Roseann Discovers Dominance

Lessons for a Dominant Woman

By

William Gaius

70000 words, 35 chapters

Newly divorced RoseAnn Perez moves to Chicago and finds romance with Craig Warburton, a young college professor. At first, she's disturbed by his submissive nature. But she soon discovers the seed of dominance growing in herself.

Chapter 1

Bitumen, Illinois, June 1963

By the glow of the parking lights, Donald eased his car along the muddy woodlot path until we were well out of sight of the road. The broken heater blew hot air summer and winter, so the windows had to be left open even after he shut off the engine. Through the windows came the chirping of insects, the soughing of the prairie wind in the trees, and the occasional mosquito.

This wasn't the first time I'd gone with a boy to his secret place for petting and kissing, and sometimes a good grope. But I was nineteen now, and facing the prospect of living life as a virgin. I was the only girl I knew who'd reached my age with her cherry intact, and I'd finally resolved to get the job done. I planned it with near-military precision: Donald Whitten was going to be the one, and tonight would be the night.

In case he wasn't prepared, I had a condom in my purse, a gift from my older friend Carole. She'd also given me a last-minute checklist on avoiding pregnancy and what to do if certain things happened. She wasn't simply more experienced than I, she was smarter in every respect, and had ambitions that went well beyond Bitumen and coal country. Now she was a senior at UICC, bound for medical school, and determined not to burden herself with a baby that would sentence her to life back here in Bitumen.

Donald touched my hand. In the faint light from the dash radio, his eyes were pleading. I wanted to tell him I'd already made up my mind to let him fuck me. But the formalities had to be observed—it was up to him to make the first move. I squeezed his hand and moved closer.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

I almost laughed. Instead, I stroked his hair and said, "I came here to Kings Grove with you, didn't I? I wasn't expecting to play checkers. Let's move to the back so there's more room."

The sun had set, and it was getting difficult to see what we were doing. He kissed me again, first my cheek, and then my lips. He was several inches shorter than me, but my height didn't seem to bother him as it did most boys. I put my arms around his shoulders, and he responded by grasping my waist. We kissed some more, until finally, his tongue slid along my lips. He was breathing hard and trembling. Carole had warned me of this. 'Stop and cool off every so often. Don't let him get so excited he blows his load before you're ready.'

After a few minutes of increasingly intense kissing, I pulled back to catch my breath, and to give him a chance to move on to the next step. By now, our eyes had adapted to the dim light, and he gazed hungrily at my cleavage.

I'd discreetly loosened two buttons during the drive here. Even so, it was clear he still needed prompting. I thrust my shoulders forward to make my breasts bulge. "They're yours if you want them," I whispered. "But are you sure you want them badly enough?"

He reached out with his free hand, cautiously touching the slope of my breast, and one-handedly loosed the remaining blouse buttons. He leaned forward and delicately kissed the tops of my breasts. I murmured, 'Mm-m, nice," to encourage him.

I was about to push the bra straps off my shoulders, but he finally took the initiative and did it himself. He went further, pulling my bra all the way down until it was bunched under my breasts. In the last of the twilight, he gazed at my chest in awe.

"Haven't you seen a girl's boobs before?" I said.

He nodded. "Yes, but never like yours. And please, would you let me call them 'breasts'? Boobs sounds like something funny or gross, but your breasts are perfect. They're beyond beautiful."

I smiled and hoped he could see it in the dark. "Well, I guess I prefer 'breasts', too, but most boys wouldn't know what I was talking about. They're 'tits' and 'knockers' and 'boobs'—Oh!" I gasped as Donald leaned forward and licked, dragging the rough flat of his tongue across my nipple. "Oh my! That feels nice."

I leaned back against the door to give him better access, and he moved to the other breast, licking with a desperation I hadn't expected. I began to think he was going to come too soon after all, but there was little I could do about it now. I was helpless against his frenzied tongue. He drew the flesh of my breast into his mouth and sucked hard, until electric shocks raced up and down my spine. I felt wetness in my panties. He switched to the other breast. I didn't want him to stop and I told him so, over and over.

Suddenly, his lips were gone, yet the coarse rasp of his breathing still filled the car. I felt for this shoulders. He was on his knees and his lips were on my stomach, kissing and sucking at my skin.

"What are you doing?"

The bunched-up brassiere muffled his voice. "Your skin—it's so smooth and silky. It feels so good to kiss your whole body."

I lay back, relaxed. It wasn't a bad idea to let him cool off. And I needed a short respite from his insistent tongue, too. It was up to me to keep a cool head. I didn't want to go home with a pussy full of jizz, even Donald's. Long before tonight, I'd already terrorized myself by the prospect of enduring weeks of waiting, wondering when next period would show up—or not.

He continued kissing my stomach, right down to the waist of my skirt, and suddenly his fingers were stroking the inside of my thighs. I was actually relieved—I wouldn't have to coach him all the way to the grand finale. To be this clumsy, he was surely as much a virgin as I was.

His fingers slid further up the inside of my leg, until they stroked the damp crotch panel of my panties. He murmured something into my belly and pushed my skirt up onto my stomach and breasts. Before I knew it, his lips were high on my thigh, inches from my pussy.

I tried to push him away, but he clutched my hips tightly. I couldn't budge him. He whimpered like an injured dog.

"Donald, what are you doing?"

He moaned and continued to kiss and lick my thigh, pushing with his lips at the elastic of my panties. I grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I want to kiss your pussy. Please?"

"My pussy? Whatever made you think of that?"

His voice rose as though he were ready to cry. "Please, Roseann. It's all I've dreamed about since the first time you sat near me in English."

"I came here so you could fuck me."

