I Command You Not To Eat

I have always been very acquiescent. I never argue with or question authority but, in reality, I intensely dislike somebody commanding me about because in life I never choose my commanding officers – this comes from hierarchy at work or any other organisation implementing a ranking system.

At my most rebellious, I tend to undermine authority behind their back, but direct confrontation is not my style. Normally, I will do what I like and if found out, I will spin the truth the way I need it to sound. It is not very complicated, I am good at plotting, it’s much more fun than following orders. Following orders gets you nowhere, it’s boring (unless you’re in the army).

A necessity of somebody else’s executed by my effort.

The only exception when I do follow orders – willingly – is when I choose a Dom or Domme of my liking to dominate me. My favourite kind of acquiescence. For a change it is my necessity which leads to my sexual pleasure.

Last time I was dominated was with one of my Doms, the voyeur. He invited two men to please me. I wanted to be “raped” – I did not want my immediate needs to be taken into account. I was tossed about and manhandled. My necklace broke in the process. I was completely satisfied. There was a beginning, a middle and an end. A two-hour long kinky story.

I do get unquenchably thirsty for this short-term sexual pleasure sometimes – similar meetings were repeated on several other occasions, they were equally pleasant, equally successfully resolved, timewise of the same duration. Domination serves its purpose – it gives both my Dom and me what we want, without getting too deep into why we want it. Orgasm cannot last for two days, this kind of domination session is always going to be short.

What kind of domination could last longer?

Keeping somebody in a cage for a day, having a slave, hiring a “maid” and getting your husband to fuck her through the day whilst she tidies up – these are options stretching to a length of a full day, with a mutual crescendo at the end – that sounds good to me. Whichever way I look at it, domination is about sexual pleasure and so it should be.

But I want to take this further: what if psychological domination served a different purpose, in addition to sexual fulfilment?

What if I could find a Dom who could help me go on a diet? Say, 20-day-long contract. With orders and rewards of sexual nature, of course, in between. Not that I have a huge problem with my body weight, the photos on the Ruby Ray blog are of me, but I would like somebody else to fight my never-ending battle with food.

The way I imagine it would go is this:

Day 1:

I get up in the morning, 8am (because I must, I do not want to upset him, I send a message saying “I am up” to time stamp it). I take a picture of myself naked against a wall. This is the spot where I am supposed to take a naked picture of myself every day and make a collage of photos on day 20. As well as my weight. I record it on a chart: 56 kg. My goal is 52.

At 10am I am allowed to have a coffee. I make it with 100ml of milk and 5g of sugar. 49 calories recorded. A message pings in to have my coffee naked on the sofa. I do. The coffee tastes better like this.

At 12 midday I start cooking a meal of my choice. He wants to know what it is and how many calories. It is a warm chicken salad, 350 calories. “Can I please have some chocolate with it?” No. I have half an avocado, 161 calories.

I am allowed to go about my day without much interruption, we find a healthy balance where we concentrate our need to dominate and submit to reasonable hours.

“What do I do with the fucking chocolate then?” It annoys me every time I look at it. I hide it – out of sight policy.

5pm. I am quite dizzy, I have not eaten much, although I know this is enough for me to not only survive but also be productive. So I write.

6pm. I start making my soup, 300 calories, two pieces of bread, 200 calories.

I have just reached 1000 and that is all I can eat today. Tomorrow will be a bit more.


One of my lovers comes over. I let my Dom know – he would not dominate me without me giving something back. As instructed, I put the camera on wide angle and we have sex, I live stream it.

My Dom especially likes the setup where I am on my belly and the man is finding a way to my pussy, slides in. No “in and out” is actually visible up close, all is in side-view shot, it’s just knowing what happens. I look into the camera, into “his eyes”, as he says. Then – and this is where I know my Dom is likely to cum – my lover slides out of my pussy and finds his way into my ass. I close my eyes, I frown a little – it never ceases to be a surprise. The angle has now changed and my lover is a bit higher with his thrusts and I frown a little more until I submit completely. I smile to the camera. I am sure he has cum.

I turn over and get my legs on his shoulders. Wherever he chooses to cum it does not matter – I would prefer my ass, it’s more animalistic. He slides into me – so nice! We both come soon after.

A message pings into my phone with a screenshot of our last sex position. It’s nice, but I am overwhelmed by my desire to eat. I am actually very hungry. I wish them both good night and lull myself to sleep as soon as I can.

