The Blind Domme
- 1 year ago
- 13
- 0
Date With A Domme free porn video
You knew from the moment you met her that she was “different” than every other woman you’d dated. On your first date with her, for the very first time in your life, you felt like what it must be like to be a female. She picked the restaurant AND the movie and picked you up in *her* car. Halfway through the movie she went down on you and kissed the end result into *your* mouth after you first deposited it into *hers*. She paid for everything too, opened doors for you, and complimented you on your looks—more things no woman has ever done for you.
After the movie she drove you out to a romantic spot where you parked like a couple of horny teenagers, but before things got too far she announced her *true* desire.
“You’re not the kind of guy I would normally date,” she informs you, “but I can see something in you that I don’t get with other men, something I’ve been looking for . . .”
*She knows you’re a submissive, the site you met her on told her so, as did the 300 pictures you had posted on it.*
She goes on to say, “I see you as a man, but I also kinda see you as a kinky chick, and I know the type being a kinky chick myself, in fact . . . you sort of remind me of this submissive girl I went to college with. Don’t get me wrong though, that’s a *good* thing.”
“It *is?* ”
She nods seriously, “Hell yeah. You’re not like most guys I’ve known . . . you’re sweet, sensitive, kind . . . and you let me take charge . . . where we eat, which movie we saw . . . and lots of guys will do that if they think there’s a chance for a blowjob at the end of the night, but with you I can tell it’s just the way you *are* , you’re kind of like a girl that way. And . . . if I’m being honest, it’s kind of fucking hot.”
You laugh in spite of yourself.
“It *is* ?”
“Ohhhh yeah. It also makes me wonder how far I could take this with you . . . which, is why I went down on you during the movie and made you swallow it. That’s not something I would *normally* do with a guy, but I had the feeling you might let me.”
Her hand finds her purse and she reaches inside of it but her hand stays inside, almost as though she’s reaching for a weapon. You’re relieved to see her produce not a knife or a gun but pair of women’s underwear—a red satin thong.
“Hold these for a sec.”
She hands them to you and reaches across your lap to open her glovebox. After pulling it open and slapping it shut she sits upright and presents a shiny pair of polished steel handcuffs, which dangle from her finger the same way the panties had.
“What would you say if I asked you to jump in the back seat and take off all your clothes, put those panties on, and then put those cuffs on for me?”
Under normal circumstances, you’d have jumped out of the car and found your own way home, thankful to have survived—but this is no typical woman, and she knows the same to be true about you. You’re *both* a little “different”, which is why she knows that what she just suggested probably scared the hell out of you, but it also gave you a raging hard on.
Stalling for time, you answer, “I don’t know,” and she smiles sympathetically.
“It’s okay to be scared, I’d be scared too, if I was you. Just know, I’m not going to hurt you or anything like that, not unless I ask you first and you say it’s okay . . . okay?”
Five minutes later you’re in her back seat, naked, wiggling your way into a pair of panties that are nowhere big enough to contain your excitement. She’s watching you in the rear-view mirror, and smiling back at you. Then she hands you the cuffs and tells you to cuff yourself to one of the two “whoa shit!” handles mounted to the ceiling. Once you’ve done that, you’ve relinquished all control over your fate to her, and the feeling is terrifying.
Your heart is pounding as she climbs out of the driver’s seat and re-enters the car via the cramped backseat and closes the door behind her, sitting herself between your legs so they are pinned open. You can barely see her in the dark but you feel her hands sliding up and down your thighs, feel the warmth of her body between them, hear her breathing under your own.
She makes an awkward reach into the front seat for her purse, digs into it, then returns it. Barely visible except for the canal lights glimmering off the surface of the water through the windshield, you see she is holding a small purple prostate toy—you’ve got the same one at home, so you know exactly how good it feels. Still, you’re becoming overwhelmed . . . hell, you’re practically hyperventilating as she begins to trace the lines of the panties with the tip of the toy.
“You’re a little *slut* ,” she says decidedly though playfully. “What kind of girl allows herself to be handcuffed in the back of a car with someone she hardly knows?”
