Wine, cheese, and rimjobs: My first scene with a married Dom couple.

I pulled my old clunker up to a beautiful suburban condo overlooking the water.

“Welcome, welcome!” Rocket Man said cheerfully as he opened the heavy front door. “Come on in!”

Photographs of babies, pets, and vacation spots followed me up the staircase and into a crisp, rather mod living room. Placed tastefully around the room were what looked to the layman’s eye like Japanese art. In the center of the room stood a 7-foot-tall bamboo tripod structure, the top bound in rope and suspending a large metal ring. I had a feeling I knew who was going to be tied to that tripod.

Rocket Man and Hawai’i were both dressed in black: him in an unassuming black tank top and black jeans, and her in pleather booty-shorts and a black mesh top.

Black is the new black.

Black is the new black, fool.

Rocket Man’s black hair dye and stylish Ray Ban glasses made him appear younger than his 47 years. She was mature yet sexy with straight-cut bangs and smokey black shadow on her lids. I don’t fetishize Asian women, but somehow I keep ending up with them.



“Would you like some red wine?” Hawai’i asked. We sat around their dining table with glasses of delicious Merlot, and snacked on crackers, cheeses, and dark grapes as we discussed the evening to come. They had asked for me to fill out a fetish checklist prior to tonight, and they’d printed it out for some talking points. They asked about my erogenous zones (ass more than nipples), pain threshold (not sure yet), joint health (fine, thanks), squirting (no), preferred roles (innocent little girl), potential fantasies (anonymous gang bang) typical M.O. for orgasming (clitoral stimulation, sometimes better with something inside me), and a whole swath of other topics.

They have some interests that go beyond mine (e.g., golden showers, which they further euphemize as just “goldens”), but they were certainly not aiming to push any boundaries tonight. Tonight was to be a small, safe taste of what could lie ahead.

Try and convince me this woman is not thinking, "The FUCK did I end up here for?"

Try and convince me the look in that woman’s eye isn’t, “The FUCK did I end up here for?”



Eventually, the talking concluded. Hawai’i led me over to the living room by the hand, stationed me by the bamboo structure, and told me, “Strip.” I stripped. “Oh, look at her little landing patch,” she called over to Rocket Man. In the future, I was to be completely shaven for them, but it would do for the time being. (I am also supposed to do an enema in the future. Wish me luck.) Her hands grazed my body as she inspected me. I think she is in better shape than I am, and I was embarrassed by this. Hawai’i’s hand traveled down and came into brief contact with my pussy. She told me I was a slut for being so wet already.

Tsk, tsk.

Tsk, tsk.

It felt just a little odd having someone of such petite stature barking orders at me, but I let myself get into it. I was then fitted with leather cuffs on my wrists, a spreader bar between my ankles, and a leather collar with a chain. Rocket Man approached from behind me, laid a blindfold over my eyes, and began wrapping nylon rope around my torso.


Torso bound

“When you have this collar on,” Hawai’i told me, as rope slid smoothly across my stomach, between my breasts, over my shoulders, “you refer to me as either Ma’am or Miss [her name], and to him as Sir. Do you understand?” I nodded. “Yes Ma’am,” Hawai’i corrected. I echoed her. Even when I hooked up with A, I never referred to him as Sir. It’s not something I’m used to, and it doesn’t come naturally at this point.

Hawai’i brought out a riding crop and started lightly tapping my clitoris with it. Fuck, that was nice. She rubbed it back and forth, and I could feel it slipping on my wetness. “Look what she did to my crop!” she exclaimed to Rocket Man. “This is one slobbery slut. …Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.” And I tasted my own juice on the leather as she brought the crop up to my mouth. Slightly salty, but not as bad as it I’ve tasted in the past.

Riding crop



I was put on all fours on a large ottoman under the bamboo structure, and I felt the ropes around my torso tighten and lift slightly upwards.

Partial suspension

Then a whole lot of pleasure began. I often could not tell who was touching me where, or what toy might be in me at any given moment. All I had was sensation. I felt vibration and leaned into it. I felt a toy entering my pussy and I breathed out to accept it. Now one in my ass, and air hissed out from between my teeth as I tried to relax my sphincter. Shit, that was a little much. The toy was removed, and I panted and gulped for air. I like anal, but it really needs to be slowly introduced if I want to survive it.

Still on all fours and bound from above, I felt a hand pulling my head up by the ponytail, and I knew what was coming. Rocket Man‘s cock met my lips, and I opened my mouth to take him in. As I swirled my tongue around to get his cock wet, I unconsciously analyzed the size and shape. Good, I thought to myself, good size but not too big. It shouldn’t hurt when he fucks me. I remembered at that moment that Hawai’i still had a vibrator on my clit, and I leaned into that a little more. Man, it’s hard for me to concentrate on giving pleasure and accepting pleasure at the same time. Ever been in a massage train…? Yeah, same deal.

