Exploring Sexual Degradation in BDSM: Psychology and Practice
Introduction to Sexual Degradation in BDSM
Sexual degradation in BDSM is a nuanced and complex practice that involves consensual activities where one partner may use language, behavior, or scenarios to degrade the other. This practice is rooted in power dynamics, where one partner, often referred to as the dominant, exerts control over the submissive partner. It is crucial to understand that, within the context of BDSM, all actions are consensual and negotiated beforehand to ensure that the experience is safe and enjoyable for everyone involved.
The terminology associated with sexual degradation can be diverse. Common terms include “degradation,” “humiliation,” and “debasement,” each carrying specific connotations. While degradation often implies a lowering of status or dignity, humiliation focuses on the emotional discomfort or embarrassment experienced by the submissive. Debasement, on the other hand, can involve acts that make the submissive feel lesser in some way. Despite these potentially negative connotations, many participants find these experiences profoundly fulfilling and cathartic.
At the core of engaging in sexual degradation is the principle of informed consent. Both parties must have a clear understanding of what each term and practice entails, and more importantly, they must mutually agree upon the limits and boundaries. This is typically achieved through open and honest communication, often facilitated by a pre-negotiation or a “check-in” process before any session. Safe words are also commonly used to ensure that either party can halt the activity immediately if it becomes too overwhelming or crosses a boundary.
Understanding personal boundaries is essential when exploring sexual degradation. Each individual’s comfort levels and limits are unique, and these should be respected at all times. The dominant must remain attuned to the submissive’s reactions, ensuring that the experience remains consensual and positive. The practice of sexual degradation, when conducted with mutual respect and clear communication, can enhance trust and intimacy between partners, providing a deeper connection within the BDSM dynamic.
Historical and Cultural Context of Sexual Degradation
The practice of sexual degradation within BDSM is deeply rooted in historical and cultural contexts that have evolved significantly over time. Societal perceptions of sexuality and power dynamics have played a crucial role in shaping the understanding and practices of sexual degradation. Historically, sexual power imbalances were often reflected in societal hierarchies, where dominant-submissive relationships were mirrored in the broader context of social and political structures.
In many ancient civilizations, sexual domination was both a symbol and a tool of power. For instance, in ancient Rome, sexual acts that involved domination and submission were not just personal preferences but also expressions of social status and control. The concept of sexual degradation in these contexts was intertwined with the exertion of power and control over others, often reflecting the broader societal hierarchies and norms.
As societies evolved, so did their views on sexuality and power dynamics. The medieval period saw the emergence of courtly love, which introduced more nuanced views of submission and dominance within romantic and sexual relationships. However, it wasn’t until the 20th century that sexual degradation as a component of BDSM began to be more openly discussed and practiced. The sexual revolution of the 1960s and 1970s played a pivotal role in challenging traditional norms and opening up discussions around alternative sexual practices, including BDSM.
Culturally, the perception and integration of sexual degradation in BDSM vary significantly. In Western cultures, the practice has become more mainstream, partly due to the influence of literature, media, and the growing acceptance of diverse sexual expressions. Conversely, in many Eastern cultures, practices of sexual degradation may still be viewed through a lens of taboo, influenced by traditional views on sexuality and modesty.
The intersection of cultural influences and historical contexts continues to shape the contemporary understanding and practices of sexual degradation in BDSM. As societal norms evolve, so too does the acceptance and integration of these practices, reflecting broader changes in attitudes towards sexuality and power dynamics.
Psychological Aspects of Sexual Degradation
Sexual degradation within BDSM is a complex phenomenon rooted in various psychological dynamics. For many individuals, the allure lies in the intricate interplay of power exchange, submission, and dominance. These elements create a framework where participants can explore their deepest desires and boundaries in a controlled, consensual environment. The psychological gratification derived from such practices is often linked to the release of endorphins, which can produce feelings of euphoria and pain relief.
One key aspect of the psychological appeal of sexual degradation is the concept of power exchange. In this dynamic, one partner assumes a dominant role while the other takes on a submissive role. This exchange of power can be deeply fulfilling, providing a sense of liberation for the submissive partner and a feeling of control and responsibility for the dominant partner. The voluntary surrender of control by the submissive can lead to a profound sense of trust and intimacy between partners, enhancing the overall experience.
Submission and dominance are not merely about physical acts; they also involve significant psychological components. Submissive individuals often report a release from stress and anxiety as they relinquish control, allowing them to experience a state of mental clarity and relaxation. Conversely, dominant individuals may find satisfaction in the responsibility and care they must exhibit, creating a nurturing yet authoritative dynamic.
Research studies and psychological theories offer further insights into these behaviors. Sigmund Freud’s theories on sadomasochism, for instance, suggest that these practices may be rooted in early developmental stages and unconscious desires. Modern research supports these ideas, indicating that individuals engaged in BDSM often display higher levels of psychological well-being and lower levels of anxiety compared to the general population.
Moreover, the practice of sexual degradation can trigger the release of endorphins, the body’s natural painkillers, which can enhance pleasure and create a sense of connection between partners. This biochemical response underscores the intricate link between physical sensations and psychological states within BDSM activities.
Personal Motivations and Desires
Engaging in sexual degradation within the context of BDSM is driven by a variety of personal motivations and desires. One significant factor is the emotional release it provides. For some individuals, the act of being degraded or degrading another can serve as a cathartic experience, offering a release from daily stress and societal expectations. This emotional release can be therapeutic, allowing participants to process complex emotions in a controlled environment.
Trust-building is another critical motivation. BDSM practices, particularly those involving sexual degradation, require a profound level of trust between partners. The act of consenting to and participating in such intimate and vulnerable activities can strengthen the bond between participants. This mutual trust is essential for ensuring that all parties feel safe and respected, creating a deeper emotional connection.
Exploring taboos is also a common reason why individuals engage in sexual degradation. Society often imposes strict norms and taboos around sexuality, and breaking these can be an exhilarating experience. For some, the act of transgressing these boundaries can be liberating, allowing them to explore parts of their identity that are usually suppressed.
Additionally, the thrill of pushing boundaries is a powerful motivator. BDSM practices, including sexual degradation, often involve testing personal limits and experiencing intense sensations. This thrill can be highly stimulating, both physically and mentally, as it pushes individuals beyond their comfort zones. The adrenaline rush associated with these activities can be addictive, drawing participants back for more.
Personal anecdotes and case studies further illustrate these motivations. For instance, one individual recounted how engaging in degradation allowed them to confront and overcome deep-seated insecurities, ultimately leading to greater self-acceptance. Another shared that the trust built through these practices significantly enhanced their relationship, fostering a level of intimacy they had never experienced before.
In summary, the personal motivations and desires behind engaging in sexual degradation within BDSM are multifaceted. Emotional release, trust-building, exploration of taboos, and the thrill of pushing boundaries all play crucial roles in why individuals choose to participate in these practices. These factors highlight the complex and deeply personal nature of BDSM, where the psychological and emotional aspects are as significant as the physical experiences.
Safety and Consent in Sexual Degradation
Within the realm of BDSM, the significance of safety and consent cannot be overstated, especially when engaging in practices involving sexual degradation. Prioritizing these elements ensures that all parties involved have a mutually satisfying and psychologically safe experience. Clear and open communication is the foundation of any BDSM activity, and it is imperative to discuss desires, limits, and boundaries beforehand. This pre-negotiation phase allows participants to express their comfort levels and establish a consensual framework for the activities to follow.
Establishing boundaries is another critical aspect of engaging in sexual degradation. Participants should outline their hard limits—activities that are off the table under any circumstances—and soft limits—activities that may be negotiable under certain conditions. This helps to create a structured environment where everyone knows what to expect and can engage confidently. Safe words are also an essential tool in maintaining safety and consent. A safe word is a predetermined code used to communicate an immediate need to stop or pause the activity. Common safe words are often unrelated to the scene, such as “red” for stop and “yellow” for slow down, ensuring clarity during intense moments.
Aftercare is a crucial component following any BDSM session, but it is particularly vital after activities involving sexual degradation. Aftercare involves attending to the emotional and physical well-being of all participants, offering comfort, reassurance, and support. This phase helps to mitigate potential negative psychological impacts and fosters a sense of trust and connection. It may include cuddling, discussing the session, or simply spending time together in a calm environment.
Understanding the psychological impact of sexual degradation is also important. While many find these activities fulfilling, they can evoke complex emotions. Ongoing communication and mutual respect are essential in navigating these experiences safely. By adhering to these best practices, participants can enjoy the psychological and emotional benefits of BDSM while minimizing risks and fostering a consensual, respectful environment.
Incorporating Sexual Degradation into BDSM Scenes
Incorporating sexual degradation into BDSM scenes necessitates careful planning and open communication to ensure that all participants are comfortable and consenting. Sexual degradation is a nuanced aspect of BDSM, which can range from verbal humiliation to role-playing scenarios, each tailored to the desires and limits of those involved. Understanding the preferences and boundaries of everyone is crucial for a fulfilling and respectful experience.
One method to integrate sexual degradation is through verbal interactions. This can involve the use of derogatory language and name-calling, which should be pre-negotiated to avoid crossing personal boundaries. For instance, phrases like “worthless” or “dirty” might be used, but only if they align with the submissive’s comfort level. It’s essential to establish safe words or signals that can halt the scene immediately if it becomes too intense.
Role-playing scenarios can also be utilized to incorporate sexual degradation. Common scenarios include teacher-student dynamics, master-servant roles, or prisoner-guard situations, where the dominant assumes a position of authority. These scenarios often involve the submissive being given demeaning tasks or being placed in humiliating positions, which can be both mentally and physically engaging. Tailoring these scenes to the specific fantasies and boundaries of all participants ensures a positive experience.
Physical activities can also play a role in sexual degradation. Acts like spanking, forced nudity, or being led on a leash can enhance the feeling of degradation, provided they are consensual and desired by the submissive. Introducing these elements gradually and checking in regularly can help maintain a safe and enjoyable environment.
Ultimately, the key to incorporating sexual degradation into BDSM scenes lies in mutual respect and thorough communication. Discussing desires, limits, and potential triggers before engaging in any activity creates a foundation of trust and understanding. This careful approach allows for a more profound connection and a more satisfying experience for all parties involved.
Ethical Considerations and Misconceptions
When exploring the realm of sexual degradation in BDSM, it is crucial to distinguish between consensual degradation and abuse. Ethical considerations play a pivotal role in ensuring that all activities are conducted safely, consensually, and with respect for all parties involved. Consent is the cornerstone of BDSM practices; without it, any act of degradation can quickly spiral into abuse. Both participants must have a clear understanding and agreement of the boundaries and limits, ensuring that the experience is mutually satisfying and respectful.
