When my girlfriend, Iva, proposed we see a professional dominant, I wasn’t all that surprised. Iva is a born submissive, and ever since we’ve been together, she’s loved bondage games and exploring various kinks — almost as much as I do. I normally played the dominant in our scenes, but putting ourselves in the hands of a professional was the next logical step.

I was, however, a little shocked when she told me which dominant she had in mind.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to meet Theresa,” she said wistfully, winding a hank of honey blonde hair around one finger.

“Theresa?” I asked, blinking. “You mean, my Theresa?”

Theresa was my ex, Iva’s predecessor by several years. And, yes, since we’d parted ways, she had set up shop as a professional dominant. Talk about logical next steps. Theresa had a deep love of S&M play, and our nights together had been pretty wild. I understood she had become quite successful. I had mentioned this tidbit to Iva exactly once, but clearly it had stuck with her.

“Please?” she whispered, running her hand over my arm. Her smile soon grew wider. “Just once?”

For a sub, Iva was very good at making herself impossible to resist, and she was doing just that at that moment.

I didn’t dislike the idea of us going to Theresa for a kinky encounter. I realize a lot of guys might balk at a situation like that. But the thought of seeing my ex put my sweet, docile Iva through her paces was incredibly hot to me.

So after teasing Iva with a certain amount of hemming and hawing, I promised I’d get in touch with Theresa and try to set something up. I did it the very next day. Getting in touch with her wasn’t a problem; if you were looking for a dominant in our area, her website was pretty hard to miss.

Considering how long it had been since we’d last been in touch, Theresa was very cordial. But there was one condition she insisted on.

“Don’t think she’ll be the only one following orders, while you sit there smirking, darling,” she told me.

“You mean you want me to sub with her?” I asked. The suggestion took me aback a little, but not by much. Though I hadn’t exactly been Theresa’s slave years ago, I came very close. I did some more hemming and hawing, but this time it was no act. I was somewhat rattled.

But by the time I hung up, I had agreed. I also had a huge erection.

We arrived at Theresa’s place right on time. At the front door, I squeezed Iva’s hand and asked, “Scared?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not as long as you’re with me.” Then she bit her lip. “What should I call her? Mistress?”

“If you’d like. She was never all that much into titles.”

Before I could say anything else, the door opened and there was Theresa. If anything, she looked even hotter than she’d been the last time I’d seen her. She was certainly sexier than the pictures on her website. She wore her jet-black hair short with bangs, and she was clad in a slinky black dress and criminally high heels. She looked wicked, but it was wicked with a wink.

Iva was staring at her open-mouthed and looked absolutely besotted. From the slowly growing smile on Theresa’s face, I sensed the feeling was — or would be — mutual.

My ex permitted me to kiss her cheek and accepted a shy hug from Iva. Then she led us into a beautifully furnished sitting room. I didn’t see anything like a dungeon, but it was a big house.

“You guys ready for some fun?” Theresa purred, giving me a sidelong glance. She hooked a long-nailed finger in my belt and tugged it playfully. “These clothes need to come off,” she said to me. Then she addressed Iva by saying, “You, too, babycakes.”

“Come off?” Iva quavered. “You mean we have to… strip?”

“Oh yes. It’s customary for scenes that bottoms be naked — at least for the scenes I lead,” Theresa said. “I think you’ll find being naked before a mistress is extremely erotic. You’ll find a suitable changing room over there. Do try not to get into any mischief. I’d so hate to have to punish you so early on.”

I led Iva to the small room Theresa had indicated. We undressed and stored our belongings in the available cubbyholes. Theresa wasn’t kidding about the erotic element. The sound of our breathing seemed to echo in the tiny room, and I noticed a certain stiffness — I don’t think I need to say where. Iva glanced at my crotch, then at my face, and ran a hand over my shoulder. Her touch raised gooseflesh on my skin, and I had to fight the urge to take her in my arms. I wanted to fuck her badly.

“Let’s get out there,” I said, a little hoarsely. “Our hostess is waiting.”

A moment later we rejoined Theresa, who was relaxing in an overstuffed armchair in the sitting room. 

“Do you like feet, Iva?” Theresa inquired, sliding a heeled foot forward.

Iva’s nose wrinkled for a split second. “They’re… OK,” she whispered. She clearly didn’t know how else to respond.

“Your boyfriend certainly likes them. But I want you to rub mine for me. He can fix me a cocktail while you work. Don’t be shy. They don’t smell,” she added, smiling sweetly.

