FEMDOM FIRSTS: How Dominant Women And Their Submissives Got Into The BDSM Lifestyle - Volume 1 of the WellHeeledDominatrix.com Collection (5 page)

I stood up, apologizing, and reaching for a towel. She grabbed it from me, wiped the oil from her neck, and tried to get it out of her hair. It was no use. I couldn't even look in her eyes. I knew they were spewing fury. She stood up, shaking and still completely nude, and screeched, "Take off your clothes!"

I glanced again over the stone wall and I was horrified to see our neighbor, Jerry, and he was looking right back at me, clearly enjoying the show. Goddess followed my gaze, and noticed Jerry, too. She didn't seem to care that he was staring at her heaving chest and her pussy tan lines.

"TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, NOW!!!"

I did, and left them on the hot cement. I glanced at Jerry again. He was still staring, a smile on his face. I was so embarrassed but I didn't have much time to dwell on our audience.

Goddess gritted her teeth, and spewed, "Get on your hands and knees! NOW!"

I did as I was told. The cement was so hot! I was embarrassed to realize my cock was getting hard. I didn't know if it was from the oncoming punishment or from the humiliation of having an audience.

I turned my head, and saw Goddess walking toward the edge of the small garden. She grabbed a small branch, and pulled. It easily cracked off the trunk. As she walked back to me, she was running her fingers over the stick. Her naked, oily body was glistening in the sun.

She quickly walked up behind me, and proceeded to give me about 20 licks with the stick. Each one hurt worse than the previous swing. The more she whipped me, the more sore my ass became. A couple of times, that stick came dangerously close to my balls! I was moaning and crying, and begging her to stop but my sobs seemed to make her even angrier.

She threw the stick down, and ordered me to the pool. I started to get in but she stopped me.

"Sit on the side. I'll be right back."

I sat down and the hot cement scorched my already blistered butt.

She disappeared inside and I looked over at Jerry. He was still smiling and he whispered loudly, "You lucky asshole!"

Goddess emerged from the house then, and approached the pool. She had a large wooden spoon in her hand. Her favorite one from the kitchen. She stepped into the pool, and walked down the two steps. She dropped down, and got her entire body wet, before putting her head under. When she emerged, she was dripping from everywhere. She was so beautiful. I noticed the spoon was dripping, too. I was so hot but I knew asking her if I could get in the water would not work. She never let me do what I really wanted to.

She said, "Put your hands behind your head, and lock your fingers." I did.

She approached me, walking to the first step. She said, "Spread your legs." I obeyed again.

She then raised the wooden spoon, and brought it down hard on my inner thigh.

Smack!

I screeched. I couldn't help it. I was trying to take my punishment like a man because Jerry was watching but I couldn't hold it in. Goddess hit me again, on the other thigh. I tried to close my legs but she punished me by bringing the spoon down sharply on my now deflated cock! I cried like a baby and she laughed at me!

"Are you going to keep your legs spread now?"

"Yes, Goddess," I whispered.

She smacked my face with her other hand.

"What did you say?!" she yelled.

"Yes, Goddess!" I replied louder.

With my legs spread again, she proceeded to spank my inner thighs with the spoon repeatedly. They were already starting to bruise but I was far more concerned about how close she kept coming to my cock.

She stopped suddenly, and released the spoon. It floated away from her, toward the waterfall.

She dropped down, and leaned toward me. She then grabbed my cock, and pulled me forward. I obeyed, and ended up sitting on the first step. The cool water felt so good on my blistered ass and thighs!

She was still oily, and started working my cock with her hand, up and down. It didn't take long for it to be standing at attention, protruding out of the water. She lowered her head over it, and took it into her mouth, pumping it furiously. I glanced over at Jerry. He grinned, and gave me the thumbs up. I was even more humiliated, and looked back down. Goddess was nibbling the tip, sticking her tongue in the hole, looking for precum. She did that a lot. Just as I was about to come, she stopped. She does that a lot, too. I rarely get to come.

