I Am a Dominator of Couples No. 02: Martha

There are few "routine" scenarios in my work as a dominator of couples, a "bull," to use the pop term. While I understand why the expression is popular and descriptive in its way, I do not like the word as it implies a vulgarity that I avoid in the couples and circumstances of my work. It is, I suppose, the main reason I reject so many of the contacts that come my way. Even though my work is completely referral-based, and I am often promised that so-and-so would be a perfect match with my offerings, I find that many couples want what I will not give them.

Some want pain, some want violent abuse and humiliation, others are into watersports and the like, some want the husband to join into homosexual play with me. Note that I am not being judgmental; I could not care less how a couple "gets off," but I am the dominator, and I want what I want, and I want and will have couples who want me to be that way. There are other men available for other duties. There is no "standard" situation. There is someone for everyone.

Over the years I have sharply defined what it is I want, and what I am prepared to offer my clients. In essence my activity is focused upon the woman, never essentially to degrade her spouse -- another popular request. It may surprise one to know that I have a wide range of appreciation in this regard. If a woman is certifiably healthy and takes care of herself she doesn't have to be starlet-quality to gain my service. Morbid obesity is not acceptable, nor behavior that is loud and uncouth, but barring these, I will consider their petition. In fact, I vastly prefer the average woman-next-door type to the beauty queen. Nor is age an excluding factor.

Her mate may disqualify if I feel he wants to challenge me in any way (he must surrender), is oafish, or if he insists upon having sex with me. Readers may know that I almost always insist that the husband early on take my penis into his mouth as a show of submission, and perform whatever acts I deem necessary, such as washing me and worshipping my genitals when such dominating gestures enhance the appropriate psychology of the wife. This is not "homosexuality;" it is pure Domination.

I will tell you about a commission I undertook about two years ago in the upper Midwest that was unlike anything else that ever happened to me.

I hate flying because of all the stupid impediments to what should reasonably be a simple process, and even first-class travel (which I insist upon from the client) is no guarantee against delays and other obstacles. To make things worse, when I was finally prepared to meet with my clients after my four-hour delay (where lunch became instead a dinner engagement), only the husband was present. This is not okay with me, and I immediately moved to adjourn or cancel our interview before we even sat down.

"I understand! I understand!" he stammered. Let's call him Percy. "But sit, have a glass of wine, and just hear me out. Then decide."

Past the point of no return, like reading most of a novel you don't like but have gone too far not to finish it, I agreed. I ordered a martini. It was well-made. Frosty glass, good gin, and an olive that had never seen a jar. It was the nicest thing that happened all day, so far. Percy had a Manhattan. We made small talk waiting for our drinks. When they arrived, I took an icy hit, made an appreciative sound, then leaned forward to make the case.

"I made it very clear, Percy, that I simply must meet with husband and wife before we may or may not proceed."

He put his palms out. "I understand. Just listen." Feigning some impatience, I smiled for him to continue.

"She doesn't know how badly she wants this," he began, "and when you meet her, you'll be so delighted at the way she looks and her... her bearing, that all this will be worth it. For you, me, her -- everything."

It dawned on me. "She doesn't know I'm here." This was going the wrong way fast. I took another gulp of my drink and glared at Percy.

"No." He admitted it. "But see, I know her so well, and in these matters... much better than she knows herself. I know she wants this badly, but she just doesn't know it! Her upbringing. She's a good girl. See, she doesn't know how to know she wants this." He paused. "But I can tell she does. Do you see?" And then, "her name is Martha."

I studied Percy. He was short, a little pudgy, balding, late-40s, but he had an air of dignity, sincerity and good-nature about him. "What do you want out of this, Percy?"

He seemed a little jarred at the question. "Well... I never put it into words before..." He stared over my shoulder and considered the issue. "I know what you do. You know how you were referred to me. And I'm not 'gay,' but I'm willing to do whatever I need to do, and do it as well as you want me to. See, my wife is so feminine... and her needs are such that I can't really be the sort of man that would bring her that great, once-in-a-lifetime thrill. To be satisfied so completely, as she ought to be, as a woman. By a man such as yourself." He looked down at the floor and furrowed his brow. "I don't want to make too much of this aspect, but... well... nature didn't really gift me very well in the... genital department. See? She never complains, but she doesn't even know that there are men like you! And I want her to see that she doesn't have to go behind my back to find this out." This was difficult for him. And I was tempering to his plight. I had never faced this sort of circumstance before.

