Chapter 1
What the hell was I doing way out here in the suburbs? And the suburbs of Rancho Cucamonga, of all places? And what the hell was I doing with a couple?
They reached out to me on a popular BDSM social media/dating site. Since I’m a straight dominant guy, it’s not difficult to get my attention. I always take notice when that red number one appears on my inbox. They liked my stories. They liked my profile. They liked some of the things on my fetish list. They were scared of some of them, and were at least intrigued by the rest. They didn’t mention any of the political discourse I sometimes wasted my time with, and that was probably for the best. But they were a submissive couple looking for a dominant. That looked like a deal-breaker at first.
I’m strictly hetero. No interest in the dudes. It’s not something I’m sorry about, and it’s not something I’m proud of either. It’s sexuality, just something that is. But hey, if guys (or girls, or non-binary) want to marry each other and live their best lives out and about, I’m all for it. Makes for a better world all around. No one with half a brain ever said that about repression.
The couple were a typical Inland Empire suburban couple, I guess. Gary & Rochelle. He was a systems analyst (whatever that means). She worked administration at a community college. Met in university, married right after. All pretty dull sounding. But there’s always something just below the surface.
Gary had hit 35. Rochelle was staring it down in just a few more months. The marriage had been ticking along fine for years, but now it was reaching that point that all marriages reach when they’re started young. Tensions, second thoughts, regrets about roads not taken. They were seriously considering starting a family, after putting it off for a few years. But they had to take care of this thing growing between them, and make sure togetherness was really what they wanted, before they went down that road. So they did the responsible thing: they swore off alcohol binging and pushy friends and found a decent marriage counselor.
Rochelle thought it would be a bombshell when she finally revealed her sexual yearnings in counseling. She had held off as long as she could, because they scared her. With her guts twisted into knots, she just blurted it out one day. She was submissive. She needed to be told what to do. Not just that, but she wanted to be made to do things. She wanted to be taken, commanded, dominated…enslaved even. Things like whips and chains and collars and lots of dark leather excited her. Ok, it was out there. Surely Gary would be able to meet her halfway somewhere. Sure, that first spanking would probably be awkward as all hell. But he was a man. He’d get this. He’d probably even grow to love it. This was all going to work out.
Gary understood how Rochelle felt. Yes! This could not have been going better. He understood how she felt because…he felt the same way. Double yes! Wait, wait, wait…that’s not what he meant. Gary understood how Rochelle felt…because he wanted the same thing. That’s right, Gary was submissive too. He hadn’t realized it until sometime in the last few years, as pornography binges inspired him to actually read up on sexuality. But things he never wanted to understand about himself finally started to coming into focus. He had a need to submit. A woman would have been preferable. But he might even be able to do with to a man. He’d never thought he’d swung that way before, but as he came to terms with this truth about himself, some men had started to creep into his fantasies. Hard, firm men. Sometimes verging on the cruel. Men who didn’t care about his feelings, just what they could make him do for them. Yes, his fantasies got a little extreme at times.
Well, this was a clusterfuck. How are two genuine submissives supposed to co-exist in a marriage without driving each other crazy? It sounds like the tag-line for a network sitcom five years from now.
At least these revelations explained a lot about what went on in their bedroom. Neither Gary nor Rochelle had ever felt comfortable initiating sex. It had become an increasing point of contention as Rochelle felt it was the man’s job to drag her into the bedroom by the hair, strip her naked, and take what he wanted from her. She’d always figured Gary had deferred on those duties to her as a sign of his respect for feminism. Now she knew it’s just because the thought of it made him deeply uncomfortable. But they still needed to get their rocks off, and they needed to do it together. They had too much invested in this marriage to let it go down the drain. And they still cared about each other. They were each other’s best friends. They loved each other. They shared a dog. They could still envision a future together, if only they could figure this out.
They started researching. That was their way. They were both fairly analytical, and not prone to making snap decisions without doing lots of reading first. That sort of mindset can be a real benefit in many ways, but not so much when you’re looking for spontaneity and a course correction in the bedroom. Still, this was their marriage. Better to go slow, instead of taking any wild chances they might not be able to live with together.
Their research quickly led to that aforementioned BDSM site, which seemed to be the best place for this on the net. That led to hours and hours and hours of reading all kinds of things about all kinds of things from all kinds of perspectives. They participated in forums and groups, asked questions, and every once in a while got overheated enough to take it back into the bedroom. It was good to fuck. It let off steam. But that’s all it was doing now. Each knew their present mode of casual-married-fucking wasn’t a solution that would work in the long term.
The fucking wasn’t the norm. More often than not, they had conversations about what they found online. Going through a robust fetish list was a painfully awkward experience at first. They had to admit things to each other, things they’d never wanted to discuss before. They had never had anal sex before because Gary had never brought it up. From everything Rochelle had heard from girlfriends, the guy always brought it up at some point. On that, they were united. But there was division on just what to do from there. Most girls maintained that it was their duty to hold off on anything up the butt as long as possible, and keep it in reserve as the ultimate bargaining chip. Rochelle thought it was amazing what one could bargain for with an anal cherry-pop. But there was a subset of girls that liked it. A few even got off from it. But they knew it was better for the guy if he had to think he was talking them into it. Rochelle had been wondering for years why Gary’s finger had never even wandered in there. Now she knew. He loved her, but he didn’t want to fuck his wife’s ass. Instead, he’d been wondering what it would feel like to take something up there, like a strap-on. Or maybe even a cock.
Gary was a good husband. If his wife wanted his cock up her ass, that’s what she would get. But both knew his heart wouldn’t be in it. That might have been good enough for Rochelle a few years ago, but it wouldn’t do now. She had to explain that she didn’t just want to have boring, conventional anal sex (whatever that was, he thought to himself). No, her ass was part of the whole dominant/submissive thing for her. She had to be taken back there. She had to be compelled to give it up. When she gave up her ass, it would be as a sign of a dominant’s ownership of her.
Rochelle usually found it hard to be that clear, or explicit. More often than not, she would blush a little and say, “I’d like that” to a particular fetish, or just give him a look that told him she wasn’t into it. But that particular night, when the subject of anal came up, she became unusually animated. Rochelle had clearly spent some time fantasizing about a man exerting his ownership over her with his cock up her ass.
Gary didn’t know what do to with that. Submitting to someone was one thing. But his wife talking about ownership disturbed him. They were looking down this road to save their marriage. How could letting another man own his wife possibly accomplish that? And what about his needs? Did he need to be owned too?
There were many conversations like that. Fetish lists were a minefield for them. It took many long, uncomfortable nights, but Gary finally started to put the pieces together. Rochelle needed this. It wasn’t something that was going to just go away. She would never be complete in their marriage if she didn’t try some of these things to see how they felt in real life. Gary figured he could have kept those feelings down, and dealt with them another way. It wasn’t particularly healthy, but he reckoned he could have done it. But not Rochelle. She needed to submit, and she needed to do it soon.
The net result of all this activity, counseling, late-night heart-to-hearts, and occasionally heated fucking, was that they formulated a plan. They both needed to submit. They couldn’t submit to each other. They didn’t want to go outside the marriage. Neither were comfortable with the other submitting to someone without the other. So the solution was to stay in the marriage, and submit to someone together. All they had to do was find a dominant willing to do that. How hard could it be?
In theory? Easy. In practice? Not so much. This was their first time. They were trying something really risky, for all sorts of reasons. Trust was paramount. Finding someone they both felt right about was the only way to go. They started by casting their net locally. They confined their search to that aforementioned BDSM site, since they felt they had a handle on things there. Even the very worse ass-hats seemed to have some sort of grasp on the etiquette of dominance and submission. The first thing they learned was that they sure weren’t going to find the dominant of their dreams in Rancho Cucamonga. They learned the hard way what a mistake it is to put a blanket ad in a locals-only group. Their inbox was assaulted by more generic copy/paste messages propositioning Rochelle alone than they could count. That’s not what they wanted at all. They went to sifting through profiles in local groups, but none of them ticked enough boxes. As they exhausted possibilities, their search expanded outward. Where before they were adamant that they wouldn’t go beyond the San Bernardino area, now they expanded out to Los Angeles and Orange County. Driving distance became their new barometer. If he was worth submitting to, he’d be worth driving to. And maybe they could even entice someone to drive out to them. They had a really nice house, in a nice neighborhood. They were sure they provide a suitable hosting experience. Of course, they didn’t have a dungeon. Would that be a deal breaker?