Just as I was about to lose it, she stopped, turned over, and presented her perfect, round ass to me. She bent over the side of the pool and I knew what to do. I plunged my cock into her pussy and she groaned. She then yelled, "Faster!" I obliged.

I noticed she dipped her hand under the water and that she was now furiously working her own cunt. She came quickly, and shuddered over and over again around my wanting cock. I asked her, "May I please come, too, Goddess?"

She immediately moved forward, leaving my erect cock waving in the cold pool, turned around, and smacked my face once again.

"Not until you learn to be perfect!" she hissed.

She then walked up the steps, and back to the pool lounge. As she laid back down, water dripped from her sides and her hair while her hard nipples peaked with water droplets in the sun.

With her eyes closed, she snapped, "Go get the sifter, and start cleaning the pool,
Pool Boy
. And, stay naked."

Jerry was right. I am a lucky asshole.

The Last Act Of A Dom Wife

by Mildred

All I will say is that it pays to be able to pay for the kindness of a funeral director.

My husband would have literally risen from his overpriced coffin if I had not included that cock ring in his jacket pocket. Steve, our family undertaker, is a friend, and has consistently enjoyed our generous contributions to his business over the years. The fact that he also has a thing for GILF's (me being probably the spunkiest one he has ever come across) served me well when making this last play of domination for my dear, sweet, departed husband of 53 years.

We enjoyed a great ride, Frankie and I, working hard to keep our specialty grocery running, raising two kids, and all the while stealing time away for me to hang him from the eye hooks in the basement dungeon of our store. I would also keep his balls shaved, and occasionally blue, when I made him wait out a month of chastity at a time.

We loved the tight, eight-block neighborhood we grew our family and business in, living our life with nary a care in the world, and hiding what we were really about...what we had in each other. People just thought we had a pretty spectacular marriage.

I was not mourning his passing, you see. I was celebrating because we'd had it all.

I could still recall my husband and I first stepping into the top and bottom, BDSM, sub/dom world (though those definitions did not exist for us then). It was a hot day in 1965. We had just made a deal with a small supplier from Midori (the very town my grandparents were from), and were trying to decide how much to spend---and where to spend it---to expand a section of the store. Still newlyweds, Frank and I were making a living, but watching our dollars at the same time. It was as he pouted about where to put our new shelves that the heat rose with my frustration at my new husband's incessant need to weigh every option infinitum. I couldn't help myself. I reached for the rattan carpet beater I kept to the side of the back door, and promptly swatted my man's bottom to get his attention.

The "fump pish" sound, Frank's reaction, the intake of breath I couldn't then seem to be able to release---it was as if I had found a beautiful, locked door suddenly opened. My sexual experiences being few, I didn't know I could even be excited by the thought of striking my husband. For sure, we had enjoyed a good sex life in our relatively new marriage but this sudden bite of what suddenly seemed a very forbidden yet ripe fruit made me tingle in places I never even knew I had.

"Take 'em down, take 'em down," I recall whispering, while pointing to his trousers. Frank, clearly surprised but silent, did just that as I came to see the massive, quick hard-on he sported.

He got 20 high, hard, quick hits that day in the back of the store, halted only by the trilling bell over the door sounding a customer. I gingerly placed that rug beater down as I returned to the register, red-faced, knowing Frank and I would revisit this amazing happenstance again.

We later built a back room for a new line but, when customers were not in the store, you can imagine what Frank and I got up to back there. In the three years that followed, we kept the specific moments of me topping him (we still had no idea of BDSM terms) to that space. It was all not much more than quick spankings and then Frank mounting me on a pallet of some imported cheese bundles or such. But, those erections he sported, and how quick he was at taking down his pants, and how wet I was when walking through the empty store to meet him, indicated we were well onto something that would fuel our marriage for a very long time.

By '68, we were adding even more products as the money began to roll in. The time had come to truly expand and we did so, buying old man Jerimo's store a block down from us. The chubby bald guy was "gettin' out, out, out" he assured us, and offered his bunker of a store for a bargain price. The place was perfect---close enough to our home location and, much to our delight, it had a large basement and, at one end, an old room used at one time for cold storage.