"Please, RoseAnn," he said again. "You can't get pregnant if I just kiss it. I know you'll like it. And I need it."

"You need it? How can that be? Do your other girlfriends let you do this?"

"I've never done it before. But there's something about you that makes me want to. You're a beautiful goddess. You deserve to be worshiped."

"I'm not a goddess. I'm a kid just like you, but I don't have your pervert ideas."

"Please, RoseAnn, please don't push me away." He sobbed. I could no longer see his face in the dark, and it was just as well. I didn't want to see him cry. "I think I'll die if I don't do this now."

His pleading, sappy as it was, got through to me. It couldn't be that bad. I knew that some other girls let boys lick their pussies. Some even preferred it to fucking. Carole had told me that she stopped letting her boyfriends fuck her at all. Either they licked her, or they were gone. No surprise pregnancy was going to ruin her life, she'd said again and again.

I sighed. "Oh, all right. Just for a minute. Through my panties."

He exhaled noisily, more excited than ever. "Thank you, my wonderful woman." He bent to his labors, kissing at my thigh and panties.

Mm-m. It

did

feel good. Even through the thin cotton, his lips were doing something that a boy's fingers had never been able to do. It wasn't just the physical sensation. He was humbling himself before me, worshiping me like the goddess he imagined. He murmured in his throat as if he were in a trance.

But oh, Jesus! It feels so good!

But there was a way to make it even better.

I hooked a finger in a leg of my panties and pulled them aside. I opened my thighs further to welcome him in. He moaned aloud as his tongue began to worm its way into my vagina.

Oh, Jesus, help me!

There had never been a sensation like this, ever! I couldn't believe what his tongue was doing to me. Licking my breasts had given me electric shocks, but the gentle stroking of his tongue on my pussy was like powerful ocean waves rolling my body helplessly around and bearing me away to...

someplace

...

"Ah!" I grunted. I screamed. I bucked my hips against his face and came like I'd never come before. His tongue chased my clit around, as he desperately tried to stay with me. The waves of glorious pleasure went on and on, longer and stronger than any orgasm I'd ever had from a boy's fingers, or from my own.

After what seemed a long time, the orgasm exhausted itself. I floated down from somewhere in the sky, settling gently onto the back seat of Donald's aging car, with its oil and smoke smells. My pussy was painfully sensitive now. I warned him to stop licking, but held his face tucked into my pussy.

From his place between my thighs, he murmured, "Was it okay?"

I paused a long time, still catching my breath. "Okay? Yeah, I'd say that was okay. Way, way better than okay." I stroked his hair.

"It's everything I imagined it would be," he said.

I lay my head back against the seat, breathing deeply. But as my heart slowed and my brain began to work again, I realized with a shock that there was a consequence to what we'd just done. Awash in my own pleasure, I'd completely forgotten—I'd just had the orgasm of a lifetime, and I was obliged to reciprocate.

I had to suck him off.

The thought sickened me. More than once, I'd held a handful of some boy's jizz, all slimy and sticky and impossible to wipe off completely, even with Kleenex. I couldn't imagine getting a mouthful. And the smell—like bleach or dead fish.

But a debt was a debt. The way boys were, if I didn't come through on my side, all my friends would soon know me as a cock-teaser.

I ignored my revulsion and said, "Loosen your jeans and get up on the seat. It's your turn."

He stayed on the floor between my legs. "It's okay, RoseAnn. You just gave me everything I needed."

I furrowed my eyebrows, puzzled. "What does that mean? Everything you needed? Surely you expect something for yourself."

"I meant it, RoseAnn. I wouldn't ask any woman to do that, but I can't even imagine asking a goddess like you for something so disgusting."

Faced with the risk of being labeled a cock-tease or the certainty of getting a mouthful of bleachy-smelling man-slime, I decided to take him at his word. I made a mental note to ask Carole if she went down on her boyfriends after they licked her.

Donald drove me home, telling me over and over how happy I'd made him, and how I was the most beautiful goddess in the world, and how he couldn't believe his good luck. I was ready to scream. If he called me a goddess one more time, I was ready to break his jaw.

When we stopped outside my home, I didn't kiss him. I told myself it was because his face smelled of pussy. In fact, I really didn't feel like kissing him ever again. What we had done had made the world tilt in an unexpected direction. In our little world, girls were expected to suck boys' cocks. Boys bragged about it all the time. But they never bragged about licking girls' pussies. I had the sick feeling that I'd participated in some twisted crime against Nature.

When Donald called the next day, I had my mother tell him I wasn't home. Another time, he came to the house, so I told him we'd had a wonderful time together, but I wasn't ready to go with just one boy yet. I promised him a date at some future time, which he correctly interpreted as 'never'.

Not long after, Mike Perez asked me out. He was a tall, tough specimen of a man with startling blue eyes. He strode about our little town like a Colossus. I was thrilled. Every girl wanted him. Every boy wanted to be his friend. Moreover, he was the only boy in town who was taller than me. If that weren't enough, at age 20, he already had a secure job in the nearby refinery that shielded him from the draft. An orphan, he'd even inherited his own trailer not far from my parents' house.

My original plan was finally fulfilled—I gave up my virginity on our first date. I didn't have an orgasm, but I hadn't really expected one the first time. His cock matched its legend in length and girth, and there was too much pain after my hymen tore to get any real joy from it. Over the following weeks, as the pain subsided, I learned to love the pursuit and surrender and penetration and motions of sex. But however excited I got, I always fell short of a real orgasm.

We dated for three months until, over a twelve-pack of Old Milwaukee, he asked me to marry him. We were wed at the Grundy County courthouse a week later. Now I understood that I was meant to reject Donald. God had another fate in store for me. He gave me Mike Perez.

God sometimes plays shitty tricks on people.