The Goddess Hera

The first time I'd put on anything leather, I was 22, freshly out of college, and got up the courage to go into a sex shop with one of my friends. I came out to her the day before that, even though everyone knew I was gay since eighth grade, and we ended up getting drunk and exchanging fetishes. When she tied me up into that first leather corset, its boning stiff and its skin sumptuous, something new and fresh prickled up my spine.

The soft caress of its supple skin invited curiosity, while the sturdy boning inside promised empowerment. The shop owner, a woman I'd later learn was a fellow dominatrix, skillfully laced me up after my friend had started, and told me I looked powerful. As each lace tightened, an unfamiliar, invigorating buzz filled me from toe to chest, awakening a side of me that I would spend the next decade chasing and fulfilling.

At 35, I'd become a beacon of the local scene. I arranged munches and taught rope classes at the local dungeon, owned by a close friend. I went to Red Velvet most Saturday nights, and tonight was no different. It was cold outside, but my heavy leather coat covered up my fetish gear. As I glided through the heavy, unmarked entrance, the familiar thumping bass sent a jolt of excitement through me. The dimly lit club welcomed me as an old friend, and I exuded confidence as I embraced its atmosphere. The low lighting accentuated my every move, casting me in a sensual and commanding aura.

I walked up to the coat check and grinned at Bella behind the counter. "Anything good for me tonight, love?"

She rolled her eyes. "Such a predator. There's a few girls who might be your type. The one in the white dress particularly; she's experienced but new to the area."

"Thanks for the tip." I winked at her, trading in my coat for a ticket.

Like Bella had implied, tonight, I was hunting, not teaching.

The air was thick with desire and anticipation as I navigated through the crowd. It was ladies' night, and being a dom put me in high demand. Heads turned and gazes lingered on me, admiring the presence I commanded. Conversations hushed briefly in my wake, acknowledging that the Queen of this underground realm had arrived.

They called me Hera, after all.

My attire, an intricate dance of leather and lace, turned heads and sparked curiosity among those who dared to steal glances. All black, of course. It was a classic for a reason. I liked this bodysuit for a reason; the leather straps with silver rivets crossed in an X between my breasts where a large ring held everything in place, creating a sight line that drew eyes over my hips and waist and then, at last, to the sternum tattoo reading 'MOMMY' in all caps, small enough that the only people who could read it had to be looking. Soft, detailed lace lined the leather edges, bringing it a softness and femininity that highlighted it well.

Each step I took was deliberate. As I moved deeper into the club, the subtle scent of wax candles mixed with the arousing musk of leather. My eyes scanned the room, meeting the gazes of those I knew and roving over those I didn't. I was most interested in the girls I didn't know, of course, but they didn't need to know that.

For a while, conversations flowed easily as I engaged with various admirers, each vying for my attention. I held their gazes firmly and mostly listened. They sought to please me, and in return, I offered morsels of my attention in the form of an affirming nod or head tilt.

Finally, I met eyes with the girl Bella had pointed out to me. She was short and plus-sized, which was exactly my type. Absolutely nothing like a girl having to look up into your eyes or seeing bright red whip marks on an ample ass. Her honey-blonde hair trailed in low pigtails down to her breasts, which were held up in a tightly-laced dress. The top was a cream-colored satin corset, laced down the front, and the bottom was a flowy skirt, maybe chiffon, with a baby pink floral pattern.

Anyone else might clock her as an innocent girly girl. But I saw past the blonde hair and blue eyes to the careful, enticing positioning of her breasts, the way her skirt was just short enough that when she bent over there was a peak of her thong, and the bold false lashes around her fuck-me eyes. Just like me, she knew what she wanted, only going about it a different way. I picked up a shandy, the bottle cap still on, and walked over to her.

I cut my way easily through the flock of girls she must've come in with and touched her arm, right above her elbow. She turned to me with bright eyes. Closer now, I noticed her smattering of light freckles all across her face and chest. I offered her the bottle and introduced myself in a low, private voice only she could hear, "I'm Hera. And you are?"

Her eyes walked their way up from my feet, clad in laced-up leather platform boots, to my matte red lipstick. "You're Hera? I've already heard so much about you." Then she batted those lashes and asked, "Can you open this for me?"

