DOMestic Bdsm and Female Domination

"I will smoke," she said, "but I will not allow you to do the
same even if you wanted to. Are you ready now to talk about what
I asked?"

I nodded and licked my dry lips. "For whatever reason I am not
one of those submissives or slaves who voluntarily seek to serve
a mistress. I have never been in any type of what I consider a
realistic situation."

"What have you been into."

"Play-acting, either with partners or a few times with a
professional dominatrix. But it never seemed real to me. I
enjoyed the feeling of submission and dressing up but it did not
feel the way I wanted it to."

"What would have made it right for you."

I hesitated, becoming embarrassed but then remembered her slaps,
said, "Reality. I don't even like admitting it to myself, but
being forced into servitude is the only way it makes sense. To
me a man would not just become a slave to a woman without being
forced to. But from what I read it appears that most men ask to
serve women, but even if I want to be a slave, and I do, I don't
feel right asking for it."

"It only makes sense to you if you are compelled to do all those
things that deep down you feel are wrong and dirty and you
should not do. It's very common. Being forced to be a slave
takes the responsibility of being weak out of your hands."

"Well yes, but I don't...." my voice trailed off, unsure.

"You want to be forced to do all those things that you really
want to do voluntarily but can't admit to your macho self that
you really want to be weak. You want to be forced to be weak by
a strong woman."

"It bothers me when you put it that way."

She laughed, "yes, I know, and I like that, because it makes you
face who you really are and you can't stand admitting that you
are weak. You refuse to admit you long to be a sissy. You must
be forced into submission. In your eyes if you are forced into
acting like a pervert then you really are not one."

I gave a nervous laugh, not liking what she was saying but not
sure if what she was saying was true. "I don't think of myself
as weak."

"Do you ever dress as a woman on your own?" she asked. "Do you
have clothes?" Her voice was becoming accusatory, attacking.

I rose and began nervously pacing the room.

"I don't want you moving around. Sit down," she demanded. "Sit
opposite me, me and my pantyhose, or are they stockings and
garters. Are you wondering? Don't you want to know what I have
on?" She was almost laughing and her attitude would change from
demanding to amusement. I returned to the chair without
argument.

"Good," she said. "You liked that, didn't you. You liked me
snapping at you and being demanding." She lit a cigarette. "I
asked if you have a treasure trove of all the sexy frilly
women's lingerie that you slip into."

I did not like the way she was treating me but she frightened me
and she is a doctor. Her attitude confused me and I could tell I
was being bullied and at the same time I was having trouble
resisting her. "Yes, I have some clothes, but I try not to wear
them."

"When do you wear them?"

"Sometimes... only when the I get an almost uncontrollable urge
to have them on."

She said nothing, just stared at me thoughtfully. Taking a last
drag on her dwindling cigarette she shook another from the pack
and chain lit it from the butt. She stubbed out the butt and
exhaling a thick cloud of smoke gave me a look which looked more
like a smirk than a smile. I wasn't smart enough to be
frightened. She leaned back in her chair looking very sure of
herself, relaxed and confident.

She said, "bring your chair close to mine, right opposite me so
that our knees are touching."

I did so, not sure why I was obeying her. I sat back down, my
knees an inch from her legs encased in very sheer pantyhose, her
skirt high up on her thighs. I could not take my eyes off her
legs. I felt I could taste her pantyhose.

"Put your hands on the arms of the chair and do not move them."

I did so and watched as she slowly raised her legs, her skirt
riding up to her waist, her crotch exposed, her thighs in
shimmering nylon wide open. Her pantyhose hugging her crotch
hypnotized me. She was wearing black panties. The soles of her
high heels came down firmly on top of my hands, pressing them
into the arms of the chair. It hurt but I did not want to move.

"Are you excited?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You can't seem to take your eyes off my crotch." She laughed
and I raised my eyes to hers.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's alright, I like you showing your weakness, your excitement
at the glimpse of a crotch is refreshing. Go ahead, keep your
eyes on my crotch. See how tight my pantyhose encase my panties
and my crotch. That excites you doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"What would you like to do?"

