Hubby's first gay Dom

Meeting Al:

As I often did, I was at the adult bookstore feeding my hunger for cock and cum. Being on my knees in a booth waiting for men to feed me made me feel submissive and slutty. Although back then I still thought of myself as bisexual, my hunger for men was significantly greater. I would always pick a booth that showed gay porn, to make it obvious what I needed. I would always strip and wait on my knees.

I had sucked off 4 guys when Al walked in. Typically the guy would unzip and take out his cock, Al did not, so I reached for his zipper, but he stopped me. He grabbed my hair and turned my head. He pointed to the sub on the screen who was being flogged, “Is this what you need?” When I said yes, he said, “Yes what?” I responded, “Yes Sir.”

I had been used aggressively before but he was very different. “Beg for my cock.” As I did he open the door an inch or so. I saw a guy peaking in, watching me. He then started fucking my face until I gagged, which I have always loved. Without cumming, he pulled away, took my shirt off the bench and dried his cock and balls. “Get dressed and follow me.” Once dressed, he took my finger and had me hold onto his belt loop. I had read that this is a symbol of ownership in prison; my heart started pounding. All the men were looking at me as we walked slowly through the bookstore.

He looked safe, well-dressed man in his 50’s. but the prison thing kept going through my head. I followed him to his car. He insisted that I show him my driver’s license to make sure I was an adult. I was in my 20’s but admittedly looked younger. He then put it in his pocket. “Follow me and you get it back.” I was scared and excited. When we got to his porch, he had me get undressed while he went in the house. As I was standing there naked he turned on the porch light. He was smiling as he looked through the door at me. His house was in the country, so no cars passed by, but I stood there naked for what seemed an eternity. Once inside he lead me to the basement.

He had a playroom/dungeon with various floggers, straps, and riding crops hanging, plus suspension restraints hanging, spreader bars, and a table with hand and leg restraints. He lead me to a large cork board with dozens of polaroids of submissive men, many with discipline marks. “I will add you to my collection.”

He sat in a chair and had me kneel before him, hands behind my head. He question me about my experiences with BDSM and I explained that it was mostly spankings. He then commented about my wedding ring, but said I sucked like a faggot not a bisexual. I explained about my wife needing men and cuckolding me. Again he smiled. He went into detail about going down the BDSM road and taking it in steps; he establish two safe words, “Orange” for pause, and “Red” to stop whatever he was doing, but only until the time when we find my pain/pleasure line. When he strung me up, he showed that I could pull out of the wrist restraints this time, then he roughly pulled my legs apart and attached my ankles to a spreader bar. He said that if I come back it would be a different restraint. He went to the other room and returned wearing a leather vest which exposed his hairy chest, and leather crops. He looked so sexy. He walked around behind me and slipped a blindfold over my heard. He whispered in my ear, “By reducing your vision, your other senses intensify.”

He explained how he was going to experiment with various tools of discipline to find those that would make me beg to come back. He started with a riding crop on my ass, harder and harder. When it got too hard I thrusted forward. Whenever I did that, he would put his arms around me and whisper into my ear that he will take me deeper and deeper into my submission, but I needed to say “Please.” As the pain diminished I found myself saying “Please.” He went from the riding crop, to the paddle on my ass. After sessions of discipline, then holding, then me saying ”Please,” he put his hand on my ass and admired his work. As he gently rubbed his fingers across my ass I felt the welts and the burning. It hurt but I felt this new and strange euphoria. “Time for the flogger.” He dropped the leather strands over my shoulder and as he pulled it slowly up and over, I felt the first lash on my back. I moaned “Oh god.” He whispered. “So this is the magic tool for you.” As he whipped me, my head was spinning; my fantasies were becoming reality.

Suddenly he stopped. I wanted more and said, “Please.” But he removed the spreader bar, and as he released the restrains from my wrist he held my arms in the air, and slowly, gently lowered them. He was so gentle, so loving, as he held me. With the blindfold still on, he lead me up the stairs, to the porch, and handed me his telephone number. “Call me in 2 days if you want to go deeper.” He shut the door; I dressed and left. Two days later I called and begged.