The Submissive Domme Pt. 02

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It made me question what I knew about myself, at least in the bedroom. If I could feel this way after last night, what else could I learn about myself? After he went to sleep, I reflected upon it deep into the night. I didn't understand my irrational reaction to his domineering behavior and I could not get his words out of my head. You will get stronger than me.

His words kept resounding in my mind like a skipping record. I wanted him again, but he slept peacefully beside me. Fighting the notion that I was different -- that I was betraying womanhood for craving the humiliation -- my body won the battle over my mind as intense passion had its way with me once more.

My fingers found my clit, still sticky with his cum, already warm and wet. Overcome with desire, I muffled an orgasmic shudder to keep from waking him up. Rubbing my nipple with one hand, feeling the hard muscle underneath, my other hand probed my love tunnel and clit. Tremors spread through me as I replayed the words over and over in my head; you will get stronger than me. Another flare of intense white heat raged through my body. My thighs quivered, my breath grew raspy, and my hips longed to thrust upward from the intensity of the sensation, but I held back and gritted my teeth as I silently reached climax.

Though I remained quiet on the surface, I imagined the banging of drums and tremendous clashes of primal cymbals rising, soaring, exploding as I reached orgasm. Never had I cum so hard, so fast, and so often in such a short time frame. Jack had introduced me to another world, perhaps a fetish of my own but I wasn't exactly sure how it would play out. As I drifted off to sleep the words continued to a whisper. You will get stronger than me.

I arose early the next morning still thinking about it all. You need to be stronger than me. Even recalling the experience my loins stirred as he slept peacefully by my side, a sweet smile glued to his face. I got up early and decided to start work on what he craved -- what we now both desired.

With new motivation, I headed off to the gym, determined to work harder than I ever had before. The words wouldn't stop playing in my head. Stronger than me. Just thinking about him saying them excited me. Previously, the gym had been a place for me to do some serious thinking. After last night, I wondered if Jack wasn't the only one with a sub fetish. The only difference between us was that my obsession was newly discovered.

The musty 'meat shop' that some called the gym had frustrated and fascinated me for years. Mine was far from the dingy gyms made famous in documentaries about bodybuilders. Pringle's Gym was a vast sea of machines with people pumping, panting, and pushing to make their bodies more taut and shapely. The near-deafening sound of upbeat high-tempo music blared down from the ceiling and countless reminders of my physical weakness paced the floor, flirting with one another.

Flawlessly couture blondes, perfectly made up and trailing perfume through the air behind them, jockeyed with a bevy of meathead 'ya, bro!' males for attention. I usually dodged the contest by putting my head down and had learned to avoid the men's lecherous eyes by wearing no makeup and baggy clothes. That meant I could hang in the corners and laugh out loud at some of their antics or the attire of the endless blondes seeking out dates instead of weights. The competition between the frat boys and the gym bunnies ranged between 'funny' and 'annoying' on any given day, but it affected me most when it came between me and the equipment.

I sweat in the gym for hours that day, observing an entirely different clientele. I watched the really big women and sought to mimic their lifts and techniques. I honed in on one in particular. She was obscenely big and had almost masculine features, her strong-jawed face pockmarked with acne. Great folds of muscle welled up all along her body, but her signature was giant bulging shoulders and a freakishly small waist which gave her an exaggerated V-shape. Tanned, thick muscle covered her body and despite her acne non-traditional appearance, there was a certain eroticism about her physique. She was clearly a bodybuilder. Was she stronger than Jack?

I trailed her back and forth across the gym and even from what I considered a distance, I could see her gluteal muscles separate and reform as she moved. I wasn't there to see her body bulge though. I wanted to watch her lift heavy; heavier than Jack. Could she?

Finally warmed up, she went heavy on the leg press. It wasn't close. She had plates stacked to the end of it; the machine maxed out. I stared in awe at her thick thighs, each with massive hyper-sized quad heads, pressing the enormous stack upward. "Uhhh," she grunted forcefully, causing heads to turn as the weights clanked and each of her mighty leg muscles quaked with the tremendous effort.

