Fantasy Dom Ch. 02: An Afternoon Drive

"Kneel slave!" she ordered sternly. I complied. "Another sip," she warned me, as she raised the drink once again to my lips. She surely knew that she was inducing a healthy buzz.

"I've been thinking about this dominatrix thing," she said. "My question is, what's in it for the Dom? I mean, it's kind of stupid if she's in charge but she has to do all the work to make the sub's fantasies come true."

"She can make the sub...she can make her slave...serve her, in ways that she truly appreciates," I answered. I was proud for inserting the word "slave" into the mix and keeping it at the forefront.

"My thought exactly. My slave is reading my mind," she responded. There was a lull in our "conversation" before she proceeded.

"I've decided that today I'm going to teach my slave about shifting gears. You're going to be my gearbox. I drive the sportscar. And here are your gears," she cooed, tracing my lips with her finger, caressing them. Then she slipped her finger into my mouth, then added a second finger and began a slow, salacious, rhythmic penetration and withdrawal. I began to salivate, and she used the lubrication to continue the thrusting. In my uninhibited tipsy stupor, I firmed my lips around her fingers and sucked gently. It felt erotic. And very naughty. She alternately inserted and withdrew them as she spoke. "Your tongue, your lips, your mouth. They're my gears. I just have to break them in." I was dizzy in a haze of titillation.

She removed her fingers from the aperture of my lips and stuck her boot provocatively in between my legs. She ground it into my crotch. This was behavior far from ordinary for the two of us. It proved to me completely that my drinking buddy had deliberately morphed herself into a Dom Queen.

"Do you like my boots?"

"Oh, yeah," I answered honestly. "I love them. I don't recall you ever wearing them before."

"Only on special occasions. I think you should worship my boots, slave."

Simultaneously thrilled and apprehensive, I started to bend down to the ground, trying to figure out how to maintain my balance, with my hands tied behind me. Before I could plant my first kiss on her boot, she spoke.

"Hold on. Listen up, slave. There are five gears. In first gear your mouth is close to my foot. But it never touches my foot. I can feel your breath, you're so close. But never, under any circumstances, should your lips or tongue touch when you're in first gear. Now practice being in first gear."

Her directive was clear. It was tricky because I couldn't see. I brought my lips as close as I could without touching her boot. A couple times I inadvertently made contact with her boot and she quickly corrected me. "Uh-uh! Don't touch!" After a minute or so, she continued.

"Now second gear -- your lips and tongue are barely making contact. It's the lightest of light touches. Pucker your lips and give me the gentlest kisses. Skim your tongue on the leather. Think tender and delicate."

Again, her instructions were clear. This was easier than first gear because I could actually make contact. I caressed her boot with soft and subtle smooches. Worshiping my Fantasy Dom's boots had been a dream of mine for so long. And here I was, actually doing it. I was fully absorbed in the moment and relished every peck. I worked my way from the toe, toward the heel and then up the length along her calf. I was buzzed by a delicious combination of booze, incapacitation, prostration and adoration. She interrupted my hypnotic state.

"In third gear," she explained, "I expect long, lingering kisses and licking, with a fair amount of pressure. I want to feel some pressure, but kind of like in slow motion."

Her expectations made sense to me. I applied pressure as I made a long lick from the tip of her boot to the heel. I planted deep, lingering kisses atop her foot, hard enough that she could perceive my passion. I had to remind myself that this was no kinky daydream. I was bound, blindfolded and paying homage to my Fantasy Dom...no, my Real-Life Dom, in a most exquisitely obsequious way. I was overcome with appreciation. She broke the spell of that reverie as well.

"Fourth gear," the tutorial continued, "is all about your tongue. You're going to flutter your tongue, with medium pressure. But here's the deal. There are three speeds within fourth gear -- slow, medium and fast. Let's start with slow. Flicker your tongue up and down, but at a slow pace."

I immediately implemented what I thought she wanted.

"That's good. Yeah, you get it. Just like that." I continued the exercise.