"Of course, sweetheart," I chuckled. I smacked the bottle against the nearby bartop. It fizzed over the edge. I licked the half-sweet, half-sharp drink off my fingers. She watched my tongue, mesmerized. I handed her the bottle and asked, "So, what have you heard? Only bad things I hope?"

She took a sip of the drink and smiled a tiny bit at herself. Her lips begged to be touched, bitten, and sucked. "Well, I haven't been here in Chicago long, but I've heard the famous rumor."

I laughed and asked, "How I can make any girl squirt the first time I'm with them?"

"That's the one." She took another sip, clearly embarrassed for having brought it up. God, she was cute. After a moment, she held out a dainty hand. "If you're Hera, maybe I'm Sappho."

"More of a siren, I think," I teased. I took her hand in mine and kissed it gently. "My real name is Harlowe. Never thought it suited me."

"I agree, much more of a goddess than that. And I'm Rosie."

I held her hand another few seconds, kissing each of her fingers before putting it back down. "Dance with me?"

Rosie -- of course that was her name, sweet and soft and blushing and clear as a summer meadow -- took my hand and led me to the dance floor. A steady mix of female musicians in all different genres pulsed through the speakers. Girls danced alone and in groups and in couples. Some kissed and swayed while others jumped and laughed. It didn't matter as long as we had a safe, comfortable space to be ourselves. Nobody judged.

My hands found their place on Rosie's hips, and I pulled her in closer, relishing the warmth of her body against mine. Her eyes locked with mine, and I could see the desire flickering in their depths, mirroring my own. There was an unspoken understanding between us, a shared intention to explore and revel in each other for the first time here.

As the music enveloped us, we moved together as if we had done so a thousand times before. Rosie's touch was electric, and her hands traced the contours of my back, igniting a trail of fire wherever they roamed. I matched her intensity, my fingers exploring the soft curves of her arms. Unlike her, though, I let my nails drag down her skin, leaving pink lines on her shoulders that made her breathe harder against my neck.

With each sway and turn, our bodies spoke a language all their own. The rhythm of the music guided us, allowing us to listen to one another in a way words could never capture. As the tempo shifted, so did the nature of our dance. We moved with newfound sensuality, our hips grinding against one another, setting off sparks of pleasure that shot through me. I leaned in closer, my lips grazing Rosie's ear, and I felt her shiver in response. The sensation only fueled my desire to explore more of her, to know every inch of her.

As the music reached its climax, so did our passion. Our movements became more synchronized, more intense, as if we were chasing a shared crescendo of pleasure. The world beyond the dance floor faded away, leaving only us, wrapped up in the throes of desire. When the final notes of the song faded, we lingered in each other's arms, hearts pounding in harmony. We had shared an experience that transcended words, a dance that had revealed so much about each other in the language of touch.

Rosie looked up at me through her thick lashes, blue eyes reflecting the twinkling dim lights all around us. She stood up on her tiptoes and asked, "Take me to one of the playrooms, Goddess?"

Without another word, I took her to one of the rooms labeled 'private -- open' and flipped the sign the other way around. Inside, a variety of implements and tools -- all cleaned and inspected between uses -- lined shelves on the wall. This was my favorite room, dressed in deep purple, almost indigo, instead of reds and blacks.

Rosie's eyes widened with anticipation as she took in the array of toys open to me. Clearly, she was familiar with most, but not with a few. Each item had been carefully selected for its purpose and quality. We talked through what she liked and wanted, where her boundaries were, and how she needed to be handled before we got into anything. Playing with strangers necessitated care and communication; as a dom, it was my job to guide that conversation and make it easy for any partners to loosen up.

My fingers brushed against the array of floggers, paddles, and restraints, and I could see the excitement building in Rosie's eyes. She was eager to surrender herself to me, to explore her deepest desires and boundaries under my expert guidance. Turning my attention back to her, I moved closer, invading her personal space for the first time and relishing the way her breath hitched in response.

My fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw, tilting her chin upward to meet my gaze. Her eyes held a mix of excitement and vulnerability, a raw display of newfound trust that stirred something deep within me. I knew that my reputation often spoke for me, but I was always careful to ensure that the real thing surpassed expectations.

"Such a good girl," I murmured, my voice laced with admiration. "You're ready to explore, aren't you?"

