The girl was about half right. In one sense I’m not like a stone cold dyke – also called a stone dyke, or a stone butch, by the way. I’m very happy to let my partner get intimate with my cock, I’m certainly going to get undressed, and I’m going to come.

But I’ve got stone cold elements. They’re the same elements that most doms have, I suppose. The most important is that I, or we, don’t really lose control.

Well, I do lose it when I’m coming. My orgasm noise, for example. 

My orgasm noise has evolved over time. I used to sound like lost seagulls. Plunging between some woman’s thighs. Now I sound like an operatic tenor having the life sucked out of him by sugar gliders. (They’re cute little furry things. Here’s one.)

I haven’t met a girl who carries a tuning fork for those moments, but I think I hit a high B, though with a lot of flutter. High C at a time like that? I don’t think so. 

But those noises are proof that I’ve lost control. They sound really silly, and if I had any choice at all I wouldn’t want to sound like that.

Anyway, apart from orgasm, I don’t lose control in sex. I watch the submissive, for her safety, and because a submissive losing her self-control is about the most beautiful sight in the world. I set a high value on knowing what I’m doing. Not just in terms of competence, but in terms of staying focussed.

She might not know if she’s on a bed or flying, if things are going really well, but I do.

So maybe there are things that doms miss out on.

At the same time, I enjoy the control. And that brings me back to Ana. Ana had started to listen to me, since we’d talked by the river. The consequences of that were, well, complicated. 

But Ana only gets into this post by the skin of her teeth, because I’m out of time.

To be continued.

So she said, “There are dykes who’ll do you. They’ll bring you off with their hands, they’ll lick you till you come. Or they might put their knee, yeah, there. And kind of pulse you while they squeeze your, uh, breasts.”

“And that knee thing would get you off, would it?”

Woman on the left, she never takes those pants off. (Girl on the right leaves her hat on.)

“Um… It has done. No, stop it! I’m trying to tell you something. Anyway, they’re stone cold dykes because they don’t let you touch them. They get your clothes off and they get you off, but they keep their clothes on and you don’t do anything to them, and they don’t come. Not with you, I mean me.”

“Well, that’s not me. Here. I’ve got my clothes off, I don’t know if you noticed…”

“Yeah, but -“

“And I haven’t got any come left …”

“Yeah, but -“

“It’s all in you.”

“Idiot. Silly man. Oh. Ah-huh. There might be a bit more, you know.” I leaned back and let her stroke her handful of soft cock. She was right. It wasn’t completely soft any more. “Okay, but you came in me because you fucked me. That’s physiology. But I didn’t get to fuck you; you never let me. You controlled me – that was interesting, by the way; that was good. I loved it. But I never controlled you. I lost it completely, I don’t think I knew the bed was here, I don’t think I even knew who I was. But you didn’t lose it at all, ever. You were completely in control of yourself. You stayed cold. You see?”

“Well, maybe. but I like being in charge. That’s sexy, for me. So of course I was getting off.” 

“Yes. Up to a point.” My cock stirred, and staggered upright, just able to lift its own weight, as she said that. So she gave her attention to stroking it, and repeated, “up to a point”, over and over. I relaxed and let her, but eventually, half hard, I took her hand and stopped her.

She smiled, as if she’d won her point. “See what I mean? You have to stay in control. It’s okay. It’s just … I can’t see how you can have as good a time as I’m having.”

“Like this. Suck my cock.”

“Just like that? That’s not a very romantic thing to say.”

“Suck my cock right now, or I’ll spank you till your arse is the colour of a stop sign.”

“I didn’t really like it, much, when you spanked me.”

“Then if you don’t want another spanking, you’d better…” And her mouth, warm and moist and sweetly soft, enveloped my cock. “Ahhh.” I wouldn’t have spanked her, since she hadn’t given me permission to do things she didn’t like. But I did know that she liked to be ordered to do things.

So I made myself comfortable, pushing a little deeper and resting one hand on the back of her head, exactly because a gentleman doesn’t do that. I thought, as her head bobbed steadily, that I’d won something, though not necessarily the argument. 

I’ll be getting back to Ana soon.  

Tomorrow I’ll resume the story about when I was a probation officer, and I had a client called Ana who I passionately wanted to put over my knee. Though the things I wanted went some way further than that. 

Anyway, I won’t do spoilers, but for a while Ana and I did fall naturally into a kind of bdsm relationship, where I’d give her orders, and she’d brat me a bit and then do as she was told. Since it was a professional relationship involving legal authority, and I was – just – clutching onto the last shreds of my professionalism, the “orders”were things like “go to that job interview”, and “do that training course”.

Sure, I wanted to give her other orders, like, “take that off and get up on that desk”. But this is the real world, and the story is true. 

Still, although I wasn’t getting any of the services that doms usually get from the person who’s submitting to them, I was still enjoying the tension between us, and I knew, even then, that she was too. It’s a fairly subtle way to have a sexual relationship, but that is what it was.

Ah, simply rope.

Anyway, long after I’d stopped working as a probation officer, I had a brief relationship with a girl who liked men fine, but it happened that she’d only fucked women for the last couple of years. I was her first man-fuck in ages. I was also the first ever to show her any sort of bdsm, since she’d asked me about it. Getting spanked didn’t do much for her (nor did crops, or nipple clamps), but she liked being tied.

