A wannabee Dom's first time

Sensuallysadistic

I'm a dirty old Dom from Scotland, this is a little reflection on my first kinky adventure.


OK. The “Dom” is meant to be in control, confident, know exactly how to treat the submissive, know what to do, right? We’ve all read enough bdsm erotica to know that. But, here’s the thing, a “Dom” has a first time too, his Dom cherry to pop if you like.


This was exactly the dilemma I faced as I drove through Edinburgh. I’d left Glasgow an hour earlier, after a couple of hours bathing, grooming and dressing and was pulling over (Honest! I actually obey that law,) to check my texts and try her number again. I wasn’t really expecting her to answer until after 10pm when she got off work, but I didn’t want to miss her if she got off early.


Need a bit of background? OK. We had met online about ten days ago. I’d been chatting to her all morning, turning her on, teasing her, doing my “online dom” thing with her. And it seemed to be working for her, because she had finally agreed to meet. I was to pick her up in about twelve minutes and for once in my life I was on time.


But I was nervous.I was nervous because, well lots of reasons but the two main ones;


No text sent at a break or sent at a quiet time, she didn’t always, but I’d expected a “Excited about tonight – winksmileyface” at least. Maybe she was having second thoughts, or was just extending the fantasy and she was actually a 45 year old trucker from Minnesota called Bub and not a cute mid twenty year old dirty blonde called Catherine who got very excited about being submissive to a late thirties Dominant male called Dave. Maybe it would be a bust, I’d been down the “no show” route a couple of times. But I was enjoying the trip, the butterflies, the general awareness of my genitals. I was excited.


The other reason I was nervous. Basically, I’m a fraud. Dominant male? Aye, Right* I’ve never done this before. It’s all been very heterosexual and vanilla. I’m the least Dominant male on the planet, never even had anal! Really vanilla. Suddenly aware of genitalia shrivelling in shame.


(* - Scots is the only language in the world to have the ”Double positive negative” the phrase “Aye, right” literally translates as “yes, yes” but means “you are full of sh*t” )


But, the internet (This is the days of unmoderated internet chatrooms, remember them? Yeah, then your as old as I am.) broadened my outlook, I found a taste for kink, and my kink turned out to be being Dominant to submissive women. Who knew!


But it was all virtual. I was really good at directing / guiding / helping women touch themselves, build themselves up, make them pause, make them cum – basically I talked, or rather typed a good game, but had yet to try it out with my hands, my body on her body in the same room, skin on skin.


Sure I know that some of those women were probably Bub from Minnesota, but some of them had been real too. I figured I had a decent idea where to start and then I’d wing it. Aware of genitalia stopping sulking and getting back with the program.


Finally, I arrive, park outside her workplace, not too close in case she wants to be discreet around her workmates. Two minutes to ten. I wait the two agonizing minutes, then another one just to be reasonable. Dial, ringing, answerphone – Bollocks! Hang up, wait, repeat.


Five past ten, answerphone.


Eight minutes and forty seconds past, answerphone.


Twelve minutes past, ring, ring, ring, then a shy quiet nervous “Hi”Followed by shy, quiet, nervous “haven’t spoken to my flatmate”, “didn’t think you would actually come” and “not ready” I tried not to let the annoyance show in my voice, fired up the car and drove home.


By midnight, I’m online chatting with her, she’s sorry, I tell her it’s alright, I’m not angry. And I’m not even lying, I enjoyed my outing, it was exciting, if ultimately frustrating. I make/help/facilitate her orgasm and we go to bed, fifty miles apart as friends.


The next morning I get a text from her, pulse races. I open it, the first word is “sorry” heart sinks. She is sorry about last night, she had been excited all day and bottled it at the last minute, she had spoken to her flatmate who was fine with her bringing me home. Could I come tonight? She promised not to bottle it this time she wanted me to Dominate her, to use her as I pleased, to make her mine…for a night anyway.


After the wasted effort yesterday, I should know better, be cautious right? Hell no! “See you at eight” I sent, and got her address and postcode, which actually existed!


Fast forward, work, bathing, grooming, driving, butterflies even stronger than before, genitalia positively leading the charge, she Wanted Me, to control her, exciting.


Arriving at a dreadful looking tower block on the far side of Edinburgh. Wondering if it’s an elaborate scheme to mug me and steal the car and ashamed of my middle class judgement, I text her “I’m here” She texts back “I’ll come down and get you” I wait.


