I never get nervous about first dates, but here I am, battling a fluttering gut and palpitating heart.
In less than 20 minutes he’ll round the corner and I will feel his arms around me as we hug hello. I will get to fill my nostrils with his scent and feel the vibrations of his own nerves through my fingertips.
I’ve strategically placed my purse on the seat so he must sit as close to me as possible. I don’t think he will mind.
The hotel lounge fragrance is both sweet and decadent and the staff are politely chatting with one another as bottles clink and ice is scooped. A gentle, pulsing melody floats overhead.
I’ve shaved my legs and even my pussy, but didn’t wash my hair. It’s my way to syche out the Universe. Or confuse it. I don’t know what I want with this young man tonight.
All I know is that if I had not shaved my overgrown snatch, he absolutely for sure would have ended up with his face buried in it later.
Once from a crowded lobby where he’d said it’d only been a quick check-in. He’d felt a “flutter of excitement”
The second time was for insurance in case he couldn’t check daily like I’d initially asked of him and he instantly hardened as he began to text me the update, he said.
He only got to mentioned staring at my profile in his third note during a very long and very busy day of mine.
And the fourth was from his bustling shared office — his cock had been “pressing [him] to steal away glances” as he could — and it got engorged from our exchange, but he didn’t think he had anywhere private enough to take care of it.
The Neighbor used to ask for things to do, little subby tasks, but he would inevitably fail despite him agreeing to the terms and the tasks beforehand. That meant I was left with punishing him, which ultimately is what he wanted in the first place I suspect, so I wasn’t dominating anyone: he was topping from the bottom and I was left with the shit end of the stick.
I hated every second of it and couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong; it highlighted my insecurities with him and make me feel inadequate in an area where I’d once felt competent. It was a colossal mistake to keep trying…
But this man, this boy, he seems so different already. I hesitate to be hopeful, but I will admit to experiencing a sense of calm, a gentle lick of joy as I see him go to great lengths to meet my expectations.
It is a wondrously quiet thing for me to experience as all the vanilla men in my life either drop off the face of the planet after days of warm exchanges, pander to me until I push them away, or rocket off into the outer limits of some crazed hysteria revolving around unresolved childhood traumas.
This kinky, submissive man is cool as ice and he’s melting in my hand.
Checking into CS. Today i can’t stop looking at your breasts. My goodness.
Mm And? What’s happened?
Well i’m by myself in my office so i’m playing with myself a little. Someone could come in though so i have to be careful.
Can you lock the door?
It’s locked. I share an office w 4 other ppl and we all keep long hours, so hard so get privacy. Some of them are still here just in a meeting right now. I can hear them when they unlock the door so i’m ok with what i’m doing. But i prob can’t take it out right now. I’ll run to the restroom. It’s not very private but i can at least take it out and hold it for you if you’d like
Ok i’m here. Holding my cock. It feels heavy in my hands :) Stroking gently to that photo
Wow I’m doing mommy things >:) While imagining you
Haha should i stop?
No, it’s ok. Was at sports class with all the moms lol Headed home now Pretty sure I was the only one there with a good boy stroking himself to me across town
Hahaha Do you have an honorific you’d like me to call you?
Are you hard?
Yes and stroking
Yes. Call me Ma’am and Miss I don’t care if they’re capitalized or not. I imagine you saying it
yes Ma’am :)
Mm fuck Gets me every time! And you? What gets you?
Do you prefer one or the other?
I prefer Ma’am, but also like Miss
good boy, but i also like to be called slave or pet or slut. Haha i’m def blushing now Any of those work?
I like boy and pet and slut – in that order – and also each deepens the meaning and is dependent on the context Boy feels right for now. Pet later, possibly as things progress and for certain things, and slut for when you really are my little slut
Ok sounds good! I mean i’m stroking my cock in the public restroom, flushed red, Miss… pretty slutty :) i mean you can call me anything you like, sweet or degrading, if there’s something you like. i’ll like it more if it’s what you want those are just things that have got my blood running in the past
I want to call you my little pervert right now ;)
Perfect little slutty pervert playing with himself in a public restroom bc I want him to >:)
that text is going to make me cum, Ma’am
Can you hold on another minute?