One of the most common misconceptions about sexual degradation in BDSM is that it inherently involves harm or disrespect. In reality, these practices are grounded in trust and mutual respect. The individuals involved are often in continuous communication, checking in with each other to ensure that both parties feel comfortable and safe. This ongoing dialogue helps to further solidify the trust and understanding that underpins consensual BDSM activities.
Another prevalent myth is that those who engage in sexual degradation within BDSM are somehow psychologically damaged or seeking to inflict harm. On the contrary, many participants view these activities as a means of exploring their own boundaries and deepening their relationships. Far from being an indicator of psychological issues, consensual degradation can be a form of expression and intimacy that both parties find fulfilling.
It is also important to recognize the diversity within the BDSM community. Sexual degradation is not a one-size-fits-all practice; it varies widely depending on the preferences and consensual agreements of the individuals involved. What may be considered degrading to one person might be seen as an empowering experience by another. This highlights the importance of personalized negotiation and consent in any BDSM activity.
In summary, understanding the ethical considerations and debunking the misconceptions surrounding sexual degradation in BDSM is essential. By emphasizing consent, mutual respect, and clear communication, participants can ensure that their experiences are safe, consensual, and mutually enjoyable. This balanced perspective helps to demystify the practice and highlights the importance of ethical engagement in BDSM activities.
Resources for Further Learning and Support
For those interested in delving deeper into the complexities of sexual degradation within BDSM, numerous resources are available to enhance understanding and provide support. Below are some recommended avenues for further learning:
Books:
– The New Bottoming Book by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy: This book offers insights into the submissive role, including aspects related to sexual degradation, and is a valuable resource for both beginners and experienced practitioners.
– Playing Well with Others by Lee Harrington and Mollena Williams: Focusing on the social dynamics of BDSM, this book covers various aspects of consensual power exchange, including degradation and humiliation.
Websites:
-Our site Collarncuffs,com is an online platform offering educational videos and articles on various BDSM topics, including sexual degradation. Why not join the many here that share your interests.
– FetLife: A social networking site for the BDSM community, where users can join groups, participate in discussions, and find local events related to their interests. FL is the number one used site for local events.
Workshops and Professional Organizations:
– National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF): Offers workshops, resources, and support for individuals involved in consensual BDSM practices.
– Local BDSM groups and events: Many cities have local BDSM organizations that host workshops and events. These can be excellent opportunities to learn from experienced practitioners and connect with the community.
If professional help is needed, seeking out a therapist or counselor who is knowledgeable and affirming of BDSM practices can be essential. Organizations such as the Kink Aware Professionals (KAP) directory can help locate professionals who are familiar with and supportive of BDSM lifestyles.
By utilizing these resources, individuals can gain a deeper understanding of sexual degradation within BDSM, ensuring that their practices are safe, consensual, and fulfilling.
Resource Article MissBonnie 2024
Bank Of Darcy
(This isn’t a story; it is the opening set of a series of them.)
Author ; Mule
Darcy has all of the qualities I like in a woman: she’s confident, intelligent, witty and has a great sense of humor. She is the owner of her own business, and is an active member in a subset of the Chamber of Commerce known as the Women in Business Council or the WBC as Darcy refers to it as. As the name implies, membership is limited to women-owned businesses and women business leaders.
Darcy also has all the qualities I like in a mistress: she’s creative, mysterious, playful and has just enough cruelty in her to push my buttons without being mean. She knows that my main fetish is humiliation, and servitude. We’re really not into toys or severe pain, although she doesn’t hesitate to take me over her knee when she believes a “behavioral correction” is in order.
As busy as she is with her business, we seldom have time for each other, and most of that time is spent on developing other parts of the relationship. She was actually apologetic, “Carl, I know you like it when we play our games, but my schedule is really a bear. Even when the clock allows it, I’m so tired that I’m just too exhausted to give you what you want.”
I sympathized as I sat on the ottoman opposite her massaging her feet, “I know you are busy. I know what it takes to run a business, and I don’t think I could keep up the pace you do.”
“I promise I’ll try to make more time. In the meantime, I don’t think I could make it without you. You’re such a doll helping me keep the place clean and cooking meals and doing the dishes.”
“Oh, that’s just love,” I responded. I did what I could, but I had an apartment, a job and a schedule too. “I understand your predicament. There are only so many hours in the day. Once your business grows a little and you can hire some help, then maybe you can delegate some of your duties and give yourself some more time off.”
“Mmmm,” she responded. I had a difficult time determining whether she was responding to the idea or my fingers gently prodding the tendons on her foot.
-=o=-
It was Saturday morning at about 8 AM. Darcy went up to see her mother with her sister to help her mom with moving. It promised to be a lonely and boring weekend. I was up working on my computer when the doorbell rang. Who could possibly be wanting me at this hour? I passed the bathroom and dragged a comb across my head to give some sense of style to my Wild Man of Borneo coiffure – caused by brake dancing in my mattress during my sleep, no doubt.
I peeped through the viewer. It was a woman. She appeared to be in her 30’s. I opened the door and said, “Can I help you, ma’am.” Being with Darcy taught me manners if nothing else.
She handed me an envelope with my name on it written in Darcy’s hand. I opened it. In it was a replica of a check. Across the top it had in flourishing script, “Bank of Darcy.” I had all the other things you would expect on a check, except that the watermark wasn’t of kitty cats or flowers or other things one normally sees on a woman’s check. It featured a dominatrix in a bustier, hip boots and opera gloves. In her hand was a whip, and she was facing a gagged and bound man tied to a Saint Andrew’s cross. The layout of the check was such that the midsections of both people were obscured by the printing. It was both tasteful and tantalizing.
On the line next to “Pay to the bearer on demand:” was handwritten the words “One naked housecleaning” in Darcy’s handwriting. The check was suitably dated and signed by Darcy as well.
“What is this?” I asked.
The woman responded, “Read the note.”
I reached further into the envelope and found it. It was a note from Darcy, “Dear Carl,” it began. I could tell that this was no ordinary salesperson who could be dismissed at the door. My manners kicked in, “Hi, I’m Carl. Please come in. Do you want some coffee?”
The woman took my extended hand and replied, “I’m Patricia and yes, coffee would be fine.”
I took her coat. “Are you a friend of Darcy’s?”
“More of a business associate. She’s my sponsor in the WBC.”
She sat in silence in my living room watching me and sipping her coffee as I read,
“Dear Carl, I got to thinking about what you said the other night. My business is taking a toll on our relationship; at least the kinky part of it. I entertained your suggestion about delegation. Unfortunately, I am not in a position with the business to do that now. However, that doesn’t mean that I can’t delegate in other areas.
I have decided to open up an account at the Bank of Darcy. I will write checks, and it will be your duty to cash them. I know that you have this fantasy to have me dominate you in front of a trusted friend or two, well now that dream of yours will come true in a fashion.
When the whim fancies me, I will write a check to one of these trusted friends. I have quite a number of them in the WBC. You’d be surprised at how many like-minded women there are in the organization and they know women who know women. As you know dear, I am quite a whiz at networking. There isn’t a woman in this town I can’t get connected with if I put my mind to it.
I will write the check. The woman will present it to you. In order to redeem the check, you must perform the duty written on the check and then bring the check back to me. I have a register and I am keeping track of the checks I write. I know what checks are outstanding, so I know what duties you still have to perform and for whom you have to perform them. Do not overdraw my account!
I will contact the women who have redeemed their checks to get an evaluation of your performance. I do want to make sure they get their money’s worth otherwise you will pay the difference in penalties.
You will not know who these women are until such time as they present the check to you. Some checks will be for small tasks that can be performed on the spot. Others may take scheduling a time and a place such as the one that accompanies this letter.
Don’t worry your pretty little ass off. I trust these women and no woman will get a check without first pledging to honor your safeword. Most of these women are experienced enough to know how things work, but I do have a couple of curious first-time amateurs.
Please do a good job for Patricia. She is a dear friend and I don’t want to disappoint her. She is looking forward to seeing you clean her house while wearing just your sneakers and pink rubber gloves as much as I do.
Good luck, sweetie. I’ve printed up a whole book full of checks to write. I’ll see you when I get back from mom’s.
With Love and Respect, Darcy.”
I could only sit there in silence as I read the letter twice, trying to digest its contents. It was Darcy’s signature, and that was the way she signed off all our private correspondence.
I looked up from the letter to Patricia. She smiled back at me and said, “My car is outside. I can drop you back here when you are done or you can walk. It’s only a couple of blocks away. I have all the cleaning supplies you will need at my house.”
I was about to beg off for a couple more minutes to get dressed, but I figured what’s the point? “Let me get my keys and wallet.”
It was, indeed a short trip to her house. In fact it was on my way to work and just about everything else I need to do. It occurred to me that I would be constantly reminded of this experience from now on whenever I drove by.
Patricia had a nice, two-bedroom apartment, laid out similar to my place. It wasn’t all that large, and it was already neatly-kept.
She opened a small closet door. Inside was the water heater, and shelves with the promised cleaning supplies including, as I noted, a still-in-the-package pair of pink rubber gloves. She simply swept her hand across the view. “Get started! You can hang your clothes there,” she said pointing to a hook on the back of the door.
She stood in the hallway with one arm across her stomach holding her elbow with her hand and the other hand curled up on her chin. I was reminded of Darcy. That’s the pose she strikes when studying a painting at the museum. Although I am in shape, I doubt that I measure up to the subjects in some of those paintings. Nonetheless, I was totally aware that I was under close scrutiny as I disrobed.
I was surprised at how difficult simply getting naked was. I have been getting undressed at Darcy’s command since the second date. Had I become too complacent? Feeling this woman’s eyes burning into me made this routine act uncomfortable. I remembered Darcy’s word that she would be checking my performance, took a breath, tightened my stomach and pulled down my underwear.
Patricia said not a word except, “Start in the bathroom.”
I hate bathrooms. On the surface, they appear easy to clean: it’s almost as if you can take a hose to it and swab it down when done. However, it’s the nooks and crannies that make the job the true chore that it is. So there I am, naked, on all fours, head bent down, arm reaching behind the bowl, butt in the air for Patricia to see. The reaching and scrubbing rocked by body, causing my penis and balls to sway as I applied elbow grease to where needed. I am sure it was an amusing show for her.
The bowl itself was not as bad as my own. Being a woman, Patricia was assured of putting urine on target as opposed to spraying it in miscellaneous spots, but there was still the humility of having to clean up after someone else’s waste.