"Now try fourth gear, medium speed." I picked up the tempo, much to her satisfaction. Finally, she said, "Now fast. Fourth gear as fast as you can flap that tongue of yours. Do it!" I flailed my tongue as quickly and frantically as I could. "That's it. Good. You're a natural in fourth gear. Now, slow." There was a pause before she continued, "Medium!" Then "Fast!" She toggled me among the various cadences until, finally, she said, "I think you've got it. Don't forget -- three speeds in fourth gear."

"Now fifth gear. In fifth gear you're going to pucker your lips, wrap them around something and suck it. And, just like fourth gear, you've got three intensities -- mild, medium and hard." She lifted her leg away from me and I could sense that she stretched it out on the ottoman. "Fifth gear, mild, on my heel."

I immediately understood the command. A bit clumsily, I found the heel to her boot and wrapped my lips around it. I sucked on it gently, much as I'd sucked on her fingers a few minutes previously.

"Good," she encouraged me. "Now medium." I sucked harder, but not as hard as I could. I knew what was coming up.

"Now hard. Fifth gear hard. Suck it inside out. Go for it. Yeah, that's it," she chided me. "Like you're trying to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch." I'd heard that metaphor before, in the form of a joke, and understood. I sucked it for all I was worth. She kept me at it for some time, finally saying, "That's enough."

I got back up on my haunches, just a little winded and a little slobbery from my exercises.

"Here, sip this," I heard her say, as I felt the rim of the martini glass touch my lips. I sipped as she kept pouring until I'd had a couple gulps. I was definitely feeling the effects of a couple stiff martinis, as well as the disorientation of blindness and the exhilaration of being bossed around. It was a feeling of elation, a lack of inhibition that I know we both found so pleasurable. But this new relationship of real submission was still somewhat unnerving.

I sensed that she was removing her boots. Then she stood up. She was adjusting her garments. She sat back down.

"We're going to take a little road trip. I know this long, winding road, with no traffic, no cops and no speed limit. I'm going to drive, slave, and I'll need to do a lot of gear shifting. Let's get going. I think I'll start in second gear. Worship me, slave!"

I bent down to begin my homage. To my surprise, I encountered not leather, but flesh. Her feet were bare. The boots were indeed gone. I began planting the gentlest kisses I could create, second gear kisses, with the sincere intention of conveying my gratitude.

"Higher!" she ordered.

I worked my way slowly up her ankles and naked calves, as instructed. Clearly, the leggings were gone. I was nervous as hell. We were so headed into unchartered territory. All that teasing and good-natured ribbing was dissolving. She was scaring the shit out of me, this persona whom I was meeting for the first time. I caressed her with more smooches. I went higher and devoted attention to her knee.

"Higher, slave!" she commanded again. I worked my way on to her thigh, awaiting more instructions. I received none. I worshiped her warm and fleshy thighs. I was nearly delirious.

"Higher!" she ordered again. So, I continued, until I reached her upper, inner thighs. I was drunk, with booze, lust and fear. We were both in the realm where reticence and good sense were out the window. Highly aroused, I kissed and licked until I reached her crotch. Bare and exposed, her pussy awaited me. She was not stopping me. I felt her legs widen and she thrust her pelvis toward me. At the same time she grabbed the back of my head in both her hands and pulled me in. I sensed the moisture and warmth. The pungent fragrance. We were at a point of no return. I tasted it gently. My kisses became even more delicate. More intimate. She broke my trance with a new instruction. "Third gear, slave." I knew what to do. Long, slow, firm.

I don't know how long this road trip lasted, it was such a blur. Like an accomplished race car driver, she drove with a firm grip on the gear shift knob, a heavy foot on the gas pedal and little need for brakes. She pushed her vehicle to the limit, downshifting into tight curves, accelerating out of them and screaming down the straightaways. She drove the car hard and used all the gears to maximize performance. Her engine growled and groaned like a finely tuned Shelby Cobra.

