(Note to the discerning reader: Throughout this story, the terms ‘domme’ and ‘sub’ are used to indicate active and passive roles in lovemaking. Please accept these as figures of speech and not a misuse of the technical, more specific meanings of these words in formal BDSM literature.)
“It is possible to get here from there, but it is not possible to get there from here. I cannot return to my country.”
My interviewer is quite confused, a state in which she will remain throughout the interview. I can only hope she records and reports my words accurately and fully. Our worlds are so different. She is pretty, with shoulder length dark hair and a light complexion for contrast. Her skin is pale, an effective palette for her on-camera makeup. She smiles at me and I wonder if she dressed to be so enchanting or if it was natural. Her blouse is a pretty fall orchid color, her skirt is an enchanting tapestry to match, drawing attention to her slender waist and full hips, away from her bust which she probably thought was small.
(“I’ll kiss those breasts today, or die”, I thought.)
As she cannot think of a response, I continue.
“I appear to you as a woman, which engenders (!) all sorts of expectations and prejudices you associate with the trope you carry about my sex. In my country, things are a bit more complicated. Fortunately, that complexity is accepted and even celebrated. We are forced to accept that when we meet someone new, we know nothing important about them.”
“How could things be more complicated about women or men than they are here?”
“Here, you would expect me to be heterosexual, or interested in intimacy with men, just based on percentages. Where I come from, the percentages are more balanced.”
“Please, continue.” Her mouth was actually open. I can see her brain flitting about behind her gorgeous green eyes.
“Consider all the possibilities. We include the desires of both members of the pair, for we mostly mate in pairs. There are six kinds of women who prefer to be intimate with other women. Your lesbians would understand the differences better than most members of your society, but we could never get by with a single word for a female-female pair.”
“So, what are the variables that must be considered?”
“There are women that desire an equal relationship with another woman. They might explore dominance and submission but you would find that they share both roles equally. They would constantly try to service the relationship as true partners – sharing daily chores, responsibilities, and the emotional care for their partnership. The variations of this type include women who dress and act in a manner you would consider more masculine and women who would strive to appear more traditionally feminine. In all cases, the pair would present similarly in this type.”
“So another type would be the more masculine appearing woman with the more feminine woman?”
“Yes, you’re right, perfectly, but there would be variations which echo the overall scheme among men and among women.”
“I think I know what you mean, but please elaborate.” She was aroused by our discussion – something had struck a chord. Her eyes are now brighter, less confused, and there was a hint of moisture shining on her upper lip.
(“I’ll feel those lips on my clitoris, today, or else”, I thought.)
“Well, either member of a pair can be more dominant, with the other providing more energy to service the relationship. One predominantly receives support from the other. This dynamic is most apparent during sexual intercourse.”
“Now, I’m confused again.”
“The more supportive individual is submissive during sex. The dominant partner is more active in offering affectionate physical stimulation. The supportive partner submits to the other’s caresses and shows pleasure but in response to the efforts of the other. The supported partner takes pleasure directly from the more submissive one and is secondarily pleased if noting pleasure in the partner.”
“This is complex.”
“Even more so than you might think. Either the more masculine or the more feminine may be the supported or the supportive partner.”
“Oh, my.” If I wanted to seduce her, it was working. She was considering the possibilities.
“I think a demonstration is in order. We will make love and you may pick any orientation. We’re both dressed as females, so let’s use that as a starting point. Do you wish to be equals, or to select a dominant-submissive role?”
“Oh, I’m not sure if…”
“Your response indicates your lack of familiarity, which is supportive of a more submissive role. Have you ever been with another woman?”
“No, my relationships have all been heterosexual…”
“Then take the supportive, more passive role. Here, let me kiss you.”
She leaned away at first, the moved forward to accept my kiss. Her lips were warm and full. I noted her eyes closed in concert with the passive role. Mine remained open to gauge her responses. I enjoyed her natural response to my kiss and one hand moved to her shoulder, then to her neck, which I stroked and then pressed her face more tightly to mine. Her hands moved to my chest (as they would for a male’s kiss) but on me they found my breasts. She started with the unfamiliar sensation and began to pull away, but I kept kissing and moved her hand back to me. Her lips parted in submission and I moved my tongue inside her mouth. I explored a bit and caressed her tongue, trying to coax it back into me.
