**Background**
Ending a decade long vanilla lesbian relationship and marriage to a woman and thinking about men again was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was the total lack of any kind of kink fulfilment in my previous relationship, perhaps it was the 2+ years of a completely dead bedroom, perhaps it was the unhealthy lack of communication or manipulation she made into my daily reality? Whatever the cause it was liberating and slightly dizzying to think that I was able to be myself again after such a long time.
My first post on the DDlg personals subreddit was a total shock to me, I didn’t really know how badly I had been craving submission again or even think about what response I wanted, just knew I was desperate to re-indulge my kinky side after so long on the “straight” and narrow. A few conversations with nice guys later and I was certain that I was back where I belonged. Even just discussing my kinks with like-minded people and the briefest hint of sexual connection was enough to light a fire under my ass to find what I had been yearning for for so long.
My second post on BDSM personals was delivered with a much clearer intent, geeky, chubby, bratty sub seeks genuine connection with an experienced Dom. I knew what I wanted, a partner to help me push my boundaries, someone to hit me hard and then hold me tight, a guy who knew how badly I craved sub space and could help take me there in an authentic and trusting way. Several dick pics and a few false starts later, one particular message caught my eye. He introduced himself clearly in the first message, told me his name was Rob and that he was 8 years my senior. Even telling me his name seemed rare, in a world of slightly ridiculous anonymous screen names, knowing someone’s true name made him seem real and separated him from the rest of the faceless messages. His experience and grasp of what I wanted and needed tipped me over the edge, the cute face, messy hair and unkempt beard just added to the charm. His slim, lanky frame intrigued me as my past male partners had all been on the bigger side but when he sent me a topless photo I knew I was seriously attracted. Without being pushy, he took time to ask about me, what I liked to do both in and out of the bedroom and even tried to out-geek me (not that he succeeded)! His years of bondage experience and interest in CNC play got me daring to hope we might be compatible and as we continued to talk, I realised that we also shared almost all of our interests and outlook on life outside of the kinks we so clearly had in common.
He wasn’t scared or weird about my recent experience, the fact that I was still married, or my total lack of recent experience. As we talked and the butterflies in my stomach turned into stampeding elephants, I panicked that I was going to quickly, that my naturally clingy sub-side was going to scare him off. I needn’t have worried, the moment he seemed genuinely happy to think I would escape his ties if breakfast was on offer and described me as someone who would “chew through their own wrists for bacon” I knew things would be OK. When he sent me the first pictures of his bookshelves I recognised I could be onto something special. Well organised and massively comprehensive, the sight turned me on more than any of the sexual conversation and I began to consider the idea that this might be more than just a quick fling to jolt me back into sub space. When he told me he was an artist and showed me his work, an ethereal portrait of a woman underwater showcasing his pure raw talent, I melted inside.
**First Date**
Meeting outside a pub at 11am seemed like a bad omen for a first date but I couldn’t have been more wrong. When he arrived, I knew instantly that the attraction was even stronger in person than it had been online. His hands around my body, pressing into my back and pulling me towards him felt possessive and protective as he kissed me, the smell of smoke and soap was intoxicating as I kissed him back. Walking around London, time seemed to stop as we took every opportunity to hold each other, stealing kisses like a pair of horny teenagers. Every time I opened my mouth I worried that I’d say something stupid and he’d make an excuse to leave, every time I took a step I was terrified that I’d fall over or bang into him awkwardly and he’d see the true idiot I can be but neither became reality and conversation flowed naturally.
After a few miles of walking I relaxed enough to try and hold his hand. In over a decade I had barely held her hand once, it felt like something I had to do to prove my love to her, not something I actually wanted. Now, I made the first move, grabbing for his hand and twisting my fingers into his as we walked. He sealed the deal by following me into a pretentious bookshop and pretending not to be bored as I spent forever looking at all the titles and refusing to let me carry my own bag was the icing on the cake. In a beer garden by the river, he slid his hands under my scarf and up my dress, stroking my thighs and gradually edging towards my pussy. After several years of no sexual advances, it was all I could do to stop myself from moaning aloud or cumming on his fingers right then and there. I felt the younger, more adventurous version of me from the past beginning to stir and memories of my past life as an exhibitionist sub slut seemed more real at that moment than all of the last decade of memories combined as I daydreamed of him bending me over the table and fucking me with a very shocked audience.
Later, in the park, I got my first true glimpse of his Dom side. Kissing on a bench, his hand slowly worked up to my neck and I felt his fingers press hard and quickly into my flesh. My thoughts on fire, I struggled to maintain my composure as city workers streamed past, seemingly oblivious to the guy outright choking me as the sun set. He bit my lip as I clung on to him, forcing his tongue into my mouth in a way that instantly made me wet. I wondered if he’d think that I was too needy if I dragged him into a bush and begged him to let me suck his cock, I didn’t risk it but I sometimes wish now that I had. Walking me back to the station, he veered past the entrance and led me around the block. I hoped that it was because he wanted to spend more time with me or that he planned to kiss me again. I got my answer when he pushed me forcefully against a dirty wall under the stairs leading to a bridge and kissed me hard as his knee found its way between my legs. With one breath I hoped he couldn’t feel my need for him too keenly, that he wouldn’t think I was a desperate whore who just wanted him to fuck me, in the next breath I silently begged him to notice how wet I was, how much my breathing quickened when his fingers found my neck again. Too soon it was over and we were on the train, me clinging tightly to him under the pretence of not falling over but really just wanting to feel him near me.
