Playing Dom

by Sky Corgan

When I got home from work, I quickly whipped something up in the kitchen and then went into my bedroom to change. The Mistress outfit I had purchased was feeling a bit redundant, so I decided to wear a teddy instead. It was mostly black mesh with spandex bands covering all of my more intimate parts and wrapping around me in a stylish manner. There was no doubt in my mind that Micah would make some comment about it not being dominant looking, but I didn't care. We were playing by my rules, and I was going to wear whatever I wanted.

  He showed up at eight o'clock sharp, which gave me barely enough time to get everything done. I opened the door five minutes late, panting and hoping he was still there. Micah scowled at me, but it only lasted until his eyes trailed down to the lingerie I was wearing. Then he smirked and sniffed the air.

  “Smells like you're cooking again,” he said casually.

  “I am.” I stepped away from the door to let him in.

  “Italian?”

  “Spaghetti. I figured you wouldn't want Mexican food again.”

  “You didn't have to cook for me.”

  “Did you already eat?” I gave him a worried look.

  “Yeah, but I could eat again.” He followed me into the dining room where I seated and served him. If he truly had already eaten, I never would have been able to tell. The spaghetti got devoured like it was the last meal he'd had in weeks.

  “You're a really good cook,” he told me, staring at his empty plate as if he expected another portion to magically spring forth.

  “I like cooking. Originally, I thought I was going to end up going to culinary school, but being a chef doesn't pay enough. Or rather, it's difficult to get your foot in the door anywhere that offers decent wages.”

  “Understandable. I wish I had finished up college.”

  “What was your major when you were going?”

  “Architectural design. I suck at math though, and I didn't have the patience for classes. I was young and stupid, more interested in partying and getting laid than making sure I passed my classes.”

  “And you think you've changed?” I teased him.

  “Some things don't change.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don't party as much as I used to. I still love women though.”

  Micah's admittance sent tendrils of jealousy shooting through me. Even though he wasn't mine, even though we had no relationship other than friendship, it bothered me to think of him with other women. Then again, I supposed that made sense, considering I wanted him as my sub. Eventually, hopefully, he'd belong to me and only me. It would take a lot of convincing to make him switch sides though.

  “Well, when I own you, you won't be dallying around with other females,” I said with a huff.

  He laughed, “When I belong to you? Is that how you think this is going to turn out?”

  “I do.” I nodded confidently. “You just don't know it yet.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I'm no sub.”

  “But you looked so good in that collar. I'd like to see it on you again.”

  Micah quirked an eyebrow at me. “You do remember that I'm volunteering to help you. I can rescind that offer at any time.”

  My lips fell into a frown, and then I pursed them, remembering the reward I had planned. “I'll make it worth your while.”

  “You gonna start paying me for lessons now?” He snorted.

  “Come into the living room. Sit on the couch and wait for me while I clean up in here. I should make you do it, since you're the slave, but I'm feeling nice. And you'll address me as Domina from now on.”

  “Brat,” Micah huffed, pushing away from the table to stand up and go into the living room. It pissed me off how he continued to disrespect me, but I knew this was hard for him. He had never been a slave before. It would take some getting used to for him, but I was sure I could eventually make him love it.

  When I finished the dishes, I joined him in the living room, dropping to my knees between his legs. His eyes widened as I took the position and instantly started fumbling with his zipper.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, completely in shock.

  “I promised you a special reward, didn't I?”

  “I thought the dinner was my reward.”

  “I suppose it could have been.” I tilted my head slightly, wondering why I hadn't thought about that sooner.

  “By all means, keep going. I want to see what this reward is.” A devious grin spread across his lips, and I cursed myself again for not making the dinner his reward. It was too late to backpedal now though. Micah had an expectant look on his face, and I would feel bad for disappointing him. Besides, as naughty as it was, I really kind of did want to touch his cock. It was a nice cock, thick and long and veiny.

  I maneuvered my hand into his pants and boxers, feeling his soft skin as I grabbed a hold of him and pulled him out. Once his cock was exposed to the open air, I reached over onto the side table for a bottle of lube, then I squirted some in my hand and lathered him up. He was already growing hard from my touch, and I enjoyed the feel of him swelling below my palm. The look in his eyes was etched with lust, so I tried to avoid his gaze, feeling small and weak beneath it. He was so sexy that it was hard not to want to submit to him, to please him, to fuck him. No. You're a Mistress now. You're in control. Don't let him get to you with those gorgeous green eyes, and that amazing body, and this massive . . . Oh God, I got a random urge to suck it. No. No. No. Stick to the plan.

  I started with the basic steps, wrapping one hand around his manhood and working it up and down until he was fully aroused, which didn't take long. My eyes stayed trained on his penis, and I over-analyzed my every move, hoping he enjoyed what I was doing. For some reason, I really wanted to impress him.

  This was just the warm up. I had a whole curriculum worked up for bludgeoning his beefsteak. I just hoped he could last through it . . . or that he wouldn't. If he made it all the way through, that would mean I had done a shitty job, wouldn't it.