Her response was a soft nod, and I rewarded her with a gentle kiss, claiming her lips with possessive fervor. She leaned into my body. My hands traced the curves of her, learning every dip and curve, memorizing her form with a reverence that made her gasp. My fingers found the top bow of her corset and began untying, loosening each cross of fabric that held her in. Soon enough the corset was off, revealing to me the slip dress that kept the outfit together. I kissed the tops of her breasts gently as I slipped the spaghetti straps down over her shoulder. Providing softness during the anticipation of roughness was a favorite of mine. That expectation amplified every touch.

Her dress dropped to the floor. I picked it up, folded it, and placed it by the door. Small touches like that assured a sub I cared about more than just fucking. I wanted them to be comfortable and not have to worry about any details.

I stepped back and took her in. Rosie's breasts were small proportionally to her hips and stomach, sitting high up on her chest. Perfectly sized to be grabbed. Her nipples were almost as pale as her skin, with large areolas I already knew would be sensitive based on how she squirmed in the air conditioning. She had on a baby pink lace thong. I breathed, "Absolutely gorgeous."

I reached for a pair of black leather cuffs, finely crafted. Rosie watched intently as I made sure to inspect them. I commanded, "Turn around, kitten."

She complied without hesitation, presenting her back to me. I admired her ass for a moment first, grazing my fingers over her dimpled skin. Then, with practiced ease, I secured the cuffs around her wrists, making sure to show her how to undo the belt-like latch on her own if anything happened. Once her hands were bound, I led her toward a padded bench in the center of the room. It was a place of comfort and vulnerability, and I could see Rosie's pulse in her neck, already a mix of turned-on and nervous. I guided her to lie face down, ensuring she was positioned just right with her hands resting on the small of her back, her face turned to one side so she could still look back at me, and her legs spread around the bench. Her ass faced upward at me and I took a deep breath, memorizing the look of it before I had my way.

Running my fingers gently along her spine, I began to deliver soft, teasing caresses, lulling her into a state of relaxation. Her body responded, sinking into the plush padding beneath her. But soon, the intensity of my touch increased, and Rosie gasped as my fingertips trailed lower, inching toward the contours of her ass.

With a swift, deliberate motion, I brought my hand down with a clapping smack, creating that first delicious sting that reverberated through her body. She moaned in response, her hips arching slightly, inviting me to do more. I alternated between soothing caresses and playful spanks, each stroke designed to elicit a range of reactions from Rosie.

As the intensity increased, I leaned down to whisper in her ear, my voice a seductive melody that I'd practiced and honed for years. "You're doing so well already, baby. I'm going to go harder now. All you have to do is let go and trust me."

Her response was an encouraging whimper. I could tell just how badly she wanted to surrender to someone else. I switched from my hand to a sleek wooden paddle. I ran the smooth surface over Rosie's already tender ass, tracing the path that I would soon embark on. Her breath hitched, and I could sense her anticipation building with every touch of the implement.

Positioning myself beside her, stance strong and commanding, stilettos firmly on the floor in her line of sight. I raised the paddle, my movements deliberate and measured. I wanted to make each strike count. My muscles constant and sturdy, I used only a portion of my weight for the first hit to see how she'd take it. The smack, though not as bad as it could easily get, released a satisfying, resounding thwack around us. These rooms were echoey on purpose. Rosie gasped, her body tensing under the impact, but I could see the desire in her eyes, urging me to continue. She arched into the spank instead of away from it, eager for me instead of afraid. I needed to take her right to the edge of afraid.

With each subsequent strike, I varied the force and angle until I watched her eyes sting with submissive tears. The skin on her whole body was mottled with blush, but her ass now had gorgeous red streaks over it. Rosie's moans grew more frequent, and her hips moved subtly, a silent invitation for me to do whatever I wanted.

I maintained a steady rhythm, allowing Rosie to sink deeper into the experience, to let go and embrace the pleasure intermingled with the sharp sting of the paddle. In moments of respite, I ran my fingers gently over the reddened skin, offering tenderness and comfort. With a change in pace, I intensified the strokes to almost as hard as I could give them, knowing Rosie was reaching the peak of what she would get out of it. The paddle landed with more force, eliciting moans of ecstasy from her lips. I watched as she surrendered to the sensations, her body quivering with each impact. Her legs shook. My cunt quivered with them, need rising up inside of me. I squatted down next to her face, kissed her cheek, and said, "Now say thank you."