**The Abandoned Flat**
The following day I woke, needing to be with him, wishing for him to feel the same way about me. When he text and asked me to his place my heart nearly jumped out of my chest with excitement until I remembered that it might mean that he got to see me naked. After that realisation, reality sunk in and 10 years of only one person seeing me naked (and not really caring what she saw) hit me like a ton of bricks. As we arranged to meet, my unease turned into outright panic as my mind told me that he’d never want to see me again once he’d seen me without clothes. A quick trip to the shops later, new silky PJs and granny nighty in hand (a girl needs choices), I was ready to leave to meet him but was now feeling sick with nerves.
I arrived at his house and a quick kiss at the door settled some of my anxiety, but clearly not his. As he paced around, I worried that the inevitable had happened and he’d found a reason to end things between us. As he explained that his nervy state was due to his flatmate’s possible unannounced return, I almost laughed in relief. He explained that he still had the keys to his old house and that we could go there for some privacy if I didn’t feel too weird about it? I agreed but compromised on stopping off to buy blankets and cushions for the bare bed in the unfurnished flat. The chill air hit me like walking into a freezer as we entered the flat and I realised for the first time that this was a pretty stupid thing to be doing with someone I barely knew. Weirdly though, I didn’t feel unsafe with him in the slightest, in fact almost the opposite. He was like the protector I didn’t know I needed or wanted, and when he slapped my ass hard as I leant against the kitchen counter I perversely knew everything was going to be OK. We moved to the bedroom and I quickly excused myself to change. I put on the skimpy PJs and then covered up with the granny nighty – two layers of protection from his eyes. Walking out he laughed to see the grey flannel nightdress covered in bears and I felt totally ridiculous. Dredging up some previously untapped courage, I stripped off the grey shirt, leaving the silky vest and short shorts behind and the look on his face told me that the smaller outfit was definitely the best choice. Cuddling on the bed, I felt his skin on mine, his arms wrapped greedily around me as we lay together.
He ordered me off the bed in a quiet but authoritative tone, a serious look in his eye and told me to kneel at the end of the bed. I slipped off the cosy blankets onto the cold carpet and knelt, keeping my head up to look at him. “That’s not the end of the bed” he growled menacingly, I quickly readjusted to the right position, feeling stupid for not listening properly and hoping he wouldn’t see the fear and excitement building in my eyes. At the end of the bed he paused to look at me, his cock in his hand, the first one I’d seen in over 10 years. It looked aggressive and angry and when he pushed it towards my face, my bratty side took over and I closed my mouth and turned my head away. The palm of his hand came down swiftly, across my face and it stung but I felt like he was holding back. We’d talked about slapping and he knew I liked it but I knew that he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push me. I opened my mouth and his cock quickly pushed over my tongue and towards the back of my throat.
The taste was heavenly, like the first cup of coffee in the morning or the first cigarette after a good meal, satisfying and rewarding after 10 years of nothingness. I slowly started sucking, relishing the feeling of his cock in my mouth and hoping to prolong the feeling as much as possible. He had other ideas though and his hands reached for the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair, pulling at my scalp. He forced himself all the way into my mouth and I felt my nose press against his pubic hair as the head of his cock pushed into my throat. Out of practice, I choked and coughed but he held me there until I felt like my lungs were burning. As I tried to breathe through my nose, he pulled out and a dribble of spit ran out of the corner of my mouth. Slowly at first, he pulled my mouth onto him, using my hair to rock me back and forward.
As he built speed, I felt the warm feeling of pain spreading in my scalp and realised how much I was enjoying the experience. I willed him to go harder, to really test me, and he did. Fucking my mouth, the head of his cock banging roughly into my throat made me gag again and he pushed himself all the way in as I choked. I couldn’t breathe as he held me there, strong hands holding my head, daring me to escape when he knew that it was impossible. He pulled me up onto the bed so that I was kneeling between his legs and then pulled me forward so that I fell onto my hands and knees. He told me to keep going and slapped my tits before I bent down to take his cock in my mouth again. He stopped me and told me that I had to ask if I wanted to suck his cock again. “Please let me suck your cock” I whispered, and he replied coldly “ask properly”.
For a minute my mind couldn’t catch up with my mouth and I was at a total loss as to what he meant. Then I realised, “please let me suck your cock, Daddy”. His hands found my head again and I willingly took all of him back into my mouth, trying to force my own lips all the way down over his cock. He grabbed my hair again and started fucking my mouth, faster this time and with greater urgency. As I felt his balls tighten, I panicked, it had been years since I tasted a guy’s cum, never mind swallowed it. I worried that I’d make a weird face or accidentally spit some out, but I needn’t have agonised about it because the moment it splashed into my mouth, I realised that I was actually enjoying the taste. I kept my mouth on him as he came, shot after shot hitting the back of my throat, not a drop escaping from my lips. I sat back on my knees, massive grin on my face and I saw him watching me carefully. Not caring what he thought in that moment, I lay next to him and smiled again as his strong arms scooped me up and held me close. “I could get used to this” I thought.
As we talked, we spoke about our first-time experiences and I realised that weirdly I felt comfortable talking about the horrors of mine. Not able to meet his eye, I explained I had had little choice in losing my virginity at a music festival at an early age. I described the feeling of being forced into sex and how I’d felt after it had happened, and he just listened intently. When I’d finished, I looked up, expecting to see the same pity I’d seen on the tiny handful of friends I had made the mistake of telling before. No one ever seems to see anything other than a victim after hearing that story, but the look on his face wasn’t pity or concern but neutral and kind with almost a hint of pride at knowing one of my darkest secrets. As he continued to hold me, I almost laughed in disbelief at how easy it had been to relive that secret shame in front of him and how well he had reacted to hearing it.
To be continued.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dw1k3x/rediscovering_sub_space_chapter_1_mf_ds