My first Domme had left my area. I was getting desperate to serve someone and to have some new experiences. Via the local metro newspaper (again) I found an ad that caught my eye. After some hemming and hawing I decided to try my hand at having my first bisexual experience. I answered the ad and was allowed an audience with "Lady Exene."
When I met "her", "she" was in "her" male form -- the thoroughly unimpressive Larry. Tall with long striny hair and a waist far narrower than his broad shoulders, I met Larry in at a pub downtown. It was empty save for the two of us and he was fairly sketchy laying out his expectations and needs. More than anything I just kind of wanted him to shut up and get dressed as a girl. I was having a difficult time reconciling the fact that I was agreeing to serve a man, having never done so before.
"Now it's time to decide," he cooed. "You can go for a walk in the park... or I can take you to Disneyland."
Questionable metaphor aside, I asked for Disneyland. If I was going to do this, I wanted to go all the way. And it sounded like this would shut him up and introduce us to phase two of the proceedings. It did, for a little while.
I followed him down to a suburban area and found that he worked at a nondescript house in the middle of the block. He was employed at this place as a secretary. The house, it seems, was a suburban "dungeon" that housed a number of professional Dominatrices. Larry was the secretary, taking calls and setting up appointments. He may have also been one of the "Dommes" when he was en femme. I wasn't quite clear on everything.
My mind was rather muddled by the screams and moans coming out of the front room of the house, audible from where I sat in the kitchen. It seems that one of the Dommes was there with a submissive gentleman. She would come out on occasion to smoke and bullshit with Larry. I could hear the man in the room chanting something over and over -- no doubt because she ordered him to. I was very taken with the outfit this little blonde woman wore. It was typical "Domme gear" -- garters, bustier, and all of those trappings that glossy magazines would have you believe that are de rigeur for a woman with a whip.
Eventually, Larry and I moved closer to the room where this was going on. He had me sit on the floor and produced a number of Transformations magazines. He told me to pick out the prettiest "girls" in the pages. Not a tough task. I had never seen such magazines before but found them very enjoyable. Had I had the time, I would have liked more to read the stories than look at the transgendered folks within.
At some point I was told to leave the room while the gentleman from the "dungeon" was shown out (to respect his privacy and mine). When I came back it was time for our "session" to begin. I was told to strip naked and kneel in the middle of the room, facing the mirrored wall. Once I was kneeling, Larry came in. This was the first time I had ever been naked in front of another man in any kind of "sexual" way. Little did I know that it would be more of a "clinical" way. I hated being naked in front of anyone -- man or woman -- and used to do my darndest to change in out of the way places for gym class back in seventh grade. I think I took up an instrument in high school just because I could opt out of gym if I was in band.
There I was, prone and vulnerable. I didn't see Larry as my head was down, forehead touching the floor. In I was in this awkward position, he began circling me and "inspecting" what he could see. He also began speaking... droning on about what it would be like if I were to serve him. He started outlining a system of demerits which I would earn for various infractions. On and on he went. It was a complex system wherein ten demerits earned a swat from his crop but fifteen earned one from his paddle and so on and blah blah blah.
It was like some kind of BDSM story problem.
I was in no position -- literally -- to do much thinking about it. The blood had been rushing to my head and I was getting cold, my toes feeling like ten little ice cubes. And, more than anything, I was bored. Bored silly. Why was this guy circling me talking about demerits when we could possibly be having fun? Where was the trip to Disneyland? This felt like Epcot Center.
Finally, a miracle happened... I felt wetness in my nostrils. This was a familiar feeling to me from the time I was just a tot. A nosebleed! Salvation! I had to interrupt his filibuster and asked for a tissue. The sight of blood shut him up for a while and allowed me to turn over and stretch.
After taking this well-deserved break while I sat with a tissue shoved up my nose, Larry finally outlined what might have been something fun. He told me that he was now ready to go change into his femme gear and that I was to help him. If I weren't completely drained -- of life and blood -- I might have taken him up on the offer. As it was, I just wanted to get out of there.
I made up the excuse that I needed to get home and soon took my leave. I can thank Larry for helping to get me over my phobia of being naked in front of another man but that's about all I can thank him for.
By the way, I saw Larry years later when I was attending a local BDSM group event. He didn't remember who I was. My feelings weren't hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment