Somali Dominatrix In Nepean

As Salam Alaikum, people. The name is Maimuna Ismail and I've got a wicked story to share with you folks today. I was born in the Puntland region of Somalia and moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, with my parents, Hodan and Ali Ismail, in the late 1980s. I grew up in the Capital, and consider myself as thoroughly a Canadian as anyone.

Home is where the heart is, and I'm not too proud to admit that if Canada hadn't taken my folks and I in when they did, we would have died during the inter-clan wars that plagued much of Somalia back then. A lot of my fellow Somalis talk fondly of the old days in the old country. Not me. Nostalgia isn't my style. Never has been and never will be.

I am thirty two years old, and hold a Bachelor's degree in Commerce from Carleton University. I'm currently working on my MBA at the Telfer School of Business at the University of Ottawa. These days, I'm the branch manager of a local bank. No, dear reader, I won't tell you which one. I can't have nosy people in a small and kind of conservative place like the City of Ottawa find out about my secret life.

My day job is boring, but I am quite good at it. If you saw me at work, a five-foot-nine, curvaceous and professionally attired black woman with light brown skin and long black hair, you'd think I were the picture of professionalism. I am polite, firm when I need to be, and always clear-minded and efficient. I am the boss, you see.

That's me at work, but my nocturnal activities would put a porn star to shame. I like sex, and I like kink, and I am not ashamed to say it. I am that rare Muslim woman who admits to liking sex, is proud to own her sexuality, and doesn't apologize for any of it.

Didn't think women like me existed, did you? We do, and I for one am glad to live in Canada, where my life is my own. Shoot, if I were in Somalia, I'd be stuck playing wife to some bozo instead of having the wicked fun that I'm having these days.

I was eighteen years old when I discovered BDSM, partly after reading a novel called Peeping At Pamela by Yolanda Celbridge. The stories of female on male domination in that book caused my imagination to run wild, and I began exploring BDSM through literature and other means. Thus began a journey that changed my life.

"Bashir, do you know why I have summoned you here today?" I said in a crisp voice as I sat comfortably in the throne-like chair at the center of my vast basement in suburban Barrhaven. Clad in a bright red Dirac dress, with a crimson Hijab, I looked every bit the traditional Somali woman, but nothing could be further from the truth.

"I have angered you Mistress Maimuna and I humbly apologize," Bashir said meekly, and I smiled and nodded at him. Kneeling before me, clad only in his underwear, Bashir still cut an impressive figure. Tall and dark-skinned, with curly black hair and light brown eyes, this beautiful young Somali stud was my favorite supplicant, and the only person of color among my stable of submissives.

"What will you do for your Mistress to appease her?" I said, looking into Bashir's eyes. The young Somali sighed deeply, for he knew what he was getting himself into. I am the definition of intensity, I like to push my subs, male and female, to their absolute limit, and sometimes beyond those limits, if they can take it. I don't bullshit, ladies and gentlemen. Nope, I am the real deal. A true dominant woman.

"Anything you wish," Bashir said, and I smiled and nodded. These were just the words I was longing to hear. I rose from my chair and walked up to Bashir. I cocked an eyebrow, and Bashir obligingly brought those sweet lips of his to my feet. I smiled as Bashir began sucking on my toes, eager to please his mistress, like a good submissive should.

"Enough! Your lips are sweet, my dear Bashir, but you know what I want," I said, taking Bashir's face into my hands and looking into those doe-like eyes of his. Bashir is actually a really pretty guy, but with his muscular build, thick mustache and goatee, he manages to look masculine instead of dandyish. I hate metrosexual guys and the effeminate types I see everywhere in the City of Ottawa these days. Men should men, dammit!

"Yes Mistress," Bashir says, and then he turns around, and shows me that sexy ass of his. Like a lot of women out there, I am a sucker for a guy with a nice ass. Bashir has a cute ass, one that looks like it ought to be able to move about by itself without needing his fine body for support. I'm just saying, this Somali brother definitely got it going on!

"Such a cute ass you've got here," I whisper, and I gently caress Bashir's sweet bottom, and I swear, I felt Bashir tense as I touched him. Good lad, he knows that those hands of mine can take a man to the heights of pleasure and the depths of torment, often within moments of each other. What can I say? I am cruel, and the pain of others is my pleasure.

"Thank you Mistress Maimuna," Bashir replies softly, and I smile and then I order him to pry his cute ass cheeks wide open. Obediently, Bashir complies with my order. Donning gloves, I began fingering that ass of his. I always inspect my men before exploring their inner worlds, so to speak, and I was pleased to discover that Bashir cleansed himself, as per my orders.

"Good lad," I purr just as softly, and then I playfully smack Bashir's ass, and the young Somali stud jerks in surprise. I order him to stay where he is, and Bashir does as he is told. I fetch my favorite toy, a shiny black strap-on dildo, and then I rub Aloe Cream all over it as lubricant. While prepping myself, I admire my reflection in the mirror. A wicked grin creases my face as I see the tension in Bashir's handsome mug.