Dumfounded, you answer simply, “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do, the kind who doesn’t mind trading sex for a night out. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but you already got *yours* during the movie . . . so, I think it’s time for you to put out.”
“What do you want to do to me?” you ask, quietly.
You let out a yelp as the tip of the toy pokes into your taint in the dark, and she answers, “I’ve got plenty of things in mind for the future, but for now I just want to play with this thing a little. What do you think?”
Seconds pass as you try to will yourself into answering before you can manage to say, “Yes.”
She doesn’t waste any time. She ducks under one of your legs and puts them together with surprising ease before sliding the panties, wet with your arousal, down your legs, around your ankles, and off completely. She reverses the maneuver with your legs so that she’s between them once again and shoves the wet panties into your mouth as a gag.
You watch as she uses the cum collecting on the head of your hardened cock to lubricate the tip of the toy, and then you feel her probing you as she searches for the place where it will slip inside of you. When it does, you let out a long involuntary moan and try to squirm away from this new invasion. Your back is already against the passenger’s side door and there’s no place to go. She pushes in even closer to compensate for the mere inches you moved and now she’s got you pinned, your legs spread wide and trapped on either side of her torso. She continues to move I closer, rising up on one knee until you’re pinned and your left ankle is resting on her right shoulder. Now she’s holding the base of the toy against her crotch as she pushes it into you slowly, joining your bodies like a conduit.
Since your mouth if full, she doesn’t bother asking you anything, instead, as she begins to thrust and retract in small slow strokes, she *tells* you a few things.
“I like the way you accepted that (the toy) into you, I can tell you like it. Personally, I think around puberty every male’s first girlfriend should fuck them in the ass with a strapon and make them swallow their own cum, just once . . . so they know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of *both* . In all honesty, I think boys would be a lot *nicer* to girls if they did, and women would have a way to take guys down a notch or ten whenever they get out of hand. Imagine it, some guy playing cool ln front of his friends and his girlfriend or wife can say, ‘remember that time I fucked your ass and you moaned like a bitch and when you came I made you eat it and you liked it so much you started ASKING for it? Remember that, *honey* ?’”
Next . . . a mindfuck of a statement: “In fact, I’d bet the world would be a much better place if Hillary Clinton had dressed Bill up like a schoolgirl and drilled his ass a few times. Think of all the wars we could have avoided throughout history if you could go back and remove male ego from the equation. Men usually mean well, but at the end of the day they need structure . . . *guidance* ”
With that last word she slide into you all the way up to the base of the toy, and your noses are now touching as she stares deep into your eyes as you practically scream into the panty-gag in your mouth.
She’s reveling in every second of your discomfort and shame and pleasure as she begins to fuck you. She’s got one hand clamped around the back of your neck as she uses the other to hold the toy in the sweet spot, and you can feel her grinding herself into it, thrusting deeply for several seconds before shoving it in all the way and grinding on it briefly.
“Ohhh fuck, you little slut, you’re getting me close . . .”
She cums after a while, and you’re absolutely drenched, yet you know you didn’t get to cum. She’s milked you dry, yet, she hasn’t even touched your cock.
She yanks the panties out before kissing you hard on the mouth, after which she produces the handcuff key and releases you. From that point on, she’s back to her “normal” self; polite, helpful, and casual in the face of absurdity.
With the ease of asking for a glass of water, she tells you to, “Use the panties to clean yourself up, but them I want you to put them back on before you get dressed, okay?”
When you return to the front seat, dressed, you can still taste your own cum on your lips. Your ass is throbbing and your insides feel like they’ve been slightly adjusted. Worse, the panties you’re wearing are drenched in saliva laced with his cum.
The term you’ve heard used is *subspace* , but like your first orgasm it’s hard to define the first time it happens. You feel detached from your body slightly, almost as though you’re watching yourself from the back seat, a 3rd passenger that’s invisible to Her and the other YOU. You feel like you’ve been violated, but it’s different from the times you actually WERE. It’s a warm feeling, though it’s not without a similar shame when compared to say, getting caught masturbating by a parent. Strange as it sounds, the closest description you can find that sums up this strange brew of mixed emotions is, GLOWING.
