My First Time

This is a real story from my experience.

When I finally started to embrace this part of me, I had no idea what to do or how to go about learning the ropes. I created a new Recon profile, joined Fetlife, all that kind of thing. But it was slow going – and that’s mostly my fault because I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m shy, even a little scared, and occasionally have running movies in my mind of being abducted, raped, or worse.

My first time being dominated was with D—. He’s a flight attendant from Florida, based out of New York, so he comes up this way on occasion. Our fantasies and thoughts around Domination and submission were pretty close to one another, and chatting with this guy until the wee hours of the morning was really fucking hot. In a nutshell, he loves prison scenes, or hazing scenes; basically where his subs are stripped naked and inspected, forced to perform, shouted down and beaten if necessary. The specifics weren’t something I’d ever fantasized of, but I’d be damned if I wouldn’t submit to someone who could really get into a scene. And so one day when he was finishing a flight, he came to my apartment for introductions.

The plan was meet for a bit just him and I, then go to dinner with my boyfriend. (Up until this point he’d done a tremendous job of respecting my relationship and engaging with my boyfriend, since he knew he’d be my first.)

I was nervous as all hell. I was excited too – I had no idea what was going to happen. Would we play before dinner? Would we play after dinner? There weren’t any commitments or plans at this point, it was a meet and greet, really, nothing serious, nothing heavy. When he arrived I helped carry his luggage into our apartment and we sat and chatted for a while. We talked about what I wanted from Dom/sub play, what kind of things I’d fantasized about. I didn’t really know what to say, or what else to say, I guess, since we’d done so much chatting. But in talking, I was so nervous that I was completely blank.

In text, as you can see, I’m pretty verbose. But the first I meet anyone in real life, I’m quiet as a churchmouse, shy, and generally introverted. So as he’s asking me questions about my interests, about what I want from a scene, about what I’m willing to do, I can’t really find the words. When I can speak, I hear an unusual shake in my voice; I stutter. My leg jitters. I twitch with my hair. I fidget … a lot.

Finally at some point D— says “Why don’t you stand up over there.” I did as I was told, and all of a sudden, I felt exposed. I don’t normally draw attention to myself unless I’m in command of a room, like when I’m giving a speech or a presentation. Now I was just standing up, being visually inspected from my own couch. Now I was really nervous. I didn’t know where to put my hands, I didn’t know how to stand.

He gave me some rules.

One: I was never to sit without his permission. Permission could be as simple as a nod, or a glance, but I was not to sit otherwise. Sitting was a privilege. Sitting on the couch was a higher one.

Two: When I sat, I was to thank him for the privilege of sitting.

Three: clothes were unnecessary, he told me to strip. I made a mistake and didn’t properly fold them, so I had to do again, and this time, fold my damn clothes like a neat boy.

Four: If I had to use the bathroom ever, I had to ask permission. Then when I did go, I was never allowed to touch my penis with any more than one finger. There was to be no opportunity to play with myself under any circumstances. He gave me protocol for the bathroom, the order in which to do things, the right things to say. He said on occasion he may have me take a dump on newspaper … but we never got close to that.

Finally, there were the positions. He gave me five positions that when called out, I was to immediately assume. The first position was “Corner”, and that was as simple as going to stand with my face in the corner, hands behind my back (remember, no playing with myself!).

Position one was standing at attention. Hands to my side, feet together, head straight, stared dead ahead but absolutely not looking at anything in particular. I wasn’t even to look at him, no matter how much he got in my face.

Position two was to bend over and grab my ankles, ass exposed. This was a punishment position, for obvious reasons.

Position three was hands on the wall, leaning against the wall, and slightly bent at the waist. This was also a punishment position.

Position four was hands on my head, feed & legs spread wide – no, wider! – so my miserable balls were free to hang and be inspected. Thus, this was the inspection position.

After learning the rules and positions, he put me through my paces. He called out positions at random. He spanked me. He hit me upside the head. In fact, he hit me upside the head so often that anytime he got close or asked a question I would flinch, expecting the whack. He yelled. He got in my face. He tested me. He hit me. He put me in the corner. He inspected me. And I was loving it – so much, he observed, that my cock was gushing precum. I wasn’t even hard, but it was dribbling all over the floor. There I was, naked as a jaybird and standing in some uncomfortable position, being poked, prodded and yelled at by a fully clothed, strong dominant man. Finally!

Time was ticking and I was getting nervous. My boyfriend would be home soon and despite the fact he knew what we were doing and what I was into, I wasn’t ready for him to find me naked, being hit by a stranger, or standing in the corner. But I also knew it wasn’t my place to say anything. I stole glances at the clock, wondering what D—’s play was. I had no choice but to trust him. If I said anything or ended it out of fear of being discovered, I’d be a worthless sub.

In the end, he had me dress and return to the couch (thank you sir) before the boyfriend got home (though not much before!). We went to dinner. We went home, and D— had me demonstrate what I’d learned.

I’m not sure I was a very good sub that time. It was all so new. I often forgot to thank him for the privilege of sitting. I wasn’t always sure how to answer his questions in front of the boyfriend, not because I was ashamed, but because I was at a loss for words and still really nervous. But it was my first time, and we all have to start somewhere, and I’m glad I started with D—.

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