Some people play kinky games away from home, on vacation, or just a night away from the kids. Well, I feel like I just returned from a long absence and need to play. Being back home means playing games. The kinkier, the better.

Some of my regular playgrounds are still restricted by COVID, but that’s not keeping creative friends from using me. For them, I’m a long-lost toy, shiny like new, and all too eager to make a good impression. Sara had the first crack at me.

This isn’t really much of a ‘game’. The rules are very simple. I lose, she calls the shots. I win, she calls the shots. Neither of us cares about how we get to her dominating me for a night. She delights in the idea, and I am left wondering what she has planned.

Although I know her and my adopted hometown, I haven’t been around much the past few years. And with Covid, some rules have changed, even though life has almost returned to normal. So, we made my temporary housing our playground, and the bar below the challenge.

I’ve got most of my gear laid-out for her. The door rings, it’s her. Sara is pretty, in a regular girl kind of way. Her mind is anything but regular. She used to be a professional dominatrix for a few years, but now has a pretty lucrative job. She keeps a stable of ‘play-friends’, but she always liked me just a little more.

The feeling has always been mutual. Even though she is a few years younger than me, her dominant nature is intoxicating. As much as I don’t see myself in a committed relationship with her, she definitely sets the bar for mental dominance. Even as her friend, I never question a word she says when we play. I trust her completely, and not only because she used to torture people for a living.

I’m already dressed for her. She looks over my catsuit, approves, and pulls me by my collar. I had forgotten what it feels like to kiss a dominant girl. Let me just say, if you ever have the chance, and you’re into it, do it. As soft and gentle as it may appear, she holds my head by the collar, no escaping, and forces herself deep into my mouth.

She pulls me down, I have to submit to her strong grip, our lips never part. It’s a ceremony for her. She’s in charge, I do as I am told. Tenderness is not to be confused with equality. I’m the sub, and she is everything I ever wanted.

“Let’s go downstairs, you’re expected.” I haven’t been outside in public wearing just a catsuit and heels in so long. The butterflies in my stomach are a minor tornado. But Sara takes my hand, gently, barely touching, and I know what I must do. This night belongs to her and I will follow her to the end of the world.

To be continued…

Wicked Wednesday