Can you cum by the time you count to 50? Sooner? What if I counted down? Could you cum that way?
doubtful. i take a long time. i always fail at those countdowns
I can try
I wish i could! I could try if you like, ma’am
Are you going to count?
From what number shall I count down? What do you need, pet?
Ok Imagine me laying on my bed 50, 49, 48 42, 41
Imagining you 36, 35, 34 In a stall 29, 28, 27 Jeans unbuckled 24, 23 People in the halls 20, 19 Your hand wrapped tightly 15, 14, 13 My breath held 10, 9, 8 Your hand moving 5, 4 Your cock so hard for me 3 Hot and dripping 2 Aching to spill for me 1
Came haha too soon
It was hard to gauge exactly
Seemed fucking right to me I drew out the last 10 ;)
I can’t believe that worked
That was so hot
Mmhm It was :) Very
Haha all those texts are still coming in. My service is slow!
According to my thread, you came the second I counted 1 Lol So you were reading my mind, apparently
I got 1. The late ones were all out of order
Lol How funny So you came from even less from me!
I can’t believe i did that tho, good thing no one came in
Good thing indeed You were a perfect little slut :-* I loved it I feel warm all over
I am bold and confident, believe my common sense will guide me through any uncertain circumstance, and feel that my instincts are correct 99% of the time. I consider myself luckier than most.
Therefore, it confounds me when I feel confused, lost, or otherwise discombobulated.
Discovering my dominant side and fanning its flames does just this. It discombobulates the fuck outta me.
Many years ago, in a faraway land called Dating, Marriage and [mostly] Vanilla Sex, I yearned to be dominated. I wanted to be cherished, worshiped, and taken care of. Pain wasn’t a part of my fantasy. It was about letting go and trusting my partner to think of everything. To my overwrought, SAHM (stay-at-home-mom), neglected brain the notion of being used and directed was heaven. Sweet and salty, not-a-care-in-the-world caramel heaven.
My journey to this side of myself has been accidental. I’ve been tying up my lovers for years, but it was just something I did, not a part of who I am. Long term boyfriends had the pleasure numerous times to be pinned down, dripped with wax, pinched with clothespins, tickled with feathers, pegged, blindfolded, and otherwise sensually tortured by me and I enjoyed myself. Immensely.
I went to a primal place within me; I was a sexual nerve. Forward thinking, empathetic, pushing, pushing, pushing. And then I would hit the wall of uncertainty: what to do next? My lovers and I never talked about D/s — what the fuck was that? We just liked things a little spicy. And so I delivered. To a point.
When I would come to the end of that teasing path I always handed back the reins. My bashfulness rose and my ignorance reigned supreme. Instead of keeping him beneath me I relinquished control and didn’t see the gift of his submission. I mistakenly believed that I could only receive pleasure from him if I was the receptacle. Soft, submissive, feminine. It was selfish, sexist, and completely silly of me.
The Neighbor and I stumbled onto my abilities much like I had come upon my kinky pleasures in the past: we had the gear and the imagination and shit just happened.
He’d been telling me for months that he’d had a lover in the past for 6 months — some honey he met off of FetLife –who dommed him, but I dismissed it. I didn’t let it stick, sink in, or otherwise digest into any part of my consciousness. It did not compute.
Men are bigger and stronger, I thought. I don’t want to be in charge. I’m tired and need relief.
Back then TN like to spank the fuck out of me. I walked away from our encounters with welts the size of his paw on my hip and flanks. He’d growl at me and toss me around and I reveled in what felt like his dominance, but it never went all the way. He didn’t domineer, direct, or control me. He inflicted his superior strength upon me. There’s a difference.
One is intellectual, the other is opportunistic.