After a while, there was a transition. “Do you remember we discussed giving us a pain scale? I want you to tell us how this feels, from 1 to 10. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied. Damn. I was nervous. I’m not a pain junkie, but I’d discussed being interested in exploring the sensation for what it’s worth. I felt a brief flash of regret.

I felt something land gently on my ass cheek, the light pain dispersed into many small areas, and then felt it be dragged off. It landed again, and was dragged off. Based on the sensation, my mental image of it was as a big, heavy blanket with little spikes lining the edges. I found out later it was a leather flogger. “Three,” I offered.


The flogger was laid down on me again, with increasing sting. My numbers crept up as they continued, until wham! wham! wham! wham! the smacks came pelting down in quick succession. My ass cheeks tensed and my body naturally drew away. “Six — ahh! Seven!” I yelled. They ceased. We continued with the flogger on my back, with was certainly less sensitive than my ass.

Then it was time for something new. Something more focused in its pain, but not quite as intense.

Leather paddle

And after a few good moments with that, we moved on to a third instrument.


Holy fucking hell, that stings, I thought. It was sharp as a bee sting. The initial pain was fleeting, but it left my ass cheeks throbbing. Then each time it was brought down again, the sensitivity of my skin seemed to amplify the sting a thousandfold. After a few stings landed on the same, tender spot in succession, I involuntarily leaped away, my body shivering noticeably, and said, “S-s-seven…seven…” They stopped and caressed my ass, and I could hear chuckling and praise.

At this point, I can’t quite remember the order of what happened after the cane. This was less than 24 hours ago, so maybe it was the excitement of the night, or maybe the cane stunned me a bit and obstructed my memory. I sucked Rocket Man’s cock more, and they played with my pussy, but I cannot recall whether that was before or after the caning.

Who would have thought that such a tiny implement could cause such a sensation?

Who would have thought that such a tiny implement could cause such sensation?

In fact, I can’t even remember whether the fucking came before or after. But, boy, it certainly happened. I heard the tear of packaging I know and love dearly, and I knew Rocket Man was putting on a condom. Now, just a reminder, when I had a scene with A, we never had sex. I never even touched his cock, because I didn’t feel ready. I hadn’t been sure whether tonight was going to progress to that, but I was ready. Maybe it was the fact that they were a couple, or that Rocket Man is more attractive than A, or it’s simply the fact that I’m that much more experienced now. Still, for just the briefest moment, the words ‘twice my age’ flashed in my mind, but I brushed it off and settled into the fuck.

It felt great. I was right — his cock was not painful. But it was certainly enough sensation to elicit moaning and gasping from me, especially when he grabbed the ropes on my back with his fist and really drove it home, pulling me into his thrusts for more impact.



“Shall we put her on her back?” Hawai’i suggested eventually, and I was helped to turn over. I felt fingers on my clit and moaned in response. I could tell it was her, and it felt fucking nice. Yup, it was definitely her down at that end, because now there was a cock against my mouth at this end. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth to accept Rocket Man. He pulled out and began rubbing the underside of his dick against my tongue and lips. He leaned forward and positioned his balls at my mouth. I sucked on them. Compact, with tight skin and not too much hair — very pleasant.

Then Rocket Man moved forward a bit further, sitting himself above my face and lowering…

Oh god…


..Yup, this was about to happen. I opened my mouth and did was I knew was expected out of me.

Rimming a man

I appreciate the merits of women giving their men rimjobs. I like getting them. I don’t want to withhold this pleasure from men. I knew I would buck up and do it eventually, with someone (although I’ve never yet been with a guy brave enough to voice that desire). I just wasn’t expecting it tonight.

And of course, if I had really been totally against this, I could have made it known. Sure, I felt some pressure to go along with the act, but the word ‘pressure’ has quite negative connotations when it comes to sex. Part of being GGG (Good, Giving, and Game) means giving your partner pleasure in ways that are perhaps less than appealing, although not traumatic, to you. So I did.

Don't look away, Mindy. Face it. It has to be done.

Don’t look away, Mindy. Face it. It has to be done.

I worked up to it by licking and sucking the areas adjacent to the hole. Hairy, but no foul smells or questionable remnants. Based on the way they conduct play, I’d expect he had done an enema prior to our scene, anyway. So I swirled my way inwards. I could feel his asshole contracting and relaxing beneath my tongue. It was softer than I’d imagined. There was more give to the skin. I licked for several moments, but he stood up before I had to (got to?) try penetrating him with my tongue. I’m certainly open to trying it if he’s clean. I’ll just have to steel my nerves a bit first.



They switched ends, and I sucked on Hawai’i’s nipples while Rocket Man played with me below. Her nipples were lovely, and her breasts were quite a bit firmer than I’d thought. It crossed my mind that perhaps she had implants. I kept sucking away.

