How I Became His...

Transcript

When I think about my Dom, I smile. Why do I smile? Well, there's so many reasons.

He's caring, he's considerate, he's sweet. He takes control so that I don't have to think about anything. I can trust him.

I can trust him with my mind, with my body, with my heart. And I never have to worry that that trust is misplaced. That's new for me.

I've never had that before. I've never actually had this type of relationship before. He makes me feel like the most important person in the world.

And even when I'm satisfying his needs, he's putting mine first. I didn't know there were people out there that did that. My history is not so great when it comes to relationships and love.

Nothing terrible, just, you know, nothing to write home about either. When I think back to the beginning, that first few months when we were dating, getting to know each other, figuring each other out, it was some of the happiest times I'd ever had up to that point. Things were getting serious, and I remember the night that he asked me if I was ready for something more.

In his words, something different than I'd ever experienced before. He needed to know if I could handle something before we went any further, because we were very clearly falling for each other, and this was important. I was enamored, I was smitten, I was falling in love, and I agreed.

I wanted to know. And I hoped that I would be okay with whatever he was asking me about. So we made the arrangement.

He told me to show up at his house the next night, and I was a little shocked when he gave me a list of requirements for my visit, but I went with it. I knew this would be our first night together, he'd made that clear. We'd never had sex.

We'd fooled around, we'd been playful, but we'd never crossed that actual threshold. So I knew, I knew kind of what I was in for, but I had no idea. He told me to be completely hairless, as he didn't like body hair.

Fair, I didn't either, so that one was easy. He wanted me freshly showered, with no makeup, and my hair loose around my head and down my back. We had never talked about these things, but makeup wasn't something I wore a lot of anyway, and he'd hinted that he liked the natural look, so I wasn't really surprised.

He wanted me to smell nice, but when he told me that, he chuckled and said he wasn't sure why he was even mentioning it, because it was never a problem. At first, I'd kind of taken issues with him giving me hygiene directives. I'd never given him reason to worry about my hygiene, but as he talked, I realized something was shifting.

This was part of it. This was his preference, and he was letting me know what he expected of me. He was letting me know about that part of whatever was coming.

And somehow, I just understood, and I wasn't upset anymore. We'd already talked about sexual preferences, and what he called limits, things that were no-goes, so I didn't have to worry about that. We'd agreed to respect each other's boundaries, but as I stood there waiting for him to open the door, my stomach was in knots.

It was more than butterflies. It was a stampede of horses going through my stomach, waiting, anticipating, worrying to an extent, because it all hinged on this. If it didn't work, then what we'd been moving toward for the last couple of months was over.

When he finally opened the door, though, there was something so calming about him, and the smile on his face immediately made me feel better. He just has that effect. He kissed me, and he'd kissed me before, but never like this.

This kiss was different. It was possessive. He'd always been gentle, sweet, firm.

He'd always let me know that he wanted me, but this kiss was very clearly an indication that I belonged to him, and somehow I knew that. He ran his hands over my body, slowly, exploring. It was like he was learning every ridge, every curve, my temperature, the feel of my skin, all of it, as he kissed me.

He wasn't in any rush, and we stood there in the doorway for quite a few minutes. And the longer we stood there, the more he touched me, the more he kissed me, the more I relaxed, which was most likely his intent. Eventually, he led me upstairs to his bedroom, which I had never seen before.

But when I walked in, it was just him. I can't describe it, but you know how you walk into a place and you just know the person that it belongs to? You can just feel them in every color choice, in every piece of furniture, in every little knick-knack.

That was it. My Dom knows his own mind. He knows who he is, and he's comfortable with it.

And that room was such a representation of that. I immediately felt even more comfortable. One thing that didn't match, though, was the scent.

The room was fairly masculine, and by fairly I mean quite, but the air held the faint scent of lilacs and roses. Not what you'd expect in a room like this. And then I realized, those scents weren't about him, they were for me.

