Sweetest Mistress (Fem Dom 1)

“Well, I suppose I’ve looked at it. In porn, you know.” I cleared my throat. Shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t talk about porn around women, you just didn’t. It fell under the category of exes and parts of their bodies that could stand to lose a little weight.

But she just nodded, as if that made complete sense.

I found myself saying, “And a few times, I…called a hotline. A phone sex line. She told me what she was doing and it was, well, pretty great.”

“I guess,” I added, as if that could somehow absolve me of my weirdness.

“What kind of stuff did she say?”

My face heated at the memory. Her husky voice and my helpless moans. I’d come so fucking hard just from those words. “She said that I’d been a naughty boy. That I needed to be punished. She said that she would spank me – hard – and that if I was good, I’d get to fuck her.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” she whispered.

I nodded solemnly.

She swallowed hard and looked down, her lashes veiling her eyes as they had whenever I’d brought up her past. Damn. Why had I done that? Bad enough I’d even told her about it, much less asked her to do it. I wasn’t a risk taker, but this had been a huge risk. I’d shot the moon and lost. Now I was sitting here with a useless condom on my dick, feeling like a pussy.

But when she looked up, she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t angry or annoyed. She looked…sexy. There was a glint in her eye, something I hadn’t seen before.

“You felt bad making me suck your dick, didn’t you?” she asked.

“What? No. Yes!”

“Well, which is it?” She practically sneered. I almost came right then.

“I did. It felt good, but I…I was too rough. It wasn’t right.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. “Get on your hands and knees.”

My body swung into position before my mind had even understood.

“I was in this position for you,” she said.

I swallowed. My ass was in the air, vulnerable. My cock hung down, pathetic, though not at all deflated.

“Was that wrong, too?” she asked.

Christ, what was the right answer? “Yes,” I said, because it was true. She’d been beautiful that way. Too fucking beautiful and I hadn’t known how to handle it. I didn’t deserve that. I wanted this.

“What are you even doing here? It’s only our first date. You don’t know me. Why do you think you get to have sex with me?

I didn’t know. I shook my head.

She leaned close to my ear and murmured, “Have you been bad?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Her hand trailed down my back, a mimic of my touch on her body earlier. My muscles jolted and jerked, uselessly pulling when I really didn’t want to go anywhere.

“You need to be punished, don’t you?” This last was said as more of a statement. A consideration to herself, not me. “I just wonder if my hand is going to be enough for you.”

Images flashed in my mind of her wielding a belt, a paddle, a flogger. Fuck!

I knew this wasn’t her. This was a role, maybe, something she’d donned just for me. But it was even sexier that way. She wasn’t just doing this to any random guy she met. Well, maybe she was – best not to think about that. But she didn’t go around acting the dominatrix, that was for sure. She was shy and meek and controllable, except that I’d asked her to do this. And since that’s what I wanted, she was giving it to me.

Smack. Her hand hit my ass.

Smack, smack, smack.