This is the true story of an encounter at a club with an achingly pretty girl who was way too much for me. I think it can be classed as femdom, purely in the sense that she was naturally dominant and I was naturally submissive. 

It ends with a degree of humiliation, so this intro is a heads up on that. I don’t have a ton of nonfiction stories to tell, but I’ve decided to type up a couple. I hope you like this one.

The girl in this story could have been created in a lab using all my fantasies. I was a total mess from the first minute. It was so bad that I don’t look back on our moment together as a missed opportunity. I genuinely think I would have been in deep trouble had we taken it further. 

Anyway, when I saw her crossing the room towards me my heart just sank. I know beggars can’t be choosers, but I do have a type, and she was it. She found a pretext to make conversation and the next time I looked around my friends had gone. 

Her brown hair was in a dainty pixie cut, which set off her heart-shaped face beautifully. Her nose lifted a little at the tip. This lent her face a hint of arrogance, in league with her lips, matte and parted in a condescending smile.  

I remember her large eyes, and how deftly she used them to communicate. She had such poise that I felt clumsy around her. In the time we spent together she was always ahead of me, in movement, thought and conversation. 

She looked like she had just stepped out of the world’s most elegant office, with a billowy pleated skirt that sat high on her slim waist and reached down to just below her knees. 

Tucked neatly into this was a pale, fitted satin blouse that hugged her chest and had a muted sheen under the nightclub lights. I remember her heels, the cute gold hoops in her ears and the ridges in the taut fabric bridging her pert breasts. 

I was drawn to her but terrified at the same time because my response to her was so involuntary. I think she knew she had made an impression on me, and If she hadn’t approached I would never have dared go near. 

But it was like she was charmed by my diffidence. And on my side, the idea that she could manipulate me and out-maneuver me was powerful, so I tried my best to play along and keep up. After a while she pulled me onto the dancefloor with a slender hand. At least there I wouldn’t have to try to talk to her.

But she danced extremely close, and I sensed the vague pressure of her breasts against my chest, moving rhythmically. My hands ran smooth along her back and I felt the outline of her bra straps slipping over my fingers as she moved with a disarming finesse. 

She looked up into my eyes and pulled me in for a kiss and it was like I was being sucked into a black hole. She could have done anything she wanted with me from that point. I remember wet lips and an insistent tongue, and I remember a dampness in my underwear, issued from an erection that was straining long before we started dancing.

Still clasped in a kiss, she pushed me into a corner and her hand found its way to my crotch. Alcohol, the pulsating music, but most of all her and her exploring tongue had made me dizzy. I was too distracted to realize that her hand was about to squeeze the vulnerable, ultra-sensitized head of my cock, rising to her touch against my pants. 

I kissed her with abandon, and cupped her ass and drew a hand up along the silken fabric of her blouse to the bare nape of her neck. The palm of her hand was flush against my shaft, inching its way up to a tip that was primed like a hair trigger. 

I wasn’t aware of the danger until it was too late. Her palm reached my head and I felt an immense, transformative rush that had already consumed me before I could think to hold it back. Her hand continued to slide up, the fingers trailing along the bulge of my cock, exerting more pressure than I could stand. 

Now it was unbearable. I broke from the kiss with a wince and my chest heaved. I was orgasming helplessly. It felt like my underwear was welling up with cum, and it just would not stop bursting from my cock. I dared to meet her eyes, now fixed with an inquisitive expression, and I responded with a meek nod that elicited a smile. 

Immediately she worked her hand faster, down and up again while I laid my head on her shoulder, almost gasping. At last she lifted her hand, inspecting a damp thumb and middle finger that she rubbed together. 

I emerged from my stupor and we both looked down at a large wet patch. I darted for the bathroom, my trousers plastered with cum to my upper thigh. 

When I returned she had gone back to her group, and I was a little relieved to find my friends once more, with a shirt untucked for the rest of the night. At one point I saw her across the bar, and noticed her whisper something in a friend’s ear before both looked my way, suppressing laughter.  

Thanks for reading!