An Honest Answer at the Munch Earns Her Number

Dear fellow FemdomU readers,

“Tell me about the first time you were pegged,” she asked.

The noise of the crowded venue hummed in the background, but my focus remained entirely on the Domme across from me. Remembering my personal conduct rules, “Don’t be pushy” and “Always be respectful of yourself and of others,” I had spent the first half-hour of our conversation simply listening. I asked genuine questions about her background in the lifestyle, her preferences regarding protocols, and what she valued most in a submissive, keeping my own desires entirely off the table unless asked.

She swirled her drink, looking at me with an analytical, amused expression. “You’re very respectful,” she noted, leaning in slightly. “I appreciate a sub who doesn’t immediately start treating a Munch like an audition for his own fantasies. But let’s flip the script. I want to see how open you are. Everyone remembers their first kiss, or when they first had sex. Tell me about the first time you were pegged”

My pulse quickened, but I took a steadying breath. This was the moment to “Be honest” and “Be proud of who I am.” There was no room for false bravado, nor was there any room for shame.

“It was a mix of intense anticipation and absolute vulnerability,” I said, meeting her gaze squarely. “A partner I trusted completely had designed an intense BDSM scene specifically to ‘slut train’ me. Being deflowered anally was an entirely different world.”

As I spoke, the sights and sensations of that night flashed vividly across my mind…

Mistress had feminized me, dressing herself in a sharp garter belt and stockings. and five-inch heels that clicked against the hard floor as she walked. She had tightly bound me, blindfolded me, plugged me, and thoroughly whipped my ass. By the time the strikes stopped, my backside was on fire, leaving me fully pliable to be transformed into ‘the little bitch’ she wanted.

“On your knees, bitch,” Mistress commanded, pulling off my blindfold.

My eyes focused on a massive, black dildo strapped inside her leather harness. It looked a full eight inches long.

“Suck it,” she demanded.

“Right away, Mistress,” I whimpered. I opened my mouth and began slowly running my tongue up and down the rigid shaft.

I wanted to take my time and build her anticipation. “I’ll do anything you like,” I whimpered, caught up in the thrill. “You have a beautiful cock,” I moaned before sliding my lips over the tip. As I began to suck the heavy silicone, I felt her hands grip the back of my neck, forcing the shaft deep into my mouth and throat. I gagged a few times on the intense length.

“Come on bitch, you can do better,” she said. I accelerated my motion, using my hand to stretch my mouth to accommodate her. I must have blown her for at least ten grueling minutes; my jaw and mouth muscles were completely aching as I gave her my absolute all.

“Stop,” she commanded. “Get on the bench.” Shivering and dripping with pre-cum, I climbed onto the spanking bench. Mistress bound my hands and feet tightly to the arm and leg rests, locking my body securely down with my ass elevated and my red cheeks pulled wide apart.

The snap of her rubber gloves echoed in the quiet room as she extracted the plug. I gasped as my heavily lubricated hole throbbed, wide open and exposed. Before I could even catch my breath, Mistress aligned the massive cock and drove it inside me in one smooth, unyielding thrust. She didn’t stop to let me adjust to the girth; instead, she plunged all eight inches deeply inside, burying the base of the harness against my burning cheeks. The physical sensation of that thick silicone repeatedly pounding against my G-spot was intensely intoxicating. But more importantly, the overwhelming emotional feeling of being completely taken and conquered for the very first time was a true emotional aphrodisiac.

Bringing myself back to the present moment at the Munch, I looked across the table at the Domme and finished my thought.

“Looking back, that night was really when the whole concept of power exchange finally clicked for me. Being pegged by Her wasn’t just a physical act; it was the undeniable proof of Her absolute authority over my mind and body. In that bedroom, intimacy stopped being about conventional, safe boundaries. Instead, it became all about raw utility, trust, and vulnerability. Far from diminishing me, the experience established a permanent, deep-rooted sense of Her ownership. It was the first time I realized how liberating it feels to let go entirely.” 

She stared at me for a long, quiet minute, before a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. She leaned back, took a slow sip of her drink, and asked: “Give me your number?”

Sincerely,

pute