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Introduction:

My husband, Scott, said I should write about my brief time working as a dominatrix. This is the first time I’ve written any of these details.

While living on campus during college, I had an acquaintance named Adrianna. She was heavyset and not especially attractive, so I was surprised when she confided in me that she worked as an escort. She told me the money was great, the work was easy, and she worked only when she wanted. She never worked during exam week or when she went home for holiday break.

She knew I wasn’t shy about running around naked or dancing topless, not just because I was in great physical shape from working-out every morning for swim team, running for mental health, and lifting weights, but mostly because of my personality. I was never shy about guys seeing me naked. I was the one encouraging the guys to streak past the student union building on campus.

Adrianna was surprised when I told her a good catholic girl like me would never have premarital sex, let alone have sex for money! It was mostly true, I had only been with one guy. And to this day, I really prefer a cock attached to someone I like to a random stranger’s.

“Don’t worry,” Adrianna casually said, “You can be a dominatrix and never fuck ‘em.”

That was the start of very part-time college job that I will never put on a job application. Funny enough, though, that job has really helped me succeed in the male dominated profession of firefighter. But I’ll save that for another time.

Adrianna broke me in gently when she offered for me to join her on a “date” with a client she’d been with a few times.

“You’ll like him,” she promised. “He’s very respectful.”

“I should think so, if he wanted to be dominated by a college girl,” I thought to myself.

Adrianna said her date was generous and had a strong submissive vibe. He liked being told what to do, she said, but that wasn’t their relationship. She would usually give him a massage and then either jerk him off or fuck him cowgirl style.

The last date they had, he asked if she had a friend who would join her and “take control.” Adrianna said she would invite a new friend — me. Later, she told me I was the only person she could think of who wouldn’t try to poach her clients. She told me we would have a great time working and playing together. Plus, she promised to look out for me. This was important because I didn’t want to have sex for money.

My First Client

The day of my first "date" arrived, and I felt a rush of adrenaline that rivaled any swim meet. Adrianna had helped me pick out the outfit: a tight, black PVC bodysuit that hugged every curve of my athletic frame, paired with thigh-high leather boots and a collar that made me feel more like a predator than a student. The crowning touch was the harness, securing a thick, realistic silicone cock that looked imposing and felt heavy against my thighs.

When we arrived at the upscale hotel suite, the client, a middle-aged man named Marcus, was already waiting. The moment he saw me, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of fear and longing. He didn't even look at Adrianna; he was mesmerized by the sight of a fit, confident college girl dressed to dismantle his ego.

I walk inside like I own the place. He follows until I turn around and speak.

"Kneel," I commanded. My voice sounded different—sharper, colder.

Marcus dropped to his knees instantly, his breath hitching. Adrianna stepped back with a knowing smirk, letting me take the lead. I walked around him, the heels of my boots clicking on the hardwood, before I stopped right in front of his face.

"Open wide," I ordered.

He obeyed, his mouth gaping open. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed his hair, pulling his head back to get a better angle, and shoved the strap-on deep into his throat. He sucked it like an amateur. He seemed to enjoy it, so I decided to remind him he was being punished by shoving it deeper until he gagged. His eyes began watering but he didn't pull away.

I fucked his mouth with a rhythmic, aggressive pace, as he choked on the silicone. I could feel the vibration of his muffled moans against the dildo. I treated his mouth like a toy, sliding in and out until he was drooling and desperate.

"Turn around. Ass up," I snapped.

He scrambled to obey, presenting his backside to me.

“You’ve never tasted Kitty’s sexy pussy, have you?” I asked, knowing the answer and using the name Adrianna used with clients.

“No,” Marcus demurred.

“Well, lap up her cunt,” I ordered. “Now!” I demanded after Adrianna presented her bare sex inches from his lips.

Meanwhile, I stood behind him pouring lube on my fake phallus. I positioned the head of the strap-on against his tight puckered hole and thrust forward with all my weight.

“Awwwww,” he cried out as I breached him, the thick shaft sliding deep into his rectum. I didn't give him time to adjust. I didn’t really know what I was doing but wasn’t trying to be kind. I gripped his hips, digging my nails into his skin, and began to fuck him roughly.

The sound of the PVC rubbing against his skin and the wet slaps of my hips hitting his ass filled the room. I watched his muscles quiver under the strain. Every thrust felt like I was claiming him, owning every inch of his submission.

I pushed him forward, pinning him against the edge of a nearby couch, and exchanged my plastic cock for my fingers.