She looked no-nonsense with knees wrapped in ace bandages, but her bulging thighs sporting discernible striations and tapered hamstrings hinted at a different kind of beauty and power. So it was possible for a woman to be stronger than a man. I guess I'd known before, but there had to be more involved than just lifting. She got up and shook her legs out, the great muscles swinging side to side seemingly unfettered by the slightest trace of fat, and smiled at me. I had trailed her across the gym, mimicking her lifts, and now she opened the door to a conversation I didn't even know if I wanted to have.

"Are you looking for a trainer?" Her deep, but friendly voice startled me as I finished a set of leg extensions next to her. It was one of my favorite exercises and sometimes I'd subtly run my long fingernails across my sartorius muscles as they popped up during the exercise.

"Um, maybe," I responded.

"Well, if you are, let me know. My name is Tiffany Brooks."

"I'm Danielle, but people call me Dani," I responded far too fast, betraying my nerves.

"I'll have an opening in a few weeks. What are your goals?"

"Um" to get stronger than my husband I thought, but knew I couldn't reveal my unusual goals. "To get stronger" I finished. "A lot stronger."

"Powerlifting?" she asked, quirking her eyebrows up.

"Yeah, I think so. I want to get strong. Like, unnaturally strong," my unsteady voice explained, essentially thinking out loud while I spoke.

"Well, then you got to lift heavy, girl, and rotate your workouts. You also have to eat right and take the right supplements." I nodded in agreement and immediately understood that I was going to need help with my goals.

"Can I ask you what you bench and squat?" I asked, being far more forward than I was used to being.

She snorted. "Well, I'm more of a bodybuilder than a powerlifter and I haven't done it for a while. I usually only go heavy on leg press; I just click with this exercise. Um, but I probably max squat three fifty and bench two-fifty."

"Wow, that's fantastic." She smiled in response and I took her card before I left the gym. I came home hours later, sweaty and exhausted but somehow exhilarated from my workout, and walked into our brightly lit kitchen. It's time for a remodel, I thought. The white tile floor, white backsplash, and appliances gave the room too much of a hospital look. It was a Saturday, so even though it was late morning, Jack was still in his pajamas sitting at the table reading the paper and eating a bowl of cereal.

"Hey sexy," I announced, as I confidently walked over and kissed him.

He looked up from his paper and his eyes zeroed in on me. My legs were still shaking from my push workout and the pump hadn't left my shoulders or chest. My teal workout top was ringed with sweat, evidencing my hard work.

"You look like you had a good workout. You're still pumped."

"Yeah, it was a really good one. I worked hard. My Master told me to get to work after all," I winked, and he laughed.

"Darn right, you need to get stronger than me," he said jokingly, putting down his spoon. Even with the playful tone, the words had an effect on me.

"I'd like to do that again" I mused, not really conveying how life-changing the event had been for me. My instantly erect nipples belied my nonchalant response.

"Yeah, I enjoyed it quite a bit, more than I thought I would," he revealed. He studied my body for a moment, doubtlessly taking in my sensitive rock-hard nipples, before getting up to make a protein shake. He liked to support my efforts to get stronger and made them for me on most days. "What did you do today? The lifts for the push, I mean." He focused on my workouts like a laser and I could see his breathing tense up when I discussed new maxes or lifts that contributed to beating him in arm wrestling. We'd had more than our share of contests over the years and I got the sense that he was probably giving about 80 percent of his strength against me now until I'd collapse in fatigue a minute or so into the contest.

"I'm trying push-pull for six weeks or so, but I benched, squatted, and leg pressed and did a number of ancillary things too like incline, shoulder press, and flyes."

"Uh-huh," I could see he wasn't pleased and it chilled me a bit. Leftovers from the previous evening.

The conversation was already straying from last night and I wanted him to circle back. "Last night was something I've never done before. Do you think we could try that again soon, Master?" I winked at him trying to be seductive, but it came off more like I was the host of a cheap and tacky game show.