It Is Not What I Want You To Do

I am so nervous.

He opens the door and gestures me in. He comes in behind me and closes the door. I expect him to grab me...to force me to kiss him or to force me to my knees. He does none of those things.

He breezes past into the kitchen and asks me if I'd like some water. I ask if he has wine. He says he does, but he doesn't drink and play. I can have some, but if I do, this will only be a social visit, nothing more.

I ask for water.

As I look around his house I notice that it's not at all what I expected. He's always seemed so in control that I guess I just expected his house to be very clean, crisp, white. It's none of those things. His walls are a pale grey with white trim. His couch is grey with bright green throughout and green and cream pillows to match. His floors are dark hardwood and there is a cream shag carpet in the living room under the coffee table.

I walk through to the kitchen. The walls there are beige. His counters are dark granite with dark cupboards. His mail is strewn on the counter and his coffee cup and breakfast dishes are in the sink. He is standing at the counter pouring my water. He turns around and smiles as he hands me the glass. "Would you like a tour?" he asks.

I smile and say yes.

He leads me down a hallway, points out the bathroom (he leaves the shower curtain open, sigh). Next to that is his son's room, where he stays every weekend. Next to that is a spare room with a bed that also doubles as an office. A little further down the hall is his bedroom. His furniture is dark and there is hardwood throughout. Very little accents in this room. His bed is rod iron with a beautiful dark comforter. In the corner is a hamper with jeans draped over it. Next to that is the closet door.

He walks towards me and my breath hitches. I expect him to grab me, throw me on the bed and start Doming me like I've been anticipating. He doesn't though. He simply smiles as I lean towards him and then points to a picture on the dresser next to me. His son. From our long conversations on fetlife, then email and finally over many cups of coffee, I have learned that he is 5 and that he loves cars and trucks. My heart has been warmed by many of the stories he has told me about him and I smile seeing his picture.

He then leads me back down the hallway and into the dining room. It is small with a simple round glass dining table and four chairs. Off the dining room are french doors that lead to the backyard patio. There is a hot tub and a play area. It's small but tidy and perfect for 2.

He asks me if I'm hungry and I giggle and say no (I couldn't possibly think of eating right now!).

He lifts an eyebrow and asks me why I'm giggling. I stop immediately.

I shrug. "Nerves" I say.

He smiles.

Then he just stares at me.

I clear my throat, searching for the courage to ask him when and how everything is going to happen. His stare is intense and my mouth is suddenly very dry. I take a sip of water and then blurt out "so how do we do this?".

Again with the eyebrow.

"Do this?"

"Yeah"

"Yes."

"Oh, sorry. Yes. How do we..um...you know. What do you want me to do?"

He smiles again, this time a little more wickedly.

"Addiena" he says. "you will soon learn that this is not a play. Nothing is staged, nothing is scripted." He walks over and takes the glass, it clangs as he sets it on the table. His eyes do not leave mine the entire time. "Part of being your Dom is teaching you to understand the moment. To have patience, to feel, to listen to your body and to be true to your mind and soul. I won't ask things of you. Over time we will grow and you will learn that certain things will be expected. We will both learn from each other. I knew what you were expecting from the moment you entered my home. I have been reading you and your body since we first met. Delaying our time together is part of the experience. I have taken pleasure in watching you wonder. Your mind is your most beautiful feature my dear, and I have been attracted to it since I first found you."

He is now inches from my face and I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I tense as he puts his hand firmly on my neck. He whispers in my ear "it is not what I want you to do...but what I want to do to you. What I think you can handle...what I think you need".

All of my nerve endings flare up in response to his touch and his heat. My mind whirls and I feel such a rush. Fear, anxiety, anticipation, need. His grip tightens and he whispers "My closet if full. Full of whips and chains, clamps and paddles. Over time, you will get to experience each and every item. I plan on using quite a few of them on you today. But first, first my dear, I'm going to fuck you. Hard. Rough. Right here and right now."

My blood instantly heats with his last words. Without missing a beat he spins me around and bends me over his counter top. He flips up my skirt and before I can even collect my thoughts I feel him move my panties to the side and thrust into me. I wince and he growls "oh god you are so wet". There is nothing gentle about what is happening. One hand is around my hip and the other is spread across my ass cheek, pulling it to the side so that he can go deeper and harder. He drives in and out of me. The counter is just a little too high for me to bend over it and I have to stay on my toes. My legs are weak and my thighs are burning. He grunts with each thrust - a delicious, manly, primal grunt. I find myself getting lost in the pleasure. He reaches up and puts a hand around my throat...and squeezes. It's getting harder to breath and I grab at his hand. He loosens just a bit and then squeezes again.

For a moment I think "what if". I know my safe word. I can use it. We've had many discussions about limits and scenes. He loosens, and then grips again. Harder this time. My breath leaves me and a sensation rushes through me. He is thrusting and grunting. Soon, I can hear the blood pounding in my veins. I can feel everything he is doing to me. The thickness of him inside of me, the heat of his body behind me. My juices running slick. I start to lose control and am overcome with my orgasm. It's so intense that I buck up against him and grab at his hand on my throat. My eyes glaze over and I am feverish for him. Every part of him. He squeezes even tighter, cutting off all air, and my orgasm intensifies. It lasts for what seems like an eternity - a hot liquid running through my veins and a fuzzy, lazy feeling entering my brain. He lets go and I gasp for air, just as he pulls out of me.

Instinctively, I drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. He is almost too big to handle but I fit him in. He growls as he grabs the back of my head and thrusts into my mouth without mercy. He thrusts it to the base, lets out a loud moan and holds me there as his cum hits the back of my throat. My eyes are watering, tears running down my face and I gag more than I'd like to admit, but I take it all, swallowing with each release. The warm liquid runs down my throat and with him still in my mouth, I look up. He is staring down at me, so intense. It is in that moment that I know, I want this. I want him. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life. I want to please this man and take pleasure from him. I want to feel his pride and his gratitude. I know, from this moment on, I have found my Dom.

And I cannot wait to experience him.