Taylor sat at her desk reflecting on the way her life had changed since the
arrival of the new boss. Although work did not add up to the total sum of her
life, it still occupied a major part of it. To that end the new atmosphere at
work, one of overbearence and great pressure, was affecting her greatly.
Fred, the new boss, had arrived from the UK some months previously, to
replace Lee who had retired. Life under Lee, at the small real estate firm
in Nova Scotia, had been lively and pleasant. Taylor had worked a total of
five years for the firm, all but the last few with Lee as her boss. When
Fred first arrived, the contrast could not have been starker. Whereas Lee
was laid back, Fred was uptight and demanding. Where Lee had been full of
humour, Fred was very dour and aggressive in his manner.

Taylor, as well as the other staff, was made to work longer hours, with no
immediate improvement in pay or conditions. Ordinarily Taylor would have left
and found another job, but in the current economic climate there simply were
no other jobs. Having taken out a new mortgage and buying the car on HP just
before Fred arrived, she had no choice but to suffer the current conditions.
The condition had reached an intolerable stage after Fred had called her into
his office and demanded that she dressed more provocatively for the clients
and that she should also show more ‘affection’ towards him. Taylor was
dumbfounded, how could this be happening! When she complained to Fred that
she found this request unacceptable he simply informed her that it was not a
request, and that should she not agree she was always welcome to find
employment elsewhere. It was at that moment the Taylor decided to take
matters into her own hands to see if she could put an end to this intolerable
situation.

Taylor arrived in the office the very next morning a good hour before
everyone else. She had always been entrusted with the keys since Lee’s days
at the office and the situation had not yet changed under Fred. On this
particular day she was dressed, as she had been instructed to dress, in a
very sexy manner. She had on her highest pumps, being around 5’4″ tall she
always wore high heels to accentuate her height. On this day however, the
black patent pair she had on, had heels over 4″ in height. Her trim legs were
encased in very sheer, black, thigh high, stockings. If one followed the line
of her legs upwards, one would not reach the bottom of her skirt until ones
eyes were only 6″ from her waist. The skirt was black, very tight fitting,
and hugged every contour of her well-defined ass. She had chosen a medium
blue silk blouse, which highlighted her deep blue eyes. The top two buttons
were open to expose a view of her ample cleavage, encased very neatly in a
tight fitting black lace bra. Over the top of this ensemble, was a well-
tailored jacket matching her very short skirt. The make-up for today was
heavy, not sluttish, but strong in its effect. For example, heavy eyeliner to
strengthen her eyes and rich red lip gloss to embolden her full lips.
Although very sexy, the overall effect was that of a power dresser. She had
hated the idea of having to dress up for her clients and her ‘sexist pig’ of
a boss, but by dressing in a powerful but sexy way; she could still
demonstrate some defiance. She had never dressed this way before, and to her
surprise, she quite liked the feeling of sensuality and power, that the
clothes gave her.

On entering the main office Taylor went straight to Fred’s office, and to her
relief the lock on the door had not been changed. Obviously Fred did not
realise that the office keys that Taylor had, also opened his office. Once
inside she closed the door behind her and headed towards Fred’s desk. She
rummaged through some of the papers on top of the desk and then through the
draws, which fortunately had no locks. It was in one of these draws that she
discovered something that aroused her attention. There was a file marked
‘Langham Deal’ under all the other files. Langham was an area, some 5 miles
from the office, which was used as a waste disposal site. What would Fred
have a file on this site for she asked herself? It did not take her long to
find out. It appeared that Fred was striking a deal to sell the land to the
local county for the building of a school. It also appeared that Fred was
posing under a pseudonym as the owner of the property, and was going to leave
the country as soon as the money for the site was deposited into his bank
account. He would defraud the local county out of nearly half a million
dollars and by the time they would find out about it he would have left the
country. It had always intrigued Taylor why this Englishman would want to
come out to the wilds of a small Nova Scotia town, when he was obviously used
to the bright lights of London. Now she had her answer and, it occurred to
her, she had a lot more. For the first time in a couple of months a rich
smile was discernible on Taylor’s lips.

She had to wait a further hour before the rest of the office staff began to
arrive for work. That had given her plenty of time to photocopy the various
documents and to make sure no one would be aware of her presence in Fred’s
office earlier on that morning.

As the staff had arrived all them had commented on Taylor’s upbeat demeanour.
She simply replied that today was start of a new beginning for her. When the
others had asked what she meant, she explained that it was a feeling deep
inside that she felt was to vague to convey in words. This was not too far
from the truth; Taylor did indeed feel the happiest she had felt since Fred
had arrived, in fact she could not remember feeling this content. You see, a
plan had started to take shape in Taylor’s mind and the more she focused on
it the happier she became. Taylor also noticed that the thoughts going
through her mind were starting to arouse her sexually.

When Fred finally arrived at the office at around 10:00am, one hour after the
rest of the staff, he had that usual look of disdain and superiority on his
face. As he passed through the main office to his own he caught a glimpse of
Taylor looking right at him with a huge smile across her face. Fred chose to
ignore this but he found it a little disconcerting, all the same.

The day past much as usual at the office, nothing out of the ordinary
happened except for the fact the Taylor was very late back from her lunch
break. At the close of day, all the staff had left except for Fred who had
decided to go over a few of his new plan, just to confirm that all the
details we correct and that nothing could go wrong. How wrong he was going to
be!

One hour after all the staff had gone, there was a knock on Fred’s office
door. This startled him somewhat as he had locked the main door when all the
others had left for home.

‘Who is it’, Fred enquired.

‘Only me’, came the candid reply, as Taylor let herself in and seated herself
on top of Fred’s desk.

Fred could smell the perfume that she had obviously just applied to her body.
He could also see that she had changed into something even sexier than that
which she had been wearing earlier. This time she wore a dress, as if going
to a gala of some kind. The dress was made of black, crushed, velvet that
encased her body from the top of her neck to just above her shoes. It gave
her added presence partly due to it’s halter neck design but also from the
split at the side which ran right the way up to her thigh. Fred could just
make out her to top of her sheer black stocking. The heels on black patent
stilettos were over four inches high, and added immensely to the impression
she wished to make. The same could be said for her make-up and hair. Gone
were the soft curls around her face, her hair was now pulled back into a
tight pony tail which sat on the top of her head. Her eyeliner was now much
heavier than before making her eyes them seem sterner and less yielding.

‘What are you doing here this time of night?’ Fred questioned, in a rather
abrupt tone.

He had been rather caught of guard by Taylor’s actions and the way she now
dressed. Although part of him still fancied the arse off of her and thought
of those deep red painted lips moving slowly and deliberately up and down his
hard cock.

‘I just thought we should have a little chat about your future’

‘About my future, what the bloody hell are you on about you daft bitch!’

‘Well, lets just say that from now on life, for you, is going to take a new
direction. You see, I’ve had a chance to think about where you future best
lies and how that rather cock-sure attitude, of yours, can best be adjusted.
I was in your office earlier today and happened to come across those
documents that referred to the Langhem Deal’.

At this, the blood left Fred’s face with a speed that surprised even Taylor.

‘It seems you have been a very ‘silly’ boy, and I intend to rectify the
situation’.

She said these last few words in the tone of a mother admonishing a small
child. Taylor was in fact very excited now, she could see by the look on
Fred’s face that she had him by the balls.

‘What do you mean you intend to rectify the situation?’, enquired Fred in a
far more passive tone than before.

‘The documents, or rather copies of them, are in a safe place, and should
anything happen to me, they will be passed on to the appropriate authorities.
You are to come with me now, without asking any more questions and do exactly
what I say. Failure to do what I say will result in the documents being
handed out tonight to the police’.

She smiled sweetly at him and ran her hands slowly up her long legs making
sure Fred was watching every detail.

Fred went to open his mouth but just as he was about to say something Taylor
slapped him hard with all the force her arm could muster. The resulting sting
and red mark on Fred’s face caused him to stare back at Taylor in disbelief.
She thought that he might react at this point, and it was the most difficult
moment since their exchange had begun. She was proved wrong; Fred simply
resigned himself to the moment, to shocked to react. His mind was spinning
trying to find a way out of this situation. He would go along with her for
now and try to reason with her later. That was it, once both of them had had
a chance to settle down he would then reason with her and reach a positive
solution. Just then Taylor interrupted his thoughts.

‘Walk outside to my car and wait for me there, I will be out shortly’,
intoned Taylor

Fred did as he was bade and waited some ten minutes for Taylor to lock the
main office door and then join him at the car. Once there, Taylor told him to
get in and to put on the blindfold she had just produced from her bag. Once
in the car Taylor checked the Fred’s blindfold was on securely and then
started the ignition, driving Fred towards his new life.

Taylor drove around for about eighty minutes before reaching the destination
that was to be Fred’s new home. The house, a slightly dilapidated building,
had once belonged to an aunt of Taylor’s. It was situated some twenty minutes
drive from town, in a very inaccessible part of large woodland. Taylor had
deliberately driven around in circles for sixty minutes to ensure that Fred
would not only be confused as to the location, but to also make him believe
that the house was in a very remote part of the country, quite some distance
from town.

On pulling up outside the house Taylor surveyed the scene. There was no body
around, nobody ever came to this part of the woodland. The nearest neighbours
were over 4 miles away. She opened Fred’s door and motioned for him to follow
her by holding the underside of his arm firmly. Fred followed without making
a sound still believing that this would all be sorted out once Taylor settled
down, then he might be able to laugh about it at some point soon in the
future.

Once inside the house, Taylor led Fred down some steps to the basement. Fred
was aware of a slightly old, dank, smell and realised that Taylor must be
guiding him into a basement. Once Fred had been taken fully into the chamber,
Taylor quickly left him and moved deftly to the top of the stairs. Once at
the top she secured the hatch door behind her. This was no easy task as the
door was made of steel and lead, and was, therefore, quite heavy. She next
passed through the cellar door, which again was hard to shut due to the fact
it was made of the same material and the hatch. She again, secured this door
as she had the other by placing a padlock through the steel latch. Taylor
then went back to her car.

It had been rather fortunate that her aunt had taken the precaution of having
a nuclear bunker installed into the basement of the house. The family had
been against the idea, on account of the expense, but Taylor’s aunt, ever the
pragmatist had insisted that it be built, and built thoroughly. Since her
aunt had died, there were no relatives living who remembered that the old
house had contained a nuclear bunker. Taylor had often thought it was a shame
that the old Colonial style house had been left to turn to ruin, there was
nothing Taylor could do, her had no money when she died and neither did
Taylor. At least now it would serve a purpose.

On the way back home she felt a growing sense of excitement which made her
whole body physically tinge. She felt her nipples erect against the lace of
her bra. The growing confidence that she felt within herself was now
manifesting itself in a sexual way. To put it frankly she had not felt this
horny in years. Having someone within her power, having a very strong hold
over them had simply been a way of exacting revenge. However, it was rapidly
turning into a sexual journey for Taylor. She did not understand it all, but
it was certainly an experience and sensation she did not want to lose.

Par 1 of 3

Taylor Takes Control 1 – Her Beginning
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

There I was, lying on my belly on the floor of my own bedroom, naked and severely hogtied. My arms were wrenched around painfully far behind my back, straining my shoulder sockets considerably and arching my bound torso upward. Quarter-inch cotton cord tied my elbows together high behind my bowed spine, then described a tight spiral all the way down my pressed-together forearms to my elaborately lashed-up wrists. Another long rope was wrapped quite redundantly about my upper chest and shoulders, but it wasn’t these bonds that troubled me. My feet were very widely spread, with my ankles lashed tightly to either end of a sturdy wooden broomstick. Normally, this wouldn’t be too bad either, but my housemate Gisele had also left me with my legs severely back-angled at the knees, my bound feet pulled all the way up behind me so that the center of the broomstick could be part of the elaborate lashing securing my forearms and wrists. This cruel hogtying pulled my restrained, contorted body into a taut bow, stressing every muscle and joint. Yet not even this comprehensive bondage was the worst of my predicament. One more short, taut, quarter inch rope was braided into my ponytail. From here it ran down the center of my back, through the crack of my ass to finally be tied pitilessly tightly about both the base of my genitals and the head of my back-bent erection. Trapped full of blood, fully engorged and pulsating, my straining hard-on was thus yanked cruelly backward between my spread-apart legs. Not only did this crush my rope-bound balls back up into my anus, it made it impossible to lower my blindfolded, ball-gagged head in the slightest amount without causing my hyper-extended penis and crushed testicles incredible pain.

I’d been bound up this way for over an hour, waiting for my delectable female housemate Gisele to finally return here with her two equally hot friends Jakki and Natalie. But then I finally heard them opening the apartment door, and my already pounding heartbeat lurched into overdrive. Their voices were all high and delighted and excited, and I could hear them still discussing the bizarre situation.

“You mean he’s sponsoring the whole damn party? Providing us with a quarter once of coke, an once of reefer, and a cold case of Heineken?” This was Natalie, the one who really made my heart pound. “And in exchange for that he wants us to torture him?”

“That’s right!” crowed Gisele. “We get to tie him up, dress him up, whip and beat the shit out of him, feminize him, sodomize him, and do anything we can think of to torture, degrade, and humiliate him, for as long as the party lasts!”

“We don’t have to have sex with him?”

“Hell no! That’s the best part of the deal. He doesn’t get to penetrate any of us. He gets to ejaculate once, at a point and by a method of our choosing. But we get to penetrate him all we want! That’s why I insisted you bring over all your strap-ons. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get totally coked-up and dildo that little sissy-boy housemate of mine to death! After I whip the living shit out of him, that is.” There were cries of disbelieving excitement about that prospect, more giddy chatter, as Gisele led her two friends across the small apartment and into my bedroom. The other girls got their first sight of me naked and elaborately trussed up on the floor then, and they both burst forth into shrieks of laughter.

“Look what we’ve got to play with!”

“No way! You weren’t kidding! Is that Tom? It is!”

“Nope,” announced Gisele. “For tonight, that’s just a torture-slut fuck-object that has no name. It doesn’t deserve one. But for convenience we can it Slut-boy. Look, what did I tell you: two fat eight-balls on the mirror, an ounce bag of sin semilla and papers, and the cold case of Heineken’s in the fridge there. A totally awesome private party for three very deserving girls. But best of all, we’ve also got us a completely helpless, tightly trussed-up torture-slut to do whatever the hell we want with!”

“I’m getting some downright sinful ideas already!” exclaimed Natalie, sending shivers down my bowed spine, and Jakki eagerly agreed. I was of course blindfolded by buckling black leather, and too overwhelmed with humiliation anyway to even think of looking up at these women as they gloated over me. But their gorgeous faces and forms were as familiar to me as their voices, and I could easily picture and was tormented by their beautiful superiority.

Natalie was of course the worst. Five-foot eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, she was a very big girl with orange-freckled skin, huge breasts, big arms and shoulders, columnar legs and long, thick, shiny reddish-golden hair. She was so beautiful, yet so large and strong that she pushed all the right buttons in my submission-obsessed psyche. Gisele, my housemate, was her best friend and total opposite, being incredibly slender and just above petite at five-feet four. Her best features were an angelic, heart-shaped face; china doll features; long, wavy, flowing red hair a shade darker than Natalie’s; and of course that succulent, tiny-waisted, pointy-nippled, incredibly lean and spare little body. Jakki was of more average build, with straight blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but even she was patently way too hot for my slump-shouldered, shallow-chested weakness. All three women had of course habitually rejected my sexual advances contemptuously. They were in their early twenties, and had no use for me at all at thirty-four, which they considered sexually defunct. Thus the sure knowledge of my inferiority to such incredible creatures both tormented and turned me on no end, until at last it drove me to make them this outrageous offer. Still they were discussing it.

“But why? I mean look at him there! Why did he agree to this? Why does he want us to tie him up, butt-fuck him, humiliate him, and torture him?”

“Because he’s fucked up! He’s a pervert! Who the fuck cares! Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth here! Let’s just have some outrageous fun! We can get royally fucked up, marshal all the anger and humiliation of the unjustly oppressed female sex, and take it all out on this pathetic little Slut-boy here! I think I’m going to corn-hole him until I come about a thousand times! Beat the crap out of him; ream him out, maybe even piss in his face before I’m done. Are you guys into it, or what?”

“Hell, yeah!”

“Whoo-hoo!”

The girls slapped high-fives, hugged and kissed. Candles were lit here, there, and everywhere; Jimi Hendrix was put on the stereo, and Gisele got three cold beers from the fridge. Groveling blindly, sucking the big gag-ball, I lay on my belly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, where the drugs I’d promised them were all laid out. The three girls sat on the couch to drink and party, resting their feet on my hog-tied form, occasionally kicking or spurning me when they changed position or merely felt like it.

The first few beers were guzzled down, a fat joint was rolled and smoked, and there was much chopping and sniffing from the table above me. Soon the girls were talking and laughing happily and excitedly, everyone going a mile a minute, and I seemed almost forgotten. Or so I thought. But then suddenly someone reached down, grabbed the taut rope connecting my ponytail and my back-bent erection, and pulled on it hard. I gave a strangled bleat into the ball gag, and then recognized Natalie’s sneering laugh.