The vanity took extra care. I have a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, an electric razor and a comb: period. Patricia’s vanity looked like Darcy’s covered completely with bottles, and tubes and lotions and all manner of cosmetics of which I have only a vague knowledge. I knew that I had to remove it all, and restore every bit of it to its proper place when done. At least with Darcy, I knew where she kept her stuff.
It took quite a bit of time, but in the end, the bathroom looked as something I had seen in some of Darcy’s magazines.
Laundry was next. After several spankings from Darcy for ruining some of her clothes, I learned the fine art of laundry triage. For men, it’s easy: white and non-white. For women, there’s more than color. There is the entire range of materials to deal with and I knew just how to do it. I probably looked like a frenzied octopus as I quickly sorted her hamper into several piles. She was actually impressed and applauded.
The only issue was her panties. “Hand wash or delicate?” I asked.
I noted that I was disappointed that she said, “delicate.” Washing Darcy’s panties is an activity that always gives me an erection. I was surprised when I looked down and saw that I actually had one!
The rest of the day was spent with what I consider the easier aspects of housecleaning. I vacuumed and Patricia appreciated that I had no problems lifting the end of the couch off the floor to get under it. I also demonstrated my macho furniture moving skills to get every bit of the carpet. I knew I needed to do a perfect job.
Patricia had me don a frilly apron to make lunch for us. We sat together and had a most ordinary conversation. She was an account manager at one of the larger firms in town and liked baseball. We quickly departed into a heated discussion on our favorite teams. I like talking with a woman who understands the infield fly rule.
After lunch; came ironing. Ironing like vacuuming, takes a heavy hand and I demonstrated my pumping iron technique to perfection as she sat and watched TV, with an occasional glance in my direction.
By mid-afternoon, I had the place spotless and I was dismissed with a peck on my cheek. “You were really great! Darcy’s a lucky girl to have you. Do you need a lift home?” she said, endorsing the back of the check and handing it to me.
I shook my head, “No, I think I’ll walk.” I needed the time to clear my head. I needed the exercise to get the blood somewhere other than my penis. I was thinking of the commercials for ED, “If you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours.” The thought of a cold shower wasn’t appealing, but I think it was a necessity.
-=o=-
Sunday is my day to go grocery shopping. I had my head in the trunk putting away my purchases when I suddenly became aware of a presence at my side. I stood up and saw that it was Carol, one of the cashiers. Carol was about 20 and a student at the local college. “Can I help you,” I asked.
She handed me the dreaded envelope. On the check inside was written, “Pay to the bearer on demand, one jerk-off.”
I looked wildly around the parking lot and stuttered, “Here? Now?”. She laughed, “Don’t worry, I have someplace private.”
She texted something into her cell phone. “Why don’t we get in your car?”
I was a bit worried, “Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
We got in and she directed me to drive around the back of the building. We parked at a loading dock and went up the steps. She knocked at a door at the back of the building, and it opened. I looked and saw that it was the store manager, Nancy, a woman of about 50 years of age.
“Nancy’s in on this. She’s my boss. Don’t worry; we’ll be quite private here.”
It didn’t take me long to size up the place. It was a concrete room containing some piping and an electrical panel. It was a small room, but big enough and well lit for the three of us.
Nancy smiled at me, “This is Carol’s show. I’m just providing the venue.”
“Drop your pants.” Carol ordered with a calmness and confidence I didn’t expect for a girl of her age. Perhaps Nancy’s presence gave her more moral courage than if she had to go it alone. “Hands on your head,” she added once I bared myself.
Soon I was standing with my pants and underwear down to my knees with the two women looking at me critically. Nancy circled around, gave out a wolf-whistle and said, “Nice buns,” as she ran her hand across them. That lit the fuse that started the launch of my penis into an erection.
Carol smiled at my growing penis and said, “Good boy.” She waited until it was a full stature and said, “OK, show us what you can do with that thing.”
My one thought was to put on a good show for them and get it over with. One the one hand, I wanted to shoot it hard and long. I didn’t think I’d have a problem with that. With all the naked performance I did with Patricia yesterday, it had been cocked and loaded for about 24 hours without release. I wouldn’t dare think about touching it without Darcy’s explicit approval. I smiled as I came to the realization that I did have her explicit approval – in writing, no less, in the form of a check.
On the other hand, I knew that if I jerked off in any normal fashion, I’d shoot off in a dozen strokes. I had to make it last, so I just fondled myself by holding it with fingers curled around it and rolling the ball of my thumb around the head. This produced a constant flow of pre-cum to the delight of the two women if their giggles were any indicator.
Every man has two tipping points when it comes to self-masturbation. There is the physical tipping point where even though semen hasn’t actually been ejaculated, it will happen even if all stimulation is removed immediately. Then there is the psychological tipping point: the point at which he has to complete his masturbation even though the physical signals to ejaculate have not been issued by his body.
I was at the psychological tipping point within the first couple of rubs. Normally, a simple fondling of my penis would be enough stimulation to get it erect, but not so much that it will give me an orgasm. I was beginning to doubt that now.
I probably lasted only a minute when my entire body felt like it was concentrated under the ball of my thumb. Breathing was ragged, the room was out of focus; I felt dizzy and weak on my feet. I could barely hear the women’s mutterings to each other but was keenly aware of their presence.
I couldn’t take it any more. I gave two good pumps and let loose my load. I could feel the pulsing of the semen as it shot from my penis. I could see Nancy jump aside as it came flying at her. I was virtually paralyzed and it was only with the greatest effort of mind that I could keep my hand and wrist functioning.
As from a distance, I could hear the women squealing, “Omigod! Omigod! Look at that!”
I don’t know how many jets of cum I shot. I was totally drained by the time I was finished. I looked down to see my handiwork. There were large splatters of cum as far as six feet away. I looked to the faces of Carol and Nancy. They were still concentrated on my penis as if waiting for something else to happen, or perhaps to recall what just did happen.
“That was great,” Carol finally admitted.
“You can get dressed now,” Nancy stated, “We have to get back to work. Maybe we can arrange this as our new break room. I bet all the girls would love to take in a show like this,” she added with a giggle.
I looked around. There was noting in the room with which to clean up, so I simply put my cum dribbling cock back into my underwear. I’d have to go home wet.
“What about that?” I asked, pointing to the pools on the floor.
“Leave it,” Nancy said. “It will be a reminder for me whenever I do my security check on this room.”
I drove the women back around front. Carol gave me a smile as she handed me her check, “I’ve always wanted to see a boy do that. My friends told me so much about it. Now I know why they like it. You looked so vulnerable doing it for us. The look on your face was priceless.”
Nancy said, “Look forward to seeing you next week.” I was hoping that she meant in the more conventional sense. But it did put in my head the thought that I would see these women every week. Their smiles would be more than the simple friendly gesture extended to other customers. It would always mean more to them and to me. There was no way I could forget the experience.
At least I redeemed another of Darcy’s checks.
-=o=-
I went home and showered and put up the groceries. Each time I handled one of the bags, I thought of Carol and Nancy. I’d never be able to do even this simple task without being reminded of my humiliation.
I headed over to Darcy’s to spruce the place up. I had done some work on Friday afternoon, but still had those few touches that I had intended to do on Saturday. Unfortunately, I was house-cleaned out on Saturday and had other duties to attend to like paying bills.
I had to do double duty as maid and cook, so I started dinner. Darcy said she’d be back “about 6-ish” so I had to prepare something that could be brought to completion on short notice. A standard fare of salad, steak, potatoes and veggies fit the bill. The nice thing about potatoes is that it is virtually impossible to overcook them, they can be kept in waiting, like me sometimes, indefinitely. All was prepositioned and ready long before Darcy’s anticipated arrival.
I got a call from Darcy on my cell phone about 5:30 saying that she’d be home in about a half an hour. She was in the car with her sister, so she couldn’t talk too freely. “I forgot to tell you that I was going to have a couple of my friends contact you this weekend,” she stated.
“You mean Patricia?”
“Yes, I told her that you could clean up her mess and iron things out.”
“And Carol?”
“Yes.”
“And Nancy.”
“Oh yeah. Carol told me about her. She needed her help to complete the project. After I checked her out, I approved her. I didn’t have time to issue new instructions. I figured you could ‘handle’ things.”
“OK.”
“So were you able to help them out with their business objectives?”
“Yes I did.”
“And were they satisfied with the results?”
“I believe they were.”
“Oh good. In that case I think I can arrange other work for you as well.”
I just swallowed hard and made no response.
“OK, we’ll be home shortly. Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, too.”
The clock was ticking, and I was a flurry of last minute preparation. The grill was match-ready and I soon had the fire going. I figured that if I put the steaks on when Darcy arrived, we could be sitting down to dinner almost immediately. Well, she can sit down immediately. I still had to complete cooking and serve the meal. The table was set: flowers, candles, wine open and “breathing,” salad losing its refrigerated chill, veggies on low heat in the kitchen, plates, napkins and utensils laid out all in proper fashion (it took me about a week of research and practice to get that right). Oh yes, “Bolero” on the stereo, cued for the moment she arrived at the door.
I could hear the car arrive. I quickly threw the steaks on, switched on the stereo, undressed faster than Superman in a phone booth, putting my clothes on the shelf in the closet and waited in my usual position by the door. That would be down on my knees. I fondled myself into an erection, although the physical stimulation was hardly necessary. The anticipation of Darcy’s arrival was enough.
She came through the door and held it open momentarily as she waved good-bye to her sister. I was hoping nobody else was around to look in. She closed it and then paid attention to me. I bowed and she patted me on the head like a puppy that was waiting at the door for the arrival of his mistress.
I got up and followed her into the living room. “Oh, it all looks so nice,” she said.
She sat down. “I’m exhausted. Mom had more junk than I could imagine a woman of her age could accumulate. I should have taken you along. But then you wouldn’t have been able to take care of those other assignments I gave you.”
She put her feet up and I removed her sneakers. I gently rubbed her feet. “Mmm,” she melted, “I’m going to need a nice hot bath before going to bed tonight.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I apologized, “I have to get dressed and take care of the steaks.”
She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “You can stay dressed until you sit down for dinner.”
“Thank you ma’am.”
“MA’AM” – that’s my title for her. “Mistress is too mysterious a word. It conjures up thoughts of whips and chains and leather and dungeons. That isn’t our style. “Ma’am” is simple but respectful which is who we are: two people who respect each other where she is the one in charge, and I am the one who voluntarily obeys. She loves me and I know it. She shows it by dominating me and allowing me to submit to her.
Moments later she was seated as I served her dinner and set my place as well. We ate and dined and caught up on news of the week. Her trip to her mom’s left us behind in the knowledge in what had been going on in each other’s lives recently. She complimented me on the meal and the setting.
