It was the Bay to Breakers Marathon this weekend, and I had friends visiting to participate in the run with me. One of them was an old lover from college, whom I will call Dominic. This old friend is East Coast Italian. He is lean, dark, and dangerous-looking. In fact, he’s been told he could play Vampire Lestat much more credibly than Tom Cruise did. He oozes the kind of sensuality that men and woman alike swoon over, which is fun to watch in San Francisco. He also has a submissive streak that rarely ever surfaces, but always around me. Which is probably why I rarely see him anymore–his Italian machismo finds it too unnerving 
I’ve always encouraged my lovers, male and female, to talk about their fantasies, encouraging them to share even the deep, dark ones that they don’t really want to experience, but which have a powerful hold on them anyway. Five years ago, when we were 20, Dominic shared his.
We were having a post orgasmic nap one afternoon when he woke up with a jolt. He was shivering and had a panicky expression on his face, but his cock was rock hard. It was obvious he’d had a dream and I asked him what it was. He said it was a recurring dream that he didn’t want to talk about. I told him if it was a recurring dream, maybe it would help him to talk about it–that maybe talking about it in the light of day would lessen the dream’s disturbing power. He said no and I left it at that, spooning up behind him. I was just starting to doze back off when he started talking.
In his dreams, he said, there was a woman who had him in her power, and forced him to do things. He said that she forced him to have breast implants and then turned him into a she-male cum dumpster. He shook as he told me this. I asked him questions, and he answered, and I eventually noticed that he was touching himself as we lay spooned together. I dipped a hand between my own legs and collected our juices on my fingers, then ran them along the cleft of his ass. I asked him more questions and he talked about this fantasy-dream in a reluctant whisper, and as he did so, he stroked his cock faster and I pressed my finger inside him. He opened up fairly easily as I’d fingered him many times before, only this time I whispered humiliating things into his ear and held him tightly with my other arm. He ate it up, my little Nicky did, and came harder and louder than I’d ever heard him cum before.
Our relationship changed after that, mainly in that he let me use my strap-on during sex — something he’d flatly refused to allow me near him with. I had a lot of fun with him over the next few months, and then Spring Term ended and we went our separate ways for the summer. Well most of it. His dreams came back and he begged me to meet him at his parent’s cabin in Vermont. Which I did. And what happened that weekend both cured him of his recurring dream and cemented his submission to me — so much so that 5 years later, he still gets a slight tremor when he’s around me. Which amused me terribly this weekend.
