***Flashback to the beginning of my BDSM journey as a Domme. ***
Morning of, I sent her instructions via text.
“Send me a picture of your outfit for tonight, to show me that you understand”.
She was right on time to pick me up for dinner: 6:10 as I had instructed. I slid into the passenger seat of her car, and I kissed her gently, teasingly…
“That’s the last time you will touch me tonight until I say otherwise” This is how she knows we are beginning our BDSM dance.
The desire in her eyes flared, knowing she couldn’t touch me only made the urge stronger. By the end of the evening it would be unbearable.
We arrived at the restaurant, which turned out to be the kind of place suburban couples might go on their anniversary; Overpriced, heavy on ambience, but they put queso on everything. I enjoyed little flirting moments and exerting minor shows of power over dinner. Sit here. Order this. Cut your food this way.
We bantered, talked about the drink menu. She told me she’d always wanted to know more about scotch, and while a scheme formed in my mind, out loud I talked about our monthly scotch tastings, said I’d send an invitation to the next one.
The drive to my place was filled with anticipation. If you listened carefully you could hear it over the operatic metal music blaring from the speakers of the sedan.
“Take off all of your clothes, fold them neatly and place them on the chair I set out. Make me a cup of tea, and wait outside my bedroom door until I call for you.”
Meanwhile, I began what would become a common ritual for me: light candles, put on music (I believe this particular selection was a combination of Depeche Mode and She Wants Revenge), and slip into my leather thigh-high boots. Red leather moto gloves. I sat in my leather chair (what? I’m a leather fetishist. I have oodles of it.), with a sheepskin throw on the floor in front of it.
“I am ready for you, my dear, you may enter”.
She crawled to me on her knees from the doorway, careful not to spill a single drop. I allowed her to set the tea on the tray and kneel for an inspection. I let my eyes fall on every curve of her body, getting near enough that she could smell the cologne I wore just for her. Then, I pulled her up by her hair, all the way to her feet, and instructed her to admire my toys.
“Are there any that scare you? None? Good girl. Finish your tea. Lie on the bed face up.”
I tied her “starfish” position to my bed posts. Single column with hemp rope – simple, effective. I started to slowly unzip my zipper-front red dress, but thought better and decided she hadn’t earned the right to see what was underneath…yet.
So I blindfolded her.
Then I unzipped it…very slowly…right next to her ear…so she could hear every tooth and agonize over what she was missing.
I was so eager, and used so many different tools on her, but first I “calibrated” her with my pitchfork crop.
Next was the Tazapper , my Isis dagger (dull wavy blade dipped in ice water), silicone flogger, bamboo back scratcher, pitchfork crop, Harley crop, wooden paddle. Some impact, some sensation, some teasing. Then I moved on to hot/cold.
I grabbed the Isis dagger (now sufficiently icy…Ice-is dagger is more like it…am I right?) and ran it down the length of her body. Alternated the cold with the hot drips of black wax from a religious candle. I decided to tear off the blindfold so I could see the pain in her eyes.
I stood over her, on my bed, feet either side of her naked, wax covered body, Boots still on, I dripped wax on her very sensitive nipples from high up with a red taper candle, and teased her clit with my silicone whip. At this point she was so covered in wax that I decided to wind down, spelling out my initials “MM” on her chest in the wax. Aside from tying the rope, never once did I touch her with my hands.
I checked in and untied her, helped scrape off as much wax as I could, got her steady, gave her a robe, told her to get in the shower and come back to me. When she returned, I told her to kneel on the pillow in front of my feet and drink the water I placed there.
“It’s killing you, not getting to touch me, isn’t it? Do you think you’ve earned it? Have you been my Good Girl tonight?”
She nodded so vigorously I thought her head might fall off. I ripped open my tights and told her to pleasure me with her cute little tongue. I could see the cum begin to drip from between her legs. Grabbing another handful of hair, I looked her dead in the eye and asked if she was ready for her first scotch lesson.
I poured a tiny bit into the hollow spot at the base of her neck. Then I lapped it up, and let some of it drip further down around her chest so I could teasingly lick it up…coming oh-so-close to her nipples but never touching.
“Now it’s your turn.”
Lifted her to her knees, positioned her mouth riiight on the tip of my breast, and slowly poured some over the curve and onto her tongue. She moaned with pleasure as she licked up every drop, and then I threw her onto the bed.
I got out my rainbow cock and put it in my harness and fucked her mouth. She did so good, and I would make her look up at me so I could see her eyes water. Then I took it off and let her lick me again. After some very intense G spot orgasms (granted by way of her exceptionally long fingers) I teased her nipples and clit and made her play with herself for my amusement until she came.
Then we drank Capri suns and ate the Chocolate Torte I had ordered to-go from the restaurant.
My plan had been executed flawlessly.