A Domme’s Special Valentine

by Jocelyn Thaler

Valentine’s midnight: Thin rattan slices through the air with a hum, a sharp report sounds, a vivid welt across firm, taut buttocks follows. A gorgeous crimson stripe blossoms, which will linger for days, much longer than heart-shaped chocolates.

“Ow,” a soft, drawn-out sound. “It hurts, Mistress,” breathed out in a sigh. The ass clenches, and waves of erotic sensation work through him. When he stops squirming and manages to obediently resume his position, his back is arched and his buttocks are up, perfectly placed for another stroke. Douglas is flying high, bonded to me, trusting me. I carefully lay the cane against him right where his thighs and ass come together, raise my arm, then whip another one in. And, with the stroke of midnight, it’s finally our first anniversary.

My pussy is drenched, my nipples are stiff. I can’t resist straddling his ass and rubbing my clit hard against his flaming bottom while he humps the leather-covered hassock he’s stretched over. Musky-scented juices cover him as I spread my legs wide and drag my pussy over the hot welts. But I need more.

“Up.” My clit is unsheathed, slipping and sliding in the wetness on his ass. He knows what I want, and raises his torso. I can feel his pain, see it in his shuddering body as his clamped nipples stretch. It quickly carries me over the top, a sweet, hard orgasm that flowers from my clitoris and pulses through my veins. Oh, what a good boy he is, and he’s all mine. And the night is still young . . .

The desire to dominate had been there right along with my first sexual feelings; I had always wanted to exercise that power. College was a real eye-opener, sex was everywhere. Still, I think I was the only graduating virgin in my dorm; I just didn’t rush into anything. I’m tall and slender, with generous breasts and a nice ass with pale milky skin, green eyes, and raven-black hair. I can be more than a little exotic-looking if I want. Even before I’d ever heard of female domination, I relished the power of my body.

When I was ready I picked a grad student, Eric, and then made him work hard for it. He made love to my pussy with his mouth—a lot—before I let him go all the way. When it did happen, I ran the fuck myself. Holding his throbbing erection firmly in my hand, I positioned the head of his cock at the wet opening of my pussy, then lowered my body onto his throbbing member.

Even that relatively vanilla experience was a lesson to me in a woman’s power over men’s lust. I spent the summer with Eric and, while we didn’t explore kinky sex, I was always on top. Eric was definitely under my spell. Like most men, he would do practically anything for sex.

I was restless, though, searching for something I couldn’t identify. Tommy was the man who finally helped me put a name—or, more properly, initials—to my desires.

“You didn’t tell me you were into B & D,” he said after a bout of nearly vicious sex.

“What do you mean?” I was still so naive.

“You got my legs trapped in the sheets and blankets,” he said. “Then you climbed on top and held my wrists above my head.” Well, yes. “And my nipples are going to be sore for days.”

Oh, yes, I’d licked, sucked, and bitten his nipples while pounding myself up and down his magnificent shaft, making myself hotter and hotter until I came. Tugging on the engorged flesh with my teeth, I’d felt him writhe beneath me as I drenched him with my juices. From then on, Tommy helped me to better understand exactly what it was that I wanted—no, needed—from a sexual relationship.

On our very next date he arrived with a gift that I still have today, a slender riding crop—my very first one. He had me try it on the bedspread, and then on the inside of my thigh. It stung quite a bit, even without much force behind it.

“You want me to hit you with this?” I asked, just to make sure I understood.

“Oh, yeah.” Tommy leaned against the wall, his head resting on his crossed forearms, his feet spread a little, and his ass jutting out at me. “Now, the way this works is I can move anything in between my head and feet, but they have to stay in place.”

His butt looked gorgeous, two vulnerable mounds of pale, muscular flesh. I could just see his ball sac hanging below.

“Start easy,” he whispered.

I laid the crop across the high point of his ass and he drew in a ragged breath. Then I lifted the crop and flicked it back down, using just my wrist. I fell in love with the way it sliced through the air and the neat little “thump” sound it made hitting his ass. He gasped and arched. “Again, harder.” Tommy danced in place while I cropped his ass.

Something, someone, came out of me that night. I loved doing this! And how my clit throbbed when the first real welt appeared like magic on his white skin. His cock jumped when I lay in another sharp stroke.

