Sure, She asked me about my submissive dreams & fetishes and She listened attentively. And yet, She brushed them aside and followed Her own voice (or my screams, depending on which side of the whip you’re standing). She didn’t compromise or anything. Not because She wanted to punish me, or deny me my hopes and dreams. It just wasn’t Her cup of tea. She had Her own style, Her own ideas of male slavery. I’m still immensely grateful for that, because a Mistress is not a jukebox or a beardless Santa Claus. A slave should take it as it comes, that’s why he’s called a slave. If slavery means getting rewarded for being obedient, then who are we kidding. So She trained, punished & used me as She saw fit. And I worshipped Her for that. Because there’s only one way that leads to the amazing grace of real slavery. Her way.