  Micah watched me wordlessly, making no indication of his level of gratification. God how I hoped he wasn't one of those silent guys. You know, the type who seem to think that sex is a mute affair. I hated it when I couldn't tell if they enjoyed it or not, and the best way to tell besides looking in their eyes was by listening to their moans.

  Since I was already starting to psych myself out, I decided to change the pace, mixing up my speed and pressure. His cock throbbed in my hand, the first sign that I was doing something right. Pleased with myself, I decided to switch again, using one hand to stroke him and the other to massage around the ridge of his glans. That made him gasp, and I got my reward, a soft moan. Mmm yeah. Pleasure suits you well. Keep being vocal for me, baby.

  As I continued to jack him off, I could feel my panties growing moist. It was almost embarrassing how much pleasuring him was getting me off. My mind was wandering to all sorts of inappropriate places, my mouth watering to taste him. There was a light sheen glistening on his helmet, though it was hard for me to tell if it was lube or pre-come with all the touching I was doing to him. Judging by the amount his prick was throbbing though, I could only assume it was the later of the two.

  I decided to take some time to play with the boys, stroking him with one hand while the other reached into his pants to find his testicles. He leaned back, relaxing against the sofa as I continued to work on him. While he had stopped moaning, I could hear his breathing becoming labored. Just the sound of it motivated me to pick up the pace, wanting to see him come. Over-thinking everything got pushed to the sidelines, and instinct took over. My hand worked rapidly, milking him with various pressure. It wasn't long before I knew he had reached his limit.

  “Fuck, baby, I'm going to come,” he warned only seconds before shooting a stream straight up into the air like a champagne cork.

  I barely had time to dodge before the spurt hit the carpet next to me. The rest of it went on his jeans and over my hand, feeling like melted wax. This was one part of the hand-job I hadn't really planned for, and I a
dmittedly felt guilty that I ended up getting it on his jeans. Micah didn't seem to mind though. When I looked back up at him, all I saw was appreciation on his face.

  “I'm sorry I got you dirty,” I said, cowering a little.

  “It's nothing that a wash cloth won't take out.” He smirked at my concern.

  “I could wash your pants for you before you go, if you like.”

  “I think you're just trying to get me out of my pants,” he teased.

  “Maybe.” I grinned. Damn it. Why had I said that. Now he's going to expect more.

  I scowled at myself as I went to the kitchen to get some carpet cleaner and a sponge. By the time I returned, Micah had already stripped down to his boxers. Just looking at him made me feel like I was losing my dominant edge. I had to reclaim it.

  “Here, slave.” I shoved the bottle of carpet cleaner and the sponge into his hand. “Clean up your mess while I put your pants in the washing machine.”

  He chuckled at me, which only upset me more. “Yes, Domina.”

  I took his pants into the laundry room and sighed while I threw them into the washing machine and poured detergent over them. Why did I feel so conflicted about everything that was going on between us? Being dominant with him didn't feel right, but I refused to be a sub again. It was probably just strange because I wasn't used to it.

  The fact that he wasn't taking me seriously wasn't helping either. I'd need to be firmer with him. Maybe break out the riding crop. Yes, the riding crop seemed to work. He was somewhat afraid of it, at least when I was touching his dick with it.

  When I had finished starting the wash, I went into my closet to look at my toys. The riding crop was the first thing I grabbed. Then my eyes landed on the flogger. It was brand new, like most of my two-person toys.

  Looking at it made me think of Chet. He had flogged me many times before, but never with anything so innocent. The flogger I owned was made of suede. The ones he used on me were made of rubber or boot lace. Any flogger could be painful in the right hands though, and while I trusted Micah to a certain degree, I was still a bit hesitant to trust him with this.

  Maybe I'm not ready yet, I thought as I turned the flogger over, pulling the velvety tails between my fingers. Memories flashed through my head of being tied up and struck repeatedly, sending painful tremors through me. I almost tossed the flogger back into the closet when I heard Micah's voice behind me.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Why?” I turned to him.

  “You've been in here a while. I just wanted to make sure you didn't pass out on me.”

  “No.” I smiled weakly down at the flogger. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?” Micah leaned against the door frame.

  “I want you to flog me, but I'm a bit scared,” I admitted sheepishly. “The last time I was flogged . . . well, you know.”

  Confusion filled his face. “If you're scared of being flogged, then why would you want me to do it?”

  “I think it will help me get over what happened. Besides, I feel like I can trust you to be gentle. Can I trust you?” I gave him a hopeful look.

  “You're the Domina. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to,” he said gently.

  “I don't think this one is as bad as the one he used. See.” I held it out for him.

  Micah stepped forward, though he didn't move to take the flogger from me. “There aren't many floggers worse than the one he used on you,” his voice was melancholy.

  “I had never seen that flogger before that night. The fact that it was in his bag . . . I've been thinking about it for a while. He probably meant to use it on me whether you were there or not.”

  “I wouldn't doubt it. The guy is sick.”

  “Have you ever used anything like that on any of your subs before?” I asked hesitantly.

