Dominating Dimitri

I know this guy, Dimitri. He’s a short, loud, hairy, morbidly fascinating pain in the ass. I live near him, and I watch him as he takes brisk, duck-footed walks in our neighborhood sometimes.

He’s only ever seen me in my daytime clothes. I’m a bit of a tomboy, and during the day, my sunny red hair is in a pigtail at the nape of my neck. I go out with no makeup on, in jeans or sweats and an old T-shirt. My favorite, my Pink Floyd The Wall T-shirt that is barely being held together by some magic Pink force, is the one I have on today.

I sit on a bench in the tiny park in the middle of our street. He circles the same block again and again, seemingly not bored at all by the same scenery, again and again.

He hasn’t seen me in my work clothes, oh no, not yet. But I have decided he soon will.

I can see him clearly. He is terrified. Of everything, especially women. He thinks he can master this fear by trying to assert his man-ness and come and try to teach me how to do a bank shot, so to speak, as I’m just a delicate lil flower, hahaha. Is he in for a surprise!

I look a lot different at night. During the day, I’m just Vicki Vincent. But at night, I’m Mistress ViXXXa Vayne. I’m a badass in five inch stilettos.

I wield a single tail the way Katniss Everdeen can shoot. Fuck Indiana Jones.

So this day, when Dimitri circles back around, I nod my head at him, deliberately making eye contact. He turns his head and continues to walk for a second, then he slows his roll and stops and puts his hands on his hips.

I beckon with my eyes for him to join me on the bench. I hand him a turkey sandwich I’ve brought, wanting to hang out with him long enough to confirm my suspicions that this little man needs to be severely dominated, and I’m just the bitch to do it.

He graciously accepts the sandwich. Opens and bites into it, and as he chews his large mouthful, he says, so what’s up, girl? Like we know each other well enough for him to call me by anything other than my first name. Gross. Just the motivation I need for this meeting.

So who are you, and what do you do, I ask, point blank.

I’m in sales. Well, kind of. And I get the rundown of complaints about his job in finance, like I care. He’s just asking to be put in his place. He’s not only a bad boy but also an irritating one. He’s so getting his flabby ass spanked tonight!

Like the sandwich? I ask, sincerely curious, as a dinner invitation is a pretext to a, what I’m hoping will turn out to be, completely consensual D/s date.

Yes, actually, it’s surprisingly good, he says, stressing the word surprisingly. Fuck you, asshole, you’re getting it good tonight.

Great! I’m at the blue house on the right, around the corner from you. You’re in the gray one with the jacaranda out front?

Be at my place at 8. I’m cooking for a few friends.

A tell, not an ask.

A few friends, my rosy back cheeks!!!

8:07, there’s a knock. Guess who?

I open the door and he instantly hands me a square pink box, tied with thin white string.

Well, that’s nice, thank you!!! I exclaim as I hurry to the kitchen to dig into what turns out to be the best baklava I’ve ever had. Okay, he’s just scored a few points. This is going to be fun.

He is relaxed and chatty, but pleasantly so. He seems to have forgotten that I’d told him others would be here. He never mentions it. Just chills out and pays attention.

I sit him at the table, across from me. I catch him checking me out as I sit down. I’ve ordered one of my slaves to wait on us tonight. She is almost as stunning as me, in a red leather replica of my black corset, and a short red leather skirt. I have on black leather pants, five inch heel black thigh high boots, my black corset from Dark Garden, and my red hair is slicked back and up, into a high ponytail. Bitch red lipstick adorns my full lips, and black and coal shadow and liner frame my eyes.

When he first arrives, he behaves as if he sees me every day like this. The shock, maybe. But as we grow more comfortable speaking, even though he is still repulsive, at least we have a good and lively intelligent banter going on.

My hottie in red brings out the first course... a lobster bisque, accompanied by a crisp white wine.

He begins to eat, and goes at the wine as if it is water.

If he keeps that up he’ll be drunk and useless soon, so I have my girl take back the wine to the kitchen. He compliments the bisque, and is turning out to be much better company than I could have imagined.

As we eat, and continue to get comfortable with each other, he allows his eyes to travel, then linger, repeating the cycle several times.

He puts down his fork. Stands up from the table and starts to take my hand.

And just what do you think you’re doing, you bad, impatient boy? I ask, getting to my feet and dwarfing him further.

I’ve never seen a man drop to his knees faster. I fucking knew it!!!!!

I love it when I’m right.

And we are off.

Did I tell you to get on your knees?

No, you didn’t.

I slap him lightly on the ass with my open right hand as I circle him. No you didn’t WHAT?

