissive.  It is something you just can’t force… it has to happen naturally on its own.

When it “feels right”,  you’ll know.


UPDATE:  At the time I wrote this post in 2002, I never revealed the sex of Whit’s child in order to protect their privacy.  But, as of 2014, Whit’s son, Aaron turned 20… and apparently felt the need to establish contact.  I may share his story someday soon.  But, for now… the tale is still considered, unwritten.


The Black Sovereign Chronicles