Percy went on. "Look, I don't have an inferiority complex. But you have everything I lack as a man. I'm not the lover type. I'm rich, I'm one of the most famous people in my field -- I have everything I ever wanted. But with my Martha... I want her to see that there is a man like you out there. A fantasy man, I guess I'd call you. To bring her a night of something so rich and fulfilling that she would never have the ability or courage to even imagine it. And this excites me! I want to help you open her completely, and I'll do anything you ask."

A look of discomfort passed over his brow. He continued. "I'm not looking forward to humiliation -- I know that this is part of the deal usually, Adam told me how you worked with them [Adam was the man who referred Percy to me], but I'll do whatever you think my Martha needs to completely have this experience. I feel a primal need to do this! Does that make any sense? I feel like I'm rambling..."

I finished my martini and ordered another. Percy had caught me. There was much to discuss, but I'll spare you the details.

It was Percy's wish that we arrive at his home on that Friday evening together. He had told Martha that he was bringing a friend home for a drink. This was unusual but Martha was fine with it and asked no questions. We arrived on time and Martha was standing in the foyer. (Yes, they have a foyer in their gated mansion). She was as Percy said she was. Not beautiful in a worldly way, but lovely. Maybe ten years younger than Percy, a little thin, but nicely proportioned. About 5'3" is my guess, compact and graceful. Her face was without makeup. It was unnecessary. Her eyes were bright blue with hair brown and short, and when she smiled she looked like a little angel.

The smile did not last. She was remarkably perceptive. She took one look at me -- and she knew.

"Percy?" she asked, still looking at me like a deer frozen in the headlights. "What's going on?"

Percy was embarrassed. "Martha. This is the guest I told you about." He emphasized the word "guest" in order to snap some sense of hospitality into her. It worked. It jarred her back.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I'm Martha," she said quietly, but did not extend her hand in welcome, and if I remember correctly, she took a step back.

"This is John." Percy announced.

I was the only one of us three who understood the dynamics of the situation. I looked at Martha, folded my hands in front of me, smiled and said hello.

"Hello." She looked at Percy with some anxiety. Silence. Thick silence. Percy about to say something then Martha said to him, "Is this what I think it is?"

Percy scrambled to cover. "What's wrong? He's a friend, Martha, and we're just going to sit down, and-"

"Yes, Martha," I interrupted. "It is what you think it is." It was obvious to her who, and what, I am. She sensed it keenly and at once. She took a deep breath and held it in. I could see her mind racing, caught between civility and panic.

"Martha," Percy said gently, "we'd like to sit down and have a drink."

Martha raised her eyes to me and looked at my face for a few moments. "Of course. Come in." Then turned and pointed with her arm the path to the sitting room. Percy led the way and I followed, with Martha behind. The room had a bar. Percy slipped behind it.

"What'll you have, John? Martini?" He was all cheerful, if a little forced.

"Just a glass of Scotch, neat," I said.

Martha took a seat in a large brown leather chair across from a long matching couch where Percy and I would eventually put ourselves. She looked at the floor in front of her, avoiding me and her husband. She had on a long and loose powder blue dress, comfortable for the evening, with straps and a modest neckline, and no shoes. She tucked her legs under her bottom where she sat.

"And I know what Martha will have," Percy announced while pouring a white wine, "because that's what she always has." And with that he handed me my drink and served Martha, and then we took our places across from her on the big couch.

I knew I would have to speak first. "I love your home, Martha. Do you do the flowers?"

She smiled a real smile. For a moment. "Yes. I actually own a florist shop downtown. Just a hobby, really. Thank you for noticing."

"I wish you wouldn't be so nervous, Martha," I said quietly.

"I am nervous," she said. "I don't know what's going on!"

"The anxiety will pass," I said. "I promise."

At that her eyes grew large. She was trying to speak but the words would not come.