  “No. I don't use pain for the sake of hurting people. I use pain for pleasure. I've never done anything to my subs that they haven't wanted me to do, and I would never flog or whip them at an intensity they wouldn't enjoy. Scenes aren't meant to be used as punishment. This.” He took the flogger from me, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “This isn't a tool meant to beat submission out of you. Submission is earned through mutual respect. This is supposed to be a reward of sexual gratification and a symbol of trust. I would rather die than hurt you with it.” His eyes met mine as he handed the flogger back to me, handle first, and I swooned from the intensity of his gaze, the honest tone of his words. And in that moment, I trusted him completely.

  “Let's do this,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  “If you don't want to, I'm not going to make you.”

  “I want to. I'm the Mistress, remember? Now, get out of my room.” I pointed to the door with the riding crop.

  “Yes, Domina.” Micah rolled his eyes at me again, though this time it didn't bother me as much. I was too happy to let it bother me, still reflecting on his words, lost somewhere between subspace and a strange euphoric place inside of me.

  I tossed the riding crop onto the bed before following him into the living room. Then I handed him the flogger before assuming what I felt like was an appropriate position with my hands held over my head and my legs slightly spread.

  “You know, this would be better if you were naked,” he suggested, though I could tell from his tone that he didn't think I would buy into it.

  I decided to surprise him, immediately stripping off the teddy without another word. When I was done, I threw him a small wink over my shoulder. He was standing there with his mouth agape, though he quickly tried to hide his shock when our eyes met, curling his lips into that cocky smirk I was so used to seeing on his face. He only thinks he's in control, I thought before turning back around and bracing myself, praying that I had made the right choice in trusting him.

  “Are you ready?” Micah asked.

  “Yeah. We'll do this the same way we did the spanking.”

  “Alright. I'm going to start now.”

  I held my breath as I waited for the first lash, expecting a similar amount of pain to what I was used to with Chet. The initial stroke was so light though that I barely felt anything at all. It was more of a thud than a sting, and so superficial that the tails hardly brushed my back.

  “You can do it harder than that,” I grumbled, a bit annoyed that he was obviously babying me.

  The second strike had a bit more muscle behind it, though there was still no pain. My flogger felt completely different than the ones Chet had used on me. While I wasn't particularly disappointed, it was also hard for me to get used to. The tails seemed to stick together and thud against my back instead of lashing out like tiny biting snakes.

  “It feels wrong,” I said finally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's not like any of the floggers that Chet used.”

  “That's because it's probably made of a different material.”

  “What does it matter what it's made of? I mean I know that some floggers are made of different stuff.”

  “Well, depending on what the flogger is made of, the type of material, the number of tails, the thickness of the tails, it will create a different sensation. The tails on this one are about an inch thick, so it's more likely to produce a thudding than a stinging sensation.”

  “Damn. You really do know a lot about this stuff.”

  He shrugged. “Again, it comes with experience. I do know something that this flogger would feel really good for, but you're going to have to trust me.”

  While I wasn't not enjoying the flogging, he did have my curiosity piqued. Something that would feel better, huh. Might as well give it a try. He hadn't done anything to me that I hadn't liked yet.

  “I will allow this, slave,” I said quickly, not wanting him to feel in control.

  “Get on your hands and knees,” he told me.

  “Get on your hands and knees, please Domina,” I corrected him.

  There was that eye roll again. “Do you w
ant me to do this or not?”

  “What are you going to do, first?” I gave him a suspicious look.

  “It's a surprise. I told you to trust me. If you don't trust me, I'm not going to do it.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, feeling somewhat deflated by his stubbornness. Relenting, I knelt down.

  “On all fours.”

  I dropped the rest of the way, frowning but also incredibly curious. Even though I kept insisting I was in control, it felt like our roles had switched. He was standing over me with the flogger in a position of power. I wasn't sure how to change that. My only options were to tell him to stop or to suck it up and let him dominate me for a while. In the end, I chose the later of the two, too intrigued to back out.

  “Keep your eyes forward,” the pitch of Micah's voice darkened, demanding my obedience.

  It was easier to follow his lead than I imagined, though a small part of me was still screaming not to. That was the part of me that had been hurt by Chet, the part of me that was reluctant to trust any man with a device in his hand that could cause me serious harm. Remember Micah's words. He said he wouldn't hurt you.

  I tried to relax as I waited for what was to come, though my heart was booming in my chest, echoing out a beat to my demise. This wasn't the first time I'd listened to its frantic rhythm. I had gotten used to being stressed out when I was in Chet's care. After taking a few weeks away from him, it was strange to feel myself reacting this way again.

  The first touch to my ass was suede tails lightly petting over my skin. My body instantly stiffened from the sensation, my breath hitching with nervous anticipation.

  “Spread your legs a bit more,” he told me, and I obeyed.

  The tails slipped between my crack, feeling like soft tongues licking across my sensitive flesh, shooting an electric shock of desire straight to my nether region. Micah was moving slowly, oh so slowly, letting the tongues explore over my backside and between my legs. I felt myself involuntarily relaxing, my fear of him dissipating with each passing moment.

  “That's not so bad, now is it?” he asked in a soothing tone.

  “Not bad at all,” I admitted, feeling a shiver of pleasure roll down my spine.