I went to a BDSM night at a goth club with a submissive female friend. It was the first time I had identified as a ‘Domme’ in public, I had never been to a club before, had no idea what to expect, had never really played with a submissive (at this stage, I had a remote submissive online, and had played as a sub to a very experienced Dom (another story)).
The play area was not closed to the public, but the BDSM activity was in a separate room. I wore (aha…here comes the fetish part) a black catsuit, a wide belt that was essentially a waist cincher, killer stiletto boots, my meanest red lipstick and I had my multistrand flogger in my bag.
This was the first time I experienced submissive men coming up to me, sinking to their knees and asking for things. Mostly I said “No”, but it was still a head rush.
While most of the early part of the night has disappeared from memory, I recall two things in particular:
The first was a man coming up and asking if I would ‘take him out the back’ and choke him so that he couldn’t breath (errrmm…no!).
The second was another who asked me to slap his face, which I did, and got an immediate rush, shocking!! He was totally topping me, “Harder harder!” and I obliged, slapping him over and over, while internally going “Wow!”. I don’t think I hit him as hard as he wanted, but still, wow.
Quite late into the night, two arrogant, cocky, smirking vanilla men with their girlfriends sauntered over and said, “We want you to whip us.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We want you to whip us… you’re the house Domme aren’t you?”
House Domme? Who knew there was such a thing? And I cannot at all recall what I had been doing that made them think I was one…
“No, if I do it, I do it because I want to.”
“Well, we want you to whip us.”
“Like I have the slightest interest in what you want…etc etc…” (insert more uber Domme speak here).
So, I made them get on their knees and beg me to whip them. They were still all cocky and smirking, treating it like a joke, but they did it and I made them keep doing it until I was satisfied.
I don’t remember the first boy, he was almost irrelevant, though I recall sitting with him afterwards… He was shaky, I made someone get him some water.
The second one blew my mind.
They had cuffs hung from the ceiling, I made him take his shirt off and cuffed him up, stretched. He was looking at his girlfriend, smiling, mugging. And I pressed up against him and whispered that this was going to hurt and he smirked at me and I started to hit him with the flogger, on his back, pretty soft at first.
I did a lot of stroking when I paused, his back, chest, along the waistband of his jeans, pressing full length, pushing against him, bringing my mouth right up close to his, no kissing, watching his face.
And I hit him harder and harder, and he started to flinch with every stroke. And he started to pay attention, he stopped smirking, and he stopped looking at his girlfriend and his eyes followed me as I moved around him. And I forgot about anyone else being there. It was about him and me.
And I continued to hit him, starting to put some force behind it, watching his skin change colour.
His girlfriend came up to me when I paused, and asked if she could touch him, I didn’t even look at her, said no, waved her away. For now, for this, he was mine.
Between the hitting, there was a lot of stroking of his bare skin, pressing the length of my body against his, whispering, asking him if it hurt, and him looking at me, nodding and whispering “Yes” to me, I’m breathing into his mouth, bringing my face close. And he was hard. And he started to beg me to kiss him, “Kiss me, please kiss me.”
And I continued to hit him, his whole body was rocking against the force of it, and I watched his face, and he was totally gone, glazed, eyes locked on me with longing, every fibre of him trying to get to me, whispering “Please, please kiss me please kiss me…”.
And I undid his jeans, probing fingers glancing against the outline of his cock, and he blushed, and he stammered that his pants would fall down, “Please don’t let my jeans fall down.” An edge of panic in his voice. And he was hard and he was scared of being humiliated and his eyes followed me as I moved around him and he reached for me with his body, with his mouth, straining against the rope.
And I watched his face and thought it was beautiful, begging, grunting with pain, flushed, inarticulate noises coming out of his mouth. And he was hard.
And I continued to hit him and touch him and whisper to him until I had had enough.
When I stopped, and let him down, he was shaking, he was totally high on endorphins and his face was one of shock, his eyes glassy, he looked at me with wonder, and I sat with him for a while, petting him down, murmuring nothing to him.
When I left the club they both came out and literally followed my girlfriend and me down the street chanting my name (truly bizarre).
And me, I had never NEVER NEVER felt anything like it. It was like a revelation, and it wasn’t about hurting him, it was about moving him through that transition, seeing him react to me – the way he went from an arrogant, cocky, smirking vanilla jerk to a begging, wanting, vulnerable ‘thing’, the power of that, and the beauty in it was incredible. Add to that the concentration of energy, how totally lost in it I was, how there was no-one else there except me and him…
Totally. Blew. My. Mind.
And I thought, “I have got to get me some more of that…”
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