My First Domme Party

I hate that he is not a virgin to my degradation. The ghosts of the dommes he had in the past haunt me. I want that little back to arch and scream “daddy” to my utmost pleasure. I bend him down further with my heels, press in hard as he moans. He has not used the safe word once.

“Slower? Do you want me to go slower?” I question as he is quaking with pleasure from being subjected to pain and shame. “No, daddy,” he utters.

“That’s a good girl. And louder, you dirty slut,” I demand. A high that I have never felt before courses through my veins. Who would have thought this 5’4 petite Asian girl is capable of inflicting this much pain? He is an imposing wall-street investment banker by day, but by night, he subjugates his entire personhood to me. Since he is such an obedient little slut, I need to make sure I provide him with aftercare.

“Daddy, there is a domme party you should check out. I have a lot of paperwork that night, but it should be interesting.” Even though I am new to the scene, my sub has introduced me to a world where I can freely explore myself. Whenever I engage in an impact play, I feel like I am submerging myself in a pool of honey or flying with my pussy dripping wet.

…

The Domme Party beckons and uncovers the hidden desires that I have managed to tuck underneath my preppy exterior. I make sure my red leather mask is plastered on tightly. Sin is in every corner of the room. It licks its lascivious lips and invites me in. I know once I immerse myself in the play, nothing will be the same again. A plump Asian woman spreads her leg far apart as a man with a dog collar eats her out. A naked man stares at me, and I am not surprised.  All of their penises are erect, like good little pets, getting off from losing total sense of control.

A man who seems to be southeast Asian lies naked on one of the desks with his legs and arms spread out. All I can see is his ass, layered with whip patterns. It looks so good. He seems to be dripping with pain.

A naked man with a silver chastity belt approaches me. I look at his protruding stomach, and as I move back, he inches closer to me. “Hey how is it going?”

This guy is droning on and on. I could care less. He is too controlling and is even invading my personal space; a sub is supposed to be like a quiet little mouse. How dare he?! My eyes wander off to see who else is available. Who will be my good girl? A slave is lodged in the corner; his hand is caressing the other, and his eyes are glued straight to the floor. I approach him; he is more my type–quiet and obedient. He is dressed in a leather skirt, with a metal harness on top.  He doesn’t have any visible muscle, but he looks like he could withstand the pain.

“Hey there? Yes, you!  Are you interested? This is my first time at a Domme Event.”

“Yes, yes of course, and same!” he says, nodding his head fervently as if he could not believe someone like me would approach him. Little did he know I have always hated the loud, fratty type.

“Perfect. I like to be called daddy and would love to refer to you as a good girl. I hate complying with gender norms. What are your hard limits and soft limits?? Kinks?” Luckily, my sub and I have common kinks. After we agreed on a safe word–red, we head towards the table that is displaying an array of BDSM toys. I picked out a purple and black leather flogger with frayed edges and a collar.

The mere act of tracing my hands along the leather flogger evokes a tingling sensation throughout my body. I flog his ass, and then moves towards his back. As I quicken my pace, warmth permeates my entire being, and my bare nipples press against my leather vest. Then I bend down to grab his hair and pull him backward: “Are you a good girl? Do you like that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“What is it? Louder,” I demand.

My pet tries to wiggle, but I know he loves writhing in pain, and I know I will get off from punishing him. Then I pull harder on my sub’s collar. It is time for him to be a good little pet. I press my vagina on his back, grinding back and forth while he crawls all over the floor.

As the play goes on, the sub no longer brings me the same satisfaction. So, I pivot my attention towards other scenes. The dommes and subs seem to be submerged in the act as if they are suspended in a place that exists nowhere in time. I feel as if I have unlocked myself to stretch beyond societal limits and tear down the confines of a prison of my own making. A dominatrix with a red corset tightly hugging her thin waistline pours candle wax over a naked man. With limbs stretched out on a table inclined at a forty-five-degree angle, a voluptuous man is being spanked and flogged by different dommes rotating randomly. A splotch of blood gathers on the ground near him, but he seems to be lost in an entire realm altogether. I can’t wrap my head around how the subs enjoy losing total sense of control. When I top a submissive, I feel like I am flying or even floating in water for eternity. Even though I have been a domme for some time, I have never been vulnerable with my desires with so many people at once. To be honest, I find it entirely ludicrous that society labels certain things like sex or BDSM as taboos. Being a Domme gives me a fleeting sense of what it feels like to live without limits.

“So, how is the party going? This is your first one, right, Sin? ” the host questions me while his curious eyes trace along my body, from the head to my toes. I don’t like it. I did not give him permission to look at me.

“I am enjoying the party, but I really do want to find a queer woman who is a sub. I am bisexual and have only found male subs here.”

“Not at all. Let me introduce you to our lesbian couple,” He points to the girl with the shaved undercut and the other one beside her with a pixie cut. As we approach them, it becomes clear that the Undercut is the Dominant dressed in red spandex with a black corset, and the submissive is the one in a black dress with a thigh high garter.

“Hi there, I am Sin. I am new to the domme world. Any tips and advice?”

“Hi, we are Sapphire and Madame Dungeon. And about that, I’ll let you play with her so you can learn,” the dominatrix answers for her partner while smiling at me in a way that causes all the goosebumps on my skin to erupt. Madame Dungeon show me how to strike the underside of the ass, which contains most of the muscle, to cause the most pain without hurting anything sensitive. She also reminds me to make sure to land each hit with the end of the flogger.

“Also, if you want to whip the back, target the upperparts and not the middle since it could injure them long-term.” I love how the Dommes at the party are so willing to take me under their wings.

As I listen to her tips, my attention shifts to something behind her. There is a man hanging from a metal bar entangled in blue bondage ropes; his blonde hair is almost touching the ground and his heel is faced upward. He seems to not even notice my staring, but I cannot look away. This man is so beautiful and so free with his gender I just want to whip him gently, and then much harder if he enjoys the pain.

After he is done with the scene, he walks up to me. So, he did notice me staring at him. “Hey,”

“I saw you in bondage and thought you were really hot.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says with a wink.

“Are you too tired or do you want to play with me?”

“Not at all. But I am a switch.” We head towards a black leather couch and he leans against it, with his back facing me. I pull up his black fishnet. His tattooed ass is so round, perfect for a whipping.

He looks back at me while I am spanking him, staring right into my eyes. “Why are you looking? Is something wrong?” He chuckles as if my question itself had an obvious answer.  I love how this switch is challenging my control. “No, I just want to look at you,” he replies with a glimmer in his eyes. I tell him that I feel self-conscious that I am the only queer woman here. “Oh honey, there is not a single straight woman in here. In fact, let me introduce you to one of my partners, who is a sub,” he reassures me as a tall brunette with a latex bodysuit and leather boots walks toward us.

I hate playing into the bisexual stereotype, but only if I were sandwiched between both of them right now. I want to caress her nipples poking through the bodysuit, finger her until she cries with pleasure and is covered in cum. I want him to fuck me from behind and push my head down. Oh, how I wish to ride both of them around.

As she sits beside me, he stops kneeling and takes the place beside me. Dreams do come true.  She stares deep into my eyes, as he places his hands on my thighs.

My vagina gets all tight, and I feel like that moment we all shared was like fucking. Topping a submissive feel like staring into your own soul, having it ripped apart and then pieced together again. Topping a sub and a switch; even better.

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