August 2019 (continued)

Lesbian Dominance (continued)

Sexual fantasies, I've discovered, are often a means of expressing parts of our personalities that don't get expressed in other areas of our lives.

In one relationship, I was involved with Cynthia, who was outwardly a very strong, powerful, independent lesbian woman. But in bed with me she became a docile, submissive pet who enjoyed being ordered around and even sometimes humiliated. The contrast between her public and private selves was at first confusing to me, until I realized that it was in fact the pressure of maintaining that outward image of strength that compelled her to seek the release she found in my arms. It was a huge relief to her to have someone else take over and make decisions. And surprisingly, I enjoyed making those decisions.

A few years later, I had the opportunity to explore this side of myself even more fully. I was living in Southern California, making scads of money in the film industry, dating another scriptwriter. I hadn't slept with a woman since Cynthia. Quite suddenly, I found myself overwhelmed by lust for my young, vivacious housekeeper and, abandoning my boyfriend, plunged into an affair so intense that it produced permanent changes in my personality and outlook on life.

Linda was in her early 20s. Our affair began when I caught her fooling around with my dildo, and quickly escalated into a full-blown live-in relationship. Linda didn't seem to mind leaning on me, or learning from me. She had little sexual experience, and had never slept with a woman. Despite this lack of experience, though, Linda was a delicious treat in bed -- she simply followed the heat in her nubile body wherever it took her, and was completely open to suggestion, always eager to follow my lead.

Being more than ten years her senior, I was insecure about her affections, fearing I'd lose her to someone her own age, particularly a man. I felt so jealous when I caught her flirting with the gardener, and called her on it. Her reaction to my behavior was to push me even more -- to torture me with more secrecy, more outrageous flirting. When I found myself sniffing her panties for signs of unfaithfulness, I knew it was time to get control of myself.

My ex-lover Larry was astounded to hear that I was exhibiting behavior I'd once condemned. His advice to me was that I channel my destructive energies in a positive way -- into sexual play.

When I got home, sure enough, Linda, clad in her see-through nightie, was lying on our king-sized satin-sheeted bed, long smooth brown legs spread wide, reading a magazine. The curtains were open and the sun poured through, drenching her lovely bronzed body in golden light. The gardener hovered outside, just a few feet away, while Linda pretended not to notice him.

I marched over to the window and drew the drapes closed with a quick angry tug. Linda raised her eyes from the magazine, opening them in wide innocence. I was seized with an urge to call out her behavior, to start a fight. But instead, I took a deep breath, trying to remember what Larry had said about rationality and control. This wasn't going to be easy.

It didn't help that Linda's pussy was staring up at me -- I wanted to fall before it in abject worship, circling its inner folds with my tongue. A smile played at the corners of Linda's mouth; she knew exactly what I was feeling, and it made her feel powerful. I forced myself to put a rein on my impulses, to take back the power I'd been giving over to this little nymph. After all, I was the older, more experienced partner in this relationship; further, with me in her corner, Linda didn't have to clean for a living—she was now launched on a modeling career, thanks to my connections. And, I'd been supporting her in high style for months!

I cleared my throat and in a cool, authoritative voice that surprised myself, said, "Get up and make yourself decent. Then make the bed, and clean up your damn mess. After that, you 'Il do whatever I decide you should do."

Linda stared at me, not moving. I fastened my eyes on hers and then, very slowly, without a word, removed my thin leather belt from my waist. Linda's eyes flickered -- curiosity? excitement? fear? -- but she began to obey my orders. I sat in the big armchair, my feet propped on a footstool, gently whacking my belt on my open palm, my eyes following Linda around the room.

When she was fully dressed in loose slacks and a high-necked blouse, had made the bed and cleaned up her magazines and candy wrappers, she looked at me questioningly. I ordered her to sit on the floor, and as she leaned her head on the stool next to my feet and stared up at me, I began to speak in an emotionless, controlled tone.

"You've been behaving like a rebellious teenager, and I've been letting you get away with it. Well, all that's going to change. You require discipline, help you control your wild emotions. If you want to stay with me, you 'Il have to learn to obey me. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and I continued.