“That’s great! Clever bondage trick, Gisele! But will he be able to eat pussy like that? My black boyfriend doesn’t believe in it, and I could use a good tongue-slut.”

“I know a way to find out!” sang Gisele

“And if he can’t, we’ll just have to untie him,” added Jakki. “After all, we can’t very well whip him raw and butt-fuck him the way he is now.”

“The way it is now,” corrected Natalie. “This thing has no longer has any fixed sex. It exists only to be used in whatever fashion we, its Mistresses, see fit. I myself intend to use it as an automatic cunnilingus machine. After that I say we untie it, feminize it, tie it up again in a more accessible fashion. Then we can beat it and fuck it to within an inch of it’ s measly life!”

“Agreed!” the others chorused. Bottles clinked, and they drank to the plan. A few more lines of coke were snorted, but it was my heart that was truly racing. At last the girls pushed the coffee table away, and Natalie moved around to confront my blindfolded, ball-gagged face. Strong hands brusquely removed both restraints, and soon I was gasping and blinking up at the woman I most coveted, my face flushed red with unbearable shame. She sneered back, beautiful, contemptuous, and snarled at me.

“Here we go, slut-bitch-piece of shit! Here’s your first test of the night! I want you to suck on the crotch a nigger fucks! And you’d better do a damn good job of it! I haven’t come in someone’s face in over a year now, and I fully expect to come in yours! If I don’t.Oh, baby, your night is going to be such a living hell!”

“Not that it won’t be anyway!” Gisele chimed in cheerfully. “I’m going to see to that! I’m going to make our stupid little Slut-boy here so fucking sorry it ever dreamed up this ridiculous stunt! Cocaine just makes me so aggressive, so wild and demanding! And this piece of shit fucking begged me to be just as cruel and heartless and creative and inventive and pitiless as I can possibly be in emasculating it! Didn’t you, Slut-boy?”

“Yes, Mistress Gisele,” I managed to mumble at the floor. They all shrieked again with drug-assisted glee. Then without further ado Natalie lifted the leather skirt she was wearing, revealing nothing but a beautifully shaved vagina and winking pink anus beneath. She sat on the floor in front of me, splay-legged, and scootched herself forward until she’d pushed her pubis right into my face. One hand went to the carpet for support, and the other found the back of my head. She breathed down excitedly, “Now, Slut-boy, picture my bad boy Jamie hammering his long hard tool inside me while you eat me out! Wouldn’t you like to taste and feel that big black licorice stick yourself?”

Not giving me a chance to reply, she shoved my face down to meet her hungry vagina, yanking on my connected cock and balls brutally. Torturing my crushed nuts and back-bent prick, she forced me to perform cunnilingus on her while the other girls continued to party and coke up. I even perceived them feeding Natalie spoons as she gasped and writhed and pumped against my face, and the speed with which she humped my flickering tongue seemed to accelerate endlessly. At last she cried out the first orgasm of the night, as her already running with liquid womanhood suddenly spat out a thick ejaculate, straight into my frantically working face. I did my best to lap up everything I could reach, ignoring the slime dripping down my features to tidy up Natalie. This was the culmination of one of my fondest dreams here, and I savored it while the three girls cheered, clinking bottles and chugging beers to the first slut-soiling of the night.

That called for more weed, more lines, and fresh bottles of beer. I lay there forgotten and soiled while they partook of their refreshments, but then at last they turned their attention to truly preparing me for a night of relentless feminization and mental, emotional, physical and sexual abuse. My ankles were untied, my legs released from the terrible broomstick, and then only the cock-rope held me bowed back. This was truly an agonizing state of affairs, and I was aware of little else but the pain in my genitals while the three young women proceeded to dry-shave my legs and groin quickly free of hair. Prickly nylon stockings of purest white were pulled up over the irritated skin, maddening, and then these were clipped to the garters and belt they arranged about my waist. White, cruelly tight high-heeled pumps were jammed onto my feet, and an incredibly confining girdle was laced up tightly about my mid-section.

While I gasped for breath and fought to think past the agonizing sensation of my sex organs being slowly ripped off, Jakki made my face up like worse kind of slut: heavy on the eye shadow, rouge, and lipstick. A white silk ribbon became a choker for my neck, and at last Gisele sprayed me liberally with her cheapest perfume. Then they all stepped back to have a look and a laugh, to do more drugs and revel in their handiwork.

For fifteen minutes I continued to squirm, whimpering at the pain in my groin, pleading abjectly with my eyes, while they extensively and hilariously ridiculed and critiqued my appearance and performance (so far) as their pathetic little torture slut. Then over more lines of blow the decision was made to mummify me with cellophane, immobilizing me and leaving only my head, groin and buttocks open to the air. These areas would then be free to receive the long night’s concentrated abuse, while the rest of me struggled in vain.

This process was carried out by first using strapping tape to bind my legs tightly together at the ankle, knee, and thigh. Then an entire foot-wide roll of ordinary household cellophane was wrapped tightly all about my legs from the pointed toes of my women’s shoes to just above the tops of my horribly scratchy stockings. More tape sealed up this sheath, and in a twinkling my legs had become one unit, itchy, cocooned, able to bend a little together but not budge at all independently. It was determined then that the current rope bindings restraining my arms, head and genitals were too cumbersome to be similarly cocooned, and these ropes were finally released. At last the relentless pressure on my neck and groin eased, and I sobbed unabashedly in relief.

The three girls jeered at me in disbelief (“Had enough all ready? Oh, Slut-boy, we’re just getting started on you!”) They proceeded to tighten the ropes about my chest and shoulders, then to retie my forearms crosswise behind my back in overlapping fashion. This made a much more compact package of my upper body. Another entire roll of cellophane was brought out, and wrapped around and around and around my arms and torso from belly to neck, encasing me completely.

Although now freed from the cruel cotton rope, my cock remained rigidly erect, this bizarre bondage turning me on so much that I was gasping and moaning continuously as they worked on me. Gisele took the tape again then, and after sealing my upper half thoroughly into its immobilizing cocoon, she wrapped a long, thin strip tightly about the base of my genitals, trapping them once again into pounding erection and making them jut out proudly, the only protuberance from my otherwise completely mummified cross-dressed body.

After a bit of debate they took me then, picking me up and carrying my helpless, tightly sheathed form over behind the couch, where they positioned me right in the center and bent me over the back of it. Head down, ass up high in the air, with my hard cock crushed against the wooden frame, I was left then to wait in painful, trembling suspense as they once again coked up, chugged beer, and began picking through the many tools and weapons that Gisele had gathered for this occasion.

There was a bullwhip, a long limber cane, a heavy wooden fraternity paddle, a hairbrush, a riding crop and at least a dozen fine leather belts, most of them mine. Before I knew it I was being assailed by all of these: one, two, or even three at a time, in never-ending succession. My bare ass went from clean and clear white skin to red and purple and then finally a terrible striped and mottled black and blue in a matter of minutes. Yet they surrounded me for what seemed like hours, strapping, paddling, whipping, beating and caning me, all at once or taking turns while the others recharged their buzz.

My sobbing and screaming was as extensive and continuous as this endless ass beating, and at last Gisele stuffed a pair of her soiled panties into my mouth, muffling my piteous complaint. Then these awesomely fit chicks carried on the vicious whipping like any old coke-inspired workout, until they were all flushed and panting and dripping with sweat.

Garments began to come off then, more beautiful skin and curves were revealed among my tormentors, but unfortunately no lovely bare breasts. And then finally my tenant Gisele, in a skimpy t-shirt and filmy panties, at last came back from her own small room sporting a big black strap-on dildo. She was in the process of harnessing it tightly about her tiny waist, where at a good two inches thick and ten inches long it looked ridiculously oversized on her. But in any case this act seemed a signal, and both Natalie and Jakki were also quick to set aside weapons, then produce and don their own fake but horribly life-like looking cocks.

Jakki had a huge, twelve-inch long flesh-colored member that fitted quite well on her own simple harness, looking imposing indeed. But it was beloved Natalie’s equipment that most caught my attention. Dropping her skirt, she opened her bag and dumped an incredible assortment of dildoes, vibrators and butt-plugs onto the couch. Right away she chose a pair of black latex hot pants, so skin-tight they might have been painted on. Once she stepped into these and pulled them up, the big black twelve-inch cock sticking right up and out from her pubis might have been an integral part of her. Beneath, I could see the crotch of the shorts had been cut away, giving my dream girl both a beautiful cunt and a giant cock to take me with, and finally I began to recover somewhat from the trauma of my beating. After all, much worse was clearly in store for my agonized, upthrust ass.

“Who goes first?’ asked Natalie, her blue eyes glittering with coked-out excitement. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, big tits pushed up and swelling inside the minimal black lace bra she wore. Her nice white shirt and leather skirt lay cast aside on the bed, and she stroked and tugged at her long, thick, life-like member as though really enjoying the sensation of male masturbation. Gisele put down her straw, dusted off her nose and answered. “I do. It’s my home and my little Slut-boy housemate. I’m the one it approached about this occasion. I get to pop the cherry!”

“Oh, all right,” Natalie growled. “But that slut’s got two fuck-holes, and I call the other one. Jakki, it’s your turn to chop up lines. Do a few, roll a bunch of bombers, chug a beer, and then relieve one of us. We’ll rotate through until we’ve all had our fill of each of this sick little bitch’s slut-holes. If we ever get to that point!”

They all laughed at that, and as those big, hard, intimidating, larger-than-life erect black cocks approached me from in front and behind, I dared try to speak. “Please, my Mistresses.”

“Silence, Slut-boy!” Natalie shouted down at me. “Sluts do not use language! They communicate by grunts, groans, moans and cries!” Gisele was delayed a bit, lubing up her big black strap-on, and so it was actually Natalie who scored the first penetration. Moved to punish my impertinence, she knelt on the edge on the couch, grabbed my inverted face, and crammed her big black penis up into my helpless waiting suck-hole.

“I’ve got something you can do with your tongue and lips, you disgusting slut! Suck my mother-fucking cock! Gobble my crank like the perverted little faggot you are, Slut-boy!”

Unfortunately, despite this demand she didn’t give me much of a chance to demonstrate my technique at all. With my made-up face completely at her mercy, she just began fucking it, tipping my head far back on my neck and hammering her huge cock all the way up into my wide-open throat. I was so busy strangling and gagging on this invasion that I almost missed it when Gisele finally arrived behind my upthrust hips. But then her strong hands split my cheeks, and the cold hard knob of her well-greased dildo kissed my anus. Then, despite the fact that my legs were wrapped tightly together and my anal passage thus somewhat constricted, she pushed herself firmly forward and forced the first dick ever deep up into my tender, virgin boy-cunt.

Ah, what heaven. Already choking on Natalie’s huge member, feeling and watching her rubber clad pubis bash into my lips and nose with every merciless, deep-throated thrust, I almost swooned with the uncontainable pain, shame, and depraved excitement of having my deepest secret fantasy realized at last. Finally I was being butt-fucked, righteously butt-fucked, cored out open by a merciless female dominant that wanted only to hurt and degrade me! Somehow perceiving my unholy, incandescent arousal, Gisele began to mock me then as she built up her own hard rhythm, hammering down into me from above and behind while Natalie continued to thrust herself upward into my face.

“You love this, don’t you, bitch! Slut-boy! You love having me fuck your virgin little boy-cunt! Don’t you? Well, you won’t love it for long, you sick little pervert Slut-boy! I’ve only got myself halfway in! You just wait for rest of me!”

Gisele began to really fuck me then, spreading her legs, bracing herself, gripping my hips and slamming her ten-by-two inch cock into my ass until I was finally taking it all, every inch, feeling slender Gisele’s shapely crotch slapping against my terribly bruised and welted buttocks with the same fervor that Natalie’s bigger black rubber pubis bashed up into my face. Bent over the couch, trapped between the two, I willingly took every inch of both huge hard-ons simultaneously, until at last I learned to suppress the constant gag reflex. Then, despite Gisele’s warning, I truly found myself in slut heaven at last, feeling both long, hard, rough rubber cylinders stroke in and out and in and out and in and out of me in frenzied, almost mechanical syncopation.

Together the two beautiful women brutally raped me, until at last it was impatiently clamoring Jakki’s turn. She couldn’t wait to fuck my mouth, so Natalie moved obligingly around to have at my ass while Gisele went to partake of the old refreshments. In this non-stop, tag-team fashion they cycled around and around, two of them always violently dildo-fucking me while the third one coked back up, keeping the energy level climbing and the pain in my brutalized ass and throat always growing ever greater. After a while, fucking the slut became a kind of competition to them, with Gisele and Jakki constantly trying on different dildoes and techniques while Mistress Natalie concentrated on masterfully displaying her skill with that gleaming black fuck-tool built so beautifully into her tight rubber hot pants.

So relentless and inventive was this big butch bitch at gouging out my throat and rectum that at last, after hours of non-stop sodomy (and let’s not forget the face-fucking), the others finally declared her the Queen Bitch Slut-Fucker of the entire house. Then Jakki and Gisele stepped back a bit, cheering and applauding as Natalie gave one more outstanding encore performance alone: standing behind the couch, punching her big sable phallus so maniacally and pneumatically into my upthrust ass that I was once again screaming and weeping unabashedly at the extreme pain and shame of it all. Only when she at last climaxed yet again from the extremity of her brutal passions did Natalie at last pull her thick black penis all the way out of me.

“Whew! That’s what I call a serious slut-fucking! But you know, we haven’t even begun to torture its cock and balls yet. I mean, besides the way you had it tied up for us, Gisele. That was really great, top notch. Did you see the way it squirmed, when we took away the broomstick? Anyway, what do you say we lay it out on the coffee table now, face up? Then we can use our torture slut for a table while we party. With that evil penis sticking right up in front of us, I’m sure we’ll think of some interesting ways to abuse it.”

“I’m almost ready to take a leak,” suggested Jakki.

“No, no, hold it!” urged Natalie. “You know how it is with beer. As soon as you go once, the floodgates open. Let’s party some more, and all of us hold out as long as we can. Then we’ll find some really interesting way to turn our helpless little slut into a toilet!”

This was eagerly agreed to. Straightaway Natalie turned then, and located the largest butt-plug in her collection: a veritable dildo itself of over eight inches long. This fiendish device was nearly three inches thick in places, hard plastic and wickedly corrugated, and she forced it roughly, mercilessly, all the way down inside my now thoroughly stretched-out ass. Then she slapped several strips of the strong strapping tape over it, taping my butt-cheeks together from top to bottom and sealing that uncomfortable insult deep inside me. Finally I was picked up and dragged roughly off the couch. Easily the three young women manhandled me around, and shortly I found myself lying on my back on the big coffee table. The coke mirror rested on my belly, the bag of reefer in the hollow of my neck, and at last the three hard-working young ladies relaxed on the couch: drinking, snorting, and smoking away. Naturally my still un-gagged mouth begged to be used as an ashtray, and it wasn’t long before all three girls were holding thick, lit bomber joints.

Idly they began to burn me with them, pressing the glowing ends against my turgid, taped-up erection. For the entire time it took them to smoke all three cigar-size joints, snort another gram or so of coke and pound down two more Heinekens apiece, the girls cruelly tortured my captive sex organs this way. Dozens of circular burns sure to form painful blisters soon covered my prick and balls, and at the end, all three smoldering roaches were ground out against my sensitive head-bulb before being dropped into my screaming mouth for disposal.

By then none of the girls could hold out much longer, and they began to debate the least messy way (for them) to turn me into a communal human toilet. This disgusting prospect hadn’t been part of my original intention, and once again I dared to try to beg off.

The girls had enjoyed my screaming and pleading under my terrible penis-torture, but now they had no patience for this kind of weaselly wheedling. Gisele once again stuffed her soiled panties into my mouth, and then used an old silk scarf to tie them in. After that she grinned smugly down at me. “There. Now we’ll hear nothing else from Slut-boy for the rest of the night. Let’s go girls, I really gotta pee!” They dragged me off the table by my feet then, letting me thump painfully onto the floor. Then my traumatized ass scraped across the carpet as they dragged me into the bathroom. Natalie took one of the ropes from before, lashed it tightly about my ankles, and then tossed it up over the showerhead. All three girls pulled at once, and I was dragged into the shower stall by my bound feet and hoisted into the air.

They hung me upside-down in there, with my ass and back against the damp rear wall of the stall and just the back of my head and shoulders barely resting on the tiled floor. The drain lay just beyond my face, perfect for what they had in mind, and after tying my feet off, then ensuring my complete helplessness and inability to move by tightly roping my cocoon to the hot-and-cold handles, Natalie was once again the first to take full advantage of the limitless opportunity I’d so foolishly given them.

Still wearing the crotch-less dildo shorts, she stepped over me and squatted, splaying those long, strong, columnar legs out wide. For the first time ever, I had a clear, glorious, absolutely unobstructed view of her beautiful twat. Then Natalie’s hands went from caressing her big black hard-on to cupping her abdomen just above it, and she let out a long and exquisitely eloquent groan. Simultaneously she began to make water, spraying her body’s waste out in a forceful stream that splattered directly down into my waiting face.