No you didn’t, Mistress.

THATS better, that’s a much better boy. Just for that your Mistress will allow you to lick her boot heels. Would you like that?

Oh yes, please, Mistress.

Now that’s a good boy. You may now lick your Mistresses boot heels, but be quick about it. I have a lot planned for you tonight. What’s your safe word?

Shakespeare

Of course it is.

I grab him by the hand and lead him out of the dining room and into my play room.

It’s great having an open plan house. I designed the interior myself. I want to appear completely normal from the outside, like daytime, but inside is like an industrial loft space, and I can shift modules if I want to rearrange.

My play room is just an area toward the back, away from the windows. I need some privacy to do this work. And of course, when I play, like tonight.

The first thing I want to do is shut him up. From my cabinet, I take a red silicone ball gag. I wrap the leather straps around his head and yank the humiliating gag into his annoying face.

I suddenly remember that first piece of baklava and soften a bit. I buckle the gag one notch looser than I was about to.

Force him back to his knees, his wrists buckled in black leather cuffs behind his back.

I put a studded black leather dog collar around his neck, with a heavy steel ring on the front for a leash to attach to. I guide him to his feet. I lead him to a black object that resembles a small vault horse, the kind gymnasts use. Attached to the front of the “horse” is another steel ring, which sports a heavy iron chain, a foot and a half long. On the loose end of the chain is a thick steel carabiner, expensive and sturdy. This I attach to the ring on his collar, after having removed the leash.

I take out a pair of scissors from the drawer in the cabinet nearby.

Stay still, I say. You’re fine. This is your favorite shirt, right?

He nods an emphatic yes.

Good, I say, and I watch his face as it drops to the floor as I make the long, slow cut up the back of the expensive aubergine silk shirt, that has too many buttons undone anyway.

As the shirt slides off his back, I note how it catches on the copious curly dark hair sprouting from his skin. I say, you Neanderthal, how do you ever get a woman to even look in your direction?

He backs up a few inches with his hips.

I am finally on the right track. He sticks his ass out at me, as if reading my mind, his body begging discipline.

When I’m ready, you’ll get that ass spanked good and hard. Not a moment before, got it? For emphasis, I grab his left ear and yank his head up and his face into mine. He nods and tries to say Yes Mistress through the gag.

Good. I spit, and push his head back down.

I want to hear your adulation now, in detail. I’m going to take the gag off. Remember, good dogs don’t bite their Mistresses.

He nods, and says through the gag, Ff krshe, Msshtrssshhhh

I remove the gag.

He begins, enthusiastically, Oh, My Goddess, are you sexy in those heels, and...

Was that a qualification, I growl playfully, feigning menace?

You’ll start again. You’ll do it now, I instruct him.

He backs up another inch with his hips, his neck straining at the chain.

Perfect. Time to move.

Like backing up is going to get you what you want any sooner? Give it up, Dimitri, I say, in a derisive tone that makes his very name sound like an insult.

I move toward him, and the look on his face is one of mixed lust, longing, and gratitude.

Good boy, you’re grateful to Goddess, aren’t you?

Very much so, Goddess, he is finally able to say in his overexacting, consistently sarcastic tone of voice.

I give him a treat... a light crack with my stiff leather crop. He gulps, audibly, as if he is a 12 year old boy at his first kissing party.

He shudders with pleasure. I’m furious.

I don’t remember ever giving you permission to cum, you bad boy!

I’m ssssssorry, Mistress… I mean, Goddess… I mean, I’m… and he starts to cry softly.

What are you crying about, silly? I ask him.

It’s just, nobody has ever understood me like you seem to before. I beg your permission to lick your boots, Goddess.

I’m tough, but I’m not without a heart.

I walk over to him and unclip him from his restraint. I gently but with force push him back onto his knees. Then, standing behind him, I place my hands on his shoulders and exert pressure on him in a forward motion, getting him to lie prone on the floor. I put the sole of my boot level with his lips, then with my crop, I coax his mouth open and tell him to stick out his tongue. As he does, he drools out of the corner of his mouth. If he had been a woman, he would have been wet.

He enthusiastically licks the whole sole and heel and then I shift my weight and give him the other foot.

When he’s had his fill of worshipping my boots, I lean down and grab the back of his now stained undershirt. I yank him to his feet. I lead him to the bed. I order him to undress, but not just undress. I put on music and make him do a burlesque-style strip tease for me. If only he’d been wearing pink satin elbow gloves.

He stumbles awkwardly about the space, trying to remove his pants, his underwear, then, his socks and shoes. Really?

He does manage a good spin flourish with the shirt after he gets it up over his head. He tosses it with a flair across the room. He even almost looks cute about it.

