One of the things I love about sex is control. Taking it or giving it. Either way its often what sets the tone for the sexual play in my relationships. I like to think I’m comfortable on either side of the fence.
Recently I was discussing this with a playmate who specialises in Dominance and he scoffed. Having not seen this side of me he found it very hard to believe a woman could be a successful Dominant. What’s more he went on to say he couldn’t understand the appeal.
It was part of the male nature to be Dominant and part of the female one to be submissive. After I’d finished throwing knives at him we discussed this. And it got me thinking. Is female Dominance still so unusual?
I’ve been aroused by the thought of taking control for as long as I can remember. Despite it being at odds with the deeply submissive feelings I experience sometimes. I’m naturally quite an alpha female. I like to leader, work in a position of authority and manage a team. One of the people that folk turn to in a crisis, or if they need help. So perhaps it’s part of that nature which also makes me want to turn men into bitch boys in the bedroom.
As I learnt with my boo, not everyone is comfortable with this level of female authority. You only have to look how vilified women in positions of power often are. Female politicians are almost always treated with a level of disregard, either judged on their appearance or patronised for their policy.
I’m not suggesting that female politicians are faultless. But as a young girl growing up even then I felt a level of pride at living in a country with not one but two female figure heads. It felt progressive and I liked it. Despite not being either royalist or Tory.
Perhaps it was this sense of juvenile feminist pride which fertilised the seeds of Dominance inside me. The first time I remember really taking control of play was on a teenage holiday with my friends. Perhaps the foreign clime allowed me to act on impulses I kept in better check at home.
I remember feeling particularly aggressive the second we landed in Majorca. I was there to party and get fucked, and nothing was going to get in my way. We checked into our room and our arrival attracted the interest of the party of lads in the room next door. They crashed into our room via a balcony hop and all thoughts of making it out that night was abandoned as we unpacked and drank Jack Daniels.
One guy in particular paid me a lot of attention, pouring my drinks and sitting close to me. I could feel the heat of his body radiating through his jeans and felt my lust rising along with my blood alcohol level.
Emboldened by the spirit of being abroad without my parents for the first time, I kissed him, and he responded with gusto. I wanted him. I didn’t want to mess about dancing around the issue for days. He might not be there tomorrow so fuck it. I dragged him into the bathroom of our apartment in front of all our friends and locked the door.
Earn The Right
I pushed him up against the sink and took the belt from his jeans, securing his hands behind his back. He was shocked, but extremely hard. I wrapped my fingers around his cock and told him how impressed I was, but that he was going to have to earn the right to fuck me.
I pulled my knickers and skirt off and jumped up on the sink, pulling him down towards me,
“Eat me, make me cum and if you’re a good boy and please me then I might let you fuck me”
I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as he stood there, hovering above my expectant cunt. Nodding with real enthusiasm before licking me like his life depended on it. I remember the feel of my fingers in his hair, directing his hot tongue where it felt best. I’d never felt so powerful. He made me cum and as I sat there looking at his throbbing cock, I felt a little sadistic streak pulse through me. Maybe I shouldn’t let him cum.
Opening the Flood Gates
This first experience opened a tidal wave of Dominant sexual urges which I fully explored over the two weeks I was in Majorca. Culminating in an encounter which began on the dance floor of a packed club. The poor unfortunate soul who came into my sights this night was so hot, if I’d been at home I may have been intimidated. He was that pretty.
After some extended smouldering looks and a lot of heavy eye contact my newly borne Domme decreed fuck it, go for it. I strode across the club and stood in front of him. Just from the look on his face I could tell he was a mixture of bemused and surprised. We danced together, and his hands slid over me.
My nerves were heightened by the adrenaline of my bravery. I run my hand down his growing cock and whispered in his ear that I wanted it. He kissed me, and we left the club without a word to our respective groups of friends.
My apartment was closer, so we headed there. He told me his name was Mark as I switched the light on, I told him I didn’t need to know his name. Leading him out to the balcony. I sat on the chair and told him to take his clothes off. At first, he laughed, but there must have been something in my look, or in the weight of the situation. Slowly his fumbling fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
I remember feeling the wetness growing between my thighs as I watched this beautiful boy disrobe in front of me. Eventually he was stood there, awkwardly in just his shorts.
“Those too…” I pointed to his crotch with the tip of my shoes.
He hesitated, before pulling them down. He stood, stunning in the early morning half-light. I was literally dying to touch him, but I wanted my fun first.
“Touch yourself” I commanded. He stood blinking, vulnerable by his nudity whilst I sat there still fully clothed. He didn’t argue, even if it occurred to him to do so. I could tell just from one glance at the painfully erect cock now in his hand that he wanted to go along with it.
He slowly began to stroke his cock, eyes cast downwards, afraid to meet my gaze. God that turned me on. “Look at me!” I barked, he raised his head almost in defiance and began to wank with more purpose.
I watched him, sliding my hand into my low-cut top to play with my hard nipples, throwing one leg over the arm of the chair and wriggling my skirt up my thighs. He stopped. “Did I say you could stop?”
As he teased and stroked himself I pulled my knickers to one side and began to touch myself, sat on the balcony in full view of the apartments surrounding us. I could tell he was close, his legs began to shake, his handsome face a picture of concentration as he tried not to cum. Oh it was time.
Taking The Prize
I led him back into the apartment and pushed him down on the sofa. Pulling my skirt up around my waist and my yanking my knickers off. He laid there, looking like a snack and god was I hungry. I picked my sarong up from the floor and used it to tie his wrists to the arm of the sofa. And climbed on top of him.
I hovered over his cock, he’d waited so long, what difference was a little longer? He begged me to sit on him. I pushed my discarded knickers into his mouth and untied my halter neck. Freeing my tits, allowing me to sit up on top of him and play with them, watching him struggling to get his cock inside me from his prone position.
I could see the unspoken pleading in his eyes, the pain on his face, the need for relief. The control I had over him sent electric shocks directly to my cunt. I felt like a fucking Goddess. I finally sank down on his rock-hard length, causing him to moan loudly. Muffled by my makeshift gag, his moans only served to make me hotter.
Slowly teasing him, riding his cock, using him. He was just a toy, he was there to serve his purpose and get me off. I fucked him hard and fast screaming as I came. As I untied him, and pulled my soaked knickers from his mouth his gasped and spluttered,
“We don’t have girls like you where I’m from!” and I smiled. Knowing this side of sexuality would never go back to sleep.