A Tale of Two Doms

I told the first Dom I met that I was his, because he said I only had ten minutes to decide.

I am a sub. I want to be dominated. He was older (a requirement for me when it comes to Doms), and attractive. I wanted to trust him.

He spanked me, which turned me on more than it hurt, and then he took me to a motel. You know the rest of the story.

Unfortunately, though, it seemed like he was looking for more of a slave. He told me I would know I was a true submissive when I didn’t want to do what he was telling me to do, but I did it anyway because the thought of losing him was worse.

That scared me.

He wanted me for entire days. He wanted to tie me up and leave me for hours. I don’t think he is a bad Dom, but I didn’t think it was what I wanted. I hated the thought of being considered fickle, but I felt on edge about it. He gave me a day to think, then told me I had to beg if I wanted him back. I didn’t respond. I was out of town at a bachelorette party for the weekend and the wi-fi wasn’t working so well on my crappy phone. My knee-jerk reaction was to get back to him immediately and beg him to keep me, because no one likes to be rejected. But I couldn’t get my email to go out. When I came home, he said he didn’t want a slave who deliberates over every decision and doesn’t obey him immediately. I decided I do not want to be a slave, at all.

So I began my search again. I chatted with a few men, but they gave me the same uneasy feeling. They wouldn’t answer questions I had about their domination style, or they didn’t understand why I needed our first meeting to be in public–that is not okay. I want to submit to someone who cares about and understands me, not someone who just wants to nail me and control me.

Enter: Daddy.

We met at a Starbucks and sat in my car and talked. He told me I was beautiful. He gave me details about his life, showed me pictures of his family, explained that he is also in an open-marriage, and said he is an open book. That I can ask him anything, and I should.

He told me he was looking for a little girl to take care of. That he will always keep me safe. That if we try something and I don’t like it we don’t have to do it again. That he will be over-protective but I can tell him if he is being too over-bearing. He asked if I come easily, then said “You will ask my permission to come.” He pulled me into his lap and we snuggled. As he felt me relax against him, he said “This is what you need, isn’t it?”

Yes, it is.

He fingered me in the Starbucks parking lot, in the dimming twilight, surrounded by pedestrians and cars. The windows were fogged up from the heat and the rain. I clenched my coffee cup in my hand as he brought me to the edge.

“Am I allowed to come, Daddy?”


I came, moaning like I do. Daddy liked that.

He said we should go park somewhere more private. He had me drive, so I would feel more safe. We wound up in the back of a hotel, parked facing the trees and the sunset.

We talked some more. He told me about his previous sub.

“Do you miss her?” I asked.

“I did until now.” That made me smile.

He asked me if I am bisexual–if I am going to keep seeing other men and women. He told me that if I want to, I need to ask his approval first and he will decide. He said that once we know each other better he has friends I can fuck, but that he will be in control and that they know that.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” I asked. I’d picked up the habit again in the past few months, though I planned on quitting soon.

“You can, once you come again for Daddy.” He ran his thumb over my clit, sliding his fingers into my wet opening until I was hit by an orgasm.

“Did you come, baby girl?”


“Did you ask me if you were allowed to come?”


“Why not? Did you forget?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay if you forgot.”

We rolled down the windows to let some steam out of the car, and snuggled and chatted some more. Then he talked dirty to me as he slid his fingers in and out of me again, pulling on my nipple with his teeth.

“I want to eat your pussy baby, but we don’t have room. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“It would be better if I was fucking you. Do you want that?”

“Yes. I want your cock.”

“Where do you want it?” He asked, working his fingers in a way that made me pant and scream.

“In my pussy.”

“Whose pussy?”


“That’s right, baby. I own your pussy.”

“Am I allowed to come?” I gasped, not sure I would be able to hold back if he said no.

“Yes. Come for Daddy.”

The thing about my multiple orgasms, is that they get more intense each time. This one continued to build until I was almost wrecked.

“Don’t stop, Daddy,” I begged.

He slowed down.

“Please, Daddy.”

His hand nearly stilled.

“Please let me come.”

He picked up speed again, working his hand in expert circles, until he brought me to the edge and pushed me off.

I collapsed against him, breathing hard. “You’re a good Daddy.”

He smiled.

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