I got up to clean the table, but beyond getting the perishables away was ordered, “Leave it for later. Come rub my shoulders.”
She sat at the table as I stood behind her, naked, fingers in her flesh, feeling for the striations in her muscles, gently urging her blood on its journey to her heart. After several minutes of this, she said, “Let’s do this right.” She stood up, took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom.
I assisted her getting undressed, kissing each part of her body as I exposed it. There was a slight saltiness from her sweat since she had obviously been working out at her mother’s house. It tasted pleasant. There was a strong scent of womanhood when I got to her lower lips, but it was her. I would recognize her unique aroma anywhere. But clitoral worship was not on the menu for this evening; at least not yet.
Once she was naked, she laid down on the bed on her stomach. I got my special massaging tools: racquet balls. The balls were easy for me to manipulate – I can roll them about in the palms of my hands and keep my fingers from tiring. They spread the pressure of my rubbing onto a perfect footprint (or should that be ballprint) on her body. The soft, rough, rubber surface gently grips into her skin, tingling it and making it come alive. By the time I finish, the balls are gray with the exfoliated skin cells. That’s the other nice thing about the balls: they are easy for me to wash and clean up.
I did her back, and then she rolled over and I did her front. She likes the feel of these blue rubber spheres on her breasts – I take extra care there and sometimes just hold the ball and tickle rather than roll it along the skin. I am even more cautious with her labia. It took a lot of practice to learn just the right amount of pressure, the right tempo, and the right rubbing technique to bring her to orgasm. I did not disappoint her this time.
She again thanked me and curled up in a blanket with the command, “Draw my bath, please.” Bath is a jacuzzi big enough for the both of us. However, tonight she would be bathing solo.
I went to this task as well as cleared out the remnants of dinner. By the time I got back, she was sleeping. I hated to awake her, but I knew that she would be disappointed if I did not. I kissed her gently and announced, “Your bath is ready, ma’am.” Indeed it was, complete with light provided only by the scented candles discretely placed around the room.
I assisted her into the tub, and used the soft nylon ball to complete the job that the rubber balls had started. She had only her freshest skin exposed, and it was absorbing the scented bath oils. She then slumped into the tub to enjoy the swirling, surging sensations of the water against her.
I suggested, “Wine ma’am?”
“Good idea,” she said, “fetch some for yourself, too.”
I sat and she laid, both of us sipping our wine continuing the conversations from dinner. At last, when she had enough of both water and wine, I assisted her up, wrapped her in a towel and patted her dry.
We retired to the bedroom. This time clitoral worship WAS on the menu both before and after my special treat.
-=o=-
I went through the next couple of days wondering when a woman would suddenly approach me and hand me an envelope. It didn’t happen, but any time I got within 10 feet of a woman and we made eye contact, I believed it would.
I was scheduled to meet Darcy at the hairdresser’s on Wednesday and then go out to dinner at the restaurant next door. I thought it odd as I came to the door only to find out that they had closed an hour earlier. I knocked anyway and a woman came to open the door. She introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Helen. Darcy’s waiting for you.” Judging by the name of the place, “Hair by Helen,” I assumed she was the owner.
Darcy was sitting at a table, with fingers splayed. “They’re still drying she explained.” She pursed her lips and I bent forward to kiss her. I could smell the acetone and other chemicals used on women to give them “the natural look.” While I appreciated Darcy’s “dolling up” for me, I thought she looked just fine straight from the shower.
Without missing a beat, and as casually as telling me to fetch her a tissue, Darcy said, “Strip!” I knew it was an order, and the presence of another woman didn’t countermand it.
As I was disrobing, Darcy laid out the ground rules for the evening. “Helen’s agreed to help me with a project. I like to have pedicures, but they are such a pain. I’ll keep coming back to Helen for the cutting and buffing and shaping of my toenails, but there’s no reason I should have to do the daily touchups on my own. She’s going to train you how to do my feet. We also have a couple of other surprises in store for you as well.”
About that time, there was another knock on the door. Helen said, “I’ll get it.”
“That would be dinner.” Darcy explained, “I took the liberty of ordering Chinese. This is going to take a while.”
The three of us sat there eating. The two women fully dressed, while I sat on a stool, rice bowl (or cardboard facsimile thereof) in my hand, demonstrating my skill in the use of chop sticks.
I was designated to clean up after the meal and then the lessons began in earnest.
Helen was the instructor. Darcy was the model and I was the student.
“The first thing you are going to want to do is get the proper equipment. I’m sure that as a guy, you appreciate using the right tool for each job.” Little did she know that to most guys, almost any tool can be used as a hammer. A beer bottle opener was as sophisticated as most of them got. Fortunately, I had a moderate amount of skill with my hands.
“First you’re going to want the remove the old polish.” She reached for a bottle. “I call this my ‘industrial strength’ nail polish remover. It contains acetone. You can get acetone-free stuff and it isn’t as drying, but it doesn’t work on dark colors such as what Darcy is wearing.
Use a cotton pad like this. Don’t use cotton balls, they leave behind ‘fuzzies’ and who wants fuzzy toes?
Just rub like this away from the toe. If you get a tough spot, leave the pad on for a couple of moments and let it soak in. If you do it right the first time and you don’t leave the polish on too long, you shouldn’t have this problem.
Now you try it.”
I’ve always loved handling Darcy’s feet. They are so feminine when compared to mine. She seemed to enjoy the sensation as well. “Remember,” I heard Helen say, “away from the toe. Acetone won’t hurt skin, but it will dry it out.”
I probably spent at least a minute per toe doing this exercise. I am sure that Helen could have whipped through the task in less than a quarter of that time. But for me it was a labor of love and worth taking the extra effort.
“Not bad – for a rookie,” Helen commented. “Now let’s let them dry a bit.”
As I sat up – or perhaps I should say knelt up, she tossed another cotton pad, “Clean up that mess,” she said pointing to my very erected and dripping penis.
She then reached into her magic drawer and pulled out the most incongruous items: toothpaste and a toothbrush. Weren’t we at the wrong end of the body for this equipment?
“You see the little bit of yellowing on the nail? If you use a whitening toothpaste and gently brush the nails with a soft tooth brush, it will help remove some of that.” She demonstrated and I followed her example. Darcy giggled as I inadvertently tickled her with the brush.
After completing all 10 toes, I was directed to wash them clean with an ordinary rag. I then patted Darcy’s feet dry with a towel.
“I like to finish off with some lavender oil,” Helen said, putting a drop on one of the nails, and then gently buff it with a buffer. She how clean and white it looks?”
As I was attending to this task (realizing by now that a pedicure is a quite involved process), Helen suggested, “You can try other oils as well like lemon, but I prefer lavender.”
“Now we’re ready for the critical part: the actual cutting of the nails. I want you to watch me very closely, and when it comes your turn, I’m going to supervise you very closely. In the other parts of a pedicure, you can make mistakes and correct them. With cutting you only get one chance, so make sure you do it properly.
The main focus is to cut straight across. Don’t try to cut around the corner. Get your head directly over the nail and look straight down on it. You want to cut it just so it doesn’t extend over the tip of the toe.”
Here she took Darcy’s feet and moved them side by side so I could see the before and after. She did another one just to make sure I had the concept.
Helen cautioned me sharply, “If you do it wrong, Darcy might wind up with an ingrown toenail. Not only is that painful, but it can be dangerous as well. You don’t want to do that to her, do you?”
“No ma’am,” I responded.
“Now you do it. Position the clippers where you think you should have them but don’t press down. I want to look to make sure you are doing it right.” The way she was looking over my shoulder reminded me of my kindergarten teacher the first time I attempted to use scissors in class. Here was the voice of experience teaching the clumsy novice.
Again, I probably took a lot more time than was practical, but I was intent on doing this critical task just right.
Helen inspected my work much a scientist in a clean room looking at the quality of a microchip. Every millimeter of Darcy’s toenails was inspected with scientific precision. I am sure that Helen’s trained eye was as accurate as a micrometer.
“You did a good job,” she finally said. “Good but not perfect. At least you were safe. It’s going to take some more practice before you can call yourself a pro. Did you remember what I told you about cutting?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then repeat it to me.”
“Cut straight across and even with the edge of the toe.”
“Good boy!” Helen looked at Darcy the two women smiled at each other. I guess I was doing OK and this made me feel good.
Helen continued. “Now we are ready for rounding the nails. You don’t want a fully rounded nail. You just need to unsquare the corners.”
I looked at the emery board she handed me. I knew enough from my shop class and woodworking to start with the coarse side to shape, and the fine side to smooth. I loved handling each of Darcy’s toes individually. Soon I had them perfectly shaped. Even Helen had to admit that. It looks like there are parts of this process I’m actually good at.
“Now it’s time to soak her feet. Follow me!”
As I got up, both women caught sight of my erection and the penis to floor, sticky threat of pre-cum that extended from it. There were several drips on the floor already.
Darcy said, “You’re embarrassing me. You should be demonstrating some control in front of me and Helen. I’m going to have to spank you.”
“I’d like to see that,” Helen added. Turning to me she said, “I can’t have you messing up my shop. Clean that mess, and YOU up.” I was pointed to some paper towels to accomplish this task.
Meanwhile Helen was off rummaging through some draws and came back with a condom. Darcy looked at her and she explained, “It’s a long story. He’s not the first man to be naked in here.”
“We going to have to put this on you so you can keep your messes to yourself.” She looked at Darcy who replied, “You can do the honors.”
“Hands on head.” I felt particularly vulnerable in this position. My penis was sticking out for all the world (or at least these two women) to see. It always feels funny when Darcy puts a rubber on me. Helen had a slightly different technique. As she rolled it on she continually brushed my head with her palms. I could have shot off right there, but tried as hard as I could to hold back. Cumming without Darcy’s permission and under these circumstances would have merited severe rebuke from Darcy. I dared not disappoint her again.
Properly sheathed and at the very edge of cumming, I was put back to work. “Follow me,” Helen instructed.
I was sent to fetch some basins on the top shelf of a closet. “That’s a dear,” Helen said, “I usually have to get a step stool to get those. Bring the first stack down and leave them on the table. Take one with you.”
Next, I filled the basin with warm water and placed it at Darcy’s feet. Helen poured in some Epsom salt and had me dissolve it with the swish of her hand. She then added a couple of drops of a sweet-smelling oil. “Aromatherapy,” she announced. The word apparently meant something to Darcy.
Then she went to the refrigerator and got what looked like a milk container and poured some of the liquid in. “What’s that?” asked Darcy.
“It’s my special ingredient – a special cream,” she answered secretively and then added as lightly as possible, ‘It’s milk!”