As you make your way back onto the highway and your exit is slowly approaching, she ups the ante a notch, just to see what you’ll say.
“What do you feel like doing, want to go back to *my* place or should I drop you at *yours* ?”
You’re conflicted now; if a movie-theater-blowjob and a back-seat-pegging was her idea of foreplay, what in the hell would she want to do at her place? Against all better judgement and a lifetime of being trained by movies and commercials and everything you were ever told a man should do, you answer, “You can just drop me at my place, that’s probably the best idea.”
And, when she pulls up and kills the engine, she gives you a polite kiss on the cheek and rubs your thigh as she tells you she had a good time.
You’re more than happy to tell her that you did too.
But . . . you’re curious about something, and being so close to your front door gives you the courage to ask something you’ve probably never asked before; “What would have happened back at your place?”
She chuckles and gives you a shrug. Then adds, “With me? Who knows . . . probably just dress you up like a school-girl . . . have a drink . . . maybe take your picture . . . take you to my room . . . tie you up . . . m***** you for a while . . . make you please me . . . and then . . .”
When she doesn’t answer after a few seconds, suspense causes you to ask, “YEAH? ‘And then . . . what?’”
“And then . . . I might take a belt to your ass while I fuck your brains out with a big fat strap on .”
It hangs heavy in the air for a minute or two of silence as you try and build up the nerve to say yes, but as you learn, that ship has already set sail, and now she’s going to make you wait for it, perhaps for a LONG time.
“I guess we’ll never know what would have happened, but we can try again another night, that is . . . if you’re interested.”
Of COURSE, you are.
And on another night, not long after, you DO try again . . .
Author’s note: I’m not going to turn this into wank fodder by describing what I would like to happen, because experiences between Dominants and subs vary so widely that I could never hope to satisfy everyone, and I obviously have a very specific preference that supersedes simple concepts like crossdressing for a female partner and scenarios involving consensual/non-consent. Let’s just say that it goes and ends exactly where you fantasize it does, and leave it at that.
Krissy
After the movie she drove you out to a romantic spot where you parked like a couple of horny teenagers, but before things got too far she announced her *true* desire.
“You’re not the kind of guy I would normally date,” she informs you, “but I can see something in you that I don’t get with other men, something I’ve been looking for . . .”
*She knows you’re a submissive, the site you met her on told her so, as did the 300 pictures you had posted on it.*
She goes on to say, “I see you as a man, but I also kinda see you as a kinky chick, and I know the type being a kinky chick myself, in fact . . . you sort of remind me of this submissive girl I went to college with. Don’t get me wrong though, that’s a *good* thing.”
“It *is?* ”
She nods seriously, “Hell yeah. You’re not like most guys I’ve known . . . you’re sweet, sensitive, kind . . . and you let me take charge . . . where we eat, which movie we saw . . . and lots of guys will do that if they think there’s a chance for a blowjob at the end of the night, but with you I can tell it’s just the way you *are* , you’re kind of like a girl that way. And . . . if I’m being honest, it’s kind of fucking hot.”
You laugh in spite of yourself.
“It *is* ?”
“Ohhhh yeah. It also makes me wonder how far I could take this with you . . . which, is why I went down on you during the movie and made you swallow it. That’s not something I would *normally* do with a guy, but I had the feeling you might let me.”
Her hand finds her purse and she reaches inside of it but her hand stays inside, almost as though she’s reaching for a weapon. You’re relieved to see her produce not a knife or a gun but pair of women’s underwear—a red satin thong.
“Hold these for a sec.”
She hands them to you and reaches across your lap to open her glovebox. After pulling it open and slapping it shut she sits upright and presents a shiny pair of polished steel handcuffs, which dangle from her finger the same way the panties had.
“What would you say if I asked you to jump in the back seat and take off all your clothes, put those panties on, and then put those cuffs on for me?”