(“Not yet”, I thought.)
I broke the kiss and watched as she opened her eyes. She looked to me for my response.
I laughed, “See, you’re looking at me to see how I feel about kissing you. That’s a passive action, preparing you to support our relationship.”
“I’m just confused. I’ve never kissed another woman before now…”
“It’s inbred, innate, no different from your eye color, which is gorgeous, by the way.”
My hand remained on her arm, keeping the physical contact. This was more important than one might think. It kept me in control, which is important for my orientation, and it kept her thinking whether she liked me touching her. Whether I wanted her to like me touching her or not, I should say.
“Do you want to try the dominant role, just for fun? Everyone’s able to pretend, to try something different?”
“How would I do that?”
“You can start by kissing me. The dominant role involves your embracing me, your kissing me. I’ll just respond to your actions. You’ll find yourself looking to gauge my response – see, the dominant action seems to be in control, but the truth is what women in your country have known for centuries…”
“That the passive, submissive partner is really in control.”
“Of Everything!” We spoke at the same time, and burst into laughter.
“Now, you pretend, and kiss me.”
She leaned forward and embraced me with both arms, pulling me toward her. Maybe I was wrong…
“Keep your eyes open. I’m going to close…”
My words were cut off by my her lips taking mine. Those warm, full lips pressed against mine and I wasted no time opening my mouth to accept her tongue. I sucked on it gently, then more passionately, working on it up and down like I would with a male partner’s penis. I gasped with pleasure. She moved one hand to my breast and began rubbing it, then finding the nipple which had responded, pinched it firmly. I warmed and melted into her arms. She sensed my surrender and grasped me tightly, taking me as her own. I snuggled against her, trying to maximize the contact, offering and willing her to do anything she wanted, This time, she broke the contact, as befitted the dominant role.
I let my eyes remained closed a bit longer, so she could see how content I was in this role, how much pleasure she was giving me with her dominance. When I opened them, she was smiling.
A bit breathlessly, I told her “Oh, my, there’s a bit of butch in all of us.”
She laughed, “and you’re subbing just fine, lady.”
“Or, I could be wrong about you. Are you understanding the demonstration, or shall we continue?”
She hesitated, “How would we continue?”
She meant, which roles would we play? She’s definitely the passive type, or her dominance has been so submerged by her societal demands. It will be such fun to find out. We might be equals and … My country’s emphasis on the multitude of types had a definite basis – we needed a partner to feel complete and surprisingly, we placed such care in selection because we tended to mate for life. As I said, I can’t go back…
“You’re doing so well as my top, I’d prefer you continue. I’ve not been made-love-to, so well, in too long.” I’d adopted a body posture of submission to encourage her, my hands folded in my lap, my legs crossed and feet folded up under the chair.
“I’d like to continue my exploration of my dominant side, but I don’t have any practice to fall back on.”
“Sure you do! Just do to me what you would desire a big alpha male would do to you, if he knew what women _really_ wanted!”
She actually giggled, a most feminine gesture punctuated by her placing her hand on my chest. I noted her thumb found it’s way inside my blouse, stroking the soft flesh beneath it.
“You’re beautiful, you know, not just interesting because you’re foreign to me. Your skin is the most beautiful shade, tanned and healthy looking.”
I blushed at her compliment, looked away and then back at her. Her eyes looked deep into mine. She reached up and stroked my hair, feeling it tenderly through her hand, her fingers caressing the fine texture.
“I’ve always loved blondes and you have just a hint of the red in these bright lights. We try to emulate sunlight in the tropics, you know…”
I shook my head. (No, I didn’t know…) I reached up and fingered my necklace, unsure of what to say next.
She didn’t care. She reached up and kissed me on the forehead, the nose, the lips, then each cheek. I arched my head away from her, offering my neck. This she took hungrily, licking and sucking, showing me her top side. Showing me my place.
She pulled away and looked into my eyes, then started unbuttoning my blouse, finally pulling it out of the waistband of my skirt. She started at what she found. My breasts stood swollen and proud, the nipples prominent under my thin bra. The two extra nipples beneath my breasts were also erect, poking through the fabric of my white camisole.
“Many of our women have secondary nipples beneath our breasts. It’s not unknown, here, but much more common in my country.”
“I’m just surprised. You are more beautiful than I thought.”
“Do what do you want with them. You can ignore them…”
“Lie back on the desk, now.” She interrupted me. I think the thought of four nipples aroused her. It certainly aroused me. All four are exquisitely sensitive. I’d removed the shields just before the interview began.
She unhooked my bra at the front clasp and began caressing my breasts with her hands, then she replaced one hand with her mouth and her hand fell to one of the nipples below. I gasped in pleasure. I moved my arms above my head in surrender and enjoyed her having her way with me.
“What?” I started.
“I need another hand.”
I laughed, she didn’t as she was back busy with her mouth.
I moved my hand down to the back of her head and caressed it, gently following her motions as she loved my breast with her lips and tongue. She was hot, now, fully into the possibilities of dominating, taking another woman. She gave me one last nibble and rose up over me, the look on her face priceless, red, almost angry with lust. I moved my arms back over my head, offering my beauty for her consideration, the pale skin of the breasts contrasting with the dark flesh outside the tan lines of my bikini.
“You bitch” she said, “You bitch.” Passionate, dominant.
“I may be a bitch, yes, but I’m your bitch.” The “Take Me” is understood..
“Let’s see how passive you really are.” She’s in control, now. She stands, pulls off her blouse and unzips the skirt, drops it carelessly to the floor. The bra, slip, and panties fall away. What a gorgeous body and those tiny breasts are crowned by large pink aereolae and lush nipples, fully erect. She leaves on the stockings and heels and climbs on the desk over me. She scoots up and presents her pussy to my lips.
“Show me how you kiss this in your country. Don’t stop until I scream. I will spank you if you do.”
My hands find her lush bottom and press her toward my face. She is natural, unshaven and I begin by licking the hair, savoring it’s texture. I slowly work my way around in a circle, nibbling and licking and sucking on the hair and the tender white flesh beneath. I wait until I hear her sigh with pleasure and then my tongue finds the center of the lips and parts them, sucking in the moosture I find and working up into her pussy. My nose presses her button and she places a hand on top of my head and moves my attentions to the clit.
“I like the flat of your tongue on it. Up and down, rough, not gentle. Over, over, yes, now suck, suck. yes, you’re my bitch, do what I say. Eat it right and I’ll spank you, just as you deserve.”
(Promises!) I can’t talk. Now, my mouth is busy.
She leans back to present more pussy to my mouth. Her hand searches for my middle, forgetting I still have my skirt on…
Frustrated, she cries, “Pull your skirt up, bitch. Don’t forget who’s fucking who!”
My arms under her legs, I somehow accomplish this, pulling the skirt and slip up inch-by-inch. She rides my face, taking her pleasure with my mouth and somehow, her finger swipes my thong aside and I feel one finger, then two inside me. I grunt with pleasure, under her grinding.
“LIke that, do you? Like my fingers in your pussy, do you my little bitch?”
I nod my head and make a noise of assent. She fucks her fingers inside me and rubs my g-spot. I moan and her hand presses my face into her and she explodes all over me, screaming her pleasure, “Oh, fuck yes, fuck, fuck, yes. Ohhhh.”
She squirms down and lays beside me on the desktop. She puts her arm around me and snuggles me into her shoulder, one hand clasping my waist, the other moving from one breast to an extra nipple and back, still pinching and squeezing. Little kisses dance on my face and hair.
“Sweet baby, my sweet, sweet baby.”
I close my eyes and cuddle into her. “Darling?”
“Yes, little bitch?”
“Can you kiss me, really, really good, then…”
She leans over me, looks into my eyes, the blush of her orgasm still bright on that pretty face.
“Yes, little bitch?”
“Please, please, put your fingers back in me?”
She laughs, “Of course, my love. Whatever you want…”
But, she falls asleep first. Definitely a domme, or, maybe, we’ll see. I stroke her arm contentedly…