Eek, It's Nika!

Aahhh, now that is an interesting question! I have been torturing willing victims my own age since I was 15. It’s amazing how many guys are dying to be owned by dominant woman. By the way, as a girlfriend I’m not dominant 24/7. That requires an amount of energy and focus that I just don’t possess. Most of the time I’m like anyone else, with the full range of emotions, moods, and thoughts. There are always certain tells–signals, if you will–that alert my guy that the game has begun. With these early guys I experimented. And I read, every good article, website, and book on kink that I could get my hands on. I would make my boyfriend kiss my feet and kick my boots. I would sit on their faces until they were on the verge of passing out. I would make them masturbate for my entertainment while I laughed at them. I practiced bondage and other kinky skills.

My first real Domme experience was when I had just turned 17. There was a wealthy mid-40s guy with whom I had been hanging out. We had never done anything sexual per se, but we both knew he wanted that. He was admirably good about waiting until I hit the age of consent before explicitly making his interests known. Prior to that, he’d taken me on outings all over the city and beyond. Though he’d never said he wanted me before that, I knew. I knew and I was ok with it. So it was no surprise when he stated his feelings.

This guy knew I was a kinky bitch. I had shared stories of my early years. In our interactions I had already taken an emotionally dominant role, giving him little tasks to demonstrate his devotion and inserting little psychological jabs into our everyday conversations.

When he opened up to me, he made it clear that he wanted me to be mean. The meaner, the better, in fact. He gave me carte blanche to do and try anything to him. So, he became my pin cushion. I had him take me into Manhattan and purchase a dozen super-sexy outfits and all kinds of kink equipment costing, by the time all was said and done, around $4000. I made him pick me up from school everyday and drive me home. I made him drop me off for dates with my peers (oh, the longing look on his face … *sigh*).

At his place, I really cut loose. Decked out in one of my expensive new outfits I would terrorize him utterly. Crawling around beneath my feet, I made him grovel for any sort of attention. “Why?” I’d ask him, “would I do that for a useless, pathetic coward like you?” I locked him in chastity for days at a time. If he couldn’t get it up when I unlocked him, I would punish him with CBT, then lock him back up and peg him silly. While having sex with my boyfriend I’d call this guy up clandestinely so he could hear me being intimate with another guy.

I spent about 12 hours edging him on and off one evening. The rule was that he’d get to fuck me if he didn’t cum. My plan was to give him a ruined orgasm. That way he wouldn’t get to fuck me and he’d have the added pain of getting no conciliatory hand job orgasm. It went off as planned. He was a drooling mess by hour 8. I would spend half an hour on him, then go watch some TV. Then more edging. “Don’t cum!” I’d warn him, sweetly as he strained against his restraints, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I can’t help it, please stop!” he begged. With a laugh, I sped up until he was right on the edge and then let go. His cock sputtered and twitched uselessly as he had a totally ruined orgasm that guaranteed he wouldn’t be able to get it up again for the rest of the night. Oh how he stained and thrashed as he realized he’d blown his chances of getting laid for the night and was now in for more ridicule and humiliating acts! It made me so wet that I had to masturbate next to him on the bed, so close that he could almost touch me.