My Girlfriend Discovered That Her Dominance Turns Me On

Bruno had just gotten out of the shower. The water had been too cold and he still felt the chill trapped in his skin as he ran the towel over his shoulders, down his back, slowly to his waist. There was no rush. The house was silent and he took his time, as he did every morning, drying himself in front of the fogged-up bathroom mirror.

He looked at himself for a moment. After the icy water his whole body had folded in on itself, shrunken and ridiculous, and that drew a wry half-smile from him. What a sight.

—Bruno, sweetheart, why are you taking so long? —Renata’s voice came from the hallway, sing-song, with that note of impatience he knew by heart.

He didn’t have time to answer. The door opened and in she came: blonde, tall, her hair gathered into a loose ponytail and an old T-shirt that barely covered her thighs. She looked him over from head to toe without the slightest attempt to hide it, and stopped right where she knew he didn’t want her looking.

—You do love strutting around naked, don’t you? —she said, folding her arms against the doorframe—. All out in the open.

—The water was cold —he protested—. It’s not like normally…

He didn’t finish the sentence. Renata crossed the bathroom in two steps and closed her hand around his testicles, not squeezing yet, just holding them in her palm like someone weighing something that belonged to her.

—Not like normally what? —she asked, tilting her head.

Bruno swallowed. He felt the air get stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. That was the part he liked most: the instant before, when she decided how much force she was going to use and he had neither voice nor vote in the matter.

***

They had discovered that almost by accident, about a year earlier. Renata was not a cruel woman by any means, but she had an instinct for sensing where control lay in any situation, and she liked having it herself.

The first time was in bed, on an ordinary night. Bruno was fucking her with not much enthusiasm for either of them, she moved wrong, lifted her knee and gave him a sharp blow right in the center, by accident. She apologized at once, alarmed, taking her hand to her mouth.

But then they both noticed the same thing at once. Far from shrinking away, he was harder than he had been all night. And she felt a new current run up her spine, a mixture of power and filthy excitement she had never experienced before.

—Again —he asked in a hoarse voice, barely recognizing himself.

Renata stayed looking at him for a few seconds, taking stock. Then she smiled.

—Ask properly.

And from there everything changed between them. Little taps at first, gentle tugs, her hand closing in the middle of sex to stop him when he was close. After the teasing, sex became something different: more intense, wetter, with orgasms that left them trembling and empty for hours.

Bruno was fascinated by that surrender. He loved the exact moment when he stopped commanding his own body and gave it over to her. Renata loved holding that power in the palm of her hand, literally, and seeing him bend to her will no matter how much bigger and stronger he was than she was.

***

—Say what you are —Renata ordered in the bathroom, tightening just one degree more.

—I’m yours —Bruno murmured.

—Louder. I can’t hear you.

—I’M YOURS! —His knees went weak and he had to brace himself on the edge of the sink.

—Good boy. —She let go all at once and gave him an affectionate slap on the cheek—. Get dressed, we’re late.

It took Bruno a moment to pull himself together, his breathing high and his heart hammering against his ribs. When he looked at himself in the mirror again, his body no longer looked ridiculous. He was rock hard, throbbing, betrayed by his own nerves.

She always knows what she’s doing.

***

The last month had been different, more extreme. Renata had decided on her own that she would not let him come, and had told him so with the same casualness with which one announces dinner.

—I want to see you hold out —she told him—. Let’s see how long you last.

And Bruno held out. In the afternoons, stretched out on the bed in front of the television, she would lie down beside him, pull his cock out through the waistband of his pants and start jerking him slowly, with the patience of a watchmaker. She would take him right to the edge once, twice, three times. Every time he felt the first warning of orgasm, Renata would let go and close her hand a little lower, cutting him off dead.

—Not yet —she’d say, without taking her eyes off the screen, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

He moaned, frustrated, his balls growing heavier and more sore each time. And the more it hurt, the more he wanted her.