Lilacs and roses were my favorite scents. My apartment always smelled like lilacs because those are the candles that I burned, and I had a rose-scented air freshener in my car. And when he'd commented on both, I'd told him, only once, that they were my favorite scents.

And he remembered. He wanted the room to be comfortable for me. He wanted me to feel at ease.

He wanted things that made me want to be there. I relaxed even more, and the stampede in my stomach seemed to settle down quite a bit. He'd made the bed.

He was the type of person who I'm pretty sure made his bed every day anyway, but the sheets. .. the sheets were different.

I remembered him telling me that he liked luxurious sheets, silks, satins, things that made him feel like a king. But that's not what was on the bed. The bed was made in soft summer cotton, again, a choice made for me.

Those were the types of sheets I liked, very, very soft and very cool against my skin. They were blue, not just any blue, but blue like the ocean. The ocean is my calm place.

It's where I go to unwind, to feel better, to make sense of life. And he picked the perfect color. That bed made me think of sinking into the water and letting it melt away all my troubles.

The amount of forethought in this evening was mind-boggling. He kissed me again, and he started to undress me. He was quite happy that I'd followed his instructions, commenting on how good I smelled, how beautiful I was with no makeup, my hair just loose and wild.

And I felt more special and more precious and more beautiful than I'd ever felt in my life in that moment. That's the effect he was already having on me. When I was naked, things started to turn, and not in a bad way.

He stepped back, and he told me to remove his clothing. The look on his face was hungry, almost carnal as he looked at me, as he took in every inch of my naked body. And he wasn't shy about it.

His tone changed. He went from sweet and what I can only call normal now to authoritative, deeper. He was in charge, and he was letting me know it.

But he was no less sensual. He was more so, in fact. And every part of me burned.

I had to take a deep breath and stop my hands from shaking before I could do as I was told. And I had to get that thought through my head. Do as I was told.

I wasn't the type of person that did what people told me to do. That's not who I was. That's not the type of life I led.

In fact, it was the complete opposite. But I wanted to. I wanted to follow his instruction, to the letter.

I wanted to please him. My hands were still shaking when I reached for the buttons on his shirt. So much so that he had to help me.

Finally I got them open, and I slid it off his shoulders. He instructed me to kiss his neck, and to let my hands trail lightly over his abdomen and around his back. The first touch of my fingers on his skin was like fire.

It was like little explosions everywhere I touched. It was electricity and heat, and it spread through every inch of me. And I wanted more.

I wanted to grab him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted, well, let's face it, I wanted to jump him.

But I held back, and I did only as I was told. He let me continue to his pants, telling me to undo his belt, slowly lowering the zipper so slowly that it was almost torturous, sliding his pants and his boxers down over his hips, and his ass. When his cock sprang free, hard, thick, ready for me, I felt myself getting wet just looking at it.

I couldn't stop from licking my lips and trembling. I had never wanted anything so much in my life as I wanted this man standing right in front of me, as I wanted his cock in my mouth, inside me, anywhere he wanted to put it. And it was terrifying.

I took a deep breath, and I waited. I wasn't allowed to want anything just yet, and I knew that. After what felt like an eternity, his hands came up to my shoulders, up over my neck, into my hair, and he kissed me again.

His tongue forced my mouth open, whether I wanted to or not, but oh, did I want to. He devoured me. He tilted my head back, and he ravished my mouth.

His tongue was everywhere. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't keep up, and I didn't want to, I didn't care. My whole body went limp, my mind emptied, and I just stood there and let him take what he wanted from my mouth.

He tasted glorious. Every part of me responded, every part of me was trembling and shivering and wanting more. I have never felt need like that, and it was coursing through every inch of me.

He kissed me like that for the longest time, making delicious sounds in the back of his throat, like he was enjoying a meal. And the more he seemed to enjoy himself, the more aroused I became. That was the point, right? Eventually he stopped.

He stepped back, and his eyes held mine as his hands came back up to my shoulders, and he pushed down. He pushed me gently to my knees, and he told me to put my hands behind my back and keep them there. Then he gathered my hair into a ponytail, and he used it to guide my mouth to his waiting cock.

He ordered me to open my mouth, and I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Would he be rough? Would he force me to take the whole thing all at once? Would he fuck my face and come all over me? At that point, did I even care? My heart was beating so fast, I'm surprised he couldn't hear it.

I couldn't take my eyes off that glorious cock. I opened my mouth, and he rubbed the tip of his cock over my lips, smearing them with pre-cum. I still remember the taste, that first taste.

It was better than anything I had ever tasted before. He told me to kiss the end of him, and I did, gladly. The tip of him was smooth and warm, and it felt so good against my lips.

He told me to gently suckle just the end, so I did, like it was the best kind of popsicle. Just little suckles, using my tongue on the tip of him. His hands were still in my hair, holding it, guiding me.

Apparently I was doing a good job, because his breathing changed, and the jolt of satisfaction, of arousal, of pleasure that shot through me, knowing that he was enjoying what I was doing, was unlike anything else. I was pleasing him. I was doing what he wanted.

And in that moment, it was the most perfect kind of peace. I wanted more. He ordered me to open my mouth again, and he pushed his cock past my lips, over my tongue, and seeded as much of it in my mouth as I could handle.

I could feel the tip of him against the back of my throat, I could feel every ridge along my tongue, along the roof of my mouth, I could feel my lips around him. I couldn't breathe. He was blocking my air, the head of him was pushing into my throat, making it constrict around him as he gently pushed further.

My eyes were watering. I held still though, not wanting to struggle, not wanting to do it wrong. It wasn't bad, I just needed to get used to it.

I looked up at him, with just my eyes, and started to move my tongue over the bottom of his shaft, rubbing, licking, teasing as much as I could with my mouth full like that. I swallowed to grip him tighter, even though I couldn't breathe. Somehow I stopped the panic from setting in.

His eyes were locked on mine, and I knew I would do anything he told me to. The hunger on his face, the lust, the admiration, the affection, made me groan around him, and he shuddered in my mouth, and he pulled back, leaving just the head on my tongue. The power I felt in that moment, knowing I could make him react like that, was incredible.

He was in charge, and yet I had just caused him to shudder. I had just given him that pleasure. Then he said the words that I would come to live for, words that I had never thought I would enjoy, that I had always expected would be condescending when applied to an adult.

But no, they lit something in my soul when he said them. They made me crave them. Good girl.

My pussy twitched, and I moaned around his cockhead again. His praise was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Not in any job, or any school, or any accomplishment in my life, and there have been many.

Nothing felt as good as those two words uttered from his lips. I wanted more. I started to suck the end of him in earnest, really using my tongue, and within a minute or two he was fully fucking my face, holding my head with my hair and driving into my throat, gagging me.

Every time he did, he told me I was a good girl, I was his good girl, and he was proud of me. Before I knew it was happening, I was orgasming. I was coming, hands-free, with his cock in my throat.

It was fast, it was unexpected, and it was intense. I hadn't even known I could do that. But there it was.

It crashed over me like a wave. The feel of him, the sound of him, those words, everything just pushed my body over the edge, and I came, and I came, and I came, and I couldn't help it. I could no more help it than I could stop a wave crashing on the beach.

My body was in control, he was in control, and what he was doing to me was the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced. He pulled his cock out of my mouth, and he admonished me for coming without permission. I was confused.

I wasn't aware that that was a bad thing, I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to. But apparently, it was something to be punished. I felt deflated, I felt like I'd lost something that I hadn't even known I had had.

I was going to be punished, punished. In any other context, I would have been angry, I would have felt indignant, but no. I waited.