“Milk?” Darcy and I exclaimed in unison.
“Yes, I read about it somewhere and thought it was crazy, but I tried it and it really does make the skin and feet softer.”
“I wonder if I put cream – perhaps whipped cream – on my feet if my friend here would like licking it off when I was done with it?”
Indeed I would!
Darcy placed her feet into the warm bath and sighed. “This feels so delicious. Now that I have nothing to do for the next 15 or 20 minutes, I’ll have to find something to keep me busy.” She looked around at the stack of women’s magazines at hand.
“I know,” she said suddenly brightening up., “Since my feet are on the floor anyway, and my knees are drawn up into a convenient lap, I know a naughty boy who needs to get a spanking.”
The chair was designed so that the arms actually folded down, presenting that lap to me. She just waved me over and I draped myself over her. It was a familiar position.
“Now what can I use to spank with?” She mused in a mocking tone. “Oh silly me. This is a hair salon. Helen, you wouldn’t happen to have a hairbrush handy?”
Helen did. She went to her table and reached into a lower drawer and pulled out an ivory looking hairbrush. It had a floral design carved into the back. It did not seem to be the commercial grade equipment that was commonplace in the rest of the shop. “This was mom’s. I keep it for special occasions.” I wondered how many “special occasions” they had at the shop.
Darcy was not a hard spanker. The purpose of the punishment wasn’t to inflict pain, but to reinforce her dominance over me. She didn’t do it to hurt me; she did it because she could, and I let her. Nonetheless, it was an embarrassing position both relationship-wise and physically to be in, especially with another woman witnessing the act. Indeed, this is the first time anyone has watched me get a spanking.
I really didn’t know how many wallops Darcy gave men, but my ass was sore by the time she was done. It took a lot less time than the 20 minutes, but it was effective and my lesson was learned.
Darcy handed the brush back to Helen and made me stand up and face her. “Apologize to Ms. Helen for messing up her floor.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Helen.” I muttered.
“Now go stand in the corner with your hands on your head while us women discuss important stuff.” Darcy said. “And there is also this,” Darcy said reaching for her purse. She retrieved her checkbook: THE checkbook, and wrote out, “Pay to the bearer on demand: 1,000 lines.” As she completed the check and handed it to Helen, she explained, “I want you to write out 1,000 times by hand the following phrase, ‘I will not let my penis drip on Helen’s floor.’ Then bring the completed assignment to Helen. You have until she closes up tomorrow to get this done.”
I stood in the corner, as ordered, naked with hands on head listening to the women chatter. It always amazes me at the number of topics women can talk about. With men it’s sex, politics, religion and sports: what else is there?
I was eventually recalled from the corner to continue waiting on Ms. Darcy.
“Now we come to another delicate operation: cuticle removal. Part of the reason for the soaking was to prepare the feet for this critical part.
There’s a special preparation for this. It’s called cuticle remover. Once again, you have to be very careful with this stuff. You have to get it on the cuticle, but keep it off the toes. Apply it, leave it on for a minute and then go to work.”
Helen whisked the lotion on Darcy’s toes without missing a beat in her talk. I was a little disappointed in that I wanted to try this myself. Nonetheless, the requisite minute was up in what seemed like 10 seconds.
“This next part requires some skill,” she warned. She grabbed hold of what looked like a bamboo chute, but I later found out was an orangewood stick. “Use the end of the stick to rub away the remnants of the cuticle. Be careful not to irritate the toe.”
She had me do it and I was surprised at how the cuticle gave way under this treatment.
“Sometimes you may have a flap of skin that is too much to erode away. In that cane use cuticle nippers like these to remove the flap. Be careful not to cut the toe skin.”
For what seemed the tenth time today I washed Darcy’s feet.
“Now it’s time to take care of the rest of her feet,” Helen said, handing me a wet pumice stone. “It’s a pedicure. Ped: from the Latin for foot. It’s not entirely about just the nails.”
“Work the stone round and round on the calluses. Don’t spend too much time in one place, you can come back to it. Work it until it gets barely pink. Any darker than that and you’ve done too much.”
I spent what seemed to be a half an hour on each foot. I didn’t want to stop. I love Darcy’s feet. (Well, I love all parts of her, but her feet are particularly attractive).
“This is something you can do between full treatments. In fact it is better to do it a little bit often than a lot only every now and then.”
Once again I washed her feet and this time dried them thoroughly. I was handed some lotion to massage her feet and calves. At this part, at least, I was an expert. Even Helen acknowledged it, “Hey Darcy, can you send him over sometime? I know some women who would pay good money for what he’s doing.”
Helen had me paint on a dab of cuticle oil with a Q-tip. I loved doing this type of things and the best part is that it was times 10. “Let that sit and soak in for a while.” I always wondered why it took hours for Darcy to get a pedicure. Now I know a lot of it is waiting for things to “soak in.”
“Now let’s get those nails ready for the main event. Very careful with the acetone remover.”
“Cuticles too?”
“Cuticles too!”
“But I just … Oh, never mind.” It didn’t make sense to remove that which I just put on, but I though better about questioning Helen’s instructions.”
Using a hand held fan, I blew Darcy’s toes dry.
“What color did we decide on today?” Helen asked Darcy.
Darcy picked out a shade of pink. I am sure it has a name that distinguishes it from the many other shades of pink that look almost exactly like it. I think that the average woman knows the names of over a thousand colors. Like most guys, I know the names of 8 of them: those that came in the box of crayolas in kindergarten.
If it were totally up to me, this is the point where I would have been an hour ago. It seems that a pedicure takes about a much preparation as a Space Shuttle Launch.
“The key is to use three smooth strokes per toe: one down the middle and one on each side. Use exactly the amount of polish you need and no more. You want to make the coat as thin as possible. Then let it dry and do it again two more times for a total of three coats.”
I actually had the skill for this too. As a kid I was fond of putting together model airplanes. Painting the details took a close eye and a steady hand. Even the brushes were about the same size.
I sat back on my haunches to look at my completed product. Her toes looked magnificent.
“Hey! You’re not done yet.”
What else could there be?
“You still need a top coat to seal the color in.”
I was wondering that if I put masking tape on her toes, if I could just spray paint it on.
Yet another application, and yet another drying period. The tedium and repetition was wearing me down. I am sure from Darcy’s standpoint, the experience was entirely different being on the receiving end of the pampering.
Helen inspected the work. “Not bad. Maybe I can hire you and put you to work when Darcy doesn’t need you.”
“Dream on,” Darcy laughed.
“A girl can try, can’t she?”
Helen completed her instructions, “If you make a mistake, you can usually clean it up using a stick with a bit of cotton at the end of it and some acetone remover. It’s better not to make mistakes in the first place.”
The way they go through acetone remover in this place had me wondering if they sold it in 55-gallon drums at Sam’s Club.
“She has to let them dry completely for about 40 minutes. Be a dear and pour us some wine. Pour some for yourself if you wish it.”
Apparently class was over and I was dismissed for recess. I felt the control switching back from Helen to Darcy. We spent the next 40 minutes having a very normal conversation; if you consider two fully dressed women and one naked man normal.
Helen actually finished off the procedure with some sort of a moisturizing spray
“Thank you, Helen. That was great. I can now add that to the list of things he can do for me.” And who else, I wondered. Would I be handed a check with the words, “Pay to the bearer on demand: one pedicure.”
As we were leaving, Darcy asked, “Have you taught many men to do pedicures?”
“Just one, but you’d be surprised at the number of women who bring their husbands and boyfriends in here to get them.”
-=o=-
Darcy’s activities in the business community comes with responsibilities. In order to make the connections with the right people to keep her business thriving, she attends many affairs, be they after hours events run by the Chamber of Commerce, or the benefit auction for this or the other charity or the grand opening of some business.
I go along as her “eye candy.” For the most part, I consider myself an average-looking guy, but every now and then I do see myself differently in the mirror. I do have a certain masculinity that I guess women would find attractive. At least the body is in shape. This isn’t an issue of vanity; it’s an issue of health. There are too many bad molecules promoting diabetes or heart disease swimming in my gene pool.
So here I am in tuxedo – we go to so many of these affairs I actually OWN one – escorting Darcy to an auction for the local mental health association. Normally we would not be invited to such an affair, but Darcy “volunteered” us to help out with some of the setup. She put my computer skills to use by having me develop a program to record the bids and print the invoices for the silent auction. So we were more in the status of “hired help” than invitees.
However, nobody else knew that and Darcy always has a way to play her hand to the fullest. I like to watch her in action in a room of people. She’s like a cheetah or other predatory big cat stalking her prey and planning the best moment and approach for the attack. Few escape her clutches.
In this instance, the prey was Ms. Pomeroy. Ms. Pomeroy was a 50-ish woman who made it a habit of marrying rich, and divorcing even richer. Her current husband, twenty years her junior, is an investment genius. He saw the crash coming and pulled all their assets out of the market taking a short-term loss at 13,000 and buying back in at 7,800. He took the millions they already had and added millions more. He’s the brains behind the company, but Ms. Pomeroy ran it, and as I later discovered, him.
Darcy walked over to her, and before I returned with her drink, was already engaged in animated conversation with her. I was politely introduced, but other than taking the woman’s hand and saying, “Nice to meet you,” was excluded from the conversation.
They exchanged cards, and left with Ms. Pomeroy saying, “Give me a call early next week. I’d like to discuss some of those ideas with you.” I figured Darcy just scored big again.
The rest of the evening was spent wandering around and making small talk with some of the other patrons. We had a bidding card, but didn’t use it. Most of the bidding started well above our bank accounts.
On Monday, I get a call from Darcy at work. “What are your plans for the weekend?” she asked.
“Whatever you want them to be,” I replied in typical devoted fashion.
“Good, we’ve been invited to a pool party at the Pomeroy’s. I’ll fill you in on the details at dinner.”
Details? What details? It’s a pool party. I put on a bathing suit and show up and try to be as charming as Darcy needs me to be.
The conversation at dinner proved otherwise. Darcy explained it to me. “This will be no ordinary pool party. Remember me telling you that there’s this little clique in the WBC that shares the same interest in how women should relate with men?”
The warning flags went up.
“Well, I just recruited Sherri into it. It’s a major coup for my reputation with the rest of the girls.”
She’s now on a first named basis with the richest woman in town. “Sherri?” I said.
“Well, she’ll still be Ms. Pomeroy to you,” Darcy replied.
“Sherri suggested a get together at her house. There will be several women there from our little coven along with their men. These men, like you will provide the cocktail service. Like you, they will do it in the nude, so don’t forget to bring your suntan lotion. We wouldn’t want certain parts of that great body to get burned, would we?”
