You and I have similar tastes. You're impressive. I'm a cerebral dom; I take care of my subs based on their interests and personal needs. I rarely touch them and I'm always fully dressed, just present.
so this is going to be long. This isn't the hottest, but the most recent.
This weekend I got to interview a new sub for my group of doms. I know him from racing and rallye. He approached me last week and wanted me to try him on. I undressed him, zip tied his wrists and walked him two blocks through the city to the parking garage. Made him edge himself in the passenger seat while I drove and interrogated him on why he thought he was good enough for a professional. Told him that he'd better know how to pay attention to my body and shift when I say so from a right hand drive or learn quickly.
See, a good dom is like a car, a sub is a driver. You can't get there without us, but you have to know when to shift gears. If he didn't stall us out on the 101, he got to cum.
He didn't stall us out. Pulled over next to Lake Crescent at barely dawn, sun hitting the top of the mountain rising up from the street. Told him to get out. Find a shallow entry, walk in to your nose, hands behind your head. Took him a minute, but he did. See, Lake Crescent is infamous for being so cold it preserves lost bodies. It's also breathtaking in more ways than one. He stepped in, stumbled, walked in hissing and gasping to his knees. Balls. Hips. Bellybutton took a minute. Nipples, gasping now. Nose.
I sat in my car with my leg hanging out not paying him any attention. Put on Deftones' Passenger, sat with the door open and listened. Texting. Took a picture or a dozen of him, texted them to the other doms to let them know he was being good. Looked up, asked him what he was still doing out there, told him to come out. Put him on his knees, soaked and shaking in the headlights on the side of the highway and told him that his pretty voice had better convince me he was worth driving back to the city. Now cum for me, love. Gave him 4 minutes to give me a load. He protested, freezing. Got out and stood with my shirt to his nose, talked dirty to him a minute. He got hard, started stroking, still zip tied. Called me a sadistic bitch. Used my keys to carve my name over his collarbone; he whinged fucking beautifully and could hardly keep his breath about him. I'm impressed, that shit hurts. Coulda gone hipbone, but. Dinna want to get my pants dusty kneeling. He was, of course, trying to jack off the whole time.
4 and 10 seconds in he was angry and near ready to cry. I got back in the car and put it into reverse to turn out. He managed to impress me with quite the roar and a few good shots before I pulled back onto the freeway. Woulda been annoyed if I had to have someone drive out to get his zip tied ginger ass. Clipped his zips, got a blanket from the trunk. Bought him breakfast at some 50s themed diner in his soaked boxers. Got some odd looks. Hot coffee, eggs, sausage, a waffle. Boy can eat, told him that'd be useful if he got very lucky. Let him put his clothes back on once we paid and left. Talked about cars, took him back home and told him he owes me an essay on what he learned about me.