When he finishes his strip tease and I am satisfied he is properly humiliated and turned all the way on again, I push him back from his spot at the end of the bed down onto his back.

Spread eagle, now, I bark.

As he moves his wrists and ankles quickly to the corners of the black wrought iron frame Cal King bed, for which he is a tad short, his stiff penis moves as if flicked with my fingers. I give it a small smack with my crop. He smiles and winces simultaneously.

He looks at me, long and hard, with desire and hope. I knew I was right about him. He can’t help who he is, but he desperately craves the corrections of a beautiful, tough woman. I am more than happy to oblige.

It’s time to get down to business.

I buckle him into soft leather restraints at his ankles and wrists. He is shorter than the bed, and he pulls against the restraints, although they are not uncomfortably tight. His compact body relaxes into its excitement.

I stand back, a bit away from the bed. I undo my black corset, secretly grateful to take the thing off already. I let it fall to the floor with a whoosh and then a soft thud. Under it, I wear a black lace bra with invisible straps. It’s a push up number, advertising my girls like globes.

I lean over him, crop in hand, ready to wield should he misbehave for any reason. I lean deeply into his face, allow my barely covered nipples to graze his lips. He puckers automatically, and his mouth begins to make sucking motions, as if wanting to be fed.

Oh, are you just a big baby? If you’re very good, I have a lactating slave I’ll introduce you to later, but for now, let’s be a big boy. And with that, I free up a freckled brown nipple and allow it to drop briefly into his waiting mouth. He opens and sucks, as if trying to take it from me. I grab his greedy face in my left hand, squeeze it almost into a fish face, and ask him just what he thinks he’s doing?

I don’t remember inviting you to do a thing, I say with mock derision. You just relax, you hear me?

Yes, Goddess. I’m Sorry, Goddess. Please allow me to service you in any way you can think of.

Be careful what you ask for. I have a sick mind, I’m creative, and I’m not shy about my demands. That shuts him up.

I back up again, and make a show of thinking about it. Put my hand on my chin and my elbow in my hand for effect.

I’m curious about his skills, and privately, I’m really impressed with him. He is open to my corrections and puts up a minimal fight. I decide I’ll give him a treat, and so I do.

I drop my leather pants, that are broad enough at the bottom to accommodate my boots, so they fall to the floor easily. I stand before him in my black lace crotchless panties and push up bra, clutching my crop. Funny, I never have to pull out my single tail.

I approach him. I stand at the top left corner of the bed, with my full bush sticking out the bottom of my panties. I like that we are both hairy. He can appreciate mine. I allow his fingers to graze my wetness, and then I maneuver myself to allow one of his fingers to break the seal between my labia, revealing the growing plumpness and wetness occurring there.

He closes his eyes and groans, oh yes YES, My Goddess!!!! Thank you , Goddess!!! He inhales at length. Licks his lips repeatedly, physically begging me for a taste.

I indulge him. I climb on top of the bed, my stiletto heels digging into the mattress. I straddle his smarmy face and have myself a seat, my asshole covering his nose. Instantly his mouth and tongue come alive.

That’s right, eat your Mistress good. That’s good. I’m surprised you have it in you.

He stops, just for a second, to thank me for feeding him.

Did I tell you to stop? You’ll keep going until I’ve cum and really fed you, and not a moment before, got that?

Yesh, My Delicioush Goddesh, he says, through a mouthful of my wet heat.

I sit up, emphasizing the pressure of my ass against his nose. He gasps, and I let up long enough for him to take a deep breath.

Now I give it to him good. I grind my pelvis downward, until I can feel his bristly chin scraping the little “man in the boat.”

I back off a little, for my own comfort, but there’s no enhancement to my pleasure like an obedient slave and a good meal.

I can feel his breathing change; slow and relax, as the awareness of his condition and position begin to sink in. He is happy, and having a grand old time.

I of course don’t tell him so, but I am too. The satisfaction of being right about him, along with my culinary slave’s delicious cooking and my swiftly approaching orgasm are all conspiring to make this a memorable evening.

I focus my energy and attention on the action at hand. My vulva, plump and juicy on a daily basis, is near bursting with pleasure. I take my crop and apply it gently to his straining masculinity. He twitches, desirous of more.

I’m ready to cum, and then a jasmine bath, just me and my hot serving slave.

I give it another smack, and climb down from my perch atop his now glistening face. I put my boots firmly on the dark hardwood floor. I stand next to the bed, enjoying the tension of not knowing what’s next on his face.

