The Making of a Dominatrix part 1

The Making of a Dominatrix part 1

The Making of a Dominatrix Journal entry written by Blonde Dom Girl Part 1

I am a beautiful young lady whose hearts desire is to dominate, to be worshipped and to be placed on a pedestal like the Goddess that she is!!

It occurs to me however that I have not throughly introduced myself properly and I may begin with how I became BDG! For all Mistresses there has to be a first time. The first experience of having a man at your mercy. How does it happen? I have yet to meet a Mistress who simply asked a man to let himself be dominated and likewise a man who will simply say please dominate me Mistress. No, a Mistress will find herself in , or manufacture, a position, where the male will submit. The extent to which the male needs to be “coerced” obviously depends upon the male. A natural submissive will yield quickly, he may be acutely aware of being set up and manipulated, he may even encourage it such is his desire to submit, without actually having the courage to admit it. He will be like putty in her hands.

Then there are the other type of men, those who have to be dragged kicking and screaming into servitude, to the world of natural order where we women take control. Those who think that because they have a dick between their legs that we women should somehow be impressed. Well I have news for those types, more and more of us women are not impressed by that organ between your legs, that organ which is milked dry and shrivels away to nothing by the powerful and strong female anatomy. Yes you know to what I am referring PUSSY POWER and I will be referring to the power of the pussy throughout this BLOG. And once a man has submitted to the Mistress what does she do next, what does she say, is there an attire or dress code? The answer is of course that each Mistress finds her own boundaries her own style and her own method of dealing with her slaves. One thing is for certain however that once a man has submitted he will never be the same again. He may need further lessons and training but with each one he will become more and more submissive and unable to resist his Mistress. And once he has savoured her feminine odours he will beg on his knees for more. Oh how I adore being a member of the superior sex.

As a young ladies in my early twenties I was heartily sick and tired of the dick swingers who would try and impress me in clubs or bars or whatever social gathering I may be at. I am not anyone’s babe, or luv. I objected to these lads thinking that they were doing me a favour by approaching me in that way. I found ignoring them usually worked. For those who were more persistent I would respond with “are you talking to me or chewing a brick”? When they responded with the inevitable furrowing of their brow and dumb expression I would of course respond further with “because you will lose your fucking teeth either way”. For some reason that seemed to scare them away. I wonder why. LOL!!

What also disappointed me was the number of my friends who seemed content to be in relationships with men who basically treated them like shit. I just couldn’t understand it. My mind was made up as early as my late teens that men should do as they are told and obey, cherish and worship the female in their life. And that is exactly how I would live my life. No man would ever tell me what to do. No man would treat me like shit. With me there would be a complete reversal of the traditional roles in a relationship.

But how exactly did I become a dominatrix.

As I say as a young, very happily single lady in my early twenties I knew I had “different” feelings from my friends. It was more than simply wanting to be the boss in any relationship I craved for more than that. I wanted to be in absolute control. To punish, to dominate, to humiliate men. It is fair to say it was a burning desire and one which occupied my mind with ever increasing frequency. Many nights would be spent fantasising about having men at my mercy. I would wank myself silly at the thought of such a pleasure. Not just one orgasm, no that was never enough for me, over and over again I would insert my fingers deep within my sopping wet pussy until I was rubbing up against my G spot. I would rub my clitoral hood and then ever so gently invite my beautiful little rose bid of a clitoris to venture out from beneath its protective sheath so that I could dance attendance upon it between my fore and middle finger. I would have orgasm after orgasm (yet another sign of female superiority over men). Squirting my CUMM all over my sheets and licking the CUMM from my fingers before I entered a delightful state of sleep on what can best be described as a CUMM soaked set of bed sheets.

Unfortunately I had no life coach, noone who could explain and rationalise my feelings and I was becoming increasingly frustrated at my lack of opportunity to turn my fantasies into reality. Some simple internet research had led me to Mistress sites and I discovered that I was what was commonly known as a Dominatrix. A dominant female, a female who likes to be in charge and have men at her mercy.

So I knew what I was. I knew what I wanted I just now needed the opportunity to turn my fantasies into reality. I was worried that maybe that would never happen which saddened me.

Well thankfully fate was on my side one summer vacation. I signed on at a temp agency to gain some work experience and earn a bit of dosh. My first job was for what was described to me as an up and coming medium sized publishing business. When I arrived at the address I was rather disappointed. The business occupied a small office on an out of the way and largely unused office accommodation. When I entered the building it was apparent that the business was in fact the sole occupant of that block. So much for a medium sized business. Little did I know though then just how fortunate this would turn out for me.

Eventually I found the entrance to my new employer and knocked on the door. “Yeah what do you want” came the rather brusque response. I entered a little apprehensively and found myself in a medium sized office with 2 desks, PCs and general IT equipment. It was modestly decorated but was not the sort of place where you would entertain clients. Once again little did I know how this would turn to my advantage.

