My name is Joyce and I operate an online service called Dirty Dommes. It’s an ideal way to make a lot of coin treating (primarily) men like shit and degrading and humiliating them with little or no sex involved. I’m very selective with my clients and the fee largely depends upon how needy (or ugly) they might be.
I’m five foot, nine inches tall, auburn red hair and dark brown eyes. I measure 34C, 26, 32. I work out to keep a well-toned and attractive body. Once a client meets me in person, he is almost always eager to use my services.
When I met Trent, everything seemed routine until our session was finished and I discovered the real reason for his visit. This is how it went:
We went through the usual routine of online contact, requiring that he email me a photo of himself, real and recent. Then we met at a restaurant without disclosing where each of us actually lives. I got there first and took a booth that kept us visible and yet one where others would not overhear our conversation.
I spotted Trent the minute he came in the door. He was a hunk of a man, about six feet tall, slender and with light brown wavy hair. He scanned the place and when he saw me alone, our eyes locked and when I nodded, he came to me. I love it when men come to me. And for me.
He introduced himself, offered his hand and we acted like regular people. Except that I am paid to be a bitch and he didn’t look like a man who needed one. He sat and crossed his hands on top of the table. What hands! Big with long, thick fingers. I decided that, depending on his particular and peculiar needs, I might just take advantage of the rest of his equipment.
He kept his eyes down on the table, and I took him for possibly being a submissive; perhaps he just wanted to be whipped like a slave. I can handle that, easily. His voice was soft but firm when he answered my questions.
“What is it that you need from me, Trent?” I began.
“Two things; ma’am,” he answered. (Ma’am, he said; I liked where this was going already.)
“First of all, I haven’t had any sex in over four months,” he said, pausing.
“And you want me to get you off, is that it?” I countered. “But why not just hire a hooker to fuck you?”
“Well, it’s not just that, there’s something else I need,” he said quickly.
I jumped to conclusions again. “”Holy shit! Look; if you want somebody to piss on you, you can find a hooker for that; I don’t do weird shit!” I said at the top of a whispered voice.
“No! No, nothing like that!” he quickly replied. “I need to be used sexually, I mean physically and give you oral sex; you can do whatever you want to me but I don’t want you to let me…you know…” he said as his voice trailed off.
“You just want to eat me and fuck me without coming yourself, is that it?” I asked. “Is that all?”
“Yes, ma’am, but no, ma’am,” he replied. “It’s important to me that you come as often as possible, especially when I use my mouth,” he said. There was something sad in his voice.
“So I get to come as much as I want using your mouth and your cock; anything else?”
“Yes, ma’am, I also want you to hurt me a little, just enough to suffer but no bruises or anything visible.”
“Do you want me to whip you?” I asked. It’s important to know exactly what a client wants before I overstep boundaries and cause a problem.
“No, just when you’re…doing stuff…or making me do stuff, I need for you to do things to make me uncomfortable, a little pain down there, I need to be punished,” he said, obviously embarrassed. I was pretty sure I had a grasp on what to do with him.
I gave him a verbal recap to which he agreed and when I quoted a fee he readily agreed. Fuck! I should have upped the fee, even though he would be fun to play with.
I sent him to an upscale hotel and ordered him to rent a suite complete with champagne and then wait for me in the lobby. He did, and when I came into the lobby, he greeted me as he would a long lost friend, hugging me warmly and leading me to the elevator. When we entered the suite I was not disappointed.
“We’ll need a “safe” word for you; in case I get too aggressive for you,” I advised.
He thought a minute and answered, “Brenda.”
Even though there was no time limit established, I ushered him into the bedroom, had him disrobe and stand by the bed. He stared at my body as I slowly undressed, giving him ample gazes at every part of my body. To his credit, his manhood showed much appreciation by the time I was naked. I could hardly wait to feel it stretching me later.
His erection was impressive, straight as an arrow, stiff and proud. I knelt in front of him and could not resist forcing his length into my mouth. When I had all I could take, my teeth grazed his shaft and he gasped. I slid my mouth back to the tip and circled my index finger and thumb around base of his scrotum and squeezed until it was the size of a softball.
I scratched the taut skin with my fingernails, careful not to be too hard. He gritted his teeth but did not protest. Then as my teeth gently gnawed on the engorged tip of his cock, my hand cupped and squeezed his balls, tighter and tighter until his legs began to quiver.
Releasing him, I sat back, looking at that marvelous piece of man meat bobbing in front of me. I slapped at it with one hand and then the other, sending it waving back and forth. I decided that this might satisfy his need for a little pain for a while and that it was time for my pleasure.
With just my fingertips on top of his beautiful shoulders, I used feather like pressure to take him to his knees in front of me.