Day 12:

I am now at 53kg. My chocolate is untouched although it has not been easy. Not easy at all. My daily 8am photo taken, my chart updated.

I am at my desk, with glasses on, I concentrate, I frown.

A message requiring a picture of my legs pings in. I go to the toilet cubicle, sit on the toilet and expose my legs – on one thigh I write “whore”, on the other “slut”. I take a picture. It does not excite me, we just have a symbiotic relationship for another week or so. I send the picture to him and go back to my desk. I do not like being disturbed when I work. The next message, however is more welcome: “Good progress. I like it. At 7pm today put a blindfold on and open the flat door. Let them in. Reward day.”


At 7pm I am blindfolded, in my flowy pink short summer dress and black underwear, sitting on my sofa. I hear footsteps, two men talking, their voices are soft. I hear them come into the flat and close the door. They come into the living room but do not address me. They just talk to each other, not much, just planning what to do next. They are whispering, I cannot work out wat language it is.

One of them pulls me up, so my back rests on the backrest. His hands are very soft, he’s careful. I hear them undressing – zippers being unzipped, the sound of clothing falling on the floor. One of them steps on the sofa and stands up in front of me, I hear him stroking his cock. The other spreads my legs and removes my underwear. I am still in my dress. He moves me down so my crotch is at the edge of the sofa.

For several seconds nothing happens, then I feel one sliding into my mouth and the other into my pussy. “Ah! So nice, so so nice!” this setup makes me wet. Not knowing who is fucking me is dizzying.

The men move in and out of me in many different positions, they get me naked, they tie me up – today I am a sex doll and I love it.

When I try to say something, one of them puts his palm on my mouth and takes it off when I stop attempting to speak. I do not know how much they enjoy being with each other with the same woman, would they not prefer her each to himself? It’s something I can never guess. Do they even speak my language? Although it’s fairly irrelevant – this is a situation where language, quite obviously, is unnecessary.

One of them is now fucking me from behind, the other has put his soft hands on my neck. Instead of getting his cock into my mouth, he slides in his tongue and we kiss and kiss, and kiss. It’s quite a vulnerable state – kissing connects me to my partners much more than fucking.

Our tongues fight, saliva mixes and there is a cock in me too – it cannot get any better. He kisses the way I like it. Now I wonder who he is.

To finish, they get me on my knees and I stroke their cocks. I wank them until they cum on my face. Then the kisser licks my pussy and the other, for some weird reason, licks my forehead. I cum.

One of them dresses and leaves, without a word to me but just before he goes, carelessly says “See you later, Ben”. None of them notices the slip, but I am deprived of vision, all other senses are very acute. “Ben”. I register that. The other showers me if one can call it a shower – my blindfold is still on, it’s uncomfortable, but at least the cum is off my face.

He wraps me into a towel and sits me on the sofa, then kisses me on the mouth (“so Ben is the one who kisses well!”). He clears his throat as if wanting to say something, but does not. I perhaps would also like more interaction – we could abandon this game and chat, but the moment passes and we don’t. Now I want him to go, the wet blindfold annoys me. He dresses and leaves.

When I hear the door close, I tear my blindfold off and check my phone – there is a short video of him kissing me, the other fucking. The faces are not clearly visible at this angle. It’s good not to know them – I would not need any small talk or smiles if I ever see them in the street. Oblivious orgasm. I look really good in the video – much slimmer. This experiment is worth it on many levels.

“Which one was better?” he asks.

“The kisser” I answer.

“Tell me more,” he demands.

“I have a work phone call,” I lie. I prefer keeping more emotional details to myself. He has the video, he can masturbate to that.

Day 20:

I am now at 52kg and our game is complete. I cannot lose more weight, I would look like scarecrow. Now, maintaining this is important. I prepare a collage of photos – it’s a wonderful change. I think I will frame it to always be my motivation. The Dom says he will check on me from time to time, I am ok with this. “Last thing,” he adds, “Keep your door unlocked for 10pm tonight.”

I do. This time I do not have to be blindfolded. At 10pm sharp the door opens and a man steps in. He’s quite tall and slim, brown hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven, smelling of musky perfume. I smile at him “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, “I am Ben.”

Merci beaucoup! Time to enjoy my prize.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: