My Surprise Dom: Part 2

It’s time for Part 2 of my 4-part story, My Surprise Dom. Let’s be real: Part 1 was EXTREMELY vanilla. A lot of background information that could have been left up to the imagination. I went back and forth on whether I should have just left it as two parts, or merged Parts 1 and 2 into a first, longer post.

No matter, it’s out there. Live and learn.

Part 2 ties off the evening, with some key elements that set the stage for lust in Parts 3 and 4. So if you’re looking for a quicky, wait for those. But if you like some foreplay with your story, then read on.

I knew I’d miss Gary.

He was one of my closest friends from college, a confidant I could share life’s ups and downs with. But we knew each other too well to pull off dom/sub with a straight face. If Damian was really up for it, I could be my sub-slut self. It’s not like he’d be interested in me.

I thought back to my bold costume. Chad would have warned Damian how brazen the group could be, but I wanted to err on the safe side. I added a lacy crop top to temper down the bare breast look, then popped into the shower.

Come nine o’clock, everyone had arrived except Damian. Philippe complimented my bondage skills on the victim, but noted the body didn’t look constrained enough. Gina thought adding air would do the trick and began blowing air into the nozzle by his ball sac. The others couldn’t resist the chance to comment.

“Damn, your oral’s impressive,” Philippe teased. “He’s about to pop!”

Gina gave him a glare until Stacey giggled and told her to look up. She’d overdone it, and the dummy’s eyes were bugging out. We all laughed hysterically.

Then there was a knock. I grabbed my hoodie to cover my revealing top and cracked the door to ensure it was Damian.

I opened the door and froze.

My eyes looked straight into the taut, muscled chest of a leather-vested man. They drifted upward to a chiseled jaw and the deep-set eyes of a conqueror. His curly locks suited him perfectly. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through them.

“Tina?” he said with a heart-melting smile that broke the trance. “I’m Damian. Thank you for letting me fill in for Gary.”

“What a bad time not to be a gay man,” I thought.

Before I could reply, Jack and Clara called his name and invited him in. I shut the door, then turned to see his nice ass encased in leather pants. He strode with confidence towards the others.

Apparently, my gaze lasted longer than I realized, for when I looked up, Chad was snickering at me. I gave him my best heart throb look, mouthed “Thank you”, and blended into the gathering.

After some socializing, nibbles, and drinks, everyone was ready to get started.

“Damian,” Pierre said, “as the newcomer, it’s only right that we give you Squishy.” He looked at the comfy chair with a bemused look. A few others feigned disagreement, but soon we were all settled in and the game began.

The game went great. Damian blended in seamlessly, and soon the bantering and innuendos flowed as easily as the wine. I took every opportunity to taunt and tease him. He responded in kind, which raised conflicting desires in me.

Was I wrong to presume he was gay, or was it my self-imposed abstinence acting out? Some things he said felt far more personal than character-driven. My logical side reasoned that the lack of sexual possibility between us freed him to act his part. My impassioned side wanted to hear that he wasn’t gay, and his comments were truly from desire. Either way, I was feeling the electricity I’d hoped for.

Soon, the game timer went off, startling most of us. Everyone jotted down who they thought the killer was. Four of us got it right, accusing Gina, who was the dead man’s former business partner. Rounds of rock-paper-scissors awarded a sex shop gift certificate to Clara, who clapped and giggled in glee while her boyfriend Jack feigned trepidation.

Everyone mingled for a while longer, then helped clean up. Shortly after midnight, they made their way out the door. Damian asked to use the restroom, leaving just the two of us.

Damian paused at the door. My heart raced.

“I had a great time,” he said with a smile. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of more service to you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked coyly.

“I didn’t want to risk offending you by being more forthcoming in my role,” he said. “You modeled your character well, like you really were craving to succumb to me. Your proud breasts were giving your intentions away.”

I glanced down at my breasts, upturned with nipples poking at the fabric. I thought about moments when they’d stirred as we’d conversed and was proud that he’d noticed.

“They are watchful, but very aware,” I replied smugly.

“Yes, they are,” he replied. “Maybe we could explore that sometime.”

His words and unrelenting gaze sparked a fire between my loins.

“OK, either he’s not gay, or he’s a dom, or both,” I thought.

I wanted to react in kind, but recognized I was too tired or drunk to think. It didn’t keep me from envisioning him making love, or just being the dom I now sorely craved. In either case, I ached to be his.

He exited, and I carried those thoughts with me onto Squishy. His scent still lingered there. With a dreamy head and the comfort of an alcohol-induced buzz, I removed my crop top, eased back, and let my fingers induce sensual feelings across my body while dreaming of being Damian’s slave. When my tender fingers reached my clit, the lightest touches caused a long, effusive orgasm to shutter throughout my body. It eventually subsided, and I grabbed an afghan and drifted to sleep in Squishy’s loving folds.