I explained that I had been sent by the agency and I was looking for a Mr Jones (name changed for obvious reasons). “Yes that’s me” came the once again rather rude reply. “Well I suppose you had better make yourself at home. You can use that desk there. Do you know how to make tea”? I nodded in the affirmative. “Good you and I will get along just fine then babe, now hows about you go and make me a cupps while I get on and do some work”.

It took all my resolve not to walk out there and then. But there was something about this arrogant little prick that stood before me. Despite his swagger and bullshit I could see that he was eyeing me up. He was in his mid forties and reasonably well maintained. If I say so myself I am very beautiful and I dress accordingly. I like to wear clothes that show off my feminine form in all its glory. Not for the benefit of men though, oh no, far from it. I do it for my own benefit. Likewise I also adore sexy delicate lingerie. I love to wear the briefest of panties which are barely able to contain my voluptuous pussy lips, stockings and suspenders and if my stockings have a lovely dark seam all the better. Sometimes I must confess that my skirts are perhaps a little on the short side and there maybe the slightest sight of a stocking top on occasion just to keep you men under my spell. LOL. Many a time when I am out and about and I am fantasising about dominating men, my pussy lips will swell and force themselves out from the confines of my panties which then becomes nothing more than a thin strip of material wedged firmly in my pussy slit. This thin strip of material will rub up against my clitty, particularly so if I deliberately rub my thighs together as I am walking and I will bring myself off gushing my CUMM down my thighs. CUMMING in public in this manner is wondrous. On one 20 minute shopping trip I CUMM three times, but that is another tale.

Anyway back to the matter in hand so the little voice inside me told me to stay and to do as I was told, which was just so unnatural for me. The rest of the day was spent with me being given orders and treated appallingly. I was made to refer to him as Mr Jones while he never once saw fit to call me anything other than the typical derogatory forms of address which we women have to put up with. But I was here for the long term. Short term pain for long term gain.

That first week was pure hell for me. I was learning practically nothing, except that I could run this business better than him. I was being ordered about, referred to in sexist ways and the colossal prick was trying to rub up against me at any opportunity.

That weekend I felt like ringing up the agency and telling them where they could shove their job but I vowed to give it one more week. Such was my conviction that something positive would come from this.

The Monday I arrived at work at 8:30 prompt as I had been ordered to by the prick. Upon my arrival I noticed that my desk had been moved so that it was directly opposite the pricks. I also noticed that his desk was clear from the pile of papers which had covered it only Friday to a height of about 1 foot.

He could see that I was bemused by this change and made some glib remark about better use of office space. So to my desk I went and busied myself looking through some business directories. after about 15 minutes the prick gave his first order (and soon to be his last) to me. “Nice cup of tea babe” there’s a good girl”. I said nothing such was my contempt for the man. To get to the kitchen involved walking past his desk and I could see that the prick followed my every step. My skirt had a large slit at the back and when I walked the tops of my stockings were clearly visible to the keen observer. I knew that Mr Jones, the prick would have been given an eyeful and would have loved every minute of it. In his stupid male brain thinking he had me where he wanted me. Little did he know.

So I made his tea, somehow resisting the temptation to spit in it and politely put it on his desk making certain that I bent over as I did so giving him a birds eye view of my big juicy breasts which were barely contained by my half cut bra. God his eyes were like a cartoon characters. Literally on stalks. I was toying with him, slowly taking the initiative.

In that position I glanced over at my desk and my suspicions for the furniture rearrangement were confirmed. From his seated position he had a perfect view under my desk. Basically that piece of shit wanted to look up my skirt and no doubt get an eyeful of my panties while he tossed himself off at his desk or in the loo.

Well if that is what he wanted that is what he would get. “Enjoy your tea Mr Jones” I cooed putting on my flirtiest of smiles as I strutted back to my desk. On the way back I accidently on purpose knocked a file onto the floor and bent over to pick it up spending an inordinately long time in that position milking every last advantage from the opportunity. “ooh I am so clumsy silly me” I said in my best bimbette accent. God that prick must have thought I was there for the taking.

I sat back at my desk and spent the next 10 minutes crossing and uncrossing my legs. God he must have been getting the most amazing view up my skirt, my stockings, my suspenders and my panties. My Pussy lips were full and swollen and straining tightly against the fine material of my panties. I was acutely aware of the wetness between my thighs and a sticky wet patch on my panties. The prick would also have been acutely aware that my pussy was clean shaven. I have the most delightful pussy lips. My inner and outer labia are like the petals of a wild orchid. I love to admire them see how they swell and change colour when I wank. Look at their little creases and folds, squeeze them between my fingers. God I wish I could lick my own pussy. I would be at it every night. Why on earth would I wish to hide them away under pubic hair.

I looked over at him, his eyes were feasted upon me. He looked away sheepishly when he caught my eye. The swagger had gone. He was now behaving like a little child, a peeping Tom. He was blushing and trembling ………… in which state you will find him in part 2 when I explain how I properly turned the tables on this prick and made him grovel before me turning him into a debased piece of shit before my assignment was over.

Blonde Dom Girl
BlondeDomGirl@gmail.com