A work of fiction.
I’m drunk as I write this. I don’t know that I would have the courage to put this in writing otherwise. Ironic, if you think about it. It seems like all my courage and fire faded the moment he walked out the door, and I was left light-headed and weak, as all the nervousness from before suddenly rushed from my head to my feet like a torrent.
I can’t say for sure what possessed me to respond to the message I received earlier today in the first place. I had never been involved in any form of BDSM in my life. I hadn’t even seen BDSM porn. But 1,500 dollars for just an hour of domination was just too much to pass up. I proceeded to nervously spend the next hour zipping myself into the tightest black dress I had, attaching my extensions, applying my lipstick half a dozen times, and reading up on light domination.
Fifteen minutes prior to his arrival I was still trembling, so I reached for the whiskey and took a heavy chug. I took another three for good luck, and then he called to tell me he was on his way up. I could feel the whiskey worming its way up to my throat when I opened the door to find a skinny, shaking man in front of the door. He was probably at least six foot tall, but he was hunched over so badly he looked shorter than me. I wasn’t entirely sure what I had expected, but definitely not this. I smiled a hello, and waved him in. After letting his eyes roam a 360 around the room, he stepped in, and I had to wave him further in until I could finally shut the door.
I reached my arm up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek, and I could feel him flinch. He finally spoke, stammering and stumbling over the first couple words, apologizing for being late, but that he was very nervous. “That makes two of us,” I thought wryly, as I motioned toward the bar, asking if he wanted a drink. “Just water,” he said, but I was tempted to spike it. I gave myself a whiskey on the rocks and chugged that as well. In the meantime, he shoved a wad of hundreds across the counter and turned his back to me to drink, giving me time to count it and tuck it away.
When he had finished drinking his water, I ushered him to the bedroom, where he promptly darted for the bathroom. In the meantime, I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the hem of my dress as far down as I could. When he emerged, the shaking had stopped, but the sweating had begun. He sat so close to me one leg was nearly on my lap, and leaned in close, asking if he could have a kiss. He reeked of sweat and decaying food, and I found myself saying, “no. You have to earn it.”
He leaned back, but put his hand on my thigh, so I stood up, facing him, and told him to strip. He nearly stumbled over his shoes in his eager attempt to drop his pants, where a wet stain was already spreading over the zipper. As he stood before me, I saw he had put a cock ring around his penis, and it was a horrible purplish blue color. As my repulsion for him increased, I found it easier to keep control of the situation. I laid a towel out over the bed and told him to lie down. Then I turned to the dresser and pulled out two dildos. One was small and narrow, but the second was almost as thick as my wrist. He strained to look up at them but I told him to lie down flat and spread his legs.
I applied lube all over the smaller one, and worked it in with some roughness. After struggling to get the first inch in, the other three burst forward abruptly and he cried out sharply. I proceeded to pull it out and force it back in again, and then again, going a little harder and faster each time, his penis growing fatter and more purplish blue with each stroke, until I thought the cock ring was going to snap and hit me in the face.
I proceeded to spit on it and demand he stroke his own penis, as I continued forcefully ramming the dildo into his ass. Finally, as I thought he was slowly getting used to the dildo, I drew it out and set it aside, bringing for the big one. I applied a generous amount of lube, and began working it in. As with the first one, I worked the first inch in very slowly, and then watched the next four abruptly shoot up, as he cried out in pain. I grinned and asked him if he enjoyed that. He winced in response, but I told him I wouldn’t continue until he told me he enjoyed it. Finally, he gasped out, “I–I enjoy it,” and I rammed it in again. He was sweating so badly I was worried it would soak through the towel, and the room was marinating in the stench.
I spat on his cock again and demanded he stroke it slowly, as I rammed the dildo harder and further up his ass. Finally, I left it in, and removed my underwear, leaving my heels and dress on. I proceeded to grab the riding crop off the top of the dresser, and straddled his face, commanding he eat me as if it were his last meal, as I struck his balls soundly with the tip of the crop.
With each cry, he buried his mouth deeper into me, and I fell into a steady rhythm, alternating between balls, and the sides of his penis. Finally, I decided he had tasted more than enough of me, and stood up again, walking back around to the edge of the bed. Spitting on his penis one final time, I told him to stroke it hard, as I continued to whip his balls.
When he was about to come, I pulled the dildo all the way out, and rammed it all the way in again with finality, and he let out a shriek as he came. I almost expected blood to start pouring out, his penis was that ugly a shade of purple. He sat up and leaned in for a kiss, but I stood up and motioned that he could clean up in the bathroom.
By the time he came out, his shaking had already returned. As he fumbled with the button of his pants, he exhaled loudly and said, “guess it’s time to return to the bitch”, and then added “my wife”, to clarify. I nodded, and then walked him to the door.
I’ve been drinking whiskey ever since, and it’s been a couple hours. I couldn’t figure out what I felt about what had happened in that hour. On the one hand, I felt incredibly repulsed by this timid, sweaty, smelly man, who liked getting his balls whipped and having gargantuan dildos shoved up his ass. Yet, on the other, I had felt incredibly confident in there. For the first time, I wasn’t spending an agonizing hour doing everything in my power to make a man happy, hairy balls deep in my throat, with a slimy tongue licking my tonsils. I was in control, and nothing happened unless I wanted it to happen. Not to mention, I had been paid three times the usual fee.
There was a different person in that room. A personality I didn’t know I had. And while this may be the alcohol speaking, I look forward to bringing her out again.