Dominant Shemale Until Rodrigo Arrived
When I switch into seduction mode, I become someone else. There’s no middle ground: I’m impulsive, demanding, ruthless. In bed, I was always the one in charge, the one setting the pace, the one deciding when to start and when to stop. The men who passed through my life learned that on the first night or they never came back. That had been the way for many years, and I believed it would always be that way.
Until Rodrigo arrived.
I met him in chat, like almost everyone else. Those late-night conversations where you never quite know whether there’s a real person on the other side or just someone saying what you want to hear. With him, it was the same as always at first: cybersex, dirty words, vague promises of a meeting that probably would never happen. I gave him my email almost as an afterthought, convinced that would be the end of it, as it usually was.
Before going on, I want to make one thing clear: I’m a shemale, a passive homosexual for many years, and I wear that fact with the same ease I wear everything else. No apologies, no shame, no beating around the bush. I enjoy my sexuality to the fullest and without restrictions. And in that sexuality, for all those years, I was always the one in control.
***
Days after that chat, while I was checking my email with my morning coffee, I found a message I hadn’t expected. The subject line simply said: “Master.” The sender: “Your owner.” I didn’t remember giving my address to anyone by that name, but the message wasn’t from any mailing list or advertising service. I opened it.
It was Rodrigo. He wrote to tell me he was ready to make in person what he’d proposed in the chat come true: tie me to the bed, give me a good beating on the ass, and fuck me without lube until I was begging. I read it twice and laughed to myself. Plenty of men had told me similar things in the past. Many, in fact. But at the moment of truth, when they saw me turn into my most feline version, they all backed down. The bravest would even raise a hand and act dominant, and ten minutes later they’d be the ones on their knees asking me for instructions.
I replied that I’d see him the next day. I got myself ready carefully, as I always do when I know there’s going to be action: hair, makeup, underwear. And before he arrived, I put the ropes, chains, whips, and toys I kept in the nightstand drawer out in plain sight. I was almost certain that night they’d be mine.
***
Rodrigo arrived on time. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a direct gaze, and he carried that taut calm of men who know exactly what they’re going to do. I offered him a drink and bent down toward the fridge to get it.
That was the last moment I had control of the situation.
The slap on my ass took me completely by surprise. A clean, dry lash, without warning. Before I could react, his hands were in my hair, and the yank was so hard I let out a cry. I turned to defend myself, but Rodrigo was already holding my wrists. He led me to the sofa bed with a calm that stunned me more than anything else, as if all my strength didn’t exist.
He threw me face down and tied my hands to the upper end of the sofa with a skill that made it obvious he was no novice. Then he tied my feet to the other end. I yelled at him to let me go, that he was going to regret it, that he had no idea who he was messing with. He didn’t answer. When he wanted me to stop screaming, he pressed wide adhesive tape over my mouth with the same tranquility one uses to seal an envelope. And there I stayed: immobilized, face down, unable to move or speak.
During the first few seconds I thought the worst. I stayed still, offering no resistance.
Then I felt his hands on my legs.
It wasn’t fear that began to run through me. It was something completely different.
His hands moved up slowly, with a slowness that was torture in itself. When they reached my ass, he yanked my panties off and gave me three open-handed slaps, without measuring his strength. The burn was immediate. Something in me ignited with that burn, and I came for the first time before I even fully understood what was happening. He took the whip I had left on the table and kept going. My ass burned, throbbed with every blow, and I moaned against the tape while he continued with that cold, methodical precision that I found impossible to ignore.
***
When I turned my face to look at him, I saw him unbuttoning his pants. It was thick, long, with that firm feel you only really appreciate up close. My body wanted it inside me right then, and I relaxed my muscle in anticipation.
Rodrigo wasn’t in any hurry.
He came close to my face and ripped the tape off in one pull. He pointed his cock at me and ordered me to suck it. I opened my mouth and he shoved it to the back of my throat in one motion. I felt like I was choking. I settled my throat, found the rhythm, and started sucking while I ran my tongue all along its length, tasting every inch with attention.
—What a mouth you have, bitch —he said in a rough voice—. Now soak it well, because I’m going to wreck your ass.
I obeyed. I left his cock dripping with saliva. He climbed on top of me to fuck me, but the position didn’t make the angle easy. He loosened the ropes on my feet just enough for me to shift into place. While I moved, he didn’t stop spanking me or pinching my thighs and ass hard. Every pinch tore a moan from me. Every moan brought another orgasm. I was losing count.
When he had me in the position he wanted, Rodrigo didn’t fuck me. He took the biggest dildo I had left out in plain sight and shoved it into me without warning. The cry I let out was genuine, with no calculation or theatrics. The pain was real and immediate. He didn’t stop: he moved it in circles, pulled it out and shoved it back in, changing the angle with every thrust. My ass, tightened by the restraints, amplified every friction until it became unbearable.
At the same time, the whip kept landing on my ass at irregular intervals, just when I least expected it. The pain multiplied. There came a point when I could no longer tell whether what I was feeling was one thing or the other: they had merged into something nameless that had me trembling from head to toe.
I stopped counting orgasms. I stopped thinking about defending myself, about regaining control, about proving anything. I just wanted him to keep going. To keep going a lot longer. For the first time in many years, I didn’t want to be the one in charge. I wanted to be exactly what he decided I was in that moment.
***
Rodrigo pulled out the dildo and immediately fucked me with his cock. I felt it all at once, hot and hard, throbbing inside me. The contrast with the toy was brutal. Nothing compares to that: no material, no manufactured shape has that temperature, that texture, that living pulse. He filled me in a way that made me close my eyes and go completely still.
He lay down over my back and held me from behind. His hands found my nipples beneath my clothes and he began to pinch them, first gently, then harder, until the pain was added to everything else. His cock was still inside but motionless, and I squeezed around it so it wouldn’t leave me. I felt his mouth on my neck: first kisses, then slow licks, then a hard bite that tore a long moan from me.
Then his hands closed around my throat.
My breath cut off. The world turned red at the edges. And at that border between consciousness and nothingness, something exploded in me that had no name. Rodrigo started moving again, no longer holding back, his cock going all the way in while his fingers maintained the pressure. I couldn’t scream. I could only feel.
The orgasm that came then was different from all the others. It wasn’t a peak: it was a long, sustained wave that covered everything, that lasted longer than I thought possible, that left me with no sense of where one sensation ended and the next began.
His fingers loosened just as I felt his cock swell to its fullest. The heat of his semen flooded my insides and slowly spilled back out. That heat was the last thing I registered before I went completely still, emptied, satisfied in a way I had never known before in all my years of experience.
***
He stayed lying over me for a while, his cock still inside, silently kissing the marks his fingers had left on my neck. When he could speak, he asked me softly:
—Are you okay?
I couldn’t answer right away. I turned my face so he would kiss me, and he did, calmly, without rushing.
After that he untied me. He carefully cleaned the marks on my ass, with the same attention he had given every blow, as if violence and care were two sides of the same gesture for him. I watched him do that and felt something unexpected: a deep calm. Not the usual satisfaction after sex, but something quieter and more lasting. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time and wouldn’t know how to explain now.
When he finished, I leaned against him and told him what was on my mind:
—I want to keep being yours. I want it to be like this every time.
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, without words, as if what had happened between us that night had already said everything.
And it had.