She liked being commanded, too, and she loved having things done to her, that she was helpless to prevent. 

After we’d fucked ourselves too hungry and tired to move, I lay on her bed thinking I’d been a satisfactory reintroduction to heterosex (not that I was trying to do any sort of conversion), and a fairly good ambassador for bdsm. She’d had a fine, noisy time.  She was worried about one thing, though. I’d done a lot of work, thinking of how things will happen, choosing and directing the scenes, making her come, and so on. She got to lose control and go crazy, and I never lost control at all. She was very happy with what had been done to her, but she wondered what I got out of it.

 “You’re like a stone cold lesbian,” she said.

I said, “I have no idea what that even means, but I bet I’m not.”

So she told me what “stone cold lesbian” means.

To be continued, as always.    

I’d given Ana a special kind of power, when she realised that I was horny for her but wasn’t going to fuck her.

Not as long as she was my client was my caveat, but I don’t think  she understood that. She’d finally noticed that I existed, that I was only about her age, and that I seemed actually to be on her side, but she didn’t think about me much more than that.

And I wanted her, but wouldn’t take her. That made it safe for her to play a game she enjoyed. She teased the gods. She took risks, and defied luck or fate to smack her down. With me she’d found a an authority figure, a very small god, who wouldn’t smack her down.

Bogart sneak-checking Claude Rains’s ass. Tumescence not shown. Tip! You can avoid a world of embarrassment if you just wear a trench coat and never take it off.

Ana looked at me in disbelief. I seemed to be only reasonably stupid. But what I’d just said was amazingly stupid. I met her gaze, poker-faced. She considered, and eventually her mouth quirked. Then she fell forward, resting a hand on my thigh, laughing and catching her breath.

“Oh man. Aue, oh man. You.” She laughed some more. That was probably about other things I’d done or said. “Yeah, you’re my first probation officer. Are they all weird as you?”

“Probably,” I lied. “The others mostly hide it better.”

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“Jaime.” It wasn’t the first time I’d told her my name.

‘Okay Jaime.” It was the first time she’d used it. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Ana said, “Well, it’s…” After a minute, maybe longer, she said, “It’s.”

I said, “Ana? It’s … what?”

And that was that. She made a honking noise and the tears welled and spilled freely down her face. She closed her eyes so tight it seemed to screw up her entire face, and she opened her mouth wide and wailed like a baby. 

I said, “Um,” and then, “um, Ana, hey…” 

Tears in my shirt

So Ana turned around, still blind, and banged her head into my chest. Her tears kept coming, soaking through my shirt onto my skin. I’d already been as unprofessional as I could manage, so it was a bit late to be worried about the rules on touching my clients. I put my arm around her shoulders and rocked her gently. I said, “oh now, oh now, it’s okay to cry, you’re all right, you’re okay, oh now.”

And so on. Things you might say to a baby, where the words don’t really matter. I had no idea what to do. I’d started out being incredibly stupid. With Ana chastely wetting my shirt, I was none the wiser.

That’s the magic of shouting and saying “fuck” a lot. I had Ana’s attention. It was probably the first time. So I pulled out the wad of paper the desk sergeant had given me when I’d signed for her release. 

The five sheets of paper were her charge list. Not her criminal record, but a police list of all the things they’d ever charged her with, including charges that hadn’t gone to court, or where she’d been found not guilty. The charges, all of them, were just nonsense. She’d been arrested for taking a short-cut across a railway track. She’d been arrested for littering. She’d been arrested for obscene language. Someone really hated her. A cop, or someone with cop connections. 

I held these papers under Ana’s nose. “Look at this shit. No, look at it, Ana, bloody well look at it. These charges, they’re all bullshit things. It says here you got arrested for, what is it, for being unlawfully on premises. And the premises turn out to be the Sonsang plant. How do you get arrested for being in the front yard of a factory?”

She didn’t understand what I meant. I was angry, so I must be angry at her. So she tried to deflect by looking ashamed. “It was after hours. I had a friend worked there. I was looking for her.”

I doubted that that was the whole story, but I didn’t care. I’ve been a lot of places I didn’t have a clear legal right to be. And I hope so have you. I said, “This … stuff from the cops. You whole criminal record, it’s bullshit, isn’t it? You’ve never committed a real crime in your life. Have you?”

She sniffed.

“Or if you have, they never caught you. Look, Ana, I don’t know what’s going on here.   No-one gets arrested for this sort of thing. Except you. You do.”

Ana turned her head away. I caught the last bit of what she said: “… being Samoan in public.”

“Yeah, I thought that. But it’s too specific. It’s about you. There was that cop who pulled you in for swearing, because you didn’t fuck him.”

“Greg. Greg Curnow.” There was contempt and anger in her voice. 

“Yeah. Curnow’s an arsehole. But these arrests, this shit started back before you met Curnow. What’s going on, Ana? Is there some cop who hates your Dad, or what the fuck is it?”

Ana didn’t answer. But her eyes were glistening like deep brown rock-pools and they spilled over, tears running down her face. I hadn’t spanked her, but I’d made her cry.