"Don't fret, Bashir, I'm going to fuck your ass good and proper," I whisper to Bashir, matter-of-factly, and he nods without saying a word. I gently caress Bashir's back and buttocks, and playfully lick his ear, then I kiss him on the cheek. As much as they piss me off with their bullshit, I love my Somali brothers.

Given how conservative Somali people are, given the twin influences of Islam as a faith, and Northeast African culture, on the very core of our beings, I never thought I'd meet a fellow Somali who liked BDSM and Kink. Imagine my surprise when, one day, as I logged onto my Fetlife account, I received a friend request from a guy calling himself SomaliStud89.

For those of you who don't know, Fetlife is for kinky people what Facebook is to the vanilla world. I've been on this site for years, and I've joined several groups that revolve around Muslims in the BDSM lifestyle. I added SomaliStud89 as a friend, and he turned out to be Bashir Abdallah, this young Somali guy who goes to the same Masjid I do. Small world, eh?

SomaliStud89 A.K.A. Bashir Abdallah identifies as bisexual, at least on Fetlife, and proudly displayed his interests in strap-on sex, female domination, interracial sex, cuckolding and oh yeah, more strap-on sex. Right up my alley, considering these are some of my favorite things. I just never thought I'd get to do them with one of my people. Most of my lovers, male and female, have been white.

"Ready or not here I come," I say with a laugh, and I smack Bashir's cute ass for good measure. Gripping Bashir's hips, I hold him firmly into place and then push the strap-on dildo into his ass. With a firm thrust, I penetrate Bashir, and the Somali stud cries out. I love to hear a man scream while I'm fucking his ass with a strap-on dildo. I think it's the sadist in me!

"Oh fuck," Bashir cries out, and I laugh and smack Bashir's ass while I continue to fuck him with my strap-on dildo. In the kink world, this practice is called pegging. I have pegged quite a few guys, but to date, Bashir is the only black guy I've ever banged with my strap-on dildo. This is a fantasy of mine, and thanks to Bashir, I get to make it true.

"Scream for your Mistress," I whisper into Bashir's ear, as I wrap my arms around his torso, and fuck him with gusto. I plunge the strap-on dildo into his ass, and Bashir howls like a madman. From the way he's bucking his hips, I can tell that Bashir likes what I am doing to him. Besides, is it me or is his dick getting hard? Tentatively I grab Bashir's dick and stroke it while pegging the hell out of his sweet Somali ass.

"Fuck me harder," Bashir all but screams, and I laugh and kiss him fiercely as I began fucking him even harder. Shoot, the brother is asking for it and who am I to refuse him? Besides, I'm not the love-me-tender type. I like rough sex, both giving and receiving. It's just the way I get down, ladies and gentlemen. I am liking this, big-time.

A lot of women are turned off by male bisexuality, but not me. Bashir here is bisexual, and his Fetlife profile is packed with pictures of everything from interracial gay porn to blonde-haired Brazilian transsexuals riding big black dicks to chicks with strap-on dildos, posturing sexily like only they can. I find that hot, and bisexual guys are far more open to trying new things sexually than straight males. I definitely have more fun with bisexual guys. They rock!

I fuck Bashir's ass with gusto until the Somali stud finally taps out, and I smile and pull my dildo out of his ass. Bashir slumps on the carpeted floor of my basement, and sighs happily. The brother just got the ass-fucking of the century, courtesy of a certain bossy Somali sister with a strap-on dildo. Never let it be said that Muslim women can't be kinky!

"That was amazing, Mistress Maimuna," Bashir whispers, and he smiles at me, his doe-like eyes filled with utmost gratitude. For some reason, my heart skips a beat, and I smile back shyly. Damn Somali guys and their mesmerizing almond-shaped golden brown eyes, they know how to mesmerize a sister and got no shame in their game!

"I know how you can thank me," I say with a wink, and then I return to my chair, and unfasten the strap-on dildo, before tossing it aside. Locking eyes with Bashir, I spread my thighs invitingly. My hairy pound is staring at Bashir, but I see hesitation in his eyes.

"Yes ma'am," Bashir says, and then he rises to his feet and walks up to me. Once more, he kneels, and this time, I give Bashir something much tastier to suck on than my damn toes. For some reason, Bashir sniffs my pussy and I cock an eyebrow in suspicion. Bashir smiles up at me and then begins licking my pussy.

Another thing which I'm thankful to Canada for? When I came to Ontario with my family, I was close to the age when, back in Somalia, I would have been "modified" down below in the name of senseless tradition. If not for Canada, I wouldn't be able to feel Bashir's tongue in my pussy, or his fingers worming their way in my womanhood, sending tendrils of pleasure deep inside of me. I'd be completely numb down below, all because of mindless traditions whose true purposes and origins no one in Africa or the Middle East even remembers.

"Lick that pussy, Bashir!" I cry out, and Bashir eagerly obeys my command, which is more of a plea at this point, for I am squirming and moaning in pleasure, a wild woman, no longer in control. Bashir buries his face between my thighs and eats my pussy like a condemned man devouring his last meal, and I honestly, can't get enough of his magic tongue.