"I had a long and interesting talk with Percy," I continued. "He wants to give you a kind of gift."

"What kind of gift?"

"He adores you. And he wants you to have an experience -- unexpected, intense, deeply pleasurable, and he'll be with us. He'll be... helping me worship you in many ways that he believes you'll find fulfilling, in ways you may have not really imagined. In complete safety and in an atmosphere of devotion."

I gave it my best shot there. I'm pretty sure that's exactly how I put it. She looked away and was silent for almost a minute. She looked back and spoke to her husband.

"I never asked for this," she whispered. "I want you to know that I am doing this for you, not for me. I know you want this more than I do and I don't think you'll be happy until you get it."

"I already know that, honey."

"I know you think you're not good enough for me, in that way... or some crazy thing, but this sort of thing, this... sex, isn't so important to me. And I'm afraid that you'll be angry and hurt if I let... John... do things to me." And at that she teared-up a bit, and Percy went to her and knelt next to her. He took her hand.

"No," he assured her. "I want John to do those things to you. I want to see you in the throes of... of things I can no longer make happen for you. Never could, really. Look at him! He's everything I'm not. But he's like me in important ways that make it okay for him to touch you. He's honorable and straight-forward, not vulgar. You'll feel safe with him. I'll serve him, serving you."

She looked at Percy as if she really didn't understand what he just said, but I knew it didn't matter. I felt a sense of responsibility far beyond any other I had felt before, or felt since, and that's why I'm relating this encounter of so many. I was as excited and nervous as she was. But I decided then I would not hold Percy to the same standards and activities I would demand of the true "cuckold" type. There would be real no humiliation for him; it would be ultimately hurtful for me to press that.

I stood and approached the pair, helped Percy to his feet and held a hand out to Martha. She stared at it, her eyes got big again, and she reached out and squeezed my hand. I stood her up, looked into her eyes, kissed her forehead, and looked into those bright blue eyes again. I smiled.

"Take me to your bedroom."

She looked past me to Percy. "Hon, let's go into the first guest room, and-"

"No." I squeezed her shoulders gently, but firmly. "We'll go to your bedroom."

She looked at me and her mouth dropped open. She blinked. "You two go ahead... I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."

And off she went to "freshen up."

We walked down the hallway and I paused at the bedroom door, and pulled Percy back before he entered. "Percy, you remember our discussion at dinner?"

"I do."

"When we cross this threshold, everything changes. As I specified."

"I understand." He stood there for a moment. "Be gentle."

"I'll be whatever I know is required." I smiled.

Percy was anxious, but game. We shook hands and entered the bedroom. A bigger-than-king-sized bed in the middle, two comfortable chairs on either side near the headboard of the bed, a dressing room off to the right, a bathroom to the left. Tasteful and spacious. We stood in silence, not uncomfortable. In a few minutes, Martha appeared at the door. She had not changed her clothes. She paused at the threshold, as if she knew how things would change when she entered her bedroom. She closed her eyes and stepped inside.

I ushered Martha farther into the room, and stood in front of her, smiling. "Percy was right about you. He had much praise but didn't exaggerate."

She blushed and dropped her gaze. What a gracious little beauty. I touched her cheek and she started as if from a small shock. Then looked at me and smiled.

"Ah! A smile!" I said. "See? Not so serious." I stroked her cheek and medium length brown hair. I looked into her eyes and occasionally her gaze would meet mine as I stroked her face, hair, neck, until at last her eyes met mine and, bravely, did not look away, and we were locked into a gentle gaze.

This was the moment of un-locking Martha. Few women whom I encounter require the un-locking because they were never locked to begin with. So this was a special delicacy for me.

I looked away and broke the spell. "Percy," I called. "I must see more of your wife's charm." I stepped back from Martha. "Stand behind Martha and push those straps of her dress aside," I ordered gently.

"Yes, yes!" Percy was enthused as he rushed to comply. "You won't believe how lovely she is."

"Oh Percy..." Martha was embarrassed, looking down and shaking her head.

From behind, Percy slipped his two index fingers under the straps and pushed them over her shoulders. Martha felt the silk dress slip and pressed her hand to her chest to keep the dress from falling. The panicked look was back.

I, smiling gently, stepped up to her and put my hand around her small wrist, and lifted her hand from her chest. The dress fell in a bunch around her feet. I looked down upon her bare breasts, which she did not try to cover. Her eyes were closed and her breath came fitfully and soft, and her jaw quivered as if she were cold, but I knew that wasn't why.

"O my god, Percy, what am I doing," she whispered. "Is this what you want to see?"

"Martha," I said softly, "your nipples are swollen and very hard. And it's not at all cold in here."

She shook her head back and forth and still would not open her eyes. "Oh, god..."

"Percy," I ordered, "play with Martha's nipples for me."

Percy reached around and lifted Martha's breasts. They were not as small as they looked when she was clothed. They had some heft. They were a much paler than her upper body, and I knew that was from the gardening she did. The whiteness of her breasts were very erotic in contrast. Her nipples were long and dark pink, very erect, with paler pink areoles.

"So lovely," I breathed.

He rotated her stiff nipples and she moaned, still with her eyes closed, moving her head back and forth.

"That's very good, Percy. You may stop now," I said. "Come and stand behind me."

"As you wish," Percy said.

Martha stood, eyes closed, jaw trembling.

"Martha, open your eyes and look at me." She complied. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look into Percy's eyes."

I stepped up close and bent my head to her breast, and took her nipple in my mouth, massaging it with my tongue. Her hand went to my shoulders and she gasped, the first candid sound of enjoyment she made. After a minute of loving attention I lifted my head and addressed her.

"Are you looking at Percy?"

"She is," Percy said from behind me. She nodded. Her face was flushed a charming pink. I bent my head and attended to her other nipple and pleasured her with skill and patience while she stared into the eyes of her husband.

At length I released her hard nipple and stepped back. "You are a vision, Martha. But I need more."

"More?" she asked, her eyes widening. She looked down to the large bulge in my pants and quietly gasped.

"Yes, Martha. You've given me an erection." She covered her mouth with her hand and stood staring.

"Percy, take off those pink panties she has on." Percy moved to do so and Martha stood still while he slipped them down from behind, joining the puddle of her dress about her feet. She stepped out of them and he kicked them away. She stood nude in front of us. We both admired her and complimented her on her beauty. She squirmed and actually smiled in honest appreciation.

"You have a lovely pussy," I said.

"Thank you."

"No shaving for you," I noted.

"No," she said. "I don't go for that." Then she gasped. "Is that okay?!"

I laughed. "That's just fine. Unusual these days, but very charming." She settled down, wondering what was next.

"Percy, take off all your clothes," I ordered. He was a bit surprised at this but complied quickly, now standing nude next to his wife.

"Martha, do you favor Percy with oral sex on occasion?"

She nodded yes.

"Get on your knees and take him into your mouth."

She complied gracefully, and I took the chair opposite her. "Look at me," I ordered, "while you're sucking your husband's cock."

I noted that Percy's estimation of his penis size was quite correct. The average erect penis size is barely five-and-a-quarter inches, but there was no way Percy would measure up to that. I started to note that Martha was relaxing nicely, looking even seductively at me while she gave Percy's cock long licks with that little pink tongue. Or as long as his size permitted. I could tell that Percy was about to come.

"Stop." I ordered and she instantly took her mouth from his penis. "Stand up and come here, both of you."

The naked pair was soon in front of me awaiting instructions.

"I don't like to undress myself," I said. "I want you both to undress me, and hang up my clothes." They stood and looked at one another. "Well? Do as I say."

Percy was unbuttoning my shirt as Martha loosed my belt. I stepped out of my pants and stood in boxers and socks while the pair hung up my clothes in their closet. I sat and Martha removed my socks, then I stood before them. They were paralyzed, as there was only one more article to be removed.

"Percy, come here and take these shorts off, and present my cock to your wife," I said. "I think she has become curious."

He stepped behind me and tugged the shorts to the floor, I stepped free and kicked them aside.

Martha stood with her hand to her mouth and her eyes large. "I have never, ever, ever..." she whispered.

"What have you never done," I asked her.

"I've only... I've only seen Percy. In real life... only him..."