Iva sank down to sit cross-legged before Theresa and reverently removed her pumps. Theresa sighed as the shoes came off, flexing her long toes till the joints cracked softly. Iva began massaging her mistress’s feet through her black silk stockings, working gently at every toe.

“That’s nice,” Theresa whispered. Glancing at me, she said in a mildly miffed tone, “I think someone is supposed to be making me a drink.”

I hurried over to the small bar set up in one corner. I almost asked her if her drink was still a whiskey sour with two cherries, but I thought better of it. Mixing her cocktail in the altogether was an interesting experience. I was still pretty horny — and watching Iva rub Theresa’s feet did nothing to calm me down.

And the fact that I didn’t dare act on my horniness was itself oddly sexy. I hadn’t played the sub role in some time, but it was coming back to me surprisingly quickly. Theresa was in charge; for the evening, she owned us. 

I brought Theresa her drink and watched as she slowly sipped it.

“Acceptable,” she said, shrugging a little. I was disappointed, but really, that was silly. I certainly couldn’t expect her to gush with praise.

Besides, she was busy watching Iva tend to her feet.

“You really are a little treasure,” she murmured. “Where’d you ever find her?” she asked me, but I knew better than to answer her rhetorical question. I silently stood beside her chair, and when she slid her fingers over my stiff cock, I remained motionless. And I stayed that way, even when she tugged on my rod.

It was all coming back to me. That need to please the one who was in control. The need to be a good boy.

“Get up,” she said finally, withdrawing her feet. Iva seemingly pouted in disappointment, but she didn’t protest. “See this?” Theresa said, taking my swollen dickhead between her thumb and forefinger. I stiffened, remembering a little game she used to play — holding my dickhead, then suddenly snapping her fingers. Memories of that little burst of pain came rushing back to me.

“I imagine you’ve enjoyed this toy quite a bit over the years,” she said, pinching my cock.

“Yes,” Iva whispered.

“Want it? Want to play with it?” Her voice was throaty and teasing. “Or would you like this instead?” she added as her fingers played with the hem of her ultra-short skirt and lifted it just slightly.

I really, really wanted Iva to eat Theresa’s pussy. I mean, even more than I wanted to be sucked off — and at the moment I wanted that something fierce. But Iva, though her eyes showed she was certainly open to the idea, turned longingly toward my cock.

“Choose carefully,” Theresa said.

“Can I?” she whispered, her gaze never wavering. “Can I suck him? Please, Mistress?”

“Go ahead,” Theresa told her, as she released me. Iva came to me on her knees, her head on a level with my groin.

Then she sucked me. Her mouth was warm and wet, and she treated my cock to what was possibly the most exquisite blowjob I’d ever experienced. My dickhead bounced on her tongue, every impact sending shock waves through me. When she drew on my cock like a cigar, I actually groaned with pleasure.

I’d enjoyed Iva’s oral favors before, of course. Many times, in fact. But that blowjob was something truly special. The best part of it all was I knew I wasn’t allowed to move. Even a little. I was still a sub, just as much as Iva. As burning desire threatened to incinerate me, I kept myself perfectly still. I forced myself not to look at Theresa — or Iva’s gently bobbing blonde head. At any moment, I knew I might be called upon to mix another drink, or rub Theresa’s shoulders, or fuck Iva anally for our mistress’s amusement.

In retrospect, the blowjob probably didn’t last all that long. But it felt like days of exquisite torment compressed into a compact moment. Iva ran the tip of her tongue over the fleshy ridge below my dickhead, just light enough to make me lose control. I gasped, my body went rigid, and then I climaxed, helpless to stop myself.

Iva was a trouper. She didn’t let a single drop of my load spill from her lips. She swallowed all of it.

“That’s the way,” Theresa cooed. I felt her eyes on both of us, taking our measure. Finally, she turned to me and said, “Go home, and fuck like bunnies, you two. That’s an order.”

I was a little confused, and Iva was a lot confused. She looked at Theresa, ran a pink tongue over her come-greased lips and asked, “That’s all?”

“For tonight, yes. You and I can have more fun on another evening. But for now, you and he have some exploring to do. I want you to do it, and talk some more. Then if you’re still interested, you can give me another call. Go on, now. And don’t forget to put your clothes back on.”

On the way home, Iva was quiet.

“Are you disappointed?” I asked.

“A little. I wanted… I don’t know. To get tied up. To go really crazy.”

“We can still do that,” I assured her. “I’ve got a lot of toys I haven’t shown you yet.”

She smiled and replied, “Then what are we waiting for?”