Under normal circumstances, you’d have jumped out of the car and found your own way home, thankful to have survived—but this is no typical woman, and she knows the same to be true about you. You’re *both* a little “different”, which is why she knows that what she just suggested probably scared the hell out of you, but it also gave you a raging hard on.
Stalling for time, you answer, “I don’t know,” and she smiles sympathetically.
“It’s okay to be scared, I’d be scared too, if I was you. Just know, I’m not going to hurt you or anything like that, not unless I ask you first and you say it’s okay . . . okay?”
Five minutes later you’re in her back seat, naked, wiggling your way into a pair of panties that are nowhere big enough to contain your excitement. She’s watching you in the rear-view mirror, and smiling back at you. Then she hands you the cuffs and tells you to cuff yourself to one of the two “whoa shit!” handles mounted to the ceiling. Once you’ve done that, you’ve relinquished all control over your fate to her, and the feeling is terrifying.
Your heart is pounding as she climbs out of the driver’s seat and re-enters the car via the cramped backseat and closes the door behind her, sitting herself between your legs so they are pinned open. You can barely see her in the dark but you feel her hands sliding up and down your thighs, feel the warmth of her body between them, hear her breathing under your own.
She makes an awkward reach into the front seat for her purse, digs into it, then returns it. Barely visible except for the canal lights glimmering off the surface of the water through the windshield, you see she is holding a small purple prostate toy—you’ve got the same one at home, so you know exactly how good it feels. Still, you’re becoming overwhelmed . . . hell, you’re practically hyperventilating as she begins to trace the lines of the panties with the tip of the toy.
“You’re a little *slut* ,” she says decidedly though playfully. “What kind of girl allows herself to be handcuffed in the back of a car with someone she hardly knows?”
Dumfounded, you answer simply, “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do, the kind who doesn’t mind trading sex for a night out. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but you already got *yours* during the movie . . . so, I think it’s time for you to put out.”
“What do you want to do to me?” you ask, quietly.
You let out a yelp as the tip of the toy pokes into your taint in the dark, and she answers, “I’ve got plenty of things in mind for the future, but for now I just want to play with this thing a little. What do you think?”
Seconds pass as you try to will yourself into answering before you can manage to say, “Yes.”
She doesn’t waste any time. She ducks under one of your legs and puts them together with surprising ease before sliding the panties, wet with your arousal, down your legs, around your ankles, and off completely. She reverses the maneuver with your legs so that she’s between them once again and shoves the wet panties into your mouth as a gag.
You watch as she uses the cum collecting on the head of your hardened cock to lubricate the tip of the toy, and then you feel her probing you as she searches for the place where it will slip inside of you. When it does, you let out a long involuntary moan and try to squirm away from this new invasion. Your back is already against the passenger’s side door and there’s no place to go. She pushes in even closer to compensate for the mere inches you moved and now she’s got you pinned, your legs spread wide and trapped on either side of her torso. She continues to move I closer, rising up on one knee until you’re pinned and your left ankle is resting on her right shoulder. Now she’s holding the base of the toy against her crotch as she pushes it into you slowly, joining your bodies like a conduit.
Since your mouth if full, she doesn’t bother asking you anything, instead, as she begins to thrust and retract in small slow strokes, she *tells* you a few things.
“I like the way you accepted that (the toy) into you, I can tell you like it. Personally, I think around puberty every male’s first girlfriend should fuck them in the ass with a strapon and make them swallow their own cum, just once . . . so they know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of *both* . In all honesty, I think boys would be a lot *nicer* to girls if they did, and women would have a way to take guys down a notch or ten whenever they get out of hand. Imagine it, some guy playing cool ln front of his friends and his girlfriend or wife can say, ‘remember that time I fucked your ass and you moaned like a bitch and when you came I made you eat it and you liked it so much you started ASKING for it? Remember that, *honey* ?’”