"I don't know."

"Of course you don't," she said. "You can't make a decision with
a woman can you. You need a woman to tell you what to do, don't
you."

"I don't know."

"Yes you do, you just don't want to admit it."

"Would you like me to tell you to kiss my crotch?"

"Yes," I said, my eyes still glued to her thighs leading to her
crotch. I felt myself beginning to sweat. I knew I was not
thinking clearly.

"Get on your knees," she said lifting her shoes off my hands.

I slid to floor before the words were out of her mouth.

"Stare at my crotch. Is it beautiful?"

"Yes."

"Would you like me to order you to kiss it, to press your lips
to it?"

"Yes."

"Would you be willing to pay for the privilege?"

"Yes."

"What would you be willing to pay."

"Whatever you ask."

She laughed, "That's what I want to hear. Yes, good, my little
sissy, put your face between my legs about two inches from my
crotch. Do you like the look of my panties and pantyhose tight
around my crotch?"

"Yes."

"Do you like my smell down there."

"It is intoxicating."

"I have decided on your payment for me ordering you to kiss my
crotch. There will be no negotiating. Put your hand up on top of
my desk next to you, press your palm down flat on the desk."

I did as she told me. Her desk was right next to me so I just
raised my hand and placed it on the desk palm down not taking my
eyes off her crotch.

She patted my hand, "perfect," she said. "Now I want you to
place a soft, sensitive, loving kiss on my panty and pantyhose
encased crotch, and for your payment, while you are kissing me
between my legs I am going to put out my cigarette on the back
your hand, using your hand as my ashtray. You will not move your
hand and I will continue to put out my cigarette as long as you
keep your lips pressed to my crotch. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I mumbled, not caring what she did, the thought of
kissing the prize before me totally consumed me. It was so
beautiful down on my knees, totally controlled and dominated,
waiting for a command, my face between her legs, her aroma, the
pantyhose and panties. I was in submissive heaven. I had lost
rational control of myself.

"Very well sissy, go ahead, kiss my crotch while I use your hand
for my ashtray."

I pressed my lips gently to that "Y" that formed between her
stocking covered thighs and softly pressed. It was a glorious
sensation. As I did so I felt a searing pain on my hand as she
slowly and gently twisted the burning cigarette on my flesh,
making sure not to extinguish the glowing ember, thereby
continuing to inflict the burning as long as I kept my lips on
her crotch. I held the kiss until I could no longer take the
burning pain on my hand then drew my head back and as I did so
she crushed the ember out on my hand like a searing knife.

She said nothing. I staggered to my feet, flush with sweat,
excitement, pain, confusion, a million emotions rushing through
me. I looked down at my hand. It looked like Ash Wednesday,
except I knew there was a burn beneath the ash that would turn
to a scar. I fought the urge to touch it, to try and relieve the
pain. I turned and walked slowly to the door. I paused facing
the door and said, not looking at her. "Why?"

"I told you I am unorthodox. I had to find out who you are, what
you are, what forces drive you. Once I gather all the pieces I
can lay them on the table and put the puzzle of you together.
Then I can make you whole and free you. What happened today was
a beginning."

"And did you find some pieces to the puzzle?" I asked.

"Yes."

I turned to face her. "And just how is turning me into something
I hate about myself going to help me." Tears began to well in my
eyes. "I don't understand what you are doing," I said my voice
shaking.

"It's not for you to understand what I am doing. They are my
methods and procedures to give the result you desire."

"You will be able to free me from my compulsion?"

"After our session today I can guarantee I will free you from
your compulsions."

I stood there not speaking, and she sensed my indecision on
returning.

"I know you are thinking of not coming back. But for the next
week consider these alternatives. If you don't come back you
will continue to live in frustration , nothing will change, as
opposed to my guarantee that if you do come back I will free
you. Remember, I am concerned for you and I want you to come
back."

She paused, and slowly that smirk she had worn before came
across her face, "for whatever reason."