A door opens and a far prettier girl than I was expecting walks towards me. Heart races. Long, straight, dirty blonde hair, nervous smile on a pretty face with just too much make up, lovely shaped breasts and a lot of cleavage, short full skirt, fishnet covered legs, heels. Beautiful walking towards me, beautiful suddenly sitting next to me in the car. We say hi nervously. I ask her “Do you want to do this” yes!, nervously, but decisively.


I’ve written a consent form, see I done my research! She reads it, yes she’ll sign it. F*ck, didn’t bring a pen. What a dick. She saves the moment by grabbing the paper, stuffing it in her mouth, biting it hard and saying “Here’s your signature” Wow! I’m caught up by her transition from nervous to lustfully enthusiastic, suddenly she exudes desire, hunger, need, sex.


I look at her again, taking my time, then touching. Drawn to her fishnet covered thigh, drawn to the hem of the skirt, beneath it, feeling her damp heat, I feel my role come upon me, grabbing two fists of hair, kissing hard “You know, I hate tights” Her apologizing, calling me Sir, she liked the fishnet but didn’t have stockings, telling me I can rip them…….Ripping the crotch out of the tights excited her, me too, but I still prefer stockings, although the sight of those ripped tights much later would leave a very lasting visual memory. And then I was holding her pussy feeling her wetness soak through her panties. This was real, it was actually happening, and I was doing OK so far!


Walking towards the door, she is skipping excitedly, I’m watching her thinking she is perfect, looking beautiful and slutty in her short skirt, ripped tights and well kissed mouth. We get the elevator to ourselves. I take her before the door closes, push her against the metal wall, face to the wall, grabbing her hands and placing them above her head, lifting her skirt, feeling her beautiful ass, feeling her heat, pressing myself against her, she pushing back. The erotic thrill of that elevator ride is burned into my memory. The more I took her, pushed her, the more responsive she became which brought out an inner beast (but a nice beast!) made me want her more made me bolder, made her more turned on and so on, until we arrived at her floor, her looking very tussled, me looking like I was smuggling cucumber. Too much, OK a courgette.


We managed to get down the hallway to her front door, she let us in, I followed her to the living room, excited to get my hands on her again, And was introduced to her flatmate. “So you’re the Dom that’s going to take her ass cherry then?” she asked in a tone that suggested more than a little scepticism.


Wasn’t expecting that, I’d assumed we’d have the place to ourselves. I’m a little thrown that Catherine has obviously shared a fair bit of our chat, how else did flatmate know we had talked about, planned her losing her anal virginity (and mine!)Catherine offered tea, I accepted. Followed her into the kitchen, wanting her to myself, wanting to touch her again, wanting to feel her respond so enthusiastically to my firm, assertive touch. Wanting her.I watch her try and make tea. She is shaking with nerves, spilling milk and sugar. I can’t wait. I step in close behind her. Twist her hair up in my fist so I can kiss and bite her neck. She moans and sags forwards. I reach around her and feel her breasts through her blouse, hard little nipples. I drop her hair and pinch both of them, more moans, really good sounding ones so I do it harder. She clearly approves. I slide one hand down, lift her skirt and slide my hand into her ruined tights, into her knickers, she is completely smooth. I’ve never felt that before. My god I love it! Sliding a finger into what feels like the hottest, wettest pussy I’ve ever felt. She melts. I am practically holding her up. I quietly ask her if she is OK with me touching her in front of her flatmate. “Oh yeah, she’s into all sorts of kinky stuff”


Oh great, just what I needed, a critical sarcastic expert when I’m just starting to get a grip on my role.I release Catherine, spank her on the bum once and demand my cup of tea. I head into the living room to meet the resident kink critic properly. We talk, she’s actually less intimidating than I was expecting, she’s happy for her friend, has been encouraging her to explore her kinky desires. I avoid thinking about how much of our chats have been shared, but maybe I passed some kind of test along the way.


I’m saved by the arrival of a cup of tea so awful it defies description, but it doesn’t matter it is being delivered by Catherine, who for this evening is mine to do with whatever I want.We had chatted, fantasised, discussed, planned, for days what I’d do to her. I should have a detailed itinerary of exotic kinky activities. But I don’t. My mind is a blank. I grab her, pull her down next to me and kiss her hard (I’m big on kissing) and I know what to do next, I’ve got this.


I talk to her, about last night and letting me drive all that way before changing her mind, I’m being stern, she is apologetic, giving excuses even as I pull her over my knee on the settee. I’m very in the moment – barely even aware of the resident kink critic in the chair opposite. She is over my knee, her skirt is up, I rip the tights more so I can take her knickers down to free that delicious bottom.