"You'll find I'm a loving mistress. I'll never hurt you physically or mentally, and I'll never ask you to do anything that won't be as pleasurable for you as for me. But the first time you disobey -- there'll be consequences. Got it?"

Again Linda nodded silently, her eyes telling me all I needed to know: Larry's advice had been right on— Linda actually longed to have someone take control.

I told her she could begin by showing some respect for me, and since her mouth was two inches from my feet, they seemed as good a place to start as any. She began by sniffing the leather of my ankle-high boots, then actually licking them, slowly moving her soft pink tongue up and down, even licking the soles. I held the belt in my hand, and once or twice brushed it against her face, while she removed my boots and proceeded to give my feet the same worshipful treatment.

She sniffed and licked the crevices between my toes, sucking on them separately and together, practically swooning in ecstasy. A half hour went by, and she was still worshipping my feet. I placed my hand firmly on the nape of her neck and nudged her face up to my crotch. Obediently she removed my skirt and panties, nuzzling her nose and mouth between my legs. Her tongue tickled my thighs and she rained kisses across my mound. With a firm hand, I pressed her head fully into my hairy bush. "Suck my pussy."

Linda resisted, but she didn't draw back. She had a glint in her eye. "Make me."

I fisted my hand in her hair and drew her to my pussy. This time, there was no resistance. She dived into my cunt with renewed energy, licking me to orgasm. I was careful to keep my reactions somewhat restrained so as not to let her know what a good job she'd done.

Gazing up, she asked in an innocent voice, "How did you like it?"

"You were okay," I answered coolly. "Could've been better. Go wait on the bed."

I noticed that although I felt powerful, my feelings towards Linda were tender. I wanted to ruthlessly take my pleasure from her -- but at the same time, I wanted to cradle her in my arms and stroke her soft face. I knew I would never physically harm her, or use her vulnerability against her. I loved her more than I ever had.

When I'd taken a moment to collect myself, I found Linda laying face down on the bed, furiously humping against a pillow clamped between her legs. I got up, moved to the bed, and sat down beside her. She moaned when I placed my hand on her smooth back and began to stroke her, moving up and down from her shoulders to the crack of her ass, parting it slightly and running my fingers along inside. Groaning, she raised her ass high, trying to get my hand to enter her aching box. I teased her for several minutes before finally giving her what she so badly needed. As I thrust my fingers into her wet pussy, I used my other hand to spank her ever so lightly. Her eager thrusts told me she enjoyed being spanked, and I began to croon a litany into her ear: "You'll be good from now on, won't you Linda? You want me to do this for your pussy, you'll have to behave yourself, right? You're gonna be Marla's sweet little pussy from now on, aren't you?"

To each question she gasped out a "yes!" while thrusting to meet my fingers.

I stopped spanking her then and moved my hand to her cheek. Greedily she kissed my fingers. I pulled my hand away and watched her struggle to reach it with her tongue. Lightly I slapped her face, beginning a steady rhythm—withdrawing my hand, then slapping her face. Each time my fingers neared her lips she reached greedily for me.

"Come for me, Linda," I whispered. "Show me how pretty you look when you come." My other hand maintained a steady movement inside her, until she came, weeping with gratitude, soaking both my hands with her precious fluids.

As her orgasm subsided, I took her into my arms, stroking her hair, licking her salty tears.

"I love you," she whispered, cuddling against my large breasts and falling into a deep sleep.

From that day on, Linda and I continued to engage in such activities. Once I had firmly established control, I became able to reverse roles, letting Linda dominate me on occasion. It wasn't hard for me to play at worshipping Linda—I was already enamored of her firm little tits, her tight pussy and juicy ass, and I adored pleasuring her on command. We teased each other with leather whips, but never actually inflicted pain. My favorite scenario was to lash her, in a standing position, to the brass headboard, while I masturbated with a vibrator, pretending she was my personal live-in porn queen. She enjoyed the torture of being denied access to my body while forced to be on display. Our relationship lasted nearly four years.

As I look back on those years I can see that, not only were Linda and I able to resolve the problems in our relationship through the use of sexual fantasy, but the experience helped me come to terms with my own need to dominate.

Linda's now an in-demand fetish model with a preference for leather. We still see each other once or twice a year— in fact, she's due in town next week. Think I'll go clean up my boots.