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Earlier this summer we had the Bay to Breakers Marathon, and I had friends visiting the Bay Area to participate in the run with me. One of them was an old lover from college, whom I will call Dominic. This old friend is East Coast Italian. He is lean, dark, and dangerous-looking. In fact, he’s got the broody good-looks of an Anne Rice vampire. He oozes the kind of sensuality that men and woman alike swoon over, which is fun to watch in San Francisco. He also has a submissive streak that rarely ever surfaces, but always around me. Which is probably why I rarely see him anymore–his Italian machismo finds it too unnerving :)
I’ve always encouraged my lovers, male and female, to talk about their fantasies, encouraging them to share even the deep, dark ones that they don’t really want to experience, but which have a powerful hold on them anyway. Years ago, back when we were in college, Dominic shared his.
We were having a post orgasmic nap one afternoon when he woke up with a jolt. Which of course woke me up. He was shivering and had a panicky expression on his face, but his cock was rock hard. It was obvious he’d had a dream and I asked him what it was.
He said it was a recurring dream that he didn’t want to talk about, so I snuggled up behind him. I tried to doze off, but he continued to shiver, which made sleeping impossible. So I told him if it was a recurring dream, maybe it would help him to talk about it–that maybe talking about it in the light of day would lessen the dream’s disturbing power. He said no, and I left it at that, returning to my position spooned up behind him.
I was just starting to doze back off when he started talking. In his dreams, he said, there was a woman who had him in her power, and forced him to do things.
He was quiet for a long moment, apparently struggling for words. I knew that asking questions too soon might derail him, so I kept quiet, and waited. Eventually, he found the courage to continue. He said that this dream-woman who had him in her control forced him to have breast implants and then turned him into a she-male cum slut.
He shook as he told me this. I knew it must be very difficult for him to admit to such a dream, him, the macho cock-sure Italian Stallion. But it was there, that dream, and had been there for a long time. I asked him leading questions, and he answered, telling me about the things this dominant woman made him do in his dreams:
It always started with him getting caught jerking off into her panties, so she made him put them on. And then the made him wear pantyhose and a silk nightie and bent him over the edge of the bed and spanked him with an old-fashioned silver-backed hair-brush until he came in the panties. From there the dream morphed to her making him wear lingerie and be her fluffer while she had sex with another man — often he was forced to suck cock and even swallow cum.
He felt powerless to resist her demands, he said. Her desires became his desires. He wanted only to please her, and when she told him she wanted him to prove his devotion to his Mistress by having breast implants, he agreed. And the next thing he knew, he was an insatiable she-male cum slut, begging his Mistress to share her men with him.
As I listened I eventually noticed that he was touching himself as he spoke. I dipped a hand between my own legs and collected our juices on my fingers, then ran them along the cleft of his ass. I asked him more questions and he talked about this fantasy-dream in a reluctant whisper, and as he did so, he stroked his cock faster and I pressed my finger inside him. He opened up fairly easily as I’d fingered him many times before, only this time I whispered naughty, humiliating things into his ear and held him tightly with my other arm. He ate it up, my dirty little Nicky did, and with my fingers deep inside him, massaging his prostate, he came harder and louder than I’d ever heard him cum before.
Our relationship changed after that, mainly in that he let me use my strap-on during sex — something he’d flatly refused to allow me near him with. I had a lot of fun with him over the next few months, and then Spring Term ended and we went our separate ways for the summer. Well most of it. His dreams came back and he begged me to meet him at his parent’s cabin in Vermont. Which I did. And what happened that weekend both cured him of his recurring dream and cemented his submission to me — so much so that years later, he still gets a slight tremor when he’s around me. Which amused me terribly when he was in town for the marathon, and sparked this little jog down memory lane.
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