I start by spanking her gently, she wriggles a little and moans more with each stroke, I try a bit harder, her bottom is getting lovely and pink, and hot! I play with the shape of my hand, I try moving around her buttocks, her thighs. Harder spanking and her squirming is real, desperate, this is hurting her, I pause, I whisper in her ear is she ok, Yes! I continue, her moans have become yelps, I have to hold her legs down by putting my thigh over the top, my left arm pressing her head down onto the settee, sideways so I can see her face – there’s a distant sort of dreamy pleasure expression on her face. Her squirming has changed, small rhythmic thrusts of her pussy, she’s getting very turned on. I part her legs a little, the sight of her smooth pussy glistening with moisture is intoxicating. I spank it. She jumps, exclaims loudly and I actually see her pussy clench and relax, I do it again, fascinated by the involuntary and highly erotic reaction, after the next stroke, I keep my hand there to feel her reaction, massaging gently. I match my strokes to her clenching, each time she relaxes I hit her again, she clenches, relaxes, hit her again. We get a rhythm going, I can feel her arousal growing, her hips are thrusting like she is fucking my thigh. I’d never imagined how liberating it would be to be trusted to have control of a woman, freedom to touch her, experiment, play with her body, play with her orgasm. I’m hooked.I allow my middle finger to project in front of my flat palm. I’m spanking her more gently, I aim carefully so the finger lands along her pussy and my fingertip lands square on her clitoris. She bucks like a wild horse, but somehow I sense it is an extreme good sensation rather than an extreme bad one. I do it again to check – definitely positive reaction. Catherine is climbing a slope now and I decide to go with it. A little faster and lighter and she starts to lose control, moaning, twitching, thrusting, clenching. I catch a glance at the resident kink critic. One hand is moving very fast inside her pyjama bottoms, the other is busy under her pyjama top. I take this as her approval , vaguely aware that having an audience is actually quite exciting.


I start sliding a finger into her between spanks, caressing her clit, playing with her, feeling her reaction and keeping building it. I start to appreciate the control over her orgasm I have, slowing her down a little then building her up again, but mainly up. I want to feel her cum in my hand. And soon she does. Having such an intimate view of her as she orgasms is amazing. I bury my finger in her as she cums, feeling her grip it, watching her clench and thrust, her heat, her smell, her disjointed words. (Her flatmate gasping and moaning quietly to herself across the room.) Fuck I love this.


I hold her there while she comes down, then lift her up onto my knee. Hold her, kiss her while she gets her breath back. She is flushed, sweaty, beautiful. Mine.


But as the song says “Oh my God, I’m horny” I send her to kneel on the floor and even before I get my cock out she is licking her lips in a very greedy fashion. I was going to make her to suck me. Grab her hair and fuck her face. I don’t get the chance, she devours me, I let her, it is amazing. When I cum she swallows it all greedily. I pull her up to me, kiss her and taste my cum. When I tell her that she is a good girl, she melts again. Note to self about the power of praise.


I’m desperate to be inside her, but I need a couple of moments to recover. I sit her next to me, she’s still wearing her blouse, so I remove that, and start play with her breasts, little slaps, caresses, nipple squeezes, and she is starting to thrust again. I open her legs and finger her. I’m about to lay her back so I can get a taste of that sweet smooth pussy when a little voice from across the room asks “Can I eat that, please”Kink critic is clearly highly aroused and wants to join in.


I check in with Catherine, she just nods nervously. Kink critic doesn’t need any more encouragement, she is lapping at her flatmate’s pussy in no time, and I get to sit back, enjoy the show, and I like to think it was my titillation of her breasts that made her cum quite so hard, but maybe her flatmate was just very good at eating pussy. Another new experience, it was turning out to be quite the night.


By the time her flatmate had finished pleasuring her, I was more than ready for my turn. I simply flipped her over onto her knees on the settee, stood behind her and slipped easily inside her, thrusting hard till she was close to cumming, then I stopped, lubricated her bottom with her own juices and suddenly neither of us were anal virgins anymore. I was as gentle as I could be, but she yelped a bit as I pressed into her, before encouraging me on, and she was into it surprisingly quickly, thrusting back as hard as I was thrusting in.


So, remember the ripped tights and the lasting visual image. This was it. Catherine, kneeling on the settee, panting as she comes down from her orgasm, skirt lifted, naked back, sweaty rumpled hair hanging down hiding her face, ruined red fishnet beautifully framing her pretty bottom, her smooth red swollen pussy and my cum dribbling out of her bottom and down her thighs. Beautiful.

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