She nodded a few times, mascara tears staining her face, as she tried to regain enough composure to speak. Finally, in a tiny feminine whimper, she said, "Thank you, Goddess."

"That's what I like to hear." I wiped the tears from her cheeks and chin and said, "I'm going to use you now to make myself cum. Then I'm going to give you the biggest orgasm you've had in your life. Okay?"

"Yes," she breathed, satisfied and relieved and anxious all at once.

I slapped her. "Say please. It's a fucking honor."

"Please," she whined through the sting. "Please use me."

Then I flipped her over, briefly unlocking her wrists in order to re-lock them beneath the bench so she couldn't escape. I adjusted the height of the bench to where I knew I could comfortably straddle her face when I was ready. I unhooked my harness behind my back and slipped it off, then removed the lace bodysuit, until I was naked except for my platform heels, which I almost never took off.

I stood over her, leaning my tits in her face, and said, "Suck."

Rosie strained up to try to catch one of my nipples in her mouth. Each time she was close, I pulled away and gave her a mean laugh. Her eyes widened in frustration, then, as I wanted, determination. She took my nipple between her front teeth, drawing me gently forward. I let her that time. She sucked and nibbled assertively, giving it the best college try she could. Each time she sucked harder, knowing I could take anything she could try to give, I rewarded her by touching her swollen clit. It was less about the sensation on my own tits -- sure, that was nice and charged my pussy with want -- but I loved watching her eyes open, widen, and close.

Once I was satisfied with the needy sounds she made and the subtle bucking of her hips, I instructed, "Try your best to get me off before I take your mouth. You can touch yourself while you do it." Then, harshly, I teased, "Aw, wait, you can't. Poor desperate little whore."

Rosie pouted, but it was half-hearted and cute, not protesting in the slightest. She wanted to taste. She wanted to impress me. She wanted, deep inside of her, to get me off so that I'd do the same for her. I swung my leg over the bench, putting my cunt right over her mouth. She opened her mouth a bit, lips encircling my clit. When she found a position she liked, Rosie began to flick her tongue under the hood of my clit.

A breathy moan rose from my lips into the air.

Rosie stopped a second and tilted her head to ask for approval.

"Oh, shut up, slut," I groaned, yanking her hair back further so that her tongue came up right under me. I rocked back and forth as she surrendered to my will. I closed my eyes, taking in the smell of leather and citrusy cleaners. I ground against her soft, flat tongue until I found the perfect spot where pleasure rolled from my clit, up into my cunt, and through the rest of my body. I groaned to her, "That's a good girl, now."

The quiet clicking and clattering of her cuff's buckles and connecting chain was music to my ears. The wetness, heat, and constant motion of my pussy on her face barely allowed her to breathe, but every tiny sound that escaped from her mouth was loaded with desire and satisfaction. In control of my own arousal, I was able to build up the pressure slowly and consistently, as effortlessly as if Rosie were a toy for me to use. She might as well be. The only difference between her and one of my vibrators was that she squirmed and moaned while I used her. And I'd get to eat pussy after. Pretty good deal all things considered.

I coaxed my clit over her tongue over and over. Her lips added another layer of ridges to the motions. I began to tighten, speeding up as I used her mouth. As my wetness increased, becoming sweeter as my thighs started to twitch, Rosie moaned in delight. She knew I was getting closer and I knew my pussy tasted divine to every sub I'd ever had. Ambrosia. Nectar of the goddesses.

My orgasm built itself from the ground up against her tongue. My cunt clenched over and over until, finally, it peaked tightly. I threw my head back and, for a heavenly few seconds, I let go. The rhythm of thrusting met with the crescendo of pleasure. When it began to subside, before totally finished, I dropped down between her legs and began to eat her out.

At the sudden change, a moan ripped out of Rosie and echoed down to my ears deliciously. Her cunt was hot and wet and tasted almost earthy like a summer day but with a near citrus zing. A carefully crafted wine, maybe, or a day in Napa Valley. I lavished in it. The key to making a girl cum harder than she thought possible is to never go faster than you have to. Every second, she should be possessed but the thought that she'd cum if it were just a little faster. You want her to beg and cry with the need of it. To breathe nearly to hyperventilating and then rely on you to slow back down.