My Anatomy & Physiology class was about to come in handy as I felt for the spongy mound inside his asshole. I stroked his prostate with two fingers that slid easily into his rectum. Stroking rhythmically while Marcus clumsily licked Adrianna’s pussy.

“You really are a sissy ass-slut, aren’t you?” I asked rhetorically. “Your pathetic little dick is hard from my fingers filling your back-cunt,” I mocked. The more a stroked his prostate, the more excited he became, growing desperate for me to continue. Desperate to come.

“You don’t deserve to come,” I announced as I withdrew my fingers and slapped his bare ass.

“You deserve to suffer,” I said as I returned my strap-on cock to his well-worn asshole.

I hammered into his ass until he was practically sobbing with pleasure, his body shaking uncontrollably. By the time I pulled out, he was a quivering mess on the floor, wrecked but not yet spent.

“Kitty, you pet needs you,” I said. “Allow him to come if he deserves it.”

Adrianna gently kissed Marcus on the forehead before lowering herself into position to suck his cock. She slurped up every inch of his cock as I started to leave his hotel suite.

From just outside the door I heard Marcus explode with an intense release. It was the loudest orgasm I’d ever heard. I walked away without a word, feeling a surge of confidence I’d never experienced in a classroom.

Water Sports

A few weeks later, Adrianna set me up with a different kind of client. His name was Julian, and he had a very specific appetite. He didn't want to be fucked; he wanted to be degraded. Specifically, he wanted to be a human toilet.

I met him in a private apartment. I carried a nearly empty gallon jug of spring water, the kind you buy at a grocery store. He was already nearly naked, and ushered me quickly into the bathroom where he promptly laid down on the tiled bathroom floor. I wasn't wearing a bodysuit this time—just a sheer lace robe that left nothing to the imagination. I let the robe slide off my shoulders, standing before him in my full, (former) athletic nudity. I saw his gaze lock onto my pussy, his eyes widened.

"I heard you like to eat and drink, Julian," I purred, stepping closer.

"Please," he whimpered. "Please let me."

I stepped over him, straddling his face. I pressed my soaking wet slit directly against his lips, grinding my clit against his nose. He groaned, his tongue immediately darting out to lap at my folds. He ate me with a desperation that was almost pathetic, his tongue swirling around my opening, tasting every drop of my arousal. I leaned back, enjoying the sensation of his warm tongue flicking against my sensitive skin, while I looked down at him with utter disdain.

As he continued to lick me, I felt my bladder pressing. I had already finished one gallon of water and was well on my way toward finishing a second gallon of water before coming over, specifically for this.

"You want everything I have, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes! Please!"

I shifted my weight slightly, lifting my hips just enough to align my urethra with his open mouth. Then, I let go.

A hot, powerful stream of piss erupted from me, hitting him squarely in the face and flooding into his mouth. Julian didn't flinch; he leaned into it, swallowing my golden liquid as it poured over his cheeks and chin. I watched him choke and gulp, his eyes closed in ecstasy as I drenched him. The feeling of relief as I emptied my bladder onto him was surprisingly erotic. I continued to relieve myself, the stream splashing against the tiles and soaking his hair, while he continued to try and swallow it all and lick my pussy through the flow of urine.

When I finally finished, I felt relieved. Gone was the pressure from my overly full bladder.

To my surprise, Julian kept licking my clit and labia lips. As I relaxed, I found myself enjoying the rhythm of his tongue lapping up my growing clit. Then, he worked his tongue around my clit in circles before returning to the brisk up and down motion I found so stimulating.

I decided to enjoy myself while getting paid. Julian was actually very talented pussy-licker, adeptly timing his changes from up and down, to darting deep into my pussy, and circling my clit. I felt the sexual tension building inside me. I went from being the dominant pisser to feeling needy. It had been too long since I’d had an orgasm and this stranger whom I’d just defiled was about to make me come.

“Oh, fuck,” I exclaimed unintentionally. I tried to muffle any further sounds but I needed this orgasm.

He continued and so did I. It felt great! I tried to come as quietly as possible, but my whole body shook a few times as I came, hovering over Julian’s talented mouth.

The afterglow wore off quickly. I was slightly embarrassed at having come. Then I was quickly reminded of what kind of man Julian was when I pushed myself up and looked down at the sodden man beneath me. He looked like a drowned rat, smelling of ammonia and sex, looking up at me with pure adoration.

"Clean yourself up," I told him coldly.

As I walked out of the apartment, I felt a strange sense of liberation. I was still the "good Catholic girl" on campus, the dedicated athlete and student, but in the shadows, I was a goddess of filth and power.

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