“Ah—that one hurt.” He writhed, and a sheen of sweat broke out across his back. He shifted, lifting a foot. My reaction was automatic, occurring before I even thought about it. The crop flicked down, catching him on his calf.

“Put that right back where it belongs, mister.”

Tommy yelped, his foot going right back to the floor. “Oh, please don’t hit me there,” he pleaded.

“Who’s in charge here?” I was tapping his butt.

“You are.” There was a petulant note to his voice. It made me step back a bit.

“So, do you like it?” I asked, suddenly uncertain. But his cock told the real story. It was rigid, dripping, his balls snuggled nice and tight to his crotch. “You do like it, don’t you, Tommy?” Lust, power, and excitement swept through me like never before. “I like it too.” I brought my dripping fingers to his mouth. “Lick them, Tommy.” The feel of his tongue and lips on my slick fingers was heavenly. I was floating in a sublime place. My pussy tingled, and I could feel my swollen labia under me as I moved around my eager victim.

I reached for his drooling cock and rubbed his juices all over the blunt head. I fisted it, stroking slowly, squeezing more pre-come from the slit. He started fucking my hand with his pulsing organ, so I dropped it and went back to working his ass with the crop. Tommy gasped, moaned, even squealed a couple of times, but never shifted his feet. It all made my nipples almost spark from the heat inside me.

When his cock grew to an impossible hardness, an exquisite feeling of eroticism and power took hold of me. The urgent thrusting and pulsing of his orgasm was a revelation: Holding a coiling, spitting cock in my hand and striping his ass felt incredibly right.

“Don’t make me,” he begged, catching me by surprise.

“Don’t make you what?” I was still rubbing his softening cock with one hand and his hot ass with the other; it was divine.

“Don’t make me lick it up.” The light bulb went on. I raised my come-covered fingers to his mouth.

“No, no, no, please don’t make me do it.” He turned his head away.

“Ow!” I had smacked his bright red ass hard. When his tongue started lapping, I knew I was right where I belonged—making a man do my bidding.

What a sexy time Tommy and I had! As the weeks went by, he showed me the club scene and we had a ball partying with friends. I learned a lot about the fetish world during that year. But real life interfered with the fun stuff. After graduation, Tommy and I went our separate ways. We keep in touch, though, and I know he is happy serving a mistress where he lives.

In those beginning years out in the workaday world, I had a few very discreet, very hot relationships with submissive males and even one with a femme-sub. But something was missing.

It was Douglas. When I read his erotic thriller, I knew I had to meet him. His book was full of the dark side of female domination. The villain, a woman, combined her sexuality and power to make others commit crimes. The hero was an almost-snared reporter who’d fallen under her spell. The twisted, sophisticated plot involved the mind as much as the body. It was intense, hot, and seemed to speak directly to me.

When I finally met Douglas, I wondered if it was just writing, though. He was a large man with a well-trimmed beard. His manner was almost courtly: He opened doors, pulled out chairs, and always let me go first. I often caught him smiling at me and sensed it was because he knew I was trying to figure him out.

And he certainly left me smiling once I got him into bed, because the way Douglas worshiped my body, softly licking me from one orgasm to another, asking permission to touch me here, kiss me there, exhibiting a need to please that bordered on the desperate, convinced me that Douglas’s book was as much a reflection of his own needs as it was the work of a man with a vivid imagination. And I quickly put my theory to the test when I came back down to earth.

Douglas was kneeling on the bed, and he was rock-hard, his cock bulging with desire. I reached for it, squeezing just hard enough to feel his pulse in the engorged flesh.

“How do you want to come?” I asked. Not like me at all to ask a man that, but I was really curious since he hadn’t made a move to penetrate me. There was a wary look in his eye. I leaned over, still stroking him slowly, and kissed below his ear. “C’mon, Doug, you can tell me.” My teeth closed on the lobe and he shuddered. “Okay, if you can’t tell me, then show me.”

He moved between my legs, kneeling in front of my wide open pussy. What a picture he made, stroking his hard-on while his hips thrust back and forth. His left hand moved to his right nipple and he pinched, tugged, and twisted.

“But of course, Doug,” I sighed. “Let me.” He leaned in toward me until I could reach his stiffened nipples, and then I dug in. He arched away, his skin stretching until the flesh was white. “Come for me, baby, all over my pussy!” Each blast of his come against my pussy sealed our fate. It was so hot, I became determined right then to make this man all mine.