She looked at my face and laughed. “Don’t worry, you won’t scandalize anyone. All the women there know the story as do their men although I think this will be the first time we’ve ever had a joint function. Anyway, Sherri has staff and they will do most of the preparation. All you’ll need to do is schlep drinks and refreshments and pick up after the ladies.”
Well, at least I was grateful for the warning. I could have found out only when Darcy told me to drop my trunks.
I suppose that the upcoming event was enough to keep Darcy occupied. I received no checks to cash that entire week, although I was constantly looking over my shoulder.
The day arrived and I picked up Darcy at her apartment. I decided to bring along some trunks, just in case. She answered the door in her bikini, and I nearly ignited my underwear as my penis erected so fast it gave me a cloth burn. She was definitely going to cause a lot of erections at the party.
Fortunately for our safe arrival (since I was driving) she threw a sundress over it and finished the outfit with a large floppy hat, sunglasses and sandals. Even then, she was stunning. I’ve seen professional models in her fashion magazines look worse. She pointed to the small suitcase that was masquerading as her bag and said, “Be a dear and get that.”
She gave me directions to Sherri’s – I mean Ms. Pomeroy’s house. We arrived at the gate and pressed the buzzer. A slightly British sounding voice answered, “May I help you?”
“Darcy Prescott to see Ms. Pomeroy.”
There was a slight moment of silence while the detached voice was no doubt checking the guest register. “Very well,” it finally responded, “You’re expected. Please proceed.”
At this, the gate swung back and I drove down the driveway. It was a journey in itself. The driveway must have been at least a quarter mile long. The first half was through a wooded area and it curved gently. This made it impossible to see the house from the road. The second half crossed a neatly manicured lawn interspersed with beds of colorful flowers.
House was the wrong word for the structure. Even mansion isn’t adequate. Villa would probably be more correct. The main building was a huge structure with a circular drive. We proceeded up that where I dropped the car off with the valet.
Once we got inside, we were met by an older woman who seemed to be in charge of the staff. “Darcy Prescott,” Darcy announced.
“Oh yes, Ms. Pomeroy is expecting you. She mentioned you were coming and was delighted at the prospect of seeing you and your escort again. Won’t you come this way?”
Darcy was ushered forward. I was told, “Go with Henry. He’ll show you what to do.”
As I left through a side door with Henry, I looked back through the opening main doors into what appeared to be a large reception room. It was filled with about a dozen women. Dressed waiters circulated among them.
I was taken down a flight of stairs and out the side of the house. I could see a hidden alcove in the trees where the other buildings of the establishment lay. There was another house (servants’ quarters I presume), the garage with its multiple doors, a shed, a lean-to with a tractor and a stable with several horses. I was led to the house.
I was ushered into a room where there were several other men already there in various states of undress. Henry departed with the words, ‘Miss Cynthia will tell you what to do.”
Miss Cynthia might have been in her mid-20’s but looked like a teenager. However, she was in charge of a small army of naked men that ranged up to at least twice her age. I noticed that most of the men were hairless down there (as opposed to neatly trimmed as Darcy prefers I keep myself) and that two of them were wearing a chastity device. One of them had a tattoo on his buttocks proclaiming that he was a bitch to his mistress. Yet another was pierced through the head of his penis. Until I could get used to seeing it, the image kept my erection at bay.
All she said was, “Get undressed and I’ll help you with your uniform.”
For a moment I was kind of hoping that I would be dressed after all. It was true, I was dressed but quite minimally: I had a white wheel cap with a black leather brim, a stand-alone white collar with a black bow tie, stand-alone white starched cuffs with cuff links, a black cummerbund and white Keds slip-on sneakers. It was sort of like a steward’s outfit without the actual shirt and without pants.
It actually mirrored the uniform Miss Cynthia was wearing except she had a full blouse and white skirt.
Miss Cynthia explained our duties, “You will stay here until madam dismisses the caterers and then you will take over. I will be in charge of your assignments. The food and drink is in the auxiliary kitchen and each of you will be assigned a certain area of the pool as your station. Some of you will be primarily on waitstaff duty, while others will be on cleanup, however each of you will immediately obey any request from any of the women no matter where you are, or what your primary assigned duty is.”
“You will keep your eyes lowered at all times and never look a woman in the face. You will be polite at all times and not speak unless spoken to. Address all women as ma’am. Do I have any questions?”
There were none. I was surprised at how confident Cynthia was with her instructions. Had she done this before, I wondered?
We all sat in silence for a while and then the phone rang. Cynthia said hello and then added, “Very good, ma’am. Yes, the boys are ready. I’ll bring them right over.”
Turning to us, she grinned, “Show time, boys. And some of you have a lot more to show than others. Follow me.”
Cynthia led us along a path and into yet another side entrance leading to a kitchen with a large working area. The counters were full of trays and the trays were full of refreshments. I was assigned to one bearing small sandwiches; the other men were detailed to carry trays with other goodies.
“You know what to do,” Cynthia said, giving us our final instructions, “Just walk up to the ladies. Offer your tray for a couple of seconds and say nothing unless spoken to. She swung open a door that lead to a large glass-arched room. It sort of resembled an aircraft hangar and could probably hold at least a small aircraft other than it was made of glass instead of metal. Most of the glass panels were pulled aside to reveal screening. Fans in the roof provided a pleasant breeze. I was not going to get eaten alive by insects.
The hangar enclosed a flagstone paved courtyard with seating along flowerboxes and even a couple of trees. In the center was the pool maybe about a quarter Olympic size. I was lost in the opulence of it all. It was only after my eyes had absorbed the setting that my brain caught up with the contents.
There were about a dozen women there talking among each other clad in their bathing suits and one man, naked save for knee pads: Mr. Pomeroy. Mr. Pomeroy was currently at Ms. Pomeroy’s feet acting as a footstool as she sat in a chair, chatting away with the woman in the chair next to hers. The two women apparently decided it was time for a dip. The both got up, and placed their discarded drinks and plates on their makeshift table.
From beside me I could hear Cynthia order one of the men she held in reserve, “Boy, go clean up that mess and bring it back here.”
Cynthia stood by the door, watching and supervising us men as we circulated among the women. I smiled as I approached Darcy and a woman she was talking to. Darcy noticed it and said, “Don’t look at me that way, boy! Keep in your place.” I lowered my eyes and just muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”
Cynthia was on the spot immediately. “Is there a problem here?” and then added hopefully, “Do you want me to discipline him?”
“It’s OK, Cynthia. I’ll deal with his recalcitrant behavior when I get home.”
I spent the rest of my time slowly making the rounds, returning to the kitchen only to pick up a new tray. This time the tray contained red and white wine.
“You are on drink duty,” Cynthia informed me. “Offer the women something to drink and take any other orders that they may have. Report these orders to the bartender.” The bartender, of course, was female and wore an outfit like Cynthia’s.
As the women became sated with refreshments, wine, drink and other delicacies, Cynthia pulled some of us out of rotation and put us in the kitchen to clean up and consolidate the scraps of food left over. Most of it was cold or warm, as compared to its original condition. We men ate it in shifts.
We were all brought out to stand in a line as Mrs. Pomeroy, gathered the women in front of us. “Girls, remember how at sleepovers we used to talk about boys and the silly things they did or we got them to do? Well now it’s time to actually play ‘show and tell.’ Each of you has brought along a companion who you say has a special talent. Well, now it’s time for a talent show. Ellen, why don’t you go first.”
Ellen wiggled her finger and a man fell out of line. “Up here,” she said patting an empty table with a recliner cushion on it. “On your back.” The man complied silently. You know what to do.
The man rolled his back and threw his legs over his head. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be that flexible, or at least I’ve never seen it done in person. His erected penis was a fraction of an inch away from his face. He stuck his tongue out and flicked it. Women went scurrying for their purses to retrieve their phones to take pictures.
He folded himself even tighter and took the head into his mouth. I could see his cheeks working as he sucked himself off. I could tell by his stiffening, breathing and grunts that he was cumming. Moments later a small bit of cum dribbled from his mouth. The woman commented, “Aw baby, that was almost perfect.” The rest of the women applauded. Some of us men did too.
Ms. Pomeroy announced, “Thank you, Ellen, that was a great show. It’s literally going to be a tough act to follow. Who’s next?”
The women had their men perform various acts from simple jerk offs, to feats of acrobatics, to performing silly acts. One of these acts featured two men doing what two male lovers were supposed to do, I guess. I wondered what Ms. Darcy had in store for me.
It was very tame. “My boy will be giving a demonstration on how to give a massage. Do I have any volunteers to be on the receiving end?” A couple of hands went up. Darcy pointed to Clair and she laid down on her stomach on the cushioned table previously used by the self-felating slave.
Darcy nodded to me. I knew that meant “start.” I started at her feet and pulled her leg to a 90 degree angle to work on her feet and calf muscles. I contemplated whether I was to kiss and lick them as I normally did with Darcy. I thought better of it and decided not to.
Darcy made a running commentary on what I was doing: partly describing my actions and partly directing them. “Notice how he runs his fingers up the striations of the muscles in a direction towards the heart. He varies the pressure gradually decreasing it and then letting it tail off again …”
I did the complete massage from toes to neck and my audience thought I was done. I knew better. Darcy knew it was time to bring out the secret weapon. “Cindy, be a darling. In my bag is a can of racquetballs. Would you fetch two for us?”
Cindy found the balls and bounced them to Darcy who handed them to me. “The balls,” she explained, “spread the pressure over the muscles evenly. Watch how he uses his hands to manipulate them rolling them along her flesh.”
At this point Clair sighed, “Oh, this feels really great. I’ve never felt anything like it. It feels like my skin is coming alive again.”
Darcy interjected, “That’s the rubber. Not only does it grab and tickle, but the texture of the balls also scrub off the dead skin.”
The women pressed in for a closer view. Darcy continued her commentary, “My boy also does my front, but in the interest of Clair’s modesty, particularly in the presence of these other males, we will not demonstrate that now. However, I must say that the balls feel really good when gently rubbed against my breasts, and in skilled hands can do things with a clitoris that a penis, fingers or even a talented tongue could never do.”
At this point one of the women asked, “Do you ever do him? I mean rub the ball against his penis like he rubs it against your clit?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” Darcy admitted.
Another woman spoke out, “My hubby is into rubber. He’s practically a slave to it. I got to try it with him.”
The women were hooked on every word as Darcy continued to explain the intricacies of a rubber-ball massage.
She finished up her speech, “and that gray stuff on the ball is her skin. Exfoliated gently by the texture of the rubber of the balls. And they are so easy to wash up. Do I have any questions?”
