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I am not a Domme

I had been sleeping with a beautiful dominant woman. Actually, she even dabbled a bit as a professional dominatrix, and she quickly and tactfully made me comfortable in a submissive role. However, she had a polyamoramous arrangement with her boyfriend, so we both knew that our hookups were to remain casual.

Then one day, she decided that my magnetic charm was dangerously intoxicating, and she confessed to me that her feelings ran deeper than just casual sex. I told her I felt the same way, but that I didn't want to be kept as her dirty secret and that I didn't want to cause potential problems in her relationship. We both shared a sadness, but we both agreed that it was time to remove sex from our dynamic.

She refused to tell her boyfriend about our romance, and she also refused to grant me the basic respect that comes with acknowledging strong feelings. Nonetheless, she continued to call me up, asking me to continue our secret and forbidden tryst. The bitch realized that she actually missed me, just not enough to come clean in her pathetic relationship with her boyfriend. She was the domme, after all, so I continued to play along.

One night, she was so horny and desperate, and she decided to call me up to come over. She reassured me that it would be just like old times, same as before either of us ever caught feelings for each other. She told me to let myself into her bedroom on arrival, and to bring my strapon.

I arrived at her house, and I left all my clothes in the hallway. I strapped on, and I enetered her bedroom without knocking. She was waiting for me, fully naked, with lust in her eyes. I approached the bed and she reached out to touch my exposed breast. I slapped her hand away and told her that she wasn't allowed to touch me. She whimpered and nodded that she understood. I could see that she was grappling with the sudden role change, so I gently soothed her.

I told her that she was still my good girl and that she could relax, because I only came over that night to give her what she wanted. She began to pathetically beg for my touch, telling me how she would do anything for me to show her that I still wanted her. I laughed at her desperate show, noting how amusing it was to find such a dominant force of a woman now begging for my affection.

She told me how she was aching for me, and I couldn't help but give in to her cries, a true act of mercy on my part. I climbed onto her bed to join her and I placed myself between her legs. I told her again to shut the fuck up, and I began licking the insides of her upper thighs, inching closer to her throbbing and dripping pussy. She gasped and moaned as I pushed on her legs to keep them spread, and I ate her sweet pussy until I could feel her shaking. She barely sputtered the words that she was about to cum for me.

I wasn't ready for her to cum yet, so I lifted my head and wiped my mouth on her thigh. I asked her to be more clear with her words. I told her that I didn't know if she was actually ready to cum or not, and I promptly lifted her legs onto my shoulders, entering her deep with my strapon. She was soaked for me, leaving a wet spot on her sheets. I pounded her with my purple cock until she cried out again. She wasn't sure if she could hold her orgasm, and I told her to touch herself. I wanted to watch her rub her swollen clit for me. She rubbed herself as I continued to fuck her hard and deep. I looked deep in her eyes, and I gave her permission. I told her to give me her orgasm. I told her that she was my desperate whore and that I wanted her to cum for me. She released her eplosive orgasm and could barely utter the words as she thanked me. I handed her a glass of water as she caught her breath.

Once she had regained her composure, she tried to touch me yet again. This pathetic slut lost my submission when she refused my heart. I smiled and told her that maybe I'll submit to her again someday, if only she can be real to her loser boyfriend. With that message hanging in the air, I excused myself and drove myself home.


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