"Oh fuck," I cry out softly, for I am melting under Bashir's relentless assault. The brother is devouring my pussy, and I am pretty close to the edge. Ruthlessly Bashir shoves me back, and his tongue darts into my cunt, sliding this way and that, and then, finally, the Aha moment comes...and the magic happens. Orgasmic, I howl like a banshee. Bashir sees me squirming and howling and doesn't let up, licking and probing my cunt until I literally beg for mercy.

"Mistress is pleased, I take it?" Bashir asks with a coy smile, much later, and I nod gently. I wrap my arms around Bashir, and we kiss passionately. Without another word being spoken, Bashir and I crossed the last line which I keep between myself and my subs. We undress hastily, and then began doing our thing.

"Fuck your Mistress," I whisper into Bashir's ear, and he smiles and kisses me, then I feel his feverish lips on my tits as his mouth ensnares my nipples. Bashir grins and continues sucking on my tits, gently caressing my breasts with his firm hands. When he pinches my nipples, I wince, then smile. Bashir is full of surprises, and I definitely like that in a man.

I feel Bashir's hot, strong and masculine body against mine as he kisses and caresses me, drawing me into his world. We tumble around on the carpet, not caring about the dividing lines between mistress and submissive, for we are only a man and a woman in need. I need Bashir as desperately as he needs me, in a most primal way.

"I want you inside of me," I say, and I look into Bashir's eyes as my hands caress his navel, then go straight for his groin. I grasp his manhood in my hands and smile hungrily. Bashir is both long and thick. Not porn star but pretty damn big, and I can't wait to feel him inside of me.

"First you need to taste me as I've tasted you," Bashir says in a tone of quiet confidence, and I nod, amused at how the tables have turned. I, the dominant woman, the sultry dominatrix who cracks the whip, am kneeling before my African king for part of me is dying to worship at his altar.

"As you wish," I whisper, and Bashir smiles and nods as I kneel before him, and begin sucking on his dick. The hot, salty and musky scent of Bashir's manhood is wonderfully intoxicating. Without hesitation I suck Bashir, loving the way he tastes in my mouth. No two men smell or taste alike, ladies and gentlemen. Simple biological fact.

With my expertise at handling the D, as today's youth call it, it doesn't take me long to get Bashir all worked up. I've got him hard as a piston, and the Somali stud is all set and ready to go. I smile at Bashir, gripping his dick tightly and watching him pant and sigh. Once more, I've got the power. Hell, I've got my stud by the balls, literally, and we both know it.

"Beg for your Mistress to let you inside of her," I whisper gently, and Bashir's glazed eyes look into mine. I smile coyly, and Bashir nods, then pleads to be allowed inside of me. At this point, my hairy cunt is already dripping wet and I needed Bashir as badly as he needed me, but as his mistress, I've got to keep the upper hand.

"Oh damn," Bashir sighs happily as I grab his hard dick and shove it into my cunt. Wrapping my arms around Bashir's torso, I literally press his body against mine. My breasts are squished against his hairy chest, and Bashir groans as he thrusts into me. Little does he know that I am totally controlling the action. Bashir isn't fucking me. Nope, I am fucking myself using his dick, as I would a dildo. Them's the rules!

"Tear my pussy up, if you dare!" I say, grabbing Bashir's face in my hands and glaring into his eyes. Bashir answers my challenge without a word, slapping my big Somali derriere, hard, and slamming his dick into my pussy. Hard and fast he pumps into me, and I ride him hard, loving this more aggressive style. Bashir's got it, whatever it is, but he sure needs some encouragement sometimes. Good thing he met me, eh?

"Slap my ass, dammit!" I shriek as Bashir takes me on all fours, in the doggy style position, my all-time favorite. Bashir is bucking behind me, as I grind my thick butt against his groin, driving that wonderfully long and thick dick of his deeper inside of me. Bashir slaps my butt real hard, hard enough to leave bruises on it, and I scream, for I absolutely love it.

Hours later, Bashir and I lay side by side on the carpeted floor of my basement. I wonder what my neighbors will think, for Bashir and I got quite loud and sound carries a long way in these brand-new houses. Barrhaven is growing faster than the rest of Ottawa. I bought this house two years ago, and it was brand new then. Now it's one of the oldest in the street.

"Thank you my angel," I say with a smile, and kiss Bashir on the forehead. Taking my hand in his, Bashir brings it to his lips and kisses it. I am purring with happiness and sheer contentment, not at all the same things, and I know that Bashir's dicking down of yours truly had something to do with it.

"Pleasure's all mine Mistress Maimuna," Bashir says, and then, with my permission, he rises to his feet and puts his clothes back on. Bashir looks really good in his green and white Algonquin College sportsman's jacket, and black jeans. I bet all the girls on his campus notice Bashir when he walks by. Like the true bisexual he is, Bashir enjoys the ladies but also likes the fellas.

"Go get them, Bashir, my sweet lion," I whisper as Bashir nods at me politely, smiles and then exits my home. For a long time I stand at the door, watching him as he gets back on his motorcycle, then heads out of my street, back to his friends and family. Bashir and I definitely crossed a line that night. I have had male and female lovers, but I don't usually sleep with my subs. Oh, well. Rules were made to break. I've got no regrets. I had fun. Life goes on, that's all there is to it.