There were some questions, and there were several requests, “I wish my boy knew how to do that.” “I would love to have a massage like that.”
Darcy’s response was, “Cindy, in my bag you’ll find a checkbook in a pink leather cover. Could you bring it to me along with a pen?”
-=o=-
The pool party came to an end. We boys were directed to do some of the cleanup, at least the fetching of used napkins, plates, etc. and transport them to the kitchen under Cynthia’s direction. “The caterers will come and collect the linens and tables and other equipment,” she informed us. “You boys are dismissed, and can go back and get dressed. Your uniforms are yours to keep. I’m sure some of your women might like to see you in them again.”
On the ride home, Darcy was Darcy again. Throughout the party, she kept aloof and treated me the same as the other women did and the same as she treated the other men. Now she was back to her “normal” self.
“You were a hit, sweety,” she said. “Every woman there was green with envy knowing that I can get a massage like that any time I want. And they’re smart enough to know that it was only half a massage: the back half. They also agree that you have the best buns at the party.”
. (Commentary – racquette balls – checks).
Hair Washing
Fashion show
Spanking.
Dog obedience training.
Shoe tying.
Ass lick
Story Mule 2024
Quiz
Wrong shortcode initialized
Wrong shortcode initialized
Pos. | Name |
---|---|
1 | thrall |
2 | quietlisten |
3 | dejahcd |
4 | Aeden |
Meet The New Army
The auditorium was filled with a hundred nervous soon-to-be-former civilians. They eyed the uniformed women stationed near the exits with a mixture of lust and apprehension; the appearance inspired the former, the attitudes the latter. Like every new batch of recruits throughout history, these were wondering just what the fuck had happened that they found themselves here.
At the front of the auditorium, six men entered, nude, in single file, nude. They marched to a point where the group was centered behind the podium, then turned with military precision (what else?) and stood at attention. Their genitals were tightly bound, penises fully erect; their pubic hair was gone, tattoos reading Property US Army in its place.
“Ten-HUT!”
The recruits knew well enough to stand and face front without prompting from the uniforms as another woman entered the room. Somewhat tall, she wore the casual working uniform of the New Army – a green cap, a T-shirt of the same shade, and Lycra shorts.
The uniform seemed a size or two too small on her ample proportions. Her breasts tested the simple cotton of the T-shirt and the shorts seemed almost painted on. It was an obvious choice in a society where female sexuality and authority were becoming synonymous.
She stood behind the podium and looked at the group. They didn’t look so very different from the others that had come through since Reorganization. Nervous, a bit disoriented perhaps, primarily in need of someone to show them a way for the world to make sense again.
She had the traditional army plan for that. Tell them loud, tell them crude, tell them simple – do your duty and let your superiors worry about everything else.
“Welcome, gentlemen”, she started amiably enough. “My name is Captain Amy Masterson. I am the commander of this company. As you are no doubt aware, the Army has been re purposed, like every other institution in our society. Therefore, the role of the soldier has been re purposed.
“You will not be called upon to bear arms against the armies of other nations. That era of human history has passed. However, as soldiers always have, you will still be in the service of the CUNT-ree”, deliberate annunciation, “you will be trained, you will learn to obey your superiors. Your superiors…will be anyone with tits.”
She paused. There were some light chuckles, some sounding a little forced That was about normal.
“That is the literal truth, of course. The Officer Corps is by definition female. There are no female enlisted troops.” It was amazing how many of them didn’t realize that. “You will respond to your superiors with enthusiastic deference; you will internalize unthinking obedience to females.” Some of them almost certainly would not; they were the future toilet cleaners and potato peelers, permitted to masturbate once a week under supervision. The best thing about that type was they were identifiable almost immediately and they were becoming steadily fewer in number.
“There is no time like the present to start the habit of obedience to your superiors, gentlemen. At this time, all of you will disrobe completely and I do mean completely. No wristwatches or headgear of any kind. Right down to your bare ass.”
Most of them knew this was coming; hell, it was why some of them were here. There were shocked faces here and there, but the ROTC cadets, college women mostly, were on them quickly.
Capt. Amy noted that this group was a bit older; mostly in their 30’s, so there wasn’t much weeping. Deemed unnecessary, redundant, incompetent, overpaid, or simply in a female’s career path in the outside world, they would become raw material in the New Regime, their minds and bodies molded to suit its purposes. She felt useful, damned useful, to be doing this work; what would be done with these men otherwise?
“You should know it is a myth that you will be punished for unauthorized erections in the Army. I don’t know how some of these urban myths get started. Your officers like hard cocks. We regard them as an expression of the desire to serve.”
Their officers also considered their erections to be playthings, discipline opportunities, clothes hooks, bookmarks, and who knew what all else, but Capt. Amy knew the boys would be finding that out soon enough. No need to get the poor dears all flustered until there was some kind of purpose to it.
Some of the faces were stoic, some clearly embarrassed, a few dazed and disoriented. One alone seemed angry and resentful, staring directly at her. She saw him without looking at him – about six foot, thick-trunked workman’s build, dark hair, striking eyes, and very, very erect. Interesting.
“I will now administer the oath of induction. Raise your right hand and repeat after me.
“I do solemnly swear to serve my country and uphold its laws…to obey the commands of my superiors…to learn and perform my duties to the best of my abilities…and that I will adapt my attitude and behavior to my role in the New Regime, so help me God.”
She paused, waiting for the last arm to drop.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You are all now members of the US Army. I suggest you obey your officers.”
“Ten-HUT”
Capt. Amy left the auditorium, followed by her honor guard of six. There would be some time before she had to address the battalion again; more than enough time for her to have her privates present their privates.
In the auditorium, the ROTC cadets had taken over. A set of double doors had been opened on one side of the auditorium and the recruits were being herded through. The riding crops were also making their first appearance.
“Form two lines! Form two lines out the doors!”
“C’mon, now, which part of two lines don’t you get?”
“Not so close! Keep your dicks out of each other’s asses. If you wanted to do that you should’ve joined the Navy.”
“Hey, you! Yeah, you. What’s your name, honey?”
“Form two lines!”
Through the doors were teams of barbers, working in pairs. The recruits were placed on a contraption which very closely resembled a gynecologist’s examination table. Stirrups held their feet wide apart; their buttocks were completely exposed and available.
The barbers worked at a frightening pace, trimming pubic hair away into piles on the floor, lathering the trimmed pubic area as well as their scrotum’s, perineal area, and buttocks; not the wispiest layer of down was left to cushion the blows they’d receive from their officers. The ‘Property US Army’ stencils were applied front and back in lime green, guaranteed to show up against any skin tone.
From there, they were directed to a room filled with bins of incrementally sized cock harnesses. The cranky woman with the hang-dog expression actually loved her job and was very good at it; there was just no percentage in letting a bunch of raw recruits see how much she enjoyed handling them.
“Lootennit”, she drawled, “they dicks is all hard.”
“So get the test tubes, Calloway,” a cadet answered.
Calloway was perfectly well aware of the test tubes; she just liked talking about dicks. She had a carton of test tubes and some markers.
“Just squirt it in here, boys, and write ya name on the side. Never can have too many samples”, she said with a throaty chuckle.
“I – you want me to do what?” asked a lanky redhead.
Whack!
“Spank that monkey, soldier!” barked the cadet who left a stripe on his ass.
Calloway, amused, made a jerking motion with her arm. “I know you how, honey. Don’t be shy.”
Blushing furiously, the recruit held the test tube to the end of his cock and began to stroke. The others with erections followed suit; those without stood meekly as Calloway hefted their genitals in her hands appraisingly, then handed them each two harnesses.
“One’s a spare, but don’t lose t’other – those lootennits will smack you if you do.”
Of course, the lieutenants smacked them anyway, as that’s what lieutenants do, but the recruits appreciated even the slightest sympathetic notion.
It took some time for them all to come under Calloway’s gaze; the first recruits through the room cooled their heels for over an hour – the ‘hurry up and wait’ mentality of the army hadn’t changed. At length, they assembled in another auditorium-type of room, this one featuring low benches, spaced well apart.
The men milled about aimlessly, the instinct of waiting for the women to tell them what to do already asserting itself. The cadets checked their clipboards and began writing numbers on the recruits’ chests with red marker.
The time also allowed Capt. Amy to catch up, albeit with just four of her honor guard. Two of them, ravaged and unconscious, lay sprawled where she left them in her quarters. Feeling rather kittenish (ravaging two such brutes in such a short period of time was something of a feat, even for her) she put her game face on and entered the room.
She looked for ‘Blackie’, as she had dubbed him, and spotted him toward the back – just where she’d expect an attitude case to be. He was not openly defiant, but he completely lacked the meek, confused air of the others; this one was clearly in need of a hard hand, she thought. Just her type.
“You have a number written on your chest”, Capt. Amy called out. “If that number is one, come stand behind the bench front left. If it is two, bench front right. Three, the bench behind one. Four, the bench behind two, and so on.”
They managed it relatively easily, only a couple of them needing a cadet to pull them into place. Not bad for a hundred raw recruits.
“Get on your knees on the bench in front of you”, she projected. They obeyed with minimal hesitation. “Now put your hands on the floor in front of you.”
Now the hesitation was not minimal. A few of them simply weren’t well coordinated and almost fell off the bench. Rather more of them seem to sense what was coming and looked around as though they’d find a way out of it. No such luck; the cadets soon had them all positioned. Blackie, she noted, had stayed statue still, ignoring the promptings of his cadet, until every other male was in position. Only then did he comply, placing his hands on the floor smoothly, in complete control of his body. Oh, yes – just her type.
She paused, digging a whistle out of her pocket. This was a delicious moment – two hundred dangling testicles, two hundred quivering buttocks. She liked letting their predicament, the gender subjugation, soak in.
“You are about to receive your first lesson in the Army chain of command. You have been broken down into squads of five. Each squad has a squad leader. Squad leaders, introduce yourselves.”
She held the whistle to her mouth and blew five sharp staccato notes. The squad leaders, paddles in hand, brought down five sharps smacks on the ass of the recruit on one end of their bench.
“Switch!”
Five more sharp staccato notes for the next recruit and so forth, until the squad leaders had been introduced to each of their new recruits. “Whenever your squadron leaders have taken the time to address your asses in this way, you are to thank her. You say, ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ Say it now, say it loud!”
The few half-hearted ‘thank you’s she heard were scarcely better than silence.
“That sucked! Squadron leaders, introduce yourselves double time!”
This time it was ten blows of the whistle, the paddles swinging with an intensified vigor. The sound filled the room.