I waited to hear what my punishment would be, and I felt like I deserved one, because I had done something without his permission. This was a new experience, and yet it felt somehow right. My punishment was that I couldn't swallow his come now, and I felt deprived, like I'd lost the most precious gift when he said that.

I felt sad. He told me to look at him, to watch him. He used his hand, he pumped his cock hard, and he came.

He came all over my face, all over my chest, dripping on the floor. I was shocked, I'd never had anybody do that to me. But the look on his face as he did it, affectionate, almost asking me if it was okay, checking in without checking in.

I smiled, just a little bit, to let him know I understood. This was my punishment. I was completely aroused, and I wanted the chance to do better.

I knew I could do better now that I knew what the rules were. Being covered in his come didn't feel like a punishment. It felt amazing.

But I wanted the chance to swallow him. I wanted the chance that I had lost. Still covered in come, he pulled me to my feet and sat on the bed, with me face down across his lap.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen, my whole body was tense, but I didn't care. I knew I was safe. I knew he would take care of me, and I knew that whatever was about to happen, ultimately I was going to enjoy it.

He would make sure of that. He rubbed my ass for a few seconds, spreading my legs, and he told me to hold onto the cover on the bed with my hands. I was so exposed like this.

My ass and my pussy in the air, spread open, waiting for him, wondering what he was going to do to me. I could feel the come drying on my skin, and I didn't care. Usually I would care, but right now, it was just normal, it was part of it.

When he lifted his hand and brought it back down for the first spanking, I cried out. But it wasn't pain, it was arousal. He was spanking me for coming without permission.

And rightfully so. My pussy exploded, almost making me come again, but I held it this time. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

I wouldn't come until I was told to, no matter how much it ached, no matter how much I needed to, no matter how much my body wanted to explode. I would take whatever he gave me, and I would wait. He told me to count as he spanked me three more times, each time rubbing my skin to take the sting away.

After the fourth time, he rubbed down a little further, toward my pussy. I held my breath. His fingers were so close to that part of me that ached, that needed him, that wanted him.

I wanted to cry out, I wanted to scream, I wanted to beg him to touch me, to fuck me, to make me come, but I didn't. I held still. I stayed quiet.

I did as I was told. I was a good girl. He spread me even wider and drove two fingers into my aching pussy as deep as they would go.

Then he used his other hand to continue to spank me. I don't know how I managed not to come, but I did. I was right on the edge.

No one had ever done anything so erotic to me before. He fucked my pussy hard as he spanked me, making me count, making me focus on the numbers. He told me if I could make it to ten without coming, he'd let me come on his cock.

I wanted that more than anything, so I held on. I squeezed his fingers. I tried not to squirm.

I absorbed the sting of his hand on my ass, the sting that somehow only made it harder not to come. I did everything I could. I was his good girl.

He was pressing on my G-spot, and his thumb had moved to my clit. He was not making this easy, but I wanted to please him. I wanted to do as I was told.

So my body was not going to come, no matter what. He spanked me some more, and on the ninth and tenth slaps, he added a third finger to my aching pussy and thrust in and out as quickly as he could. In and out, in and out.

I could hear me squishing around him. I could hear how wet I was. It was dripping onto his lap.

It was dripping onto the bed. My thighs were soaked. I squealed, but I didn't come.

I held it. I heard him curse softly and felt his hard cock beneath me, which told me he was completely turned on by this, by what he was doing to me. And I knew, in that moment, he could do whatever he wanted to me, and I would take it.

And I would beg for more. He moved suddenly, and I found myself with my face in his lap, his cock shoving up into my mouth. He told me to suck it, his fingers still working inside me.

No more spanking, but he was still fucking me with three fingers, and I could barely breathe. I was giddy, though, that he was giving me this treat, and I didn't even question that now sucking a cock had become a treat. I just opened my mouth and took him in all the way, groaning around him.

Every part of me was on fire. I couldn't stop groaning. I couldn't stop moving.