I get close. I take his upright fat fella in my hand. I squeeze. He closes his eyes and smiles. I tell him to remember where he is and who he’s with, and that if he gets out of control, it all stops and that’s that. He nods like a small boy agreeing to clean his room if there’s a piece of cake in it for him.

I walk dramatically, swaying my ample hips, to the end of the bedroom, where I pick up a bottle of my favorite lube. I flip the cap open, invert the bottle, and pour it freely over his waiting package. It’s a bit cold, and he shrinks a little.

Wuss, I say. Can’t handle a little chill? I have just the thing, and I take a thick, flexible, silicone ring from a box on the night stand. I stretch it and gently apply it over his whole area. It stiffens up nice again. Then I take a loathed but necessary condom from the drawer, tear open the foil package with my teeth, and unroll it over him. Safety first! I say.

I make a show of applying lube to my whole vulva, then pour it over my fingers and make sure he’s watching as I plunge them into myself, to be ready for the ride.

He sighs heavily, not quite believing what’s happening.

I get on my knees next to him on the bed. Let’s see... cowgirl? Reverse cowgirl?

I decide to be generous and give him a choice.

Do you want to see my face or my ponytail while you get pleasured?

Oh, Beautiful Powerful Goddess, I want to see your eyes and face. I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.

That is a good answer, Dimitri, I say, meaning it.

I mount him, guiding him into my deep dark wetness with my fingers.

The moment he penetrates me, his hips begin to jerk in an upward direction. I smack lightly him across the face with my crop.

Stay still, I order him.

I’ll try, Goddess, but it’s been so long and you feel so good, I don’t know if I can.

Do your best, bitch, I admonish him.

Yes, Goddess, he answers me.

Good boy, and I allow myself to relax into the action.

I ride him with no inhibition, letting myself slide slowly up the shaft and play with the glans, tightening my powerful kegels to enhance the pleasure for us both. It works.

His hips begin to move with an automatic jerk. He is very close, but I’m not quite ready.

Relax, I’ll tell you when, I say, and I disengage.

I raise myself up from his pelvis as if it is nothing. I want more than anything to just cum already and get some much needed sleep. It’s been a long day.

Instead, I stand, much to his bewilderment, and I walk to the kitchen. I pick up the pink box from the counter, and I walk it back into the bedroom.

He watches me with big round eyes, wanting my attention, which he will get again when I’ve had another piece of the delicious baklava. Mama requires all manner of fulfillment.

I can see on his face that he can’t decide whether to risk my crop by protesting, or to just acquiesce when I generously offer him a bite of my treat. He chooses option b.

Good boy, I say. Wants to cum so bad he can taste it, but allows himself the moment. Very good boy.

And I’m ready again, this time to finish off. I know he’ll cum almost as soon as I sit back down on his waiting friend.

I return to the box and pull out another condom. I grab the bottle of lube. I approach him again, and I uncap the bottle.

This time he forces his hips in an upward direction, wanting to feel the slick, chill liquid cover his throbbing member.

I oblige him, but at my pace. Finally I put the bottle back down. I tear open the package and take out the condom. I place it on the now purple tip of his hungry Johnson, and indulgently roll it down to the edge of the stretchy black ring.

I regard him for a moment, watching him watch me, watching him want me more than he’s ever wanted anything.

Uncharacteristically, I walk to the head of the bed. I lean down. I stop millimeters from his lips, mine almost grazing his. By now, he has put himself completely in my care, knowing I will give him what he wants as long as he is good. I smile, one corner of my mouth rising slightly higher than the other. I look him square in the eye, and kiss his open mouth.

As I do, he explodes inside the condom.

Privately, I am thrilled. He is so compliant and malleable at this point, but so turned on he cannot help himself.

To him I say, who told you it was okay to cum, hmm?

Tears spill gratuitously from his eyes. His relief is apparent, and it is real.

Goddess, I humbly beg your pardon. I wanted to control myself but I just couldn’t. Your mouth on mine was a complete surprise. It was a kiss I never knew I wanted, or needed, before.

Well, Dimitri, I’ll forgive you for the moment, but you’re going to have to do something for that forgiveness.

I walk to the corner of the bed where his right hand is still in my cuff. I unbuckle him.

Then his right foot, his left foot, and finally his left hand.

There’s a standard contract on the dresser. You’re in finance, right?

You’ll sign over to Goddess ViXXXa your right to cum for the near future. You’ll only do it at her hand, with her permission. You’ll wear a locked cage from now on, until you come see Goddess and she decides whether or not to let little Dimitri out to play. Got it?

He suddenly ejaculates the last of his semen, still in the condom.

Thank you, My Goddess. Where’s a pen?