When they made love, she took the lead completely. She rode him with a beautiful fury and, at the exact instant he was about to come, she’d squeeze hard and stop it all at the root. Bruno never finished. Bruno never got there. He built up pressure like a sealed pot over the fire.

Renata, by contrast, did get her fun. Some nights she would take from the drawer a thick, long toy, much more imposing than him, and use it while making him watch.

—This one fills me up —she said with a wicked smile, mounting the plastic—. Learn from it.

And he learned. He watched his woman reach long, noisy orgasms a hand’s breadth from his face, unable to do anything, with no permission to touch himself. The humiliation lit him up in a way no caress ever could.

***

That afternoon, Bruno was once again coming out of the shower when he heard the front door. He was drying himself in front of the mirror, his hair still dripping, when Renata came into the bathroom wearing her running leggings and cheeks flushed from exercise. She had a huge smile on her face, from ear to ear.

—I have to tell you something! —she exclaimed, dropping onto the edge of the bathtub.

—What happened? —He turned, intrigued by her excitement.

It turned out that while she was running through the park, in a secluded stretch of the path, one of those guys who lurk around to flash themselves had stepped in front of her. An exhibitionist with his coat open and nothing underneath, convinced he was going to scare her.

—I played scared —Renata told it, delighted with her own story—. The idiot got cocky and came closer thinking he had something. And then…

She made a theatrical pause. Bruno noticed that, while she was talking, she had taken his cock in her hand and had started to jerk him off, absentmindedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to accompany the story with that.

—And then I grabbed his balls with all my strength —she went on—. You should’ve heard him scream. High-pitched, like a whistle. He ran out of breath, out of legs, out of everything. I gave him a couple of tugs so he’d learn, and when he was bent over, a good kick right in the middle. He dropped to the ground like a sack.

—You really…? —Bruno could barely speak. Her hand was moving up and down with perfect rhythm.

—I made it clear who he’d picked for his little show. —Renata leaned toward his ear—. And since I’ve been such a good girl defending myself, today I’m going to let you finish.

Everything in Bruno sped up. He had spent weeks on the edge, holding back, building up, and suddenly he had permission. He pictured the whole scene: the tight fabric tracing every curve of Renata as she kicked, the stranger’s panicked face, her standing there victorious over him.

His body decided for him. A surge shot up from his thighs to the nape of his neck and buried itself at the base of his spine. He rolled his eyes back, his knees gave way, and he had to cling to the sink while his legs trembled uncontrollably.

—Five —Renata began counting, amused, without letting go—. Four. Three…

She didn’t get to one. Bruno came so hard that the first jet splashed against the mirror. Then another, and another, whole weeks of waiting spilling out all at once. He held himself and kept going, unable to stop, emptying himself of the very last drop while he groaned something that wasn’t even a word.

When he thought he was finished, Renata, without warning, gave him a sharp, accurate blow right where it hurt most. Bruno let out a cry and one last lash of pleasure ran through him, even more intense than the one before.

—Just in case there was anything left inside —she said, laughing.

***

She had to help him to the bed. Bruno walked bent over, exhausted, his legs like jelly and a mix of pain and pleasure flooding his body. He fell asleep almost at once and slept straight through for nearly an hour.

When he woke up, everything hurt, and at the same time he felt strangely at peace. At last, he had been emptied completely.

A few days later, Renata was getting ready to go running again. Leggings, sneakers, tight ponytail. She poked her head into the bedroom where he was lazing about.

—I’m off for a bit. Let’s see if I get lucky and another brave one shows up. —She winked at him—. You’ve got permission to jerk off if you want; I’m feeling generous today.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left.

—I’m not really in the mood, honestly —Bruno murmured toward the ceiling, still drowsy.

But then he heard her close the door and, without meaning to, imagined her again in the park, in that same outfit, dispensing justice in her own way. His body responded before his mind did.

—Well —he gave in, with a smile—. Maybe I am a little in the mood.