About the time the gear box was feeling overheated, she slowed all the way down to first gear to catch her own breath. Eventually, after calming down from the exhilarating ride, she said, "This afternoon drive is over. I think you should thank me."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," I gushed sincerely through my sopping mouth, trying desperately to keep my babbling lips from making physical contact. "What a privilege. I hope I pleased you."

"Pretty much," she responded confidently. "But for now, I'm turning off the engine. You can relax."

I straightened up, still on my knees. She moved behind me and loosened the knots around my shackled wrists. You can take off your blindfold -- AFTER I've left. I'm going to go freshen up."

She walked away and I waited, listening to her soft steps on the stairs, respecting her wishes. When I sensed she was truly gone I removed my blindfold. I staggered back into some semblance of consciousness. I acclimated to the light, shook off the considerable cobwebs, rubbed my slightly chafed wrists and wondered what the hell had just happened.

No way. No fucking way! Had my Fantasy Dom just subbed the shit out me? I felt like I needed to pinch myself. That was intense! Whoa! Fuckinay! But yes, it was so. She'd bound me, blindfolded me, forced me to kiss and lick her boots and then worship her womanhood through oral servitude. Holy fuck! I couldn't believe what had just happened to me. I had fantasized, oh, how I'd fantasized...but never in my life...Never in my life...Never in my life...No way...

I looked at my watch. Her husband would be done with his golf tournament soon. We were to meet him at the country club for the post tournament festivities.

My Fantasy Dom descended the stairs, freshly attired in a casual but tasteful outfit, suitable for a country club social. Surprisingly, she seemed sober and in control. She always could hold her liquor.

"Just talked to Thomas. The tournament's running late. He said don't bother coming to the club. He'll just come home in an hour or so." I remember thinking that it was a perfectly plausible story.

Then she walked up to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me the most delectable kiss imaginable.

"This is all still a bit of a test drive for me," she confessed.

"Yeah? And what do you think?"

"This role of dominatrix with you. I wasn't sure. But, I found out that you were very bossable...in a good kind of way. Treating you like a slave was easier, and more fun, than I thought. I think I liked it."

"You were very good at it. I knew you would be," I complimented her.

"Well, I frightened myself a little. It was pretty easy to become a demanding bitch. And to make a pet wussy take care of my wet pussy," she grinned, probably attempting to shock me. It worked. I was taken aback by her candor and randy language. I chose honesty as a response.

"You kind of frightened me too. I didn't know if you'd ever do something like that with me. But it was...it was sooooo cool! If you ever want to...I mean, if you ever decide...I mean..." I was stammering.

"Don't be so eager. I might shock you. You have no idea what you could be getting yourself into. I could be full of surprises. And my expectations could be higher than you can imagine."

"I think I'd like to find out," I ventured, hesitantly.

"Think so, huh? I could dish out a dose of humiliation. Slaves like that, don't they? Would you like that? Would you like it if I humiliated you?" I remember thinking, 'more unchartered territory'.

"Maybe I'll take you on a drive after I've just fucked one of my boyfriends," she taunted.

My stupefaction was obviously visible. I knew this woman, but vestiges of the mysterious and fearless dominatrix were still stirring. Was she just messing with me again? Was this another phony phone call? Or was she serious? I have to admit, she had me completely bamboozled. I was speechless.

"What -- you think you're my only boyfriend? Hardly. But I have more...conventional relations with the others."

She scrutinized my eyes and traced my lips with her index finger. She inserted it into my mouth. I reflexively pursed my lips around it. She probed in and out, slowly, while she spoke.

"We'll see. Like I said, this was an experiment. There could be a more comprehensive test at some point." She pulled out her finger, turned and led the way to the outdoor deck. "Let's go watch the sunset. And sober up a bit before Thomas comes home. I'll fetch us some snacks."

What an experience. I was unsure about her but I was quite sure I'd never be the same again. I'd been thoroughly subbed, by an exquisite, mystifying Dom.