Frank quickly fashioned this second room into our dungeon (again we didn't call it that) and we'd take long weeknights down there. I came to learn all manner of kinky ways of getting my husband to submit to me, beyond just spanking him, slowly adopting the roles of Mistress and slave, just like we saw couples do on the 8 millimeter films Frank began sending away for.

Things escalated from spanking to what I slowly learned was CBT (cock and ball torture) as Frank and I found our games seemingly limitless.

Given the time, the money we were making, and the fact that we were a lusty couple growing more intimate because of our scenes (we were both doing what we could to research what we thought was part and parcel only our desire), we came to make friends with people worldwide, folks we met through importing, old world European-monied couples who knew more about the 'lifestyle' than we ever imagined there was to it. Our vacations became ever longer journeys to exotic locales that supported our desires and we came to realize that we matched-up perfectly to one another, sensing that, deep down, each side of the coin matters.

Many a time, Frank reasoned aloud that, the first time he saw me, what attracted him to me (beyond my honey curls) was how confident I seemed to walk through a room. I admitted it was his broad chest, as well as a softness in what seemed a mighty rugged exterior, that got to me about him when we had first been introduced by a mutual neighborhood friend.

We were a kinky couple, and could afford to buy expensive toys. I had dildoed Frank, and made him take more than one cock in his ass and mouth over the years. I had taken five lovers in total to cuckold him with. And, of course, there had been the spankings, floggings and CBT we came to regard as our art. Never once did he refuse me, nor I him, and we rarely had sex without some sort of kink being involved, even if it was simply Frank wearing a pair of my panties.

As I sat there in that modest funeral home, a pair of Frank's favorite of my crotch-less panties on under my skirt, I was even then trying to determine if indeed Steve, our family undertaker, had a solid ass under his suit jacket...and if it would be worth it to me to begin to keep the man by approaching him with the time and money I could well afford.

Frank, wouldn't want it any other way.

Loving Every Second of This Life

by the Eager Cuckold

There I was, stranded in that position again---my tight butt popped up, my underwear hammocked mid thigh, my ever-growing erection pushed as deeply through Angela's closed, thick thighs as possible, the edge of her right one tickling the head of my penis, my freckled lower back arched in anticipation of the next quick smack from her wide right palm, my left hand clutched around her ankle, just where the thin black strap circled her foot (man, am I ever glad we had that week in Paris where I could buy her such sexy heels), my right hand just under her thighs, at once holding onto the hem of her mini-skirt as well as trying to wiggle my finger up under it, my head swimming as my girlfriend of nine months scolded me once again, calling me "naughty little boy".

I might not ever be able to free myself of affording this woman who affords me such an escape into my own needs.

I had been searching for a dom lady through my years of working 18-hour days while building my father's already bustling business into the industry it is today. I had never been interested in the well-coifed, positioned women I met who seemed eager to dominate me simply because of whose son I was. I truly do enjoy the largess, and work hard now to keep my money building, but cash does not desire make as I learned dating the women in my past. But, needing what I did sexually, I took domination when offered, though it was, until now, almost always a lackluster enterprise, with me prompting through scenes way too much.

But this bubbling beauty sitting up over me then was of a different order and, while certainly a well-to-do daughter of a presentable businessman, there was something about this woman that made her take to just about everything. And, for my good fortune, doming me.

SLAP! SLAP!

Angela's hand resounded, bouncing off the very bottom of my cheeks, dangerously close to the back of my testicle sac, which this woman had so artfully moved and shifted so I was literally lying on it, pushed back between my legs so she could sufficiently hit my balls at the same time she did my ass.

I pushed up into her again but my raging erection found no better purchase than where it was already squeezed between the woman's thighs.

For sure, Angela is not new to doming her men. I am certainly not her first and, as she reminds me, I won't be her last.