Next . . . a mindfuck of a statement: “In fact, I’d bet the world would be a much better place if Hillary Clinton had dressed Bill up like a schoolgirl and drilled his ass a few times. Think of all the wars we could have avoided throughout history if you could go back and remove male ego from the equation. Men usually mean well, but at the end of the day they need structure . . . *guidance* ”
With that last word she slide into you all the way up to the base of the toy, and your noses are now touching as she stares deep into your eyes as you practically scream into the panty-gag in your mouth.
She’s reveling in every second of your discomfort and shame and pleasure as she begins to fuck you. She’s got one hand clamped around the back of your neck as she uses the other to hold the toy in the sweet spot, and you can feel her grinding herself into it, thrusting deeply for several seconds before shoving it in all the way and grinding on it briefly.
“Ohhh fuck, you little slut, you’re getting me close . . .”
She cums after a while, and you’re absolutely drenched, yet you know you didn’t get to cum. She’s milked you dry, yet, she hasn’t even touched your cock.
She yanks the panties out before kissing you hard on the mouth, after which she produces the handcuff key and releases you. From that point on, she’s back to her “normal” self; polite, helpful, and casual in the face of absurdity.
With the ease of asking for a glass of water, she tells you to, “Use the panties to clean yourself up, but them I want you to put them back on before you get dressed, okay?”
When you return to the front seat, dressed, you can still taste your own cum on your lips. Your ass is throbbing and your insides feel like they’ve been slightly adjusted. Worse, the panties you’re wearing are drenched in saliva laced with his cum.
The term you’ve heard used is *subspace* , but like your first orgasm it’s hard to define the first time it happens. You feel detached from your body slightly, almost as though you’re watching yourself from the back seat, a 3rd passenger that’s invisible to Her and the other YOU. You feel like you’ve been violated, but it’s different from the times you actually WERE. It’s a warm feeling, though it’s not without a similar shame when compared to say, getting caught masturbating by a parent. Strange as it sounds, the closest description you can find that sums up this strange brew of mixed emotions is, GLOWING.
As you make your way back onto the highway and your exit is slowly approaching, she ups the ante a notch, just to see what you’ll say.
“What do you feel like doing, want to go back to *my* place or should I drop you at *yours* ?”
You’re conflicted now; if a movie-theater-blowjob and a back-seat-pegging was her idea of foreplay, what in the hell would she want to do at her place? Against all better judgement and a lifetime of being trained by movies and commercials and everything you were ever told a man should do, you answer, “You can just drop me at my place, that’s probably the best idea.”
And, when she pulls up and kills the engine, she gives you a polite kiss on the cheek and rubs your thigh as she tells you she had a good time.
You’re more than happy to tell her that you did too.
But . . . you’re curious about something, and being so close to your front door gives you the courage to ask something you’ve probably never asked before; “What would have happened back at your place?”
She chuckles and gives you a shrug. Then adds, “With me? Who knows . . . probably just dress you up like a school-girl . . . have a drink . . . maybe take your picture . . . take you to my room . . . tie you up . . . m***** you for a while . . . make you please me . . . and then . . .”
When she doesn’t answer after a few seconds, suspense causes you to ask, “YEAH? ‘And then . . . what?’”
“And then . . . I might take a belt to your ass while I fuck your brains out with a big fat strap on .”
It hangs heavy in the air for a minute or two of silence as you try and build up the nerve to say yes, but as you learn, that ship has already set sail, and now she’s going to make you wait for it, perhaps for a LONG time.
“I guess we’ll never know what would have happened, but we can try again another night, that is . . . if you’re interested.”
Of COURSE, you are.
And on another night, not long after, you DO try again . . .
Author’s note: I’m not going to turn this into wank fodder by describing what I would like to happen, because experiences between Dominants and subs vary so widely that I could never hope to satisfy everyone, and I obviously have a very specific preference that supersedes simple concepts like crossdressing for a female partner and scenarios involving consensual/non-consent. Let’s just say that it goes and ends exactly where you fantasize it does, and leave it at that.
Krissy
Uma
- 09.09.2020
- 9
- 0