Embracing my ability to control and hold the reins has called into question the decisions I made during my marriage. Could it have been saved if I had taken over in the bedroom?
In hindsight, I recall my sweet exhusband’s own wall present in most of our interactions. His own uncertainty and hesitations. I demanded that he break it down, but to no avail. We hovered in a place of love and longing and lots of miscommunication. It broke my heart like so many pieces of glass.
I’m trying not to think about it.
My dominance over TN excites me for my future and whatever lovers I may have. Seeing a man bend his will to mine, to curb his superior strength, and to give over to me his own sexual pleasure is a tender, wild gift. I must treat it with respect and delicate hands. Give it little puffs of love as I pant beneath it and moan about its beauty.
It is less about penetration than it is about obedience. I keep TN and I calibrated through our roles. When he behaves badly, he is punished. I am just and open. He tells me why he’s getting spanked even as the belt laps at his pale skin. “I’m sorry for being a jerk. I’m sorry for not thinking you knew that. I’m sorry for being petulant. I’m sorry for being a dick,” and so on. Sweeter words never befell my ears.
Last week, I was desperate for a session. We had re-hashed the rules and boundaries of our relationship and fucked numerous times, but I was adrift and mildly angry at the world, perhaps at him, certainly at me.
When he arrived 3 minutes late he knew immediately he would be getting at least 3 lashes. He argued with me and I added 5. He huffed at me and I added another 5. He rolled his eyes and I added yet another 5.
My mind was lightening quick, my math smooth as butter, quick as my words. “That makes 18 and I haven’t even finished lighting all the candles. Want to go for more?”
He ducked his chin and looked at me remorsefully. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” I stood there in my grey cardigan and panties feeling 6 feet tall instead of 5′ 5″.
He walked over to the bedside table where I had pulled out our toys. Body markers, a pretty glass butt-plug, lube, blindfolds, straps, and a banana-yellow ruler. I wanted everything within reach, but didn’t have much of a plan.
As I watched him watch me and move against my moves I became more aroused. He was regarding me with eager eyes. He waited for my voice, my command.
I told him to lay on the bed and we talked and I played with his flaccid penis. I sketched an outline of it like a dead body and measured it. Four inches soft as a water balloon.
When the outline grew to 8″ I told him to flip over. His round, white ass high in the air bloomed red as I carefully painted him with his 18 lashes. Then another 5 simply because I could.
I kissed the bright red skin and pulled him up by the shoulder, leaned in and kissed him.
“Let’s go take a shower,” I said then. “I’m shaving your balls and you’re going to wash my pussy.”
A small universe away from that moment I lay with legs splayed and his dark head between my thighs. He made me soar, though I didn’t cum.
When his jaw began to hurt I laughed. “We need more practice, TN. Lots more!” He smiled gingerly rubbing his jaw and agreed, stood up and pulled my bottom closer to the edge of the bed and slipped in deep and long.
Later, in a four-point restraint he dangled in front of an orgasm for so long his body tingled and he writhed and panted and begged for me to stop. I took pity on him and untied him, curled up in his arms and let him stroke me.
He plunged his fingers deep inside of me and burst through my shell and I released a bucket of ejaculate onto my sheets. I saw stars and couldn’t speak.
Cuddled in his arms again he said he was hungry. I agreed. And as I entered the neighborhood diner, my breasts free behind a white t-shirt and my hair home to a little bird’s nest in the back, I felt tough and fine and I sincerely hoped everyone knew what we’d just been doing.
We drove back home under the stars and he gave me a long kiss goodnight at my doorstep. I staggered back to my room which was littered with the proof of our debauched night and flounced onto the bed with not a little drama. Faisal mewed and pounced on me and I put my arm around him and floated away with dreams of dominance and a new sense of my anchor deep down below me.
I have gone to a new side of Hyacinth and staked my flag high and bright. I’m a little nervous and still somewhat shaken, but I much prefer the view from here as opposed to over there. It’s a lot nicer on the Domme side.