Instantly my panties gag was soaked, the noxious urine permeating it completely and trickling through it into my mouth. Absolutely helpless, I could do nothing but hang upside-down there and swallow it, the blood pounding in my inverted head while Natalie pissed, pissed, pissed into my face and mouth. Soon my hair was soaked as well, and I could hear the excess trickling past my ears to puddle about my head and shoulders and then flow slowly down the drain.

“Yeah, Natalie! You go girl! All that beer! Piss all over that worthless slut!”

The others cheered her on, and when at last Natalie finished voiding, Gisele was quick to step into the stall and take her place. Again I was granted a brief, glorious view of heavenly territory forever forbidden to me, then again a hot, salty stream full of bitter, reeking ammonia came arcing down into my face, comprehensively defiling me.

Gisele squeezed her bladder with both hands, groaning while she gushed all over me, and the puddle I was in and the amount of urine I was forced to suck from the gag and swallow doubled. My painfully beautiful housemate laughed gaily at me as she at last finished trickling, and then Jakki stepped up and the entire process was repeated yet again. At last, when the call of nature had been temporarily satisfied, the girls looked around for ways to keep me suffering in there while they returned to my bedroom to continue the party.

It was agreed that much more voiding would have be done, and that I had arrived at my final resting place for the duration of the festivities: hanging cocooned head down in an ever-growing puddle of piss, a communal toilet for my lovely female superiors. In order to keep me occupied in their absence, Natalie turned on the water in the showerhead, but just barely. This caused it to drip-drip-drip relentlessly on my forehead, the dreaded and diabolical Chinese water torture. Then Gisele produced a big Victor rattrap.

With great hilarity the trap was carefully set. Then Gisele gingerly prodded the trigger against my already brutalized but still rigidly erect penis. The trap snapped shut on my taped dick with a force sufficient to break a finger, and I screamed in agony through my urine soaked gag. “Hooray! We’ve caught us a trouser rat!” Another, smaller mousetrap was snapped shut on my balls, and I writhed within my bonds in desperate excruciation. The girls had done their job too well, however, and even my most violent paroxysms proved insufficient to even move me out of the path of the dripping water, to say nothing of freeing my tortured genitals or allowing me to escape. No, this was a hell I’d bought and paid for, and the girls left me to enjoy it alone while they returned to their party.

For the next several hours I hung there then, listening to them party in the next room and both craving and dreading the next cycle in the endless progression of beer-bloated girls who stepped into the stall, squatted above me, and then forcefully pissed out all over my helpless face. The floodgates were indeed open; I must have been soiled at least a couple or even three dozen times. On each occasion, the girl coming in to smirk down at me, spread her legs and gigglingly use me as a human toilet was more and more wasted, and it was clear that they were having an absolutely fabulous time without me. Finally I began to hear moans, and the unmistakable sounds of them fucking each other, as they used their fingers and tongues, vibrators and strap-on dildoes with a shameless drugged abandon. Desperate moans, cries of passion, and utter shrieking orgasms tormented me for at least another hour then, as the orgiastic three-way going on not ten feet away kept the girls far too busy to bother with pissing on me. But finally, after a bit of pillow talk, all three gorgeous females trooped back into the bathroom, closer to naked than ever.

Gisele wore only her strap-on and skimpy white t-shirt, and the sight of her thimble-sized nipples poking through the threadbare fabric was maddening. Oh how I’d give anything to suckle on those! Oblivious, my sweet little housemate stepped up to be the first one to piss on me again. She smiled, did so extravagantly, and then Jakki followed.

She too denied me the sight of her unclothed breasts, wearing one of my own best dress shirts unbuttoned over her beautifully clear-skinned, bra-less torso. But as always it was Natalie who was most brazen. When she took her place above me in the stall, I was glorified and exalted to see that the dildo-equipped hot pants were all she wore. Her black bra was gone; her beautiful big boobs were utterly naked. The pebbly pink nipples were fully hard and erect and the fat, sloping globes delightfully peppered all over with those evocative orange freckles. She sneered contemptuously at the way I goggled at her, and when she suddenly let go she pissed deliberately straight into my impetuous eyes. Two minutes later, when her burning stream had at last petered out, and I’d finally blinked my teary gaze clear, I saw that she was not now moving to leave the stall, but only turning around and squatting down even lower. To my bottomless horror, I heard her talking, first to her friends and then to me.

“Watch this, you guys. I’m going to dung on its stupid ugly face.

“You want me, don’t you Slut-boy? You’ve always wanted me. You’ve always wanted to be the one to fuck me. I know. You think I’m totally hot. In fact, you’re helplessly in love with me. Aren’t you? Ha! Look at it nod! I knew it. Well, you know what, Slut-boy? This is what I think of you. This is my ultimate opinion of you as a man, a human being, and a potential boyfriend-husband-sex partner.” She lowered herself even further, splitting her most private secret middle as wide open as possible just above my helplessly immobile face. Shifting about, she gripped and spread her perfect cheeks, and suddenly I saw that beautiful pink hole of hers begin to open and grow a sinister brown finger. She grunted then, taking a deep breath and bearing down, and then she proceeded to push her steaming-hot shit right out into my immobilized face. Long, fat, hundred-degree feces slowly uncoiled themselves, dropping and plopping down all over my piss-soaked features in an ultimate insult. Most of them hit, slid, and tumbled off, and over the sound of Gisele and Jakki cheering and laughing hysterically, I heard Natalie curse me.

“Shit. Fucking Slut-boy! Here, give me that!”

From among the cleaning supplies, Gisele handed her friend a heavy rubber work glove. Natalie donned it, wiped herself, then used her protected hand to pick up the fallen turds and smear them deliberately all over my face. Across my forehead, all around my neck, cheeks, lips, chin, nose, even all over my septum, just below the nostrils where I’d be sure to smell it with every breath, she covered my entire face with a thick ‘beauty mask’ of her stinky brown shit.

“There. Now you know precisely how I feel about you, Slut-boy. Not even fit to eat my shit, that’s what you are! I can’t believe I ever let you suck my cunt!”

“Oh my god, look at its cock!” Jakki suddenly shrieked. “It’s so hard and pulsing, the rat trap just moved! Slut-boy loves this! Our stupid little fuck-hole loves having you wipe your stinky shit all over its face, and abysmally degrade it the whole damn time! Why, this is the best part of its whole fucking night”

“Of course it is!” sneered beautiful Gisele. “I told you it was a fucking pervert!” Then she laughed. “Oh, what the hell. One ejaculation was part of the deal.”

She stepped into the stall where I hung there, mummified, piss-soaked and liberally be-shitted. Quickly she removed the rattraps from my horribly wounded prick and balls, and even unwound the tight tape from about the base. Then, carefully pointing my madly pulsating and unprecedentedly erect (if dangerously burned and bruised) penis straight down at my shit-covered face, she gave it three quick, professional, (not to mention excruciating) jerks. That was all that was necessary. My incredibly explosive orgasm burst through me, making me shudder convulsively all over and spew out gobbet after gobbet after hot, spunky splatter of my obviously inferior semen.

Nearly every clot and drop of it hit me directly in the shit-face, furthering my already mind-boggling defilement, and all three girls ridiculed me mercilessly.

Incredible that I should ejaculate so quickly, that I should be experiencing such extreme sexual pleasure from the insane amounts of torture and humiliation they’d been subjecting me to! For nearly five minutes they rubbed my face in as much metaphorical shit as Natalie and my own gonads had already supplied. After that, in a mix of further degradation and rare compassion, Gisele forced me to empty my own bladder.

“That’s right, Slut-boy! You’ve already come in it, now I want you to piss in your own face! I’m going to clamp these raptraps back on you, see, and then we’re going to leave you hanging in here for the rest of this night and probably most of the next day. I don’t want your kidneys to back up, and make you seriously sick. How could we do this to you again next weekend, if you’re stuck in the fucking hospital?”

All three girls laughed uproariously at my look of startled fear, and Gisele continued.

“That’s right. We’re having such a good time tonight that I’ve decided that from now on, instead of me paying you rent, me and my friends are going to do this to you whenever we feel like it, probably at least once a week. So lucky you, Slut-boy! You’re going to graduate from being just my housemate to my permanent sugar daddy, and my round-the clock, cocksucking shit-eating slut-puppy!” She clapped her hands with derisive glee.

“Now I know you’re real excited about this, and we’ll allow you to toast the occasion appropriately later. Trust me. But right now, Slut-boy, I hate to tell you this, but we’re almost out of beer here – although we’ve still got plenty of this good green reefer left. So Natalie’s going to take your wallet, go out and get some more beer.”

“And coke, get more coke,” urged Jakki, stepping up with Gisele’s camera and leering before taking several quick snapshots of me hanging there upside down, bound from head to toe and ridiculously soiled in my cellophane cocoon.

“.get more beer and coke, and pick up our boyfriends. Then you can hang in here all night, listen to us have our incredible orgy right in your own bed, and wait for one of us – boys or girls! – to come in here now and then and piss all over your stupid face. I’m going to pull out those panties and shit in your mouth, too. I think you’re fit to eat my shit at least. Maybe even every time I have to go from now on. Anyway, at the very end of the party, after we’ve all come about a million times, Jakki and Natalie and I will come back in here and douche out our slimy, stinky pussies all over you, adding one last layer of spent, mingled man-spunk to your silly, soiled face. How’s that sound for excitement?!”

Gisele snickered at my look of utter terror and purest misery. She did her best to be both terrifying and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Slut-boy. Tomorrow afternoon or evening – depending when I wake up, after I have my first cup of coffee and cigarette and everything – I’ll need to shit and shower. I’ll piss and crap in your mouth again, then cut you down, unwrap, un-tape and untie you, take the rattraps off your dick and such, and let you loose to clean up the house in your stockings, panties, bra, high heels and shit-face. After that, for a little while, you can go back to being just Tom again. At least, until you heal up enough for our next big slut-fucking party!”

All three girls laughed richly at that, and then Gisele suddenly punched me hard in the bladder. Helplessly I voided, the hot urine once again spilling down into my face. They all laughed cruelly at me as I retched and sobbed and pissed all over myself, sneering contemptuously at my weakness and perversion. Once she was sure I was empty then, Gisele used her expert tricks (and my own twisted, innate compulsions) to jerk me back up into an impressive state of hardness. Then she once again snapped her wicked rattraps back onto my tortured genitals. Watching me sob and shake with agonized despair, she laughed evilly yet again, and spurned me with a tiny, deliciously sexy bare foot. Then she turned, walked out of the shit house and left me hanging there.

Just outside the door, Jakki kissed her, fondling her breast and slipping her the tongue salaciously. Natalie was already dressed again, jingling my car keys and rifling through my wallet. Three, four, five hundred dollars: the rest of my pay for this week. She waved the sheaf of bills excitedly, kissed both her friends, and headed for my car.

Gisele and Jakki began to make out. My horribly abused cock hurt like acid fire. My legs itched maddeningly. I was cold, soaked. Water kept dripping relentlessly on my forehead, driving me absolutely batshit. Two bare 75-watt light bulbs on the bathroom ceiling blazed relentlessly into my eyes. Closing them against the glare hardly helped at all. The girls were moaning in ecstasy again. Please, Natalie, hurry back!

Originally posted 2009-06-30 15:52:50.

Slave of Three Women
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

“Wake up my pet.” I felt her fingers rifling my hair.

I smiled then opened my eyes. The clock showed I’d slept much later than usual.

Looking up at her beside me on the bed I caught the crooked smile on her parted lips and what I think of as That Look. It was if she were looking through me. She tried to explain it to me once. I looked barely six inches tall sometimes she said.

“I’m almost sorry to need you right now.” She neither looked nor sounded apologetic. I shivered. Not first thing in the day. Now I had the right to get on my knees and very humbly beg her to accept my inability. And she would’ve. But I was awake, no demands on my time and didn’t feel bad just worried. I could say I swallowed my pride but I was already seeing her as my Goddess, no pride was left. I just swallowed air. And nodded.

“Roll onto your hands and knees. Bring your feet over the edge of the bed. I obeyed.

Her palm smacked into my buttocks until I could feel but not see their blush. This was just the warm-up. Athletes warm-up so do masochists’ butts.

Then there was the wait. Whatever instrument was about to strike me she’d have chosen before waking me. I was being allowed to worry. Would it be that cat o’ nine tales that I could barely tolerate? I’d barely thought of that when one of her crueler floggers cut into my skin. My response was somewhere between “yeep!” and “ow!” and several other meaningless sounds.

“Legs down!” The flogger hit the back of my calves. I’d forgotten to hold my legs flat against the bed. I’d do my best to comply. Displeasing her would only earn me more lashes.

But how many lashes? She hadn’t told me. She wasn’t counting. I certainly wasn’t. Given what that flogger could do she was relatively restrained. Not that a single stroke left me silent. Once I unintentionally started to move up and it slice into my back. I fought to hold myself still, except for my tongue. There was no controlling that without a gag.

Really it probably didn’t last that long. But when it was over all I knew was the successive burning stings that had cut into my ass. It wasn’t until I felt the vastly milder burn of an antiseptic spray that I knew she was done.

“Now that is the way to start the day.” I didn’t quite agree but I relaxed. I could tell that she was done. For all I knew that had only been the beginning. Once again I felt her fingernails gently move through my hair. My normal pleasure at this was mixed with a mortifying gratitude that he need to see me suffer was satisfied for now.

“You just relax, hon. I’ll fix a nice breakfast for you.”

This morning I’d be eating standing up.

Originally posted 2012-10-24 06:20:00.

Submissive Boyfriend’s Morning Spanking
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.Whir.Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. He sighed, that was
it the CD back on repeat again. A CD of pure white noise, buzzing in the
heavy old-fashioned headphones. Each time it came around he tried to listen,
to try to hear anything during the brief pause, but it was no good the
headphones themselves were heavy enough to cut out most sound on their own.
The breaks in the CD had been the most exciting thing to happen to him
for the last three and a half CD repeats. He estimated a CD repeat as
lasting about 45 minutes, but really he had no idea. Before that he had been
spoon fed his meal of vegetable lasagne before his water tube was taped back
into his mouth and the gas mask with the blacked out eye sockets was
replaced.

He had met here in a bar only hours before he had found himself in this
state. Her upfront attitude, her long raven black hair, and the way she just
fixed him with her eyes and told him exactly how it was according to her
captivated him. Before she was halfway down the drink he had bought her, she
was telling him how she liked to tie men up and take her pleasure from their
discomfort. He was just so amused by this that he thought he’d go along for
the fun of it. Oh, how he was regretting it. It wasn’t fun now. He had only
expected light bondage of the sort some of his friends had joked about and
he cursed himself for not thinking about only playing bondage games with
someone you are sure you can trust.

When she produced the gas mask he had laughed and remarked, “This’ll be
fun, screwing you with that on”. She hid her annoyance behind her smirk as
she first blindfolded him and then slid it over his head. That was the last
time he had seen her. He had thought it strange that she had needed the
blindfold as well as the mask, but by the time the mask was on it was too
late to mention it. When she peeled back the mask for the first feeding it
became apparent why.

She had led him into another room, and stripped him quickly and
efficiently. He was still cocky and confident at this stage, captain of his
regional swimming team he knew he had a good body and felt sure she was
going to enjoy him. She was, but not how he thought. He tried to grab her
but a quick slap on his forearms had made him grin behind the mask and he
stopped and compliantly let her hold his wrists together, put mittens on his
hands and tie them. She hoisted them above his head and he could tell by the
noises and the movement that she had rigged a pulley up above his head. The
leg irons seemed a little superfluous, but they put pay to any chance of
kicking.

The headphones had been placed over his ears and that signalled the end
of fun. He heard the whir as the CD started for the first time and his world
became a world of constant hiss and darkness.

It didn’t take long for the realisation to hit him that the anticipated
sex game wasn’t coming. Minute upon minute passed and he wondered if she was
even there anymore. He tried to keep a positive outlook; he imagined that
she was getting off on this. His ego and confidence in his own beauty took
over and he imagined her lying on her back masturbating while she watched
him. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t.

He tested his bonds, pulling downwards trying to stretch his hands out,
wriggling them, but it was no good, she obviously knew what she was doing.
He started to get angry, he kicked blindly and wildly thrashing downwards on
his arms as his wrists started to rub raw, he screamed obscenities into the
mask, screaming to be let go that she couldn’t do this to him. He could only
just hear his own shouts, nothing through his ears, only through vibrations
along his jawbone and around his skull. He quickly realised the futility.
The mask and the monstrous filter would render his bawling an incoherent
mumbling.

Shhhhhhhh…Whirr…Shhhhhhhh. The first CD repeat and he stopped
struggling at the momentary relief from his aural torment. Surely she had
had her fill now. He waited, convincing himself that he would be feeling her
coming close soon. Reaching up above him to cut him down. He waited
patiently and then waited some more. Nothing. He wriggled uncomfortably and
muttered to himself, “Please let me go”.

He couldn’t see, hear, smell or taste anything. He could feel, but there
was no variance in what there was to feel. There didn’t seem to be any
draught and the temperature seemed constant. What he could feel was the
restriction of the rubber mask, heaviness and coldness of the leg-irons,
tension and ache in his arms, the chafing around his wrists and the numbness
of his hands. He had a moment of sheer panic. The fight or flight response
as he thrashed his head around, adrenaline coursing through his blood. His
breathing became ragged and suddenly as the blood pulsed in his head the
white noise had a beat. Somehow he managed to get a grip, the rational side
of his brain took over and he concentrated on slowing his breathing down and
somehow managing to relax.

Almost immediately that he’d stood still he felt her lift the mask. He
thankfully pulled in big mouthfuls of good clean air. “Oh, thank god. Why
did you do that to me?”

Whether she responded to that he couldn’t hear. Either way it was
irrelevant. It soon became apparent to him that he wasn’t about to gain his
freedom.

The smell of the lukewarm microwaved food filled his nostrils, as the
spoon tapped on his lower lip. “You bitch. You bitch, let me go”. He
screamed at her. She grabbed the hinges of his jaw and pressed, forcing him
to open up and shoving the spoon down. He swallowed and continued to bellow
profanities and insults at her. Next spoonful, swallowed again. He had
worked himself up into a furious state by now and the next spoonful, he just
spat back at her, back where he imagined she would be. Straightaway the
smell and the spoon were gone. He continued to shout, he was so angry no-way
was anyone going to keep him in this state.

The shouts soon turned to screams when he felt the cracking pain across
his buttocks. He wasn’t sure what she had hit him with, but it ran in a
stinging straight line. When she lifted her arm back up, he felt the welt
throbbing diagonally across his backside. Five times she repeated this and
by the time she had finished hitting and listening to his screams his arse
felt criss-crossed with the lines of pulsing pain.

He had been truly silenced and she fed him the rest of his meal as he
only whimpered and tried to ignore the pain. The water tube was inserted
into his mouth for the first time and taped into position, before the gas
mask was pulled back down. She added a further new addition as a belt was
placed around his waist and something was suspended in front and between his
legs. He realised as she taped a tube to his leg that its purpose was to
catch his urine. His moral hit rock bottom. The new additions could only
mean one thing that he was going to be kept captive like this with highly
infrequent sensation for an extended length of time.
Shhhhhhhh…Whirr…Shhhhhhhh.

Darkness, white noise and nothing else for a further 4 CD repeats.
Despair set in. What if she kept him here forever? What if she intended to
kill him? How on earth was he going to keep sane? The blindness and the
constant hiss, he started to worry for his sanity, all he had was his mind
when that went he would be no more.

Another meal time, the same again, lukewarm vegetable lasagne, even his
tastes would have no variation. He realised why it was lukewarm, she didn’t
want to burn his mouth. How considerate of her. This time he did not speak
at all. He was beyond speaking. She replaced his tube and mask and then
there was a pause.

To his surprise he felt the rope above his head go slack, she was
lowering his hands down. He was too stunned to react at first, but then as
circulation came back to his hands, he lurched in his irons off to one side
taking out the slack on his arms and yanking as hard as he could. The rope
went taut and no matter how hard he pulled it wasn’t coming any further, he
had two metres extra freedom and no more. Then a real shock, the tension in
the rope was taken up by her and he felt himself being dragged back
centrally, he tried to pull back, but he was losing. When his feet finally
left the ground he realised that it wasn’t just a one-pulley system above
his head, he wouldn’t have said she was finding it easy to lift him and so
he reckoned it must be a two-pulley system. He thought back to his school
level physics and realised he would have to pull twice as hard as her to
hold his own. He might be stronger, but not twice as strong.

She set him down again and once again let out the slack. The next thing
he felt was the tapping of her cane(?) against his thigh. He lashed out with
his bound hands, stumbling as he hit air. Crack! The cane whipped across
him. It was not a fair fight, blind, deaf and bound against her with her
weapon. He stopped and let her manoeuvre him by pushing him with the cane.
When he felt her tap him on the back of the knees, he knew he had to sit and
found himself on a commode. No he could not humiliate himself like that, to
open his bowels with no idea what was going on around him. He didn’t do it
that first time, but after future mealtimes he had to.

After being hoisted back upright and left for a further two CD repeats,
he was finally lowered back down to the ground to a point where he could lie
down. Sleep came quickly the incessant hissing was not a distraction and he
accepted the sleep gratefully. His dreams were such a great pleasure,
seemingly real sounds, colours, and sensations. Even his nightmares were
welcome and there were plenty of those.

He was awakened to a tugging on his arms before the pulley hauled him
upright to his feet. He had thought about spinning round repeatedly and
hence tangling the pulley, but he was afraid of the cane. He knew the best
policy was to stand docilely and hope that she would take pity on him. He
was he realised, completely at her mercy. She didn’t show any signs of pity
though, morning routine started with a tinkering with his urine tube,
presumably to empty the receptacle and then it was time for his wash.

The shock of the cold sponge splashing water over his body had him
gasping instantly. It was freezing and she seemed intent on sponging down
each exposed inch of his body thoroughly. He struggled, but this seemed to
bring more attention from the freezing sponge. His skin felt numb and goose
bumped and he knew it must be red with the cold. The sponge stopped, but he
could still feel the cold rivulets running painfully over his naked body and
dripping to the floor. He shook and shivered intensely, his teeth chattering
in his head as he was hung out to dry.

Unexpectedly he felt her hand smack across his left buttock. It throbbed
with heat, the contrast with the rest of his freezing body intense. He could
almost feel the shape of the handprint, imagining the outline of the small
hand full and red. Another one smacked from the same side on the other
cheek. He was almost happy to have this physical contact. Even though it was
violent and painful contact from his cruel captor, he would crave it until
she touched him again.

He gradually felt the warmth return to his body before the lasagna
breakfast was spooned into his mouth. This time he tried to reason with her,
he tried to speak levelly, but was sure that his voice must be wavering and
cracking. “Will you let me go, please? You have had your fun. If you let me
go now I won’t mention this to anyone. We can just go our separate ways. I’
ll go back to my life and you can go on doing your stuff with willing guys
who like this sort of thing. Oh no please don’t put the water tube back in,
it’s demeaning. No not the mask. Mphhh.”

There was a pause, before she caught him off guard, she lifted a corner
of one of the headphones and hissed into his ear, “If you really want to
convince me you don’t like it, you should try to avoid your very average
dick getting hard every time I come near you”. Of course he couldn’t speak
back and there wasn’t much of an answer to it anyway. The headphone was
slammed down back over his ear. Shhhhhhhh….

The rest of the day went almost exactly the way of the previous one,
mealtimes and toilet duties the only things to break the monotony. He kept
wondering if she were there and if she was there what was she doing? Was she
alone? What was she thinking? What were her intentions? Was she enjoying the
situation and how was the enjoyment manifesting itself? He had no way of
answering these questions, he couldn’t see her and he couldn’t communicate
with her.

The following morning he was awoken and washed in cold water again. She
didn’t wait for him to dry this time though, but fed him through chattering
teeth. After he’d finished she took an electric razor and massaged it over
the exposed stubble below his blindfold. He couldn’t help thinking that a
blade would have been a more dramatic way to be shaved and he was almost
disappointed.

His mealtime speaking opportunities started to become more and more
pleading. He knew that he was sinking into pathetic depths as he begged her
to let him go whimpering and sobbing to her as she calmly spoon-fed him.

After one such mealtime she replaced his drinking tube and mask and then
ran her hands over his chest. Her nailed hands played gently around his
nipples along the outlines of his pectorals before slipping away, leaving
him shivering still feeling the tingling of the stroke around his erect
pointy nipples. He dreamed of it as he fell asleep 3 CD repeats later.

This fleeting but enjoyable experience did not prepare him for what
happened the next day. Almost the second that she had hauled him upright her
hands were on his genitals. Even as the fog cleared from his sleepy head,
his penis stood full and erect as her fingers played over it. The hot warm
mouth closing around the head of his penis he was even less prepared for,
still less as she sucked hard and rhythmically around the tip. His mind
filled in his sensory blanks. He imagined the visual of looking down upon
her head, dark hair framing her face as he beautiful mouth worked on him,
red lips around his shaft and he imagined her soft moaning and the sucking
sound as he genuinely did moan in his mask. Her hand pumped around the base
of his dick as she sucked and she withdrew her mouth as he spurted cum with
what felt like force into the void.

The cold sponge followed seconds after as he still shook in his post
orgasmic haze. The wash seemed to be quick today and concentrated around his
genitals where his penis drooped quickly in the cold water. He felt the
alien device sliding over him; she pushed his testicles through the ring and
locked the cage around his cock. It felt tight and constrained, he realised
that this morning’s treat would be his last and had only served to ensure
his flaccidity to enable her to fit the cage. It was evident to him that his
regular erections had irritated her sufficiently for her to rob him of them.
He realised that one of his last methods of self-expression had gone.

Over the next days everything seemed to become routine, the feeding, the
toilet habits, the sleeping, the cold washing, a shave every other day, the
all pervading and constant white noise and darkness. She seemed to allow him
one fleeting sensory variation a day and she was obviously using her
imagination. It usually seemed to come in some sort of violent act, but
sometimes she would touch him gently. Whether violent or gentle though it
became the time of day that he lived for, it was always too short and the
moment it was over he would be looking forward to the next time she hit him
or touched him.

The realisation that he loved her to beat him shocked him at first and
it took some time for him to come to terms with it. What he did have was
plenty of time to think about it. He became more docile and compliant in his
routine, hoping perhaps that she would reward him in some way. He didn’t
plead anymore; in fact he started to thank her for feeding him and looking
after him. He started to feel genuinely grateful for her keeping his belly
full, looking after him, washing and shaving him and of course for the once
a day sensory stimulation that he saw as keeping him sane. He began to lose
his sense of self and in his head he became her object, her plaything. He
decided that he was happy with this role in life and he ran through what to
say to her over and over until it came to take his welcome spoonfuls of
vegetable lasagna.

“I have been thinking. You told me what you were unconvinced that I wasn
‘t willing. You were right. I am willing in fact I want it, I want to be
your slave. I will be yours to own and control, I’ll do your will. I know as
an owner you will look after me and care for me, because you have proved
that by looking after my every need since you took me in. I will be your
obedient slave because I love you”.

She inserted the tube in his mouth and pulled down the mask.

Originally posted 2013-03-02 08:03:25.

Total Mind Control & Enslavement
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

By Angela St. Lawrence

“Get your fucking pants down, now!”

Heart racing, you struggle with your belt. She doesn’t have a right to treat me like this, you think to yourself. You try to ignore the clammy grip of nervous sweat around your balls. I ’ve paid good money after all; she is really nothing more than a whore when you get right down to it.

The more you think about it, the braver you’re feeling. Mistress, my ass! Just who in the hell does she think she is to talk to me like that?

Ignoring your own better judgment, forgetting that your pants are now down around your knees and your dick is sticking straight up, you look up to say something, to somehow defend yourself against her scornful abuse.

“You timid, little piece-of-shit, loser. Who in the fuck do you think you are looking at?”

Her voice is cruel and unforgiving as she looks at you with cold, icy blue eyes—first straight into your face and then down to your naked, twitching cock. She smirks, and you know you are beaten, that she has you, that she knows you for the warped and twisted degenerate that you are. Your bravado is gone, your words caught dry and useless in your throat.

Wiggling her slender hand into a latex glove, stretching and pulling the latex to fit snugly between her fingers, she continues, her voice a wicked snarl, “Don’t even think about smart-mouthing me, asshole. You’re the one who called me. You’re the one who was so damn curious about a “FemDom” handjob. You’re the butterfingers who evidently can’t jerk off your own dick. You’re the underachiever who evidently needs an instruction manual on how to fuck pussy correctly.” Her voice is sharp and cold and you know now that there will be no kindness, no mercy. But your cock is throbbing as you watch her squirting lube into the palm of her gloved hand.

“Five.”

She spits the number out at you as her slithery fist grabs your prick and moves down the length of it. The shock, the suddenness of it, is so visceral that you almost shoot your load right then.

“Don’t you fucking dare, weasel boy. This dirty, nasty, useless prick of yours doesn’t cum until and when I say so. And that would be when we get to the number one. Got it?”

“Christ! Fuck! Shit! Yesssssssssss, Ma’am.”

You hear yourself, a whimpering, blubbering, mindless automaton. You are her toy: a helpless, filthy cock-toy to abuse and molest at her whim.

“Four.”

As her hand moves—once up and once down—you feel her grasp tighten ever so slightly. Oh, she is a gifted Goddess. You know that now and your urge to cum is almost overpowering. You can’t help yourself and begin to actually wail. “Please, Mistress. Please let me cum now. Oh, please.” You hear yourself and are ashamed, but cannot stop. “Please, Mistress. Let me cum now. Let me be your dirty filthy boy and cum now. Please, please, please, please.”

Abruptly she loosens her grip and—before you even understand what is happening—smacks your cock. Once. Twice. Three times. There is nothing, nobody but you and her, her hand and your dick. You actually swoon and feel yourself dropping towards the when she grabs your arm and pulls you you back up.

“No you don’t,” she whispers sweetly, lips grazing your ear. The unexpected change in her manner has you spinning and powerless, totally focused on her. You struggle to speak, to tell her you adore her, to tell her you belong to her while your abandoned cock twitches and drips, pointing directly at her: your Mistress, your Queen.

“You came here for a FemDom handjob. Don’t you remember? Or did your brain melt and drain into your balls and leave you stupid? If you spew already, you’ll miss the show.”

She giggles as she moves away from you to sit in a nearby chair. You are tempted to beg her to come back, to jerk your cock again, that you will be a “good boy.” But seeing the look on her face you think better of it and are silent.

“That’s more like it,” she says, pointing between your legs. You are helpless, exposed. “That dick is now my property, my personal gear shift. Got it?”

Afraid to look at her, you nod, staring straight ahead. “Yes Mistress.”

“I’m going to start again in a moment, but this time I’m going to start counting back from ten.” Unable to stop yourself, you moan in frustration.

“Make that fifteen.” You bite your tongue.

“You’re learning,” she almost—but not quite—purrs as she stands up again and walks toward you.

“Now stand there with your pants down around your ankles like the gimp-loser dick-wad you are while I lube this glove up one more time.”

“And then we’ll try again.”

Visit Angela’s Blistered Lips for more stories.

Originally posted 2008-01-22 05:35:40.

Hand Job Humiliation
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

Man’s Lifetime of Spanking Discipline & Punishment

When I was growing up, my mom used to always spank me. You see, my dad was an over the road salesman, and was only home on weekends. So my mom took care of the day to day discipline around the house. At first it was just a tap on the back of the legs with a yardstick. My mom liked to sew, so she always had a yardstick near by. But as I grew older, I had to pull down my pants and underwear for a spanking on my bare bottom.

I was also spanked through high school and when I started college. My mom felt that as long as I lived in the house under her rules, I deserved to be spanked. In high school, she usually had me bend over the end of the sofa, or a chair, for a spanking with a paddle. My mom also got various paddles over the years. Some had holes in them that really stung, others had different shapes to them. My bottom was always turned quite red, and many times I had to stand in a corner after the spanking. The spanking did make me really respect my mom.

After I started college, I moved out of the house to an apartment of my own. By the end of college, I had found a woman that I really liked and wanted to marry. I had taken her over to see my mom and dad, and they really liked her, too. After I graduated from college, I finally got engaged to Khymberly and I was looking forward to being married to her. Since we were engaged, she had a key to my apartment.

At this point, I was beginning to take Khymberly for granted, even though we weren’t even married yet. She was washing all of my clothes, making my meals, going grocery shopping for me, and I was treating her more as a servant than as my soon to be wife. Anyway, I guess Khymberly talked to my mom about this, and one day when I came home from the office, I was greeted by both my fiancée and my mom.

“Khymberly tells me that you haven’t been showing her much respect, lately.” My mom said. “She has been doing all of the work around your apartment, and that you have been treating her more like a servant than your future wife. Is this true?”

“It hasn’t been that bad,” I pleaded.

“She tells me that she does all of your laundry, takes out your trash, makes your meals, and even runs errands for you. That’s not how you should treat Khymberly.”

“Why not! Khymberly is willing to do it for me,” I said.

“Khymberly feels like she has become a personal slave to you, and that you don’t treat her with respect anymore.” My mom said.

“I didn’t realize I was acting this way towards her,” I said.

“You have been treating Khymberly very poorly, and I want to make sure she stays in the family.” My mom said. “I have decided to show Khymberly how I have kept you behaving in the proper manner. So Khymberly and I are going to give you a good spanking.”

“A spanking? But I am too old for that.” I said.

“You deserve a good spanking for what you have been doing to Khymberly, and you are never too old for a spanking,” my mom said.

“I’ll act better towards Khymberly,” I said. “You don’t have to spank me.”

“This way you will remember to treat Khymberly with more respect,” my mom said. “So go over to the end of the sofa and prepare yourself for a spanking.” So I slowly went over to the end of the sofa and dropped my slacks and underwear, so that they were at my ankles. Meanwhile, my mom was telling Khymberly, “I brought my paddles along that I used to spank him with. After we spank him today, I can leave the paddles with you so that you can spank him whenever he needs it.” My mom looked over at me and saw that I was still standing up and she said, “Bend over the sofa so that we can start your spanking.”

So now I was bent over the sofa with my bare bottom sticking out, awaiting for Khymberly and my mom to spank me. “I like to use the paddle with the holes in it. It stings his bottom more than the other paddles.” Then my mom started to spank me. While she was spanking me, she told Khymberly, “You should spank him going from cheek to cheek, and he’s a big boy now, so you can spank him hard. Now you try it.” Then she handed the paddle to Khymberly and she was spanking me. She wasn’t spanking me as hard as my mom until my mom said, “Go ahead and spank him harder. He can take it.” Then I felt the paddle stinging my poor bare bottom even harder. “Sometimes I change to other paddles when I spank him,” my mom said. “They make different noises and they feel different for him. You should spank him until his bottom turns a nice red color.” So Khymberly tried other paddles on me and kept spanking me.

“His bottom looks pretty red now, should I stop spanking him?” Khymberly asked my mom.

“Give him a few more swats, then you should stop,” my mom said. After a couple more swats, my spanking stopped and my mom said, “After I spank him, I always have him stand in the corner with his pants still down and his hands at his sides. So you can stand up, now, and stand in the corner.”

I really wanted to rub my poor hurting bottom, but I went to the corner and stood there with my arms at my sides. Then Khymberly and my mom talked for what seemed like a long time. My mom told Khymberly that I should be spanked on a regular basis, so that I would always respect her.

“Why don’t you leave him standing in the corner until after I leave,” my mom said. “Don’t be afraid to call me if you have any questions about when and how to spank him.” So then my mom left my apartment, and I was alone with Khymberly.

“You can pull up your pants now.” Khymberly said to me. “I’m going to enjoy spanking you, to keep you from taking me for granted.”

And so after this, my wife spanked me on a regular basis after we were married. It has made me appreciate my wife, and behave a lot better.

Originally posted 2013-04-07 04:50:15.

Man Spanked & Disiciplined by Fiancée
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

It was a cougar who introduced me to the femdom way! When I was 24 I started dating a 36 year old woman–or I should say she started dating me.

Up to that point I had several girlfriends my age and I was used to getting my way sexually. I wasn’t abusive of course; I just didn’t know any better because that’s how males are taught to think about women and sex. Then I met Carol.

After our 3rd date I tried to get her into bed and she rebuffed me by saying that it was too soon and she would let me know when she was ready. I tried again after our 4rd date a few days later and she said the same thing. The very next night I tried a 3rd time and success!

She led me into her bedroom, started undressing me and got me into her bed. She then used scarves to tie my hands and feet to her bed, which was a first for me because I was used to being in charge in the bedroom but I thought “what the heck, I’ll let her and next time I’ll tie her up” Then she gagged my mouth and explained to me that sex is a gift from a woman to a man and the woman decides when and how to have sex, etc. and we would discuss this further in the morning.

She left me naked tied and gagged the whole night.

I was very embarrassed and humbled, especially after trying to get free and not having any luck. The scarves didn’t seem all that tight but I may as well have been in steel handcuffs–Carol really knew her knots!.

The next morning we had a discussion about our budding relationship and she stated that she was going to lead the relationship and I could either accept it or we could part ways then and there. When I agreed to her demands, we had the most mind-blowing sex I ever had up until that point, with me still tied to her bed.

We were together for almost two years in a totally female led relationship and she remains the most influential woman I have ever had in my life. I still run into her on occasion (we are on good terms) and it’s amazing just how sensual she is to me even though she is now almost 60 and has grey hair and has put on weight.

All the women in my life–including my wife–have benefitted from my time with Carol.

Originally posted 2010-07-12 12:08:06.

Cougar Mistress
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

By Angela St. Lawrence

It is in front of your face. You can smell it. It is cock. It is the cock you are going to suck tonight. Perhaps it is a cock that will fuck you, too. You have no say. You are, after all, only a Cock-Pig.

Once you were a man. You lived a free life, had a fairly successful career. You worked hard, you played hard. Lots of young, hot women. Footloose and fancy free, as they say, living what you thought was the good life.

But then you met Krysta. Tall, beautiful and wickedly sexy, she was different somehow. Different than the girls you usually bedded and forgot about. At first, it was just filth whispered into your ears as she fucked you. Then it was porn while she sucked your cock. The porn started getting kinkier, freakier. And you couldn’t get enough, could you? You were obsessed, wanted to be with her all the time.

And that is how she began training you, although you were too stupid to know it at the time. Even now when you think of before and now, you’re not sure exactly how she did it. Soon, though, you began living your weekends in a cage in her basement, your cock in a device that kept it hard, yet wouldn’t permit orgasm. You were an animal.

Krysta’s Cock-Pig. That is what she started calling you. She would come to you with a strap-on and make you suck it. Then she would promise orgasm, that she would remove your Cock-Pig chastity device if you bent over and spread your ass and begged for her big, girl-dick. And you did. You would have done anything to cum. The thing is, just like she knew would happen, you started liking it, didn’t you? You started to like taking that big, fat strap-on up your ass.

It wasn’t long before she’d tricked you into leaving your job and turning over everything you had –your money, your house, your car, your savings– to her. She took away your life as a free man and put you in the cage full time. You became her 24/7 Cock-Pig.

That was when she began cum-training you. You would hear her upstairs fucking some guy –you never knew them, at least at first– and your dick would twitch and strain against the chastity device. Later she would come down to you. She’d taunt you, show you her swollen pussy lips. “Remember how tight this pussy is, Cock-Pig,” she’d ask, pushing on her stomach, causing milky cream to drip out of her slit, down the crack of her ass. “Remember when I used to let you fuck me?” You did remember and it made you crazy hot. So easy for her to make you eat her out, lap up all that cream pie. You would have done anything to get your chastity device off at that point.

Then she started bringing you down cups of cum, even a bowl of cum one time. “Come here, Cock-Pig,” Krysta would say, putting the bowl on the floor right inside your cage. “Crawl over here and get your cup of cum, Cock-Pig. Come lap it up and I will take off your device for a little bit. Maybe I’ll even give you a good, hard fucking.”

And so it went. You really were some new low form of animal, Krysta’s Cock-Pig. But Krysta had a plan. And you soon learned you could even go lower.

“Oh, Cock-Pig,” you heard her calling as she came down the stairs. Only this time she wasn’t alone. There was a second set of footsteps. Heavy footsteps.

And then she was there in front of you, a man beside her. A very big man with his very big cock in his fist. “Now I’m going to show you what a Cock-Pig is really good for,” Christa cooed, opening your cage. “Crawl out here now.” Her voice was as sexy as ever, but there was a breathiness to it you hadn’t caught before. This was exciting her. This was where she’d been leading you since the beginning.

“Suck it, Cock-Pig. Suck this big fat cock. When the cock cums, you get to cum.”

And so you sucked it. When he was getting close to cumming, Krysta removed your chastity device and whispered in your ear, “When that cock cums, you can cum. From now on the only time you will ever cum is when you are sucking a cock and it comes.” And she wrapped your own hand around your dick. “Play with it, Cock-Pig. Jerk it while you suck that cock.”

And she stayed so close that you could hear each of her breaths, smell her perfume. Soon the man was grunting, thrusting his hips, grabbing your head. And then you were taking your first load right from that swelling, jerking, squirting cock and cumming all over your own belly at the same time.

And you were finally real. You were Krysta’s Cock-Pig.

Visit Angela’s Blistered Lips for more stories.

Originally posted 2007-09-30 05:41:04.

From Strap-on to the Real Thing
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

By Priscilla

I married a man 20 years my senior. This is my second marriage and his first. I have two daughters; a 14 year old, and a 10 year old from my first marriage.

My daughters and I are quite close and able to discuss every aspect of our life. We realized that my first husband (their father) was virtually worthless, and we vowed to each other that we would not be living that kind of a life in the future. Thankfully, my new husband did well in his career and his income is sufficient to support our lifestyle.

I am often astonished at how some young and even preteen girls understand the idea of male submission, humiliation, and punishment. My two girls realized from the beginning of my marriage that they should take charge right away. Even I learned something from their devious little minds. He did not stand a chance and they knew it.

My daughters have collaborated with me on his every humiliation. The 14 year old has learned about boys from other girls at school and from certain web sites. She knows what excites them, how to control them, how to manipulate them. She, like many older sisters, has taught my 10 year old the ropes (sorry for the pun).

I never realized how submissive my new husband was. However, the girls launched a full interrogation program that included a great deal of innuendo and teasing commentary. His experience with girls was minimal and he was fascinated by their questions and how they planted the seeds of submission. Their goal was to develop a man that would OBEY. They say jump, and he would be trained to automatically ask “how high Miss”?

The girls began by suggesting a family meeting just before bedtime. They wore short and skimpy and frilly girlie things. They new that this type of dress would get his attention. My oldest started the conversation by asking a series of leading questions that the girls had written down. Here are a few of their interrogation questions;

1. Do you think that your new wife and her daughters should be treated like princesses?
2. Do you think that your new wife and her daughters should have complete control of running all family affairs?
3. Will you be ok taking orders and obeying even your 10 year old stepdaughter (giggles here)?
4. Do you believe that your role is to make life easier for the princesses in the home?
5. What excites you about girls? (He is now babbling and stumbling for words). I am really enjoying how the girls are handling themselves. The bulge in his pajamas and his wriggling was so noticeable.
6. In the event that you do not make your princesses happy will you accept being punished, tormented, and humiliated in order to improve your behavior?

The above was really just the beginning. The girls agreed that getting him addicted to girly things would be the best way to condition his behavior.

His first permanent assignment was that all of our panties would be

washed by hand on a daily basis. The girls wanted this done using a certain procedure. He was given three bowls of water, one hot, and two warm and they were set on a table. The hotter water was used for the initial soak, the second would have a little feminine soap added and the third would be a final rinse. Once each pair of panties was thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly washed and rinsed they were hung to dry.

His reward, and this was absolutely precious, he would be drinking the “panty soak water” from a baby bottle. Talk about humiliation and teasing. They made him beg for that bottle. It was not long before other liquids were added to the soak water before it went into his baby bottle, i.e. our spit, etc. etc. That’s all he gets to drink and he actually begs them for it. It was amazing how that nipple brought him to his knees.

Originally posted 2011-01-30 20:12:00.

A Completely Female Led Family
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

Mistress bought an iron leash to attach to my collar months ago but She had used it yet. I was not sure why and I did not question Her either. Whats the fun when you tell your Mistress and how She wants to use ? Many men especially those are in a relationship and would like it to be a “Female Led” one would expect their S.O to do certain things that they have fantasize about. Best way to go about that is to communicate your Domme and let Her know at the perfect or right time what you are into. Perfect time would be when She asks you about your fetishes and interests. It is the best time to open up and the right time would be when you feel that your Mistress is feeling comfortable in Her role and seem to be more interested in trying new things. In all that, it is important that one does not forget the main purpose of once submission which is, in most cases, is to please and make your Mistress happy. I have shared my interest in bondage and my fetish for chains. Mistress decided to use it and it was very pleasureful experience for both of us.
One afternoon, Mistress came behind me while I was using the computer and watched me work with Her arms around my neck. Gently rubbing my neck and back the way She does. Of course, She had got my attention especially after Her tongue licked teasingly my ear lobes and Her fingers brushed my nipple through my shirt.
“What is My slave upto ?”
It took me sometime as currents of pleasure ran through my spine. My nipples are very sensitive to Her touch and they work like on and off buttons for me.
“Nothing much Mistress” It just seemed like shorest and right answer. Mistress was in a playful mood obviously. She placed Her lips on mine and between Her licks and kisses, a collar was placed around my neck. I am trained well to not to resist to feel Her collar around my neck but at such times, I am sure it would be easy for my Mistress to collar most men. I am lucky that She had chosen me.
She pulled on my collar once it was secure and kissed me forcefully. Later, pulling me off my chain and at Her feet. She looked amazing as I looked up as usual. She understood perhaps that I may not be thinking straight now, I heard a tap of Her feet to get my attention. I lowered and pressed series of gentle kisses on the smooth skin of Her foot and Her toes while She watched and whispered, “Good boy”. It is then when I was having my moments where my Home is, at Her feet, I heard the metal over metal which She played with it or perhaps just gave me a hint of Her plans for the evening. Mistress has not taught me any position to put a leash on me so She lowered and grabbed a handful of my hair to pull me up. I was already a bit in my submissive state by having Her tower over me and kissing Her feet it was not really a pain to me. She was getting foreful and it was a good sign as I might see Her as Her, my Mistress. We were both about to experience the state of yin and yang which is very fulfilling to us.
I must say that “the click” of Her locking the chain to my corner and watching Her holding the other end is something I had been thinking of since that time. I always see Her as my guide, protector, trainer and teacher along with many other things She is to me so perhaps Her holding the chain signified it even better. I was not sure what side of Her I will be seeing today. It is always a surprise to me.
Mistress pulled on my chain and of course I followed. She took few steps and watched me. She smiled and nodded as I did on my knees. She grabbed Her crop and smirked looking down at me. At such times when She looks at me like this. I feel very lost. Perhaps shy. Its hard to explain. I just lowered and kissed Her foot once more. She did not miss the chance to make my bottom sting with few wacks to remind the presence of Her crop in Her hand. I wiggled my ass playfully the way She likes to watch between my moans. Mistress turned and started to walked. I got on my feet to follow Her but I was told to stay on the floor. “Did I tell You to walk spirit?” Of course I was not thinking and I was reminded with a blow on my bottom which made me squirm. She grabbed some things along the way as W/we made our way to the bedroom. I learned to keep up with Her from my submissive position as She walked. If i wont, i may be dragged. I obeyed and which was my lesson to learn. She did refer to me as Her pup and I started to feel like one. I am not sure if She is going that way but most couple’s use leashes during puppy play/training sessions to feel connected in that way. Later, W/we were in the bedroom. She undressed before me which i was chained at the side of Her bedside waiting for Her. Then She pulled on my knees and directed me between Her legs and then it was my tongue and lickings that made Her scream with pleasure. She used the chain to direct me to help me worship parts of Her body.
Mistress made my fantasy come true and later used it for other purposes like dicipline or sometime where She expects the least of resistance like pulling me of the computer or bring me to bed late at night ~laughs~ We both enjoy this connection and use the leash in different ways to play and have fun.

Originally posted 2009-01-25 06:59:26.

Human Puppy on a Leash
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

‘Hey, let me loose!’ He couldn’t believe they went off and left him there. He was painfully hard and his balls were throbbing, he was beginning to realize his butt was burning where Pat had smacked him. He knew he would never be able to look a Ping-Pong paddle in the eye again. ‘Cmon, this isn’t funny anymore! Not that it ever was…’ He heard them talking and laughing upstairs.

With an utter feeling of hopelessness, he thought ‘What have I gotten myself into? I am naked, tied up and at the mercy of those two women. Sure, great fantasy, but the reality leaves a lot to be desired. This isn’t anything like I imagined it.’ Then he heard the little voice telling him to be careful what he wished for. He groaned.

Time passed slowly for him, and he caught himself thinking he was really glad he hadn’t drunk a soda or anything like that before coming down here. That would be totally embarrassing. Eventually he heard someone coming down the stairs.

He found that if he turned he could finally see all of her, and he was impressed. She was close to his age and quite attractive.

‘How is my new pet doing?’

‘I am NOT your pet. Let me loose!’

‘Oh I don’t think so, I think you have been a very naughty boy. And I think you need some serious correction. You know window peeping is against the law? and so is public nudity.’

‘Public nudity! I have never been nude in public.’

‘Really? and just how did all of that stuff get on the side of the house? Made its way out of your pockets?’ He flushed at the recollection and began pulling, fruitlessly, at his bonds.

‘You won’t get loose you know, so lets talk about you. Just what were you thinking when you climbed up there? Were you hoping to get caught?’

‘No, of course not. I had seen the video and wondered what it felt like. I knew there wouldn’t be anyone home for hours, I wasn’t SUPPOSED to fall asleep. And what were YOU thinking, fastening me to this thing?’

‘Umm well, I thought you were a present. Pat knew I was looking for a slave.’ At the mention of the word, all of the righteous indignation that he had managed to work up evaporated.

His voice was quite small when he asked, ‘A slave? You were looking for a slave?’

‘Hmm,’ looking back behind the frame. ‘Now why is that something that I think you have thought about? And by the looks of it, something that you think might be just a little fun.’

It was true, at the mention of the word, he had felt himself swell and was now bobbing against the bottom of the bench.

‘So how about it my pet, willing to give it a go? Probably beats the boring college girls you have been going out with. Here lets get you in a more comfortable position to talk.’ She stood right up against him and reached down, unlocking the cuff on one hand then the other. She pulled them behind him, she was blocking his body so he couldn’t get up and clipped the cuffs together. Then she undid his feet as well. She steadied him as he stood, dizzy for a moment from all the time with his head hanging down. He looked at her and realized that she was quite lovely up close.

She wrapped her hand around his cock and balls and said, ‘Lets go over her.’ Somehow not going with here didn’t really seem to be an option, so he shuffled along after her. She stopped in front of the chair that he had seen in the video and said, ‘Kneel down.’

‘No.’ He wasn’t playing this game.

‘Really?’ Then he felt the pressure on his balls. She was squeezing them! He slowly crumpled to his knees, his eyes watering. ‘There you see, that wasn’t so hard was it? Now you just stay there.’

He knelt, his eyes looking upward at her and then he realized what she was doing. She was unbuttoning her shirt! She flung it aside and smiled as she saw the deer in the headlight look in his eyes which were glued to her breasts. She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside as well. The fact that she was enjoying this as well was evident in the rigidity of her nipples. Then she carefully leaned down, narrowly avoiding him and slid off her shorts. She was naked, not six inches in front of him. He was almost drooling.

‘Now you know, good slaves do get rewards. You did know that didn’t you? If you were good, what would you like as a reward?’ She pretty much had an idea, given the state of his cock. He was forming a small drip line down the front.

‘I would get to have sex with you?’ At this, she laughed, her breasts bouncing in front of his face.

‘Oh, you are a brave little slave, no generally not, you might be called on to service your mistress, but no, slaves don’t have sex. If you were very, very good, you might be rewarded.’ She began stroking his cock again. ‘You would like me to make you feel good wouldn’t you.’

She smiled as the strangled, ‘Oh yes, please,’ came from his lips. She rather enjoyed how his brain seemed to loose control over his mouth with she played with him. That could be fun.

‘You seem to like my breasts a lot, do you think they are attractive?’ Another strangled yes broke from his lips. She leaned over and whispered, ‘Don’t move,’ into his ear, then straightening began rubbing her breasts on his face. She was rewarded by little moans of lust.

‘There you see, if you do what I tell you there are rewards. Now we need to talk about your previous behavior. Peeking in windows isn’t what we consider good behavior. Stand up.’ She again took him by the cock and balls and led him over to another chair. ‘Now my pet, over my lap.’

‘What!? No… I am not a child.’ He felt the pressure on his balls increase slightly. ‘No, no stop it…..’ His eyes were beginning to water. ‘Please, no don’t make me do that…. please.’

He felt his body responding to the pain and he bent over her. She guided him, making sure he was positioned where she wanted him, his cock grasped tightly between her legs.

Once he was settled, she chuckled and said, ‘There, you see, that wasn’t so hard was it?’

He felt terribly helpless, his arms pinioned behind his back. She began running her hands over his butt. He felt himself relaxing as she worked her way from his butt, gradually down his thighs. His legs separated and she began to stroke his balls. She was rewarded with little groans and gasps.

‘Now let’s talk about your little lapse. You already told us you were peaking through the window. Did you enjoy yourself? You like watching?’

Again, he felt himself floating away and not thinking about the consequences, her hands busy, stroking, caressing.

‘I had never thought about it, never done it. I didn’t know women did that.. enjoyed themselves. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.’

She slowly worked the whole story from him. How he had watched, then obsessed over the images in his mind, masturbating several times a day. Then his feelings watching the video and how he couldn’t resist trying the cuffs and bench out in the basement. How he had fantasies about serving women as a slave. As he listened to himself, disconnected, he realized that he had needed to talk about it, to tell someone, anyone.

‘You realize that what you did was wrong. Not the watching of course, or playing with the toys. But doing those things without permission goes against what is one of the basic rules of our lifestyle. Consent is incredibly important. So now I ask you, do I have your consent to punish you for what you did? Once the punishment is over then you are finished with it and we would never mention it again.’

As he listened to her talk, his brain re-engaged and he tensed again. ‘What are we talking about? You are going to whip me? Use some of that stuff on the wall?’

‘No, my pet, just my hand. You are not ready for that other stuff yet. Yet. Do you agree?’

Her hand? She was just a tiny thing, she couldn’t hurt him with her hand. ‘Sure, why not.’

‘Alright my pet, remember, ‘Red’ is your stop word. Say that and this all ends, and you go home. ‘Yellow’ will lessen the intensity, but not stop it.’ With that, she started gently smacking the cheeks of his butt. He felt her legs tighten around him. It was actually rather pleasant, her hands moving slowly, smacking him gently. His bottom began to warm, then she worked her way down his thighs and back up again. She was beginning to hit a bit harder and it was beginning to sting.

She smiled as she felt him begin to squirm a little under her. She knew that he figured he could take anything she could dish out. She smiled again. His butt was definitely getting pink and she knew it was beginning to sting. She began hitting twice in one spot before moving on, over his butt, his thighs.

‘Ow, stop it! That hurts’ She quietly continued, his bottom getting redder. The squirming was having a rather unintended result, at least for him. Grasped tightly between her legs, the squirming was causing him some rather pleasant sensations.

Smack, smack, smack. He began pleading, amazed that such a small person could cause that much sensation in his backside and legs. His eyes were beginning to water, and he continued to plead for her to stop and began trying to block her with his hands. Blocking was useless, since she could see where his hands were and move, since double hitting wasn’t necessary, his entire butt was on fire. She increased the intensity again, SMACK SMACK.

‘Oh please, please. Stop.. I’ll never do it again. honest.. please. I was wrong…. wrong..’ He began sobbing, not from the pain but from the realization that he did think what he did was terribly wrong. He sobbed against her leg.

She gently rubbed his bottom, his back until he had cried himself out.

‘Better?’

He realized that it was, he did feel remarkably better and found himself saying,’ Yes…. thank you.’ And he meant it.

She helped him slide off onto his knees, so that he was kneeling in front of her. She wiped his tears away with her hand. Then, she leaned forward. ‘Now take this.’ She held one breast and offered the nipple to his mouth. He closed his lips around it, unsure if he should do something.

‘Oh very good, you are waiting for instructions.’ He felt a wave of pleasure at her compliment and the overwhelming need to do whatever she wanted correctly.

‘Now twirl your tongue around it. Yes, very good, I’ll bet you have done this before! Now put it between your teeth, gently, don’t bite, but hold it snug between your teeth. Alright my pet, pull back slowly, ah yes, perfect!’ She looked down and was rewarded by the look of absolute adoration that she had seen many times aimed at other dommes, but never from a pet of her own. And she knew that he was hers. She sat and leaned back in the chair and looked at him. She ran her eyes over him, slowly, completely. A smile slowly built as he looked back at her and then slowly dropped his eyes to the floor and he slowly relaxed, to wait for her next request. He thought, ‘Her next command.’

Time crawled, suspended, surreal. He heard her shift and began to smell the musk of her arousal. He raised his eyes slightly and then trembled when he saw that she had opened herself to him. ‘C’mon little one, lets see how you do.’

‘I cannot.’ He barely breathed the words.

‘You refuse!?’

‘I.. I have never.. I don’t know… I would not please you.’

‘Ah… little one, you will learn, and your goal today is not to please me, I want you to get to know me, to know the feel and smell of me, for you have a decision to make.’ She leaned forward and taking him by the hair, pulled him forward until he was just above her sex. The smell of her was overwhelming and as she gently pushed him into her and held him there, he began kissing her gently. Soon he was lost in her, kissing and licking, reveling in the softness of her. Soon he found her little nub, he trembled when she moaned as he sucked at it. Then all too soon, she was pulling him back by his hair.

‘Very good little one, you have promise. You know that you have the choice in this, you decide your fate. To accept whatever I choose for you? To gladly endure anything that I want to do to you? To submit your will and your body to me? Do you choose this, to become my pet, my toy? ‘

He looked at her. She had allowed him a privilege, a reward. He looked at her and knew that he would do anything for her, just to have that feeling again. He bowed his head, looked at the floor and whispered, ‘Yes.’

The shrill little voice in the back of his head was yelling that he was lost… lost… lost…. but the other quieter, warm voice was whispering, ‘yes….. at last.’

Continued

Originally posted 2010-11-22 23:23:05.

Ms Strict 6
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

It took two months before I saw the other side of my secretary Miss Wolfe. We were in Tokyo on business. The ten-day trip would have worn out most people, but she never showed signs of tiring. Her command of Japanese proved an asset, and we plowed ahead with complicated negotiations, harrowing travel arrangements, and a multitude of other details that would have made most people’s head swim.

As always, my accommodations were the finest, but in truth, I was far too busy to notice. One evening, as I worked in my suite, I heard a light knock on the door. I hadn’t ordered room service, and asked impatiently,

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mr. Lamb,” I heard Miss Wolfe say.

“What is it?” I demanded, impatient by her breach of etiquette. I am no fool. No smart businessman lets the relationship with their assistant become too personal, even if the assistant is one of the most beautiful women in the city.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, sir,” she replied, her silky voice muffled by the thick door. “But there’s been a development on the Yokito negotiations, and I thought you should have an update.”

By now I was more than impatient. I was annoyed. I could not fathom why Miss Wolfe would take an elevator fifteen floors up to knock on my door when she could have simply picked up the telephone.

“Miss Wolfe,” I said as I cracked open the door to glare at her, “The last time I checked, they still had telephones in this facility, and I certainly do not appreciate your knocking on my door at this hour.”

She hugged her long coat tightly around her sleek body and looked down at the floor. “Some papers were dropped off for you to review,” she murmured. “I thought you’d want them right away. But if you prefer, I’ll go back to my room and call you on the telephone.” Her voice cracked on the last few words.

This was a side of her I’d never seen. Nothing upset Miss Wolfe — last-minute changes in deadlines, my rantings over schedule conflicts, working nights and weekends – nothing.

“There’s no need to get upset,” I muttered. “You’re here now. You might as well come in.” I opened the door wider and moved aside. Without a word, she picked up her leather briefcase and walked into my suite. As I turned to close the door, I heard a sharp hissing sound. Immediately, the room started to spin, and I whipped around just in time to see Miss Wolfe holding a small spray vial.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place and saw the hazy image of my soon-to-be unemployed assistant. But Miss Wolfe, with her endless supply of elegant business attire, was dressed for anything but business. In high leather boots, a short leather skirt, and a Wolfe leather top that left little to the imagination, she was obviously not the same Miss Wolfe who brought me coffee and muffins.

“What the hell.” I cursed, realizing for the first time I couldn’t move. Leather cuffs imprisoned both my wrists and ankles. My arms were chained high above my head and attached to hooks suspended from the ceiling. A short chain ran from each ankle cuff and attached to a sturdy metal hook imbedded in the floor. “Miss Wolfe,” I said quietly with steel in my voice. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I assure you I am not interested.”

“Oh, really?” she retorted, staring pointedly at my pelvic region. “You could’ve fooled me.” Like a jungle feline stalking its chosen prey, she moved closer. She leaned close to me, and I caught a hint of intoxicating perfume. She reached down and ran an elegant finger over the bulge in my pants.

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Lamb,” she whispered in my ear, her silky voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you think I showed up at your office by accident? Tell me, didn’t you find it a bit odd that good old Betty retired so suddenly? Oh, I heard about you alright, and let me tell you something right now. I’ve waited two long months for this, and I will not be denied. Tonight, you are going to serve me.”

Her words excited me in spite of myself, but I vowed she would never know “Miss Wolfe,” I retorted. “I assure you, you are quite mistaken. Now, I demand you release me this instant.”

“First of all,” she purred. “You will address me as Mistress Wolfe. And second of all, you’re in no position to make demands.” She began to circle me, her leather boots clicking against the hard floor of what looked like an old warehouse. I looked around and realized that the restraints imprisoning me were not the only ones at her disposal. My eyes fell on numerous tools of confinement, pain, and pleasure. My head was clearing at last, and I tested the strength of the chains binding me.

I heard a silky laugh behind me. “Yes, they are genuine.

You’re mine completely, and I believe it is time for your first lesson.” She ran her hand lightly across the back of my pants, lingering on my buttocks as she prowled around to the front of me. She looked directly into my eyes and whispered, “I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”

She reached out and unbuckled my belt. She tugged, freeing the long leather strip from the loops confining it. She held the belt in her hands for a moment. Then suddenly, she drew back and cracked it against the side of my thigh. Even through my pants, it stung.

This was too much. “You crazy bitch!” I yelled.

“Goddamn it, enough is enough. Let me go now!”

She smiled. “Strange, that didn’t sound like begging to me. But that’s easily remedied.” Calmly, she transferred my thick belt from her right hand to her left. With her right hand now free, she reached out to unfasten my pants. With a few quick tugs, my pants were around my ankles, my erection even more prominent through my boxers. With another series of tugs, my boxers also rested on my feet. My shirt and tie, she left untouched.

I heard the chains rattle as I tugged furiously against them. Miss Wolfe began to circle me again, my sturdy belt in her certain hands. Unexpectedly, I heard the sound of a crack and felt the first sting of the leather as it struck my bare backside. I flinched and yelled in response, tugging even harder against the chains securing me. Like lightning, the second crack came sooner than expected. “Stop it, dammit!” I yelled, making a vain attempt to twist around to face my tormentor.

She ignored my demands, and struck my bare ass with the sturdy belt yet another time. I struggled like a madman and heard her laugh quietly. I felt several more painful cracks against my backside, and then she paused.

I heard the click of her boots as she prowled closer. I felt a silky hand brush against my warm backside as if testing her handiwork. Soon, I felt two smooth arms encircle my waist and two expert hands reaching between my legs as she pressed her body close behind me.

The pain from the belt had made my erection less prominent, but as I felt two silky hands stroke my penis from head to shaft, it didn’t take long for me to grow rock hard again.

I considered making another bid for freedom, but her touch was enthralling, and I doubted my demands would do any good…

Originally posted 2010-06-28 15:07:44.

Sadistic Secretary
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

I climbed the attic ladder and knelt in my assigned corner. That she’d placed a small blanket for me to kneel on gave me pause. She only did that when I would be on one position for a comparatively long time.

The attic was pitch black except for a small red light that glowed from the ceiling, a wireless camera.

Her voice came from the house intercom, “Lock your ball cage to the ring in the floor.”

Feeling about I found a bit of short metal chain next to me. When the little lock clicked into place I bowed my head to show that I’d obeyed and hand rendered myself unable to rise from my knees.

“Now, slave, lock your arms behind your balls.”

I looped another chain behind the first and closed two little locks. Now I could move my hands only a few inches forward. Again I bowed my head.

“Now I have you out of my way but still under my eye.”

The intercom fell silent and I sat there in the dark wondering. There are times when her dominant side is ascendant but she’s too tired or distracted to want to work me over. On those occasions she would often seek to expand my tolerance for bondage. That my restraints left me some freedom of movement suddenly seemed an ominous sign. It meant I wasn’t in danger of becoming too cramped or straining a joint. I could be left alone in the dark for a very long time.

And she knew me too well. She knew I’d speculate about it and, given my nature, assume the worst. Several variations of worst. It was the kind of refined mental torture only an Owner who knew her slave well could practice.

She could sit downstairs watching me fidget, enjoying the various expressions that crossed my face.

It doesn’t take long for your sense of time to become confused when you are alone. I relaxed as I heard her ascending footsteps.

“Would you like to come down and worship my shoes?”

My “Yes, Mistress” was emphatic. That she was going to let me be near her made me happy.

Then I saw her hands reach to a shelf pull something down that I realized was a very strict posture collar as it went around my neck. My head was locked into place pointing directly at the camera.

She followed this with a special pair of nipple clamps with a chain that fastened to the ball cage. If I started to fidget the chain would pull on my nipples. As they did when she gave my hair a yank.

“Now you sit there and be still” – as if I had much choice – “and if you’re lucky I’ll remember you are up here.”

Bait and switch! No matter how often she did that I was never prepared. Serenely, haughtily she smiled down at my increased misery.

She left me amid the blackness wondering how long before she’d come back to release me.

Originally posted 2012-10-21 08:28:58.

Attic Bondage
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

Penis Whipping

Tommy had been seeing me for almost two months now. I was growing quite fond of him. We had reached a point in this relationship where I needed to know if he was a keeper. I believed that he was, but I just needed to know for sure. I needed real proof.

I put on my best black lingerie and slipped on a nice dress. I called him and told him to clean him self up and hurry over. I could tell this excited him. He was over in a few minutes ringing the bell. As soon as he came in the door, I could tell he was really wound up. It had been almost three days since he was last serviced, and the tension had built up in him. I instructed him to take his clothes off, and he did as he was told. I liked to look at him standing there all excited with his erect throbbing penis so hard. His body was lean and his skin soft and smooth. He was lovely a man, made all the more delicious by his innocent submission. Tonight we were going to have a very special encounter. I let him stand there for a few minutes, with his heart pumping. I stood just close enough to him so he could smell me and be aware of my presence.

I took a minute to place my palms on his chest and feel the warm strength under his skin. He was going to need all his strength tonight. I made sure to stand in such a way as to not give his cock any place to rub against. His penis just had to stand erect, with no attention being paid to it. I could see it aching for attention.

I grabbed him by the ear, and gently lead him over to the large chair and told him to get down on his knees. His reactions were swift to my commands. I made him lock his fingers above his head, a position he already knew. How precious he looked all submissive and kneeling there before me. I went back to the bedroom dresser and got out my leather belt and my cane. He could not see what I was doing, but he could hear me. He knew already this was going to be more than a simple spanking. As I approached him, his back arched a bit and his little butt cheeks tightened. I stood behind and above him and enjoyed the view of his completely naked body and his throbbing cock. I could see a little bit of a shinny fluid at the top of his pink head. His balls were filling up and his body was making semen. I had already trained him on how to control himself, so I was not worried about an accident. I ran my fingers through his hair and enjoyed this sweet moment. Then I started.

I raised the belt and brought it sharply down across his little ass. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His poor unprotected butt quivered with each lick. He started to rock his weight from one side to other to try to avoid the stinging blows. SMACK! SMACK! and SMACK! again. The belt did its work on his ass. His finger knuckles grew white from the tension of having to keep has hands locked. After fifteen blows, I told him to stand up. This was already the worst whipping he had been given, and yet so much more was to come. I turned him around to look at his erection. He was hard as a steel rod and I so liked to look at him standing there with his eyes closed and his breathing quick with anticipation. I pinched each of small nipples a couple of times, causing him to make a slight gasping sound.

Normally I would have given him a few strokes, but tonight was different. I had other plans. There were things I needed to find out. I told him to open his eyes, and I took off my dress in front of him. He was really hot and bothered seeing me there with my black outfit on holding that cane. I lead him by the ear over to the middle of the room and made him stand still. Again he was told to lock his fingers on top of his head.

“Spread you legs,” I ordered. “I am going to whip your little dick.” He shivered as he spread his legs.

I reached my hands in between his legs to get a good grip on his testicles, and then I whipped his hard penis with the cane. “How much could he take”, I wondered. Each little whack would cause his dick to jerk and rotate about. It was a such a sweet pleasure to see him jump and wiggle each time the cane landed on him. This was the first time I had ever addressed him this way. The blows were short stinging little whacks. I worked the cane up and down both sides of his shaft.

He stood there taking it and saying nothing. His eyes were firmly closed and he did his best to hold up the punishment. I could feel his full balls moving around in my hand.

After as many whacks as I thought he needed, I went back behind him and started to use the cane on his red and white ass. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! the blows rained down until I finally heard the sound I was waiting for. After that last blow, he had made a barely auditable soft little whimper. I stopped the whipping and went around in front of him. His eyes where shut, but I could see small tears forming and starting to come down his cheek. As I stood in front of him, he started to break down, the little whimpers turning into a quite little cry. He held his hands above his head and stood ready for whatever might come next. This was the moment I was waiting to see. As he stood there whipped and hurting but still waiting to take whatever I dished out, I knew the answer to my question. I put down the cane and quickly took off my bra. I put one hand behind his neck and with the other I reached down to hold his hot penis. He was only about half hard now as he was fighting to keep back his little tears.

“Okay,” I said, “Okay” His little whimpers started to fade and I pressed forward so he could feel the warmth of my breasts on his chest. As I rubbed his now half soft cock, I told him he could put his hands down. I let him put his arms around me and his head fell down on my shoulder as he slowly pulled himself back together.

After a few minutes of him feeling the warmth of my body on him, he started to come out of it.

‘I love you,” he whispered. “Oh god, I love you so much.”

His cock slowly filled back up and his eyes began to dry. As I stroked him, his breathe shortened and his muscles tightened. After a while, I could feel him getting close, and after a few more quick warm strokes, his whipped and hot penis went into a spasm and I felt the warm bust of his semen all over my stomach. Over and over again his cock jerked involuntarily as it produced one load of white fluid after another. His knees buckled and he let out a soft groan. He completely flooded me. After he was fully spent, I gently held his penis and lead him over to the front of the bed. I sat down and he knelt in front of me. All the while I kept him in my hand. He sat down on his knees and put his hands on his thighs, just as he had learned. When he was seated, I told him to open his eyes. I looked deep into him, then I pressed my lips to his and kissed him fully. He responded with such openness and he totally gave himself all up to me. After a long probing kiss, I gently bowed his head onto my breasts and slowly stroked his hair. My other hand still maintained the hold I had on his genitals.

As I sat there, holding him, I knew I had found out what I needed to know. He was mine, and that would never change.

“I do love you, ” he quietly said.

“I know,” I said as I held him there in my arms. I knew I had to take good care of this boy.

More Bill Ward art.

Originally posted 2013-02-24 07:21:42.

Male Slave Worth Keeping
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

When I go to visit my mistress and lover, I have some anticipation of what shoes or boots she might be wearing, but am usually surprised at what is on her feet, as I think she likes to not do the obvious. In this way, I have slowly been transformed from a rather traditional black high heeled boot type of fetishist, to one oriented to the eroticisation of what my mistress chooses to wear.

Her tastes run from flowery espadrille wedges, to colorful, dirty sneakers, to pink patent, pointy toed flats, to brown suede ankle boots with a side zip and kitten heel, to purple pull on over the knee platform boots, thick, strappy, high heeled sandals, and yes, the traditional fetish garb of black leather boots with heels of varying character and height… sinister to playful.

As I press the doorbell on her apartment, I wait to hear her steps towards the door to buzz me in, over the street noise, and try to visualize what shoes are making that tapping sound on the bare wood floor… soft or hard, sandals, wedges, boots? I can usually tell a high heel from a wedge, but never the exact shoe itself.

She regularly ‘introduces’ me to her shoes as part of our play, telling me where she got them, pointing out their qualities that she likes, and dislikes, posing her feet all the while. Shoes that I am ‘introduced’ to require not only that she orgasm while wearing them, but the foreplay usually involves me sitting or kneeling on the floor before her while I fondle, and caress her shod feet, while we discuss their virtues, and then begin to kiss, lick, and generally savor the sense of losing myself into the thrilling lust of total fetish worship of my mistresses attire, while she runs her hands through my hair, gently pressing me against the objects of my desire. In short, whatever is on her feet is my passion, to place my mouth on, to wet with my tongue, to taste, to lick clean, to smell, to kiss, and to have her watch me in this act of humbling, intimate, worship.

My fetishistic boundaries have been truly stretched by this shift from my personal fantasies to serving the desires of an erotically powerful woman with a playful sense of footwear. Some of her shoes have a rubbery scent and taste, others are more leathery, and some are in between, with my mistresses own salty essence as a part of it.

Regardless, great joy is experienced when my tongue is sliding across her straps, soles, soft leather, slippery patent, wedges, high heels, places where her feet have moistened, soiled, and stained through the wearing.

I lose myself in the act, and savor the most subtle and intimate flavors and scents of her feet and shoes.

She sometimes triggers my orgasm through the position of her footwear, and the proximity to my mouth and nose, bringing me to rapid ejaculation by rubbing her footwear against my face when she wishes me to orgasm, and keeping them away when she wants to me to keep up a steady rhythm for her own pleasure.

We have over the years evolved a true symbiotic relationship of sorts, where she’s trained me to please her in many ways, with my mouth, my hands, and more traditional means, and because of her own interest in shoes, and my utter, fetishistic, devotion to women’s footwear, we each are fulfilled. She knows that I have an overwhelming desire to lick and smell her shoes and feet, and has made the most of it.

As the journey has progressed I’ve come to realize that the act of pleasuring my mistress is the greatest reward. I used to consider myself exclusively a boot, shoe, and foot slave, but I have very much become a pussyslave, and am unbelievably aroused by the taste and smell of her.

But that is straying off topic, and I must end this note.

Originally posted 2009-10-05 21:58:28.

Worshipping Mistress’ Boots & Shoes
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

I sat in a room waiting for the entrance of Darkling. She had summoned me here to apply to be in her harem. She had told me in advance that this was a very serious challenge to be accepted, and that it meant that I would have to beat out someone for the position. As she entered she had three slaves led in shackles. She had told me that she had three in the harem and that was all that were allowed. She took a seat and told us all to look toward the door to the left. In walked a rather short, but very attractive boy, possibly 17 or 18. He had long dark hair a gorgeous face and a perfect body. He was dressed in nothing by a sarong wrap around his waist and a diamond studded black leather collar. He walking in and bowed to Darkling, kissing her boot then he stood before her with his head bowed an hands clasped behind his back. “I present to you my prize, the jewel of my collection” she said. “This is Slutboy, he is my pet extraordinaire, he is not part of the harem, he is my personal boy toy and as such he will not have to endure the pain of these games, he will enjoy watching by my side”. With that she pulled off his sarong to expose by far the largest cock I had ever seen. It hung to his knee and in an unaroused state must have measured 16”. Darkling then said “Slutboy, please get a hard-on for us honey”, and with that his cock swelled to a stiffness that was spellbinding. “He is so well trained” Darkling said smiling, then she said “Slutboy, you have ten seconds to cum, and almost instantly drips of pre-cum oozed from the tip of his cock. Then with a load roar he shot a stream of cum halfway across the room, several shots of massive proportions, then he sat quietly at Darkling’s feet. “Slutboy will be used later, once we have determined who will be the sacrifice. “Now let the games begin” Darkling said as all paid attention to her every word. “Since there are four of you and I only wish to have three in the harem, one of you will pay the ultimate sacrifice” “This is how it works” she said. “The new boy – “win”, will have to face slave “d” as d has the smallest cock of the current harem, and since Slutboy is by far the largest, he is exempt for these contests.” So here is what will happen, win and d will play a game of tug of war, with the loser having to play with Slutboy, but not to leave slave ”b” and “x” out of the festivities, we have a special game for them.

Darkling then took a seat on her throne and proclaimed that we begin. The first contest was called “siamese cocksucker” she said and it was between slave b and slave x. She produced a needle and thread, and said “first we need you to become one” and with that she proceed to stitch their cocks together, foreskin to foreskin. Once attached both subs were cuffed and blindfolded and Darkling explained the rules of this game are simple, you will each get half of a double-ended dildo that I call the donkey dong, “the first one to swallow up to the mark will be the winner, and the loser gets a fate worse than death, but eventually resulting in that outcome”. She then put a mark in the middle of the dildo with her lipstick and then inserted each end into their mouths and told them to begin. The pain from the stitching must have been unbearable and the size of the dildo produced an instinctive gaging reaction in both. They started to take in the dildo as best they could. As they took in more and more they could feel the breath of the other slave as they both approached the mark. Finally their lips touched as they meet in the middle. The noise of them breathing through their noses was very loud and they could hear Darkling’s boots walking towards them with the sound of her giggling. “Look at this sight” she said as their bodies were quivering and sweating, their cocks stitched together. “Let me see who wins here as she grabbed them both by the collar and pulled them even closer together. Then she attached their collars together locking them in position with the dildo stuffed down their throats. “It seems that it is a tie, so I will leave you both in this position, the first one to pass out loses.

Darkling then walked to me and the other slave and said “now you two realize the significance of this contest don’t you – the loser will be sacrificed” She then grabbed us both by the hand and lead us to the center of the room. “This game is called balls-tug-of-war”. She then proceeded to duct tape our balls together, she made sure that it was possible for them to come apart, but not without skin being removed. Once completed she drew a line on the floor and said the first one to cross the line loses…begin!” We both started pulling and instantly the screaming started. The sound of our agony was horrific as we pulled each other towards the line. I felt like my balls were about to be ripped off my body as I was slowly being dragged to the line. Finally in a rage of fear I yanked him towards me and punched him in the mouth and with both hands pulled him across the line. I felt that my balls had been ripped from my body and reached down to feel them fully expecting to see blood as they would be ripped open. “Bravo…Bravo” shouted Darkling. “you will do very well in this harem win, I am pleased with your succeed-at-all-costs attitude” she said as she ripped the duct tape off our balls. Slave d then started to plead and beg but Darkling was not hearing him. She produced a harness that was attached to Slutboy’s hips. She then clipped slave d’s collar to the harness and stuffed Slutboy’s massive cock into his mouth, as slave d gagged uncontrollably. “Now, here is what will happen, I will fuck Slutboy in the ass with my 12” strap on cock, and he will then produce an erection in your mouth, which in turn will cause you to choke to death” She then mounted Slutboy and stated to ram his ass as she banged him so hard that everyone bounced froward. Slave d was crying and choking. As Slutboy grew harder so did Darkling’s grin grow bigger as she looked at me and said, ‘just think win, you are a stupid slut and it is only a matter of time until this is you with his cock exploding in your mouth”!

Originally posted 2011-02-08 11:17:05.

Darkling’s Dark Game
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

Like many men, I am fairly emotionally, er, what’s the word? Inarticulate. (Thanks to my wife for that)

In today’s perplexing world, being good at football, or boxing, seems to count for nothing. So i’m often totally out of my depth in social situations.

Take a scary incident that happened at the cinema yesterday. They were showing Taxi Driver, which I’ve only seen 29 times. So I still haven’t memorised every line of dialogue. It’s every hard at the start of the film, when your mind isn’t tuned in to the Noo Yoik ear-ksent. (That’s accent, you goddamn schmuck!)

So, you have to listen very hard. But luckily, I had the cinema to myself. Well, I did. Suddenly, this behemoth burst through the doors. She had a bucket of pop corn in one hand, and a bucket of coke and ice in the other. Over her shoulder, she had a gargantuan handbag, which seemed to contain a bag of sand.

My heart sank as she chose the row behind me. But when she plonked herself noisily behind me, I was forced to speak up.

“Tut”, I said.

It didn’t even affect her. My remark bounced off her, like a bullet on an alien spacecraft. She obviously had the hide of a rhinocerous. And the arse to match.

I made my excuses to myself, and settled down to swallow my self loathing and enjoy the film.

Before Robert De Niro had even walked into the garage, she’d come to the end of her bucket of coke. I know this, because it made a gurgling nose, like a bath emptying, which completely drowned out the first line of dialogue. “Harry answer that”

The next significant line “So, what is it Travis?!” was inaudible too. This time it was the noice of her rumaging around the pop corn bucket.

By the time we reached the stage where Travis meets Betsy, she was onto the sweets. Travis was writing his diary: “She appeared like an angle, in all this mess, they cannot touch her.. They……. cannot……….touch……..” and I didn’t hear the rest, because there appeared to be a firework display going on behind me. I turned round, and this terrifying monstress was unwrapping a firecracker. The fireworks went on for hours. I counted forty sweets were noisily unwrapped, following a period of noisy searches. She seemed to have to eat the sweets in a particular order.

Next comes the poignant scene where the socially clumsy Travis has a disastrous date with Betsy. Only I didn’t hear it, because the fiend in female form was on her mobile, to Darren.

“This film’s rabbish Darren,” she said, “When’s the action going to start?”

That was it. I’m sorry, but I lost my temper completely. I thumped up the stairs, crashed the doors into the lobby, and stormed up to Carla, who I assume was the manageress. i waited until she got off the phone, and finished her crossword, then gave her a piece of my mind.

“Oh,” she laughed. “it sounds like you’ve met Marge. Sorry, there’s not much we can do,” she said.

Blimey, I thought, who trains these people, Hendon Police College?

“The problem is, Marge died ten years ago to this day,” she said. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I noticed the nipples stiffened underneath Carla’s blouse.

How. Did. She. Die? I heard myself stammering. As usual, a lady’s delightful bouncing globes had completely mesmerised me.

“I shot her. Then turned the gun on myself.”

These two ghostly women were polar opposites. They show the extremes of greatness, and evil, of which the superior sex is capable.

Carla, the cinema manageress, did not die in vain. She is a heroine. And I am building a shrine to her, to remind us all that women are sacred.

Originally posted 2010-09-10 15:44:56.

She Trained Me
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

I should have known that she had dominant tendencies. It was pretty obvious
and my only excuse is that I was young, we were both young. I was 22, she was
19.

The first instance occurred when we were laying on a bed in a motel room. We
were kissing and I reached up to unbutton her blouse. She brushed my hand
away. Of course that didn’t deter me for long and soon I was reaching for the
button again. She brushed my hand away again and softly chuckled this time.
She started to undo the buttons on my shirt and you can bet I didn’t try to
stop her. I started to unbutton her blouse again. This time she told me to
keep my hands to myself as she brushed my hand away. She said it with a smile
though.

She continued to undress me as we lay there. Soon I was naked and she was
still fully clothed. I remember being a little embarrassed but more excited
than anything else. We lay there for the longest time, kissing and her
touching me whenever and however she desired and me not being able to touch or
see her body.

Another time we were watching the Miss USA pageant. I commented that one
particular contestant was very attractive. She looked at me and said I didn’t
need to be paying attention to them, I only needed to pay attention to her.
She stood up and started taking her pants off. You can bet that she had my
undivided attention.

She had me kneel with my back to the TV and sat in front of me. She drew my
face in between her legs and commented that I only needed to pay attention to
the task at hand. As I licked and sucked she continued to watch the pageant.
She commented on how good this or that contestant looked in a swimsuit and how
it was too bad that I was otherwise occupied and couldn’t look for myself.
Funny, I don’t remember feeling deprived at all.

Yes, it was obvious but I didn’t put two and two together.

Anyway, on with the story.

Continued …

Originally posted 2007-09-24 10:57:14.

Memories I
Female Led Relationships - F/m Fiction, Male Chastity, Feminization Stories, Female Domination Erotica, Femdom Photographs

As the cane landed on my backside for what I thought was the eleventh stroke I heard a girlish giggle behind me say that she’d lost the count.

I’d come home from work to find her in the bedroom finishing a glass of wine.

That she looked something like a third world dictator was my fault. Some time back I’d ordered a vaguely military jacket: broad shoulders, epaulets, it came with a cap and riding crop. She didn’t like it and said I’d confused her with Ilsa She-Wolf of the SS. Normally the outfit stayed buried in the back of the closet save for the rare times when she felt like vamping up a bit to please me.

That she was looking like a wicked warden now meant that hadn’t been her first glass of wine.

Holding out the glass, “Hello trifle why don’t you serve me another glass.”

I bent to the bottle on the bed stand.

“I said serve me.”

I dropped all thoughts of work from my mind and to my knees. She’d moved away so I had to walk/crawl on my knees to offer her the refreshed glass. Feeling better safe than sorry I kept head titled down just a little. I was surprised to realize her legs and feet were clad only in stockings. Black and thigh high, she must be a very good mood to be obliging what she had once called my “cheap, obvious” tastes. To be fair I try to keep things interesting for her but sometimes am just a commonplace old perv.

“Be a good boy and get the black boots at the end of the bed. No hands.”

Crawling over I picked up one boot with my teeth. Very gently, I knew how she felt about tooth marks.

Once I had the pair at her side, “Now put them on me and try to do it right for once.”

Practice is supposed to make perfect but I’d never really gotten good at this. She usually didn’t ask anymore and when she did it was just a pretext for what she called “training.”

Surprisingly this time I didn’t bollix it.

I knelt there admiring her legs.

“You are just a little boot whore aren’t you? Are you licking your tongue?”

True enough, I didn’t need to be on my knees or she in a costume. We could’ve been sitting together in the living room, she in her pretty green ensemble. I never got tired of how she looked in boots. Any boots, any time.

“You’re an ungrateful little boot whore though. You wish I was in those awful thigh highs.”

Another on of my fashion mistakes. Even though I knew she didn’t care for those I bought a pair anyway. She rarely wore them. When she did they all but said “On your knees slave” and I knew that I’d spend a couple of days recovering from what she’d do while wearing them. Yes, I’d have been happy to see them on her but when you are on your knees you aren’t being asked for an honest exchange of opinion.

“Before I allow you to lick them clean I think you need another lesson in appreciation. Get on the bed, drop your pants and bend over.”

As I knelt there while she meditated along on whether to use cane, whip or riding crop I thought back to the time she told me I looked my best in pink and red stripes. Her mood made clear I’d be getting a few now.

That was how I found myself waiting for the next stroke wondering whether she’d decide it was the first or the eleventh. The number of stokes is never as important as the hand that deals them.

Submissive Boyfriend’s Fashion Mistake
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By Slap Happy

Nearly four years since I last posted here, I’m back with a sequel the story I wrote before. This has been floating around in my head for quite a while now, but I’ve finally found the inclination to write it down. So here goes … It had been about a fortnight since I had allowed my mother to administer her own distinctive brand of corporal punishment on me for the first time since I was a child. I had replayed the events of that day over in my head many times since. While there had been no further punishments (indeed, I had been on my best behaviour and was also a lot more careful and thoughtful about things), an odd kind of tension had prevailed. I think we both knew that it was only a matter of time before she would have occasion to bare my bottom and smack it again. A change had also occurred in our relationship dynamic. Mom was somewhat more commanding in the way she spoke to me, and I was a little more respectful and quick to obey. Still, things were getting back to normal when Fate struck a rather cruel blow. One morning, I woke up to discover, to my utter dismay and horror, that I had wet the bed! Now, I was no stranger to enuresis, to give bedwetting its official medical name. I had gone through quite a bedwetting phase at the age of six or seven, and past the age of twenty, I had wet my bed about half a dozen times over the course of a decade and a half. That was less than one enuretic episode per year on average, but still far more than most normal healthy adult males in their twenties or thirties would experience. My previous incidents of “adult bedwetting” had tended to be serendipitous in their timing, in that my sheets usually needed changing anyway, and I would also generally be due for fresh pyjamas. This time however, my timing could not have been worse, because my mother had changed the sheets only the day before, and my pyjamas were clean on too! “Oh fuck,” I murmured as I surveyed the damage. The nice clean sheets were now soaked in my urine, and my pyjama pants were also wet through. Mom was going to be pissed about all that piss! I slowly extracted myself from the bed. There was nothing for it but to take off my pyjama bottoms. My legs felt all sticky with semi-dried urine. I needed a wash. Holding my pee-soaked pyjamas in front of me, I crept into the bathroom, where I threw the pyjama pants into the laundry hamper and ran some hot water. Then I used that and some soap to clean up. Following that, I returned to my bedroom to get dressed. Just as I was coming out of my room, feeling somewhat cleaner and drier, my mother emerged from her room, dressed in her usual shapeless long nightie. “Is everything all right?” she asked. “I heard you in the bathroom before.” Normally I didn’t perform my main bathroom morning routine until after breakfast. “Not entirely,” I answered. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you feeling well or something?” she inquired with concern. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “But, uh, I had a bit of an accident before.” Her concern was replaced by suspicion. “What sort of accident?” she asked. “I kind of wet myself,” I confessed sheepishly. “The pyjamas are in the hamper now.” “Oh my God, you haven’t wet the bed as well, have you?” she cried, sounding both horrified and a little angry. “I only changed all your sheets yesterday!” “I’m afraid I have,” I said quietly. “I’m really sorry. But I couldn’t help it. It just happened!” Mom pushed past me and stormed into my room. “My God, what a mess!” I heard her exclaim. When she re-emerged, storm clouds were gathering on her face. “I worked really hard yesterday to sort your bed out, and now you go and do this!” she shouted. Then, lowering her voice somewhat and addressing me in a more commanding tone, she snapped, “Go into the spare bedroom and wait there for me!” “But I haven’t even had breakfast yet!” I protested. It was the first time I’d attempted to argue with her since that red-letter (or should I say red-bottom!) day two weeks earlier. “I don’t care!” she retorted. “Get in there NOW!” I got in there and sat down on the chair at the end of the bed. This was, of course, where all the punishment had taken place a fortnight ago. Was my mother proposing to spank me for wetting the bed? Actually, it wouldn’t be the first time. She’d done it several times during my childhood bedwetting phase, although she had been much more understanding when I had done it as an adult. But then again, I’d never timed it so poorly before. As I sat there, I heard my mother moving around out in the hall. A strange mixture of emotions coursed through me. One part of me felt angry that she was maybe going to spank me for something I had no control over. Sure, it must be frustrating for her to have to deal with all that mess so soon after putting clean sheets on my bed, but shit (or in this case, piss) happens. I never liked injustice. But another part of me felt thrilled and excited at the prospect of a fresh punishment session with my mother, even if it wasn’t as fair as last time. Anyway, part of our deal two weeks ago was that we would discuss any prospective spanking first. So it wasn’t as though I was really a victim of injustice if I allowed it to happen. Some little while passed. My stomach growled. I felt hungry and thirsty. What was taking her so long? At last, she entered the room. But she was no longer in her nightie. She was now in day clothes, and she had also brushed her hair. So she had taken the time to get dressed and cleaned up a bit first. Well, that was probably fair enough. She sat at the end of the bed, facing me in the chair. Her face had a very serious expression, but she appeared composed. “I’ve taken all the sheets off your bed and put them out to be washed,” she began. Ah, so she had also been sorting my soiled sheets out as well as getting dressed. No wonder it had been such a long wait. “Now I want to have a talk with you.” Only a talk? Well, that was a bit boring, unless it was to discuss my punishment for wetting the bed. “I suppose you think that I want to smack your bottom for wetting the bed,” she remarked, almost as if reading my mind. “That had kind of occurred to me,” I affirmed. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do, but first there’s something else I want to discuss.” “OK.” “I have been doing a lot of thinking over the past two weeks,” my mother said. “And although we agreed that I wouldn’t smack you again unless you consented to it first, I’m afraid that just doesn’t work for me. If I’m going to smack your bottom or slap your face again, it has to be when I decide it.” I didn’t know quite what to say to this, so I just grunted “Hmm,” in reply. Mom continued, “I think you need some proper discipline in your life again. Spare the rod and spoil the child, and I’ve spoilt you for far too long. That has to stop. So I propose that from now on, I will once again smack your bottom or face whenever I think you need it. Starting from today.” I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. “But,” I began to object. Mom held up a hand for silence. “However, just for today, I am going to give you a choice in the matter. You can walk out of here, and I won’t smack you today or ever again. But if you do, things are still going to change. You’re well into your thirties, and yet you still live with your father and me, you don’t pay any board, and we take care of your meals, laundry and bed. While you don’t smoke or drink, and you do have your freelance work that you earn money for, you still behave quite irresponsibly sometimes. And this is what I mean about having spoilt you for too long. Well, that all stops today if you refuse my discipline. You will start paying board and learning some practical life skills. In short, you will start to finally grow up.” Ouch. That hurt almost more than if she’d actually hit me. It hurt because it was true. While I was a mature adult in some respects, I was pretty bloody immature in others, especially the way I continued to depend on my parents for many things when I should be standing on my own two feet. It really was pretty disgraceful. But I had to learn more about the alternative. “So what happens if I [i]do[/i] agree to your discipline?” I asked. “Then you can continue to live under this roof rent-free, and with your laundry, cooking and so on still being taken care of,” replied Mom. “But if you want to continue living like a dependent child, then you will also have to accept being punished like one.” “So what will that entail exactly?” I wanted to know. “I need to make an informed decision here.” “Well, you will need to start amartening your act up in certain areas. For example, when I ask you to do something, I will expect you to do it and not dilly-dally. If you take longer than five minutes to do a thing I ask you, that means an instant smacked bottom. Sometimes, the punishment will be more serious if something is repeated. For example, if you answer me back one time, I might give you a smack on the hand. Do it another time, and I will slap your face. Do it a third time, and we will be coming in here for a hiding with your pants down. Every time that you disobey me, or don’t obey me quickly enough, or disrepect me, I will smack you for it. The same applies if you do something stupid or careless.” As she said these fateful words, all with an air of quiet but firm authority, I realised I was getting hard, so I crossed my legs and folded my hands carefully on my lap to ensure it wasn’t conspicuous. Not that it would have been all that obvious anyway, but better to safe than sorry. “So I would have to live with this and accept whatever you choose to dish out,” I mused. “That’s right,” replied Mom with a nod. “You will obey and respect me, or suffer the consequences. I will decide those consequences. Whatever I decide, you will accept. Even if perhaps I punish you unfairly, although I will try to be fair and consistent. But perhaps sometimes, if I’m having a bad day, I might smack you for something I would let you get away with on another day. Maybe I might even give you an occasional “maintenance spanking” to remind you who’s in charge. You will have to live with that. But it’s your choice to make. Choose to grow up and start taking responsibility for your own life, or choose to keep depending on us, and on me in particular, and accept a much stricter regime from now on. Believe me, I intend to be [i]very[/i] strict with you.” I nearly came at this last sentence, but managed to control myself. The choice was clear. I knew what I should do. Grow the hell up. Start paying my own way and taking responsibility. Get a place of my own. Perhaps get a full-time job too. My lifestyle of carefree irresponsibility had gone on far too long. But deep down, that wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t so much that I was scared of responsibility, although in truth, I was somewhat. It was that, more than anything, I wanted to submit. I wanted to put myself back under my mother’s authority and allow her to smack my bottom like a naughty child whenever she deemed it necessary. I wanted to surrender control to her and feel the thrill that every submissive knows when they relinquish control to another person. Of course, I had contemplated this very thought two weeks earlier, but than I had been worried that it would cross a line. In a way, what Mom was proposing [i]was[/i] crossing a line. She wanted to treat me in a manner that no grown man should have to accept from his mother. Still, she was giving me an opportunity to opt out. And she did have a point. It was time for me to pay my way in my parents’ home – either financially or through old-fashioned discipline. This was, like the original punishment of two weeks ago, long overdue. Suddenly my mother stood and took a step towards me. “It’s time for you to make your decision,” she said quietly. Slowly she extended her left hand outwards, while her right hand went upwards until it was poised in a “ready to smack” position. “Your first punishment for wetting your bed will be a slap in the face, followed by my taking your pants down and walloping your backside,” she said ominously. “But before slapping you, I will need you to give me your glasses. However, you can, if you wish, get up and leave this room right now. In that case, I won’t hit you at all, but it means that you will have chosen to start growing up properly. Now, either take off your glasses and give them to me, or stand up and walk out of here.” So there it was. The moment of truth was upon me. It was either grow up, or, well, bottoms up. My “big head” (i.e. my brain) urged me to get out of there, but my “little head” (my penis) was telling me equally forcefully that submitting to my mother’s discipline was the way to go. Well, you know how it is with us guys. When our brains are telling us one thing and our dicks are telling us another, the dick wins the argument just about every time. So it was with me. I removed my glasses. Just for a moment, I hesitated before pressing them into my mother’s waiting left hand. Was I absolutely sure about this? Yes I was. It was going to change my life in a pretty big way, but the same would have been true if I’d opted out of this. So I placed the glasses in Mom’s hand and let go my grip on them – simultaneously handing her control. Now she could do what she liked with me. It was terrifying and incredibly thrilling at the same time. “You can take these glasses back and still leave, even now,” said Mom rather surprisingly. Wow. She was still prepared to give me one last chance. “As soon as I have slapped you though, that’s it. Accept this slap, and you also accept all other smacks and slaps that come after it.” “Go ahead and slap me,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “And then smack my bottom as much as you want for wetting my bed. I hereby agree to let you discipline me and to take whatever punishment I may earn for any acts of disobedience, disrespect, neglect and so forth. So shall it be until the day I finally do move out.” “Very well then”, said Mom softly. And with that, her right hand came down and struck me across my left cheek with a resounding SLAP. I was now officially past the point of no return, as my reddening cheek bore somewhat painful witness to. Following the slap, Mom handed me back my glasses. “You can put these back on,” she said. “I’m not going to slap you any more for wetting your bed, but I [i]am[/i] now going to give you a good smacked bottom! So get your pants down and bend over the bed!” I duly got up out of the chair, walked over to one side of the bed, lowered my pants and underpants, and bent over. Mom then gave me about 30 good hand spanks. After that, she finally let me go and get my breakfast. For the rest of that day, I actually wasn’t punished too much more, but late at night, I took about ten minutes to come up to bed after she had called me. As I reached the top of the stairs and entered the kitchen, Mom was waiting for me. She reminded me that I should have obeyed within five minutes, and ordered me to drop my pants right there in the kitchen and bend over. On that occasion, she only gave me about ten smacks on my bottom, but it showed me clearly just what I could expect if I failed to obey her now. Neither of us really talked to my dad about this new regime. If he was aware of anything different, he didn’t let on. Mom never punished me in front of him. So it as basically our little secret. However, even if she sometimes had to delay a smacking because of him being there, I always got my “just desserts” in the end. And if I actually committed a smacking offence in front of him (like answering her back), all it took was a stern look and perhaps a small gesture (like her gently smacking her leg) to let me know I was in for it later. While the overwhelming majority of her punishments were fair and deserved, a small number were not. The most memorable “unfair” hiding occurred one day when she went for a doctor’s appointment and had a rather stressful time of it (she had to wait a long time and then the doctor was rather snappy with her, plus afterwards she narrowly avoided a nasty car accident). On arriving back home, she promptly dragged me into the spare bedroom, made me drop my trousers and gave me quite a fearful spanking. But then, to my surprise, she burst into tears and admitted that I hadn’t deserved it, but she’d had such a rotten afternoon and just needed to get all the frustration and stress of it out of her system. I told her I had no hard feelings about it, and reminded her that I agreed to let her smack me even if she did it unfairly now and then. I also added that even though it was best if she punished me mainly for disobedience and other rule violations, it was OK if she sometimes wanted to smack me “just because”, although I’d prefer she didn’t do too much of that. She gave me a hug then, and just for a moment, we were on equal terms, with her showing a rare instance of vulnerability. But she soon returned to her more authoritarian self. Every now and then, she would give me a spanking for no other reason than to remind me of her authority over me. This usually happened when I’d been fairly good and hadn’t required too much smacking recently. She’d take me into the spare bedroom, make me take my pants down and bend over, and give me 20-30 swats. These generally weren’t as hard as when she was punishing me properly, and actually made me feel pretty damn good afterwards. On my next birthday after the new regime had started, she gave me a birthday spanking, something that had never occurred when I was a child. This too was rather more pleasant than punitive. In many ways, this new lifestyle (or rather, return to an old lifestyle) was actually good for me. Somewhat ironically, I became more responsible and grown-up as a result. But the thrill of submission never died, and I got plenty of good fantasy mileage out of it all. However, at no stage did my relationship with my mother ever become sexual. Yes, her dominant discipline turned me on immensely, but it was my private thing. If she was ever aroused by it, she never let on. She never wore any “special clothing” to spank or slap me. I never saw the slightest hint that she was in any way enjoying it, but I’m sure that at some level, she was. It simply wasn’t in my mother’s nature to be open about her sexuality. Consequently, she never knew anything about what really made me tick, because I just felt I couldn’t share anything like that with her. Still, I knew in my heart of hearts that my submission to her would continue until either she died or I got my act together, moved out and found another dominant Lady to satisfy my submissive desires (and hopefully add in some sexual pleasure as well!) And I was just fine with that. THE END

Submitting to My Mother
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