Prose
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My First Time
Very few people have any inkling of how uncommon dominant females are. That is why most of them become a ProDomme (professional dominatrix). There are easily a hundred or hundreds of masochistic heterosexual men for the sadistic heterosexual women they seek.
Malesubs almost never understand that Femdommes prefer clever, smart, capable men. They may want to control the man but the seeming paradox is that he must be a man worth controlling. Dull, wimp doormats aren’t in short supply. I don’t think this is really mirrored in the gay S&M community. Gay men having stepped outside the boundary merely buy loving other men are more open to uncommon ways of finding sexual gratification.
And I think men (gay or straight) often think more of the physical pain than the quality of attitude. Dominant women are more often drawn to sacrificial love, worship if you will than the merely whipping (not that they don’t necessarily enjoy the whole experience).
But I don’t want this to drift into some half-essay on the nature of power exchange and gender. It is just a spare account of an afternoon when a dominant woman gave me a chance to explore my heterosexual submissive side.
On Labor Day of 2000 I had must first experience as a submissive. I wish I’d written about it then rather then rather than waiting until now when I’m in a bit of a rush and distracted.
Ms. Zandra and I had chatted on Yahoo a bit and had talked on the phone the night before but this was our first meeting. It was meant just to be two friends getting together.
We chatted for awhile. I’d had hardly any sleep the night before (partly from talking with her and partly from my habitual poor sleeping). I was anything but a lively talker that day.
She asked me if I wanted to see her floggers. What could I say but sure. So she went out to her car and brought back her bag of tricks.
And offered me a rite of passage into the world of BDSM.
She put cuffs on me tied them together, blindfolded me and wrapped a collar around my neck.
She alternated rubbing me with soft things with light flogging. And she put clothespins on my nipples.
At her instruction I said “Thank you, M’am” whenever anything actually hurt. I had no problem with the strongest flogging she felt like delivering. It confirmed my suspicion that I’m a natural pain slut. The blows excited me and made me want more.
She worked my right nipple harder than the other. Twisting the clothespin gave me the strongest pain. That made me very excited.
At the end she had me get down on my hands and knees and led me to a chair where I knelt as she petted me and rubbed my head. This last was really very moving. Something very humble and peaceful. I really wanted to rub my cheek against her shoes but didn’t know what to do.
After awhile she released me and it was over.
A real elation stayed with me for a couple of days. This was all clearly very much to my taste and left me wanting more.
I had only one subsequent experience. It was with a guy. He didn’t really have the knack for domination. It was short and he slapped me some with a riding crop and mild flogger.
Sadly he was so boring that pain never became pleasure. But it was hardly pain, just tedious.
Thanks Ms. Zandra, it was very kind of you.
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