I Was a Domme Once, Part Um (that’s Portuguese for one, kids)

I have a confession that may surprise some of you. When I was the ripe old age of (cough, cough) 18 I tried my hand at being a Domme. I didn’t call myself that, but nonetheless, that’s what I was.

Some background: I was pissed off at myself for being so submissive in relationships, all three of them at this point, with a couple of minor trysts of the caliber only a teenager can have (more coughs). I did anything the Swede said. Oops, some of you may not know who the Swede is. If you want to read about him and the other two I’ll briefly mention you can go here, but come back because the rest of this may get good. I still don’t know what I’m writing yet, but I’ll try to make it interesting.

Back to the background: I was just a little puppy following these stupid boys around. I was just a girl knowing that something in me needed to be fulfilled, but I had no idea what that was. I wanted so much to please. I went out of my way for them and I know I was used. I was back and forth with the Swede while he was in college and he turned out to be a dick. The wealthy guy used me solely for sex. You see, he was a virgin and I guess I was his educator. My experience was limited to my times with the Swede and I never had vaginal sex with the Swede, only anal. See? It does get interesting! The wealthy guy could never bring me to orgasm so I would masturbate in front of him. At least I had the wherewithal to take care of myself. He came so fast, but many 17 year olds do. The Harley guy was older than the Swede and actually didn’t use me. He really was good to me. He looked after me and made me feel important and special. He listened and said the most beautiful things to me. He loved to make me cum. He spent a lot of money on me. Why did we break up? Two reason 1) He was a drug dealer and he really didn’t have a future, ya know? 2) He had a very small penis. I could barely feel him in me. He had great oral skills and used his fingers expertly. He was also an incredible kisser, but I really need more in the cock department. We kind of fizzled out as opposed to any real break up. About four years ago he died of a drug overdose. So did the chiseled jaw guy mentioned in my other post. Actually, they died within months of each other. My long time friend, J, jokes with me that all my old boyfriends are dying off. She really can’t joke too much, though, because her high school/post HS boyfriend also died of a drug overdose over a decade ago. We were apparently hanging with the wrong crowd.

Back to the story: Without knowing I was a submissive, I was a submissive. Easy to see now, but then I thought of myself as weak and I’m sure it was because of so many conflicting messages being hurled at girls. I was frustrated and annoyed with myself so when J suggested we go to our favorite club on a Saturday night (drinking age was 19 in Connecticut, but they always let us in) I decided I was going to pick up some random guy and fuck him. It was a fantasy of mine and I felt bold enough to do it. We get to the club, get some drinks at the bar, and start trolling for cock.

I wasn’t seeing anyone interesting for over an hour when suddenly, there he was. I spotted him from across the dance floor and our eyes locked. You want interesting? Here you go…I sauntered up to him and said, “Buy me a drink and then fuck me in the parking lot.” Oh, yes I did! I felt sooooooo powerful. Words like that NEVER came out of my mouth before. With all the other guys I waited for them to initiate. I would politely ask for things so bashfully. I was afraid of being displeasing. On this day I could give a flying fuck what anyone thought of me. He smiled and said yes and that’s when I heard the Portuguese accent. I was intrigued. We walked over to the bar and he asked me my name. He said my name back to me and the way he said my name with his accent went straight to my pussy. He then started to tell me his name and I cut him off and said, “I don’t care.” Oh, yes I did! He bought me my Tanqueray and tonic, extra lime, just like I told him to. Wasn’t I just so cool ordering a top shelf alcohol (cough, cough)? We sat in silence as I drank. I must have looked like I didn’t have a care in the world as casually as I was acting. He looked like he was about to drool. Obviously this had never happened to him before. I finished my drink and told him to lead me to his car. Well, well, well, parked in the far corner of the club’s parking lot sat a gleaming red Trans Am with a t-roof. This was going to be fun.

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16 thoughts on “I Was a Domme Once, Part Um (that’s Portuguese for one, kids)

  1. A cliffhanger sex story? Thou doth tease…or…er…dom us all. You have us wrapped around your pain/pleasure – inflicting fingers as we wait for the next part.


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