Eventually she joined him down there. “Are you gonna make her cum?” she asked him. Then she turned to me. “Are you going to cum for us?” Fuck. The pressure was on. That’s the kind of pressure I don’t like. “I’ll try,” I responded. Got to be honest, right?

To finish off, she made me masturbate for them. Something about that dynamic is so goddamn arousing to me. I was still blindfolded, and my hands chained together with about six inches leeway. The two of them were peering down on me as I committed the most personal of acts.

Masturbation while being watched

“Look at that,” Hawai’i chuckled. “Look at her pussy. She’s such a slut.” I eventually came, but it was partially ruined by my own obtrusive thoughts and nerves. I wish I could relax just a little more. The blindfold certainly helps, because I can let my mind go wherever is most helpful, but I don’t want to always need a blindfold to cum.



When it was over and done with, I received a glass of water, a fuzzy blanket, and little back rub. We chatted about the night (although we will more later), they told funny stories about play clubs and people they’ve met, and gave  me a bit of Swiss chocolate they’d picked up on their most recent trip to Switzerland. Yum.

We are going to meet up within the week and debrief. I think I do know what would help me get into the scene just that little bit more. It sounds simple to the point of being silly, but I want Hawai’i to tell me I’m being good rather than being a slut. I’m not a bad, dirty, naughty girl — not in my fantasies. I’m a good, obedient, innocent girl who doesn’t know any better than to follow directions. I did, though, enjoy the moments of humiliation (e.g., making fun of how wet I got), and I don’t know whether that’s at odds with my other fantasy.

Another thing I will try to mention: I don’t want to feel pressure to cum.

Other than those bits, it’s just subtle preferences here and there. The various toys and hands all over me, I loved. I do think I would feel the sensations of the toys more strongly if I were given a little more anticipation and teasing with them (circling around my thighs, honing in slowly, then maybe touching my pussy for just a second before making me wait again). The sex felt great, and I loved the feeling of being bound and slightly suspended while being rammed into. I could certainly take more of that. The anal is great, but I need to be warmed up to it more, with less swift motion. I think Hawai’i and Rocket Man worked together and switched duties well.

And the pain? Afterwards, they told me my pain tolerance was a bit higher than they might have expected. The pain did not get me aroused per se, but I am still curious enough about my sensations and thresholds to try more.  …Shit, I’ll regret saying that, won’t I?


[Edit: I have updated all mentions of the couple to read ‘Hawai’i’ and ‘Rocket Man’ (she is from Hawai’i, he inspects airplanes). They were previously the single-letter initials J and D, but my posts were becoming riddled with initials. I hope that meaningful names will help distinguish the characters.]


6 comments on “Wine, cheese, and rimjobs: My first scene with a married Dom couple.

  1. I definitely always prefer to be called a good girl over being bad. I think I’ve always wanted to please someone, so, it makes my inner child delighted to be praised rather than told that I’m being bad.
    Also, I’ve never ever ever been able to cum on demand. Even if I tell Catherine to cum so I can unpause and finish watching a sporting event. So. Damn. Fickle.

    I think you’re a skinnier version of me, geez, woman!

    • Damn Catherine!

      Yeah, I’d like to go on a bit of a self-analysis journey and figure out some possible reasons why I fantasize about the scenes/roles/dynamics that I do. But I don’t know when that will happen. It took years to even identify them in the first place (through trial and error, and through just allowing my mind to go somewhere taboo).

      Catherine and [my as of yet unnamed pussy] may very well be long lost twins! 😉

  2. porncahontas says:

    I love being the good and bad girl. If someone says along the lines of “You’re a good girl, you dirty slut”, it turns me on!

    • Well that’s a first! Haha…juxtapositions sometimes make more impact than they make sense, but it’s all good. I’ll have to keep that one in my back pocket and see if it does the trick.

  3. Yingtai says:

    Thanks for reporting back!

    I’m glad the pain worked out … it did, right? Are you okay with suffering for them? Because I know that when I get too much pain it kicks me out of the headspace.

    I am damn impressed with everything they checked with you beforehand. Do you feel like they should have known about the stuff you’re going to tell them when you debrief? Because it sounds like you had really good stretches of time, I’m just not quite sure about your overall opinion of their psychological competence.

    Sorry to sound interrogatory … it’s funny how the two of us seem to worry about the other!

    • I don’t feel like they really should have done any ‘better.’ It was our very first time together, of course, and they aren’t familiar with all my body responses and preferences.

      True, I did tell them beforehand I like being the ‘innocent’ character, but I don’t blame them too much for not incorporating that. It would have been nice, but maybe it’s just not a dynamic they’re as experienced in.

      It’s true that that dynamic seemed to come a little more naturally to A., but it’s okay (there are many things they trump A on, like attractiveness and respecting personal boundaries!).

      I think what will be most telling is how they take my feedback, and how good they are at being flexible/accommodating to meet my needs.

      As for the pain, I’m still figuring out what I like…and I need some more experience with it before I know.

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