I started by making him lap up his release. What an exquisite feeling that produced, fueled by the sight of this ultramasculine man kneeling between my legs, stroking his cock, coming while I controlled him. He had simply bent over and started to lick me when I told him to. I held his head in my hands, directing him to every drop of his hot, sticky juice clinging to my flesh, finally holding him in place when he got to my clitoris. It was a power orgasm, plain and simple.

Needless to say, I didn’t let him get away without a full confession: submissive all his life, always searching for—but never finding—the domme of his dreams.

What had been missing from earlier relationships was the deep connection Douglas and I shared in our life. We aren’t a 24/7 mistress/slave couple, but our voracious appetites make sure that domination is brought into play quite often. Doug works at home, spending half the day writing and the rest of the day making my life easier. I adore him. Some of our leather friends wonder if that love gets in the way when we’re “in scene.” Believe me, it doesn’t.

A good example is that first anniversary celebration. I love to watch him struggle, so I tethered his balls to the foot rail of our bed after his caning. With my pussy just out of reach of his mouth, I slowly fucked myself with my most bizarre-looking dildo. Oh, how he pulled; I could see the hurt as he inched closer and closer to my drooling cunt. He can’t help himself, you see; he’s addicted to licking his mistress’s pussy.

“Why, Douglas, I thought you liked licking my clit,” I teased.

“Oh, Mistress, I need to.”

“Well, get to it then!” I shoved the dildo all the way in as he leaned closer, his gasp of agony sending hot sparks shooting through me. “Come on, Douglas, try a little harder.” What a good man he is. I felt his pain when his trembling lips finally got to my clit. My orgasm flowered and flowed through me, borne on the wings of his offering.

After soothing his aching balls with some icy-hot rub, I got out the clover clamps. This time it was his nipples tethered to the bed’s head rail. It was time for the real surprise, my new strap-on. He was still shy about his anus, so it was easy to get him blushing all over. All I had to do was talk dirty and spread lube up and down the crack of his ass. His eyes never left the gleaming shaft as I covered it with a condom and more lube.

Here was a place Douglas and I hadn’t gone yet. Anal play had never been one of his turn-ons, but riding his ass was definitely one of mine. Making him give me this incredibly intimate male sanctuary was the way I was going to make Douglas mine, for the rest of our lives.

I lodged the dildo’s head right at his puckered opening and settled a hand on his hip. “Back, baby,” I urged. He moved toward me. I held the shaft in my other fist. “C’mon, sweetie, do it for me.”

“Oh, no . . .” There was a little whine to his voice, but I knew he was deep into submission.

“Oh, yes,” I sighed. “Make your mistress proud.” He shifted back again and I could see his flesh start to part, open, and come around the head of my latex cock.

“Oh, it’s too big,” he whimpered. “Too big, Mistress.” I reached for my crop, and with a flick brought the tip of it up against his nipple. “Ow, Mistress!”

“Come on, Douglas, you know when I’ll stop, don’t you?” I gave his clamped nipple another kiss of the crop as he eased his ass down onto my fat shaft. And I gloried in every inch of it invading him.

“It’s all the way in, Douglas.” His hot ass was locked to my hips, and I reached around for his cock. “Ah, yes, it hurts, doesn’t it? Makes you feel nasty, doesn’t it? Makes you all mine, doesn’t it?” I stroked his rock-hard length. He groaned and settled back, whimpering as he pulled on his nipples even harder.

“Yes, Mistress.” My orgasm started when he circled his stuffed ass against me, rubbing my clitoris hard into the back of the dildo.

A rush swept through my body, all tingles, all electric sensation, blood pounding through me as I mastered my man.

“Please, Mistress, please fuck me.” He was near tears, asking me to do that to him. “Please, make me feel it, make me yours.” I pulled out slowly until just the head was lodged in his ass, then released the clamps and fucked him deeply.

What a thrill to be fucking him hard as he begged for it, begged to stroke his cock, begged to come.

Finally I let him, but only after I had come again. He sprayed hot come all over the sheets as I held him hard, the dildo deep in his ass. I could feel it all, every shuddering, quivering, ass-clenching thrust of intense pleasure.

After slowly easing the dildo out of his ass, I held him close, anchoring him to reality, anchoring him to me. My need to make him all mine was satisfied, at least for a while. After all, we have our whole future together ahead of us.