CW: this story focuses on a woman exploring her dominant side and includes cock and ball torture among other things that might be intense to read. This is NOT a depiction of a healthy, communicative BDSM relationship so don't look for that here!
If you preferred my writing about women enjoying submission, don't worry, we'll get back there ;)
Thanks for reading xo
***
A few weeks after my night in the viewing room it all started to seem like a dream.
When I first came back to real life I had been filled with a warm feeling of satisfaction. For a few days I had basked in the glow of how great that night had been.
But in the weeks since, a gnawing desire for more had crept into my mind and body. I had called up a couple of the guys I sometimes saw and they had come over as requested and fucked me well. They'd be courteous before hand while we caught up, dominant in bed, and sweet to me after, just like I always used to like. And although I could still get off, and although their nice bodies and sexual stamina still drove me wild, those nights weren't quite satiating me anymore.
That night in the viewing room while playing with the other man, my pathetic toy, I had discovered a new desire in myself. And although I still loved submitting to powerful cocks and hungry men that fucked me senseless, I was starting to spend a lot more time day dreaming about making men submit to me.
While laying in bed at night new visions started to fill my mind. I imagined squeezing cocks till they bulged but never letting them come. I pictured needy faces contorted with pain, shame, and desire. Alone in my room, touching myself, I could almost hear the sounds of whimpering men begging for me.
At first I tried to ignore these new fantasies. I had a busy schedule and a regular enough sex life that I had been satisfied with. I didn't want to have to go out of my way to explore something new. But after two straight weeks of falling asleep to visions of men tied up and submitting to me it was time to admit that this was something I wanted.
The question then became how to go about pursuing these new sexual experiences. Before, I'd always had a type and had known how to find sexual partners I was compatible with. I preferred to meet people in real life instead of dating on the internet. Now, the thought of posting something like "femdom looking to play with you," on a kink app made my skin crawl.
I decided I would just have to adjust the men I was scoping for in public. I had always ignored and brushed off submissive seeming types that I caught pining over me. Before now it had never seemed attractive. For the first time, I resolved to look at the men around me differently.
A couple days after settling on my decision I stepped out of my apartment door and nearly ran into someone in the hallway. It was my neighbor from a few doors down. We'd lived next to each other for a couple years and I'd often caught him gawking at me in the elevator or when we passed each other in the hall. I'd never given him any thought before.
That day in the hall though, something changed. He jumped away from me coming out of the door like I was a fire that might burn him. Flushing bright red he looked down at his feet muttering, "Sorry, excuse me," before turning and quickly walking back towards his apartment.
He was taller than I'd ever noticed before. And it occurred to me then that if I was looking for someone malleable, someone who might be willing to submit to anything I asked while almost begging for it to continue, it could be him.
That night as I cooked dinner I thought back to my brief run in with the neighbor. I remembered all the times that I'd caught him staring at my chest through my pajama t-shirt or gazing at my legs in a pair of shorts. It was easy to imagine him submitting to me. I could picture him getting down on his knees and crawling to me if I told him to.
I started to wonder what sort of body he might be hiding behind his lanky limbs and messy haircuts. What was his cock like? And what would it look like covered in spit and straining for me? I had to turn the heat down on dinner and go to my room to touch myself at the thought.
***
Night One
I hadn't exactly made a plan for how to proceed with the neighbor. When I looked at the situation too directly I felt a bit hot and embarrassed at the thought of propositioning him. After ignoring the poor man for a couple of years it felt strange to now find myself thinking so much about him.
One Saturday evening I was running to catch the elevator and found that he was already inside, holding the door for me. Again I was struck by how tall he was. His eyes roved over my body quickly, before adjusting to stare squarely at the floor.
"Hi," he said, barely audible, with his eyes trained down.
All at once, my conflicted feelings from the week melted away. I was assured and in control. This pitiful man would be lucky to have my attention.
I turned to him. "Hi. How are you?" I asked.
With that the door opened on our floor and he bolted from the elevator tossing a muddled "fine thanks" over his shoulder as he left.
Emboldened, I strode calmly from the elevator and back to my apartment. Commitment to my loose plan blossomed inside me. I decided then: I would proposition him that night before my resolve faded.
When I got back to the apartment I poured a glass of wine and ran a bath. As I lounged in the hot water I pictured my neighbor's flustered face contorted in pain and grimacing with pleasure. I imagined making him look me in the eyes instead of staring at the floor.
I ran my hands along my body in the soapy water and reveled in the warm feelings of arousal and anticipation I had stirred up.
How fun,
I mused,
to turn a quiet Saturday night into something to look forward to!
After getting out of the bath I put on my short, silky bathrobe and considered what to wear. After a moment, I decided that the robe was perfect on its own. I didn't want to spend too long trying to look any particular way for him and I figured a shock would be a good place to start.
Just before leaving I decided to slip on the black heels I'd worn on the night in the viewing room. It wouldn't hurt to bring some of the good luck from that night with me. After looking myself over in the mirror, I took one last gulp of wine and set out down the hallway.
When I knocked on his door I heard movement inside, as if someone was coming up to check the peephole, and then silence. After a minute I steeled myself and knocked again. I'd already come this far.
Finally he opened the door and looked at me like he'd seen a ghost.
I stepped past him into the room without bothering to ask to come in. For years I'd lived down the hallway from this man and I'd never seen the inside of his place. It was tidy and sparsely furnished in gray and navy blue. A bachelor pad.
After looking around for a moment I turned back to him.
"Can we talk?" I asked. "I have a proposition for you."
He was fidgeting with his hands then, looking nervous. He took a deep breath before responding. He even looked up at me as he said, "sure, we can talk."
I looked back at him, a bit impressed, as he fought to hold my gaze for a moment before darting his eyes back down along my body to the floor.