A Canadian submissive, currently based in Shanghai, recently approached me with a craving both specific and deeply personal: a session centered entirely around his feeding fetish. His desire wasn’t just about food—it was about the ritual, the intimacy, the surrender. He longed to be fed morsels already softened and broken down by my mouth, each bite transformed into something tender, intimate, and deliberately given. For him, it wasn’t just an act—it was a relinquishing of control, one slow, deliberate bite at a time.
I offered him two paths. If he had the nerve, we could take this experience into the public eye, layering his submission with the added thrill of exhibitionism. Or, for something more reserved, we could keep it behind closed doors, where the intimacy could unfold in quiet privacy.
He didn’t want to choose—he wanted both. And I was more than happy to oblige.
We began in the hush of his hotel room, the air thick with anticipation. Everything slowed down. I chewed each bite carefully, sensually, my eyes never leaving his. He knelt before me, mouth open, trembling, eyes wide with hunger—for the food, yes, but more so for the feeling of surrender. Each offering was deliberate. Each moment stretched, soaked in tension. Every bite became a lesson in obedience; every look, an unspoken command.
Later, I led him outside. We chose a quiet park, just sparse enough to be discreet, yet public enough to add the weight of risk. He sat obediently on a bench, posture straight, his nervous energy palpable. And there, under the open sky, I began again—feeding him slowly, intimately, daringly. This time, every bite carried a new charge: the thrill of being seen, the possibility of being caught. And with it, his submission deepened.
In the end, he got exactly what he craved—two sides of surrender. One private, tender, and deeply personal. The other, bold, exposed, and laced with risk. And I? I relished every moment of guiding him there.