“And now you say -“
“MA’AM THANK YOU MA’AM”
“That’s what I like to hear! Now then – each pair of squadron leaders reports to a patrol leader. Her rank is Second Lieutenant. \\Lieutenants, introduce yourselves to your patrols.”
Each Lieutenant introduced herself to her ten-man patrol, ten times each. Their patrols bawled out their thanks in unison, quite enthusiastically. Capt. Amy felt very confident that Blackie was just mouthing the words and not actually making a sound.
Next came the platoon leaders, four First Lieutenants. Each delivered ten each to her twenty -five recruits, some of them whimpering by the time she was finished. Names were taken.
Capt. Amy now stepped away from the podium, taking her small strap from a peg on its side. She motioned to one of her honor guard, the blond, who stepped forward.
“Company ten-HUT!”
The recruits were put back on their feet, a few of them none too steady. Blackie, of course, stood straight and scowling.
“I am your company commander”, Capt. Amy lifted her voice to them. “I will now proceed with the last of our introductions. This is how it’s properly done.”
Her blond, cock as stiff and straight as his spine, saluted smartly.
“Private Loyal Anderson, ma’am!”
He spun and bent over.
“Note the position the private has taken”, Capt. Amy directed the group. “Insides of his feet shoulder-width apart, grasping his shins just above the ankles, knees slightly bent. You will assume this position when I approach. This way, you see, I can get at your balls.”
Pvt. Anderson was wearing the same type of harness as the recruits, forcing his testicles away from his body, dangling and vulnerable. Capt. Amy grasped them and pulled them back between his legs.
“I am charged by the Army to ensure that you have two intact testicles when you enter the Army, and that your testicles are still intact when you leave. I will test first one thusly -“
She brought the end of the strap down smartly on Pvt. Anderson’s left testicle.
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“Then the other.”
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“It is imperative that you acknowledge otherwise I cannot know that your balls are still attached! We commence – now!”
The first recruit, eyes wide in horror at being first, looked at his squad leader. She responded by laying her crop across his ass.
“Obey your orders!”
“Private Harlan Papelu, Ma’am!”
He spun, nearly fell over, then steadied himself. Capt. Amy held her hand over his ass, still radiating heat from meeting his many superiors, before pulling his testicles back and giving each one a healthy swat, his buttocks clenching. Much to his own relief, Pvt. Papelu cried out a ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ at the appropriate time.
“Remain in position.”
She proceeded to greet the other members of his squad, then excused them to their squad leader, eyes watering, reddened buttocks jiggling ever so slightly.
She moved quickly through the company, saving Blackie for last.
He was smart; he calculated his hesitation to within a millisecond of insubordination, then assumed the position.
“Private Monty Briggs, ma’am.”
Spoken rather than yelled. His squad leader laid one across his exposed buttocks and raised her arm for another, but Capt. Amy held up her hand to stop her.
She cupped his balls in one hand, laying the other one over the top. They were spongy and warm and a bit outsized, and she flattened them between her palms, slowly, by degrees.
Pvt. Monty Briggs exhaled after a minute or so, a bit raggedly, but the rest of his body held steady. She released with her top hand, keeping them cupped underneath, and took up her strap.
Thwack!
“Ma’am, thank y-“
Thwack!
“Ma’am, th-“
Thwack!
A pause.
“Ma’am, thank-”, he winced in anticipation of a blow that didn’t come, “ma’am thank you ma’am!” he finished quickly.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Amy struck the other one rapidly, ignored his ‘thank you’ and reached for his cock.
It was fully, completely engorged.
I knew it.
She pulled his erection back between his legs, gave it a very solid swat, then released it to thwack! against his belly She gave the squad leader a meaningful look; the younger woman nodded.
“Be all that you can be, Private”, she said before walking away to gather up her honor guard as the squad leader bellowed at her charges. “I love this fucking job”, she whispered to herself.
What A Difference A Day Makes
Part1- intro
The expensive suite and real tan walked into the secretary pool, a 10 lady team of expert typists doing the bidding of just one man, that man is Tobias Jonathan Dales jr III. He thought he was the business, he had the houses, the cars, the trophy wife and enough after hours special attention to make a pop star jealous. Yes he is the rising prince of the company and in a few years due to be king of Steel-Wade Smith Merchants the third biggest of its kind. He was a impressive really, soon 46 years and already a senior vice chairman, but it had cost him so much, he wouldn’t allow his wife the children that she had wanted (even had a painful op to make sure, but keeped it to himself and blamed her followed by the odd slap) and generally it had turned him into a self obsessed pillock without manners or concern for anyone else Strolling into his department was always a good part of the day for him.
“Morning, sir” said no.2 (had numbered his secretaries he didn’t like them and often would let them know has such)
“Shut your silly looking mouth and get me my coffee, then get back to work you ugly shrek extra” was his only reply which he gave with such relish he would make a personnel note of that put down, it amused him.
Tobias rounded the corner only to be greeted by his Personnel Assistant Richard Andrews, they both hated each other, and Tobias had been trying really hard for some while to get him fired or even moved on, it was so far proving to be very hard to get rid.
Richard was a different type of guy completely, he was famed for his niceness, in fact, never had a bad word for anyone, even had time to send the cards and donate to the office appeal to get the gifts, always personally felt moral was far more important than making himself look good. Oh yes Tobias really hated him, he was however very good at his job which meant he would only have to sign 3 pieces of paper and have a 4 hour company provided lunch break, life was good. And today was going to be very good has he would be receiving a new play thing secretary, he had conducted the prelim interviews and there had been just one who had stood out, she was half his age, blond with electric innocent blue eyes a filly for his amusement, oh life was good.
“So young Mr.Andrews has my secretary turned her rather splendid arse up yet” sneered Tobias, “She will arriving has told in approximately 30 minutes, i will be required to spend a hour briefing Miss Smith on company issues and policy with special…..”,“ shut up you stupid fool delay her has you must but by 1130 we SHALL be going to lunch, remember to book at the club, i shall personally brief her on my expectations, now give me the papers i require to sign, go tell No.2 to hurry with my coffee and do not disturb my working, chop chop”
barked Tobias (he loved to interrupting Richard who was a lot bigger physically than him gave him an extra mental inch or too) before turning and entering a separate office area for his secretary then onto his office, door was always slammed.
Tobias tossed the papers to the marble desk and carried on to the far side by the window, he stood there surveying the pathetic ants that scurried to there pathetic tasks, so unclean he thought to himself, turned and sat at his desk. The marble desk was huge could lay at least 4 people over it and still see the edges, but what was this a finger mark on his desk the cleaner would be feeling his wrathe for this. Then there was a knock on the double doors, he almost jumped with anticipation, “come in, come in Miss Smith”, the door pushed open “erm, sorry sir it is only Paula with the coffee”,Tobias was not happy anymore “well get it in here”. Paula crossed the office placing the coffee on the table and moved back. Quickly and very obviously Tobias lifted the cup and placed it squarely on the designer coaster then said in his normal sinister tone “i wished to speak to you any way Miss Towns, your interview to be my secretary was very good, you are 10 times qualified”,“thank you sir”,he took a small sip from his drink then continued “never interrupted me you stupid girl, you were unsuccessful due to your dismal appearance it offends my eyes and has for that cheap market perfume, well my cats litter tray is less offensive”. A slight pause another sip he then continued “Your coffee making abilities are one of your few redeeming features now if you feel you have to consider your current position with this company by all means, but we both now that the benefits and above average pay is a fair price for such a ugly women has you, so piss off and try not crack any of my mirrors on the way out”. Paula stood for a split second with pure hate in her heart “you are a little tosser and i will be only staying so i will one day see you grovel you ….”, loudly interrupted “Miss Towns i do not tolerate such talk from anyone, least of all a bag lady would be so i think you should clear your desk and remove yourself, unless you would like me to do so, NOW has i said trot on piggie” he stood up quickly, fingered the intercom “Andrews, please come in here”.
Richard entered and instantly read the situation, “Paula, please wait outside”, the broken Paula walked out of the office, “sir”,“that thing is fired, she will be gone at the close of the day…..she was too flirtatious and did not except the knock back reference her failed premonition with the spirit i expected” said Tobias, “But sir she is one of the best and is very popular with the girls” explained Richard. Tobias glared up from his desk,“in life decisions are made by leaders, they aren’t always popular, but i have made my decision which is not your position to question, are we very clear” their was a brief pause each sending a stare of hate “follow my orders,oh, and inform the evening cleaner that if my office is not correctly cleared she will also be finding a new job”. Richard left the office, finding Miss Smith comforting Paula, “i don’t mean to interrupt ,but could you and all your colleges please come into my office i have a brief for you all, please”.
The entire pool and lastly Miss Smith entered into Richards office. About 30minutes later the laughing and smiling group left the office and got back on with there work, even Paula seemed rather pleased!
At 1115 Tobias`s door was again knocked, Miss Smith opened the door and presented herself, “morning sir, you have instruction for me”, Tobias was upset with the entry but knew she would learn. The lady before him was stunning, a young princess of a lady who seemed somewhat familiar, the eyes so young so very beautiful, this play toy would make him very happy. “yes, yes, but let us go for a chat over lunch at a little club i know”, Tobias quickly signed the papers then stood up, instantly thought must stop her wearing heels has she was 4“ taller, but then again those calfs so elegant.
Tobias and Miss Smith left the department via the private lift down to the under ground car park and straight into a Limosine waiting and ready to roll.
The driver was cut off from them instantly, then the charm offensive was used, it was like a different man, the small talk and banter continued all the way to the Club Etiquette. “Hello Mr.Dale your favorite table is already please come through, sir” said by the slightly crawly matree dee with a sickly bow.
Tobias liked his table it was in a secluded area that he took all his toys, he instantly ordered for the both of them, making sure a liberal amount of posh potent wine was ordered, he found a bit of dutch courage never hurt in order to clench the deal. Small talk continued through out the starters and right up too the desert.
“Mr Dale i am not stupid, i am not qualified in any type of typing or secretarial work, i believe we both fully understand that, i assume my position is one of a personel nature, which i do not have a issue with but i expect you to have discretion” Miss Smith softly but firmly said. Tobias nearly choked on a ice cube from his scotch “well, i am in need of a secretary per say it goes with the job, but yes i in all fairness i… well you do…. ok i knew you had an attraction to me and i think you would improve my image in certain areas and if you have no issues with use having extra relations, well that would be mutually of benefit so to speak” he excitedly somewhat nervously and very queitly said. In a breif second he had realised he was truly blessed, the dream was about to come true a tart that under stood her place and accepted it.
The desert was a rushed affair and coffee was a not even throught of, this prize was going to be unwrapped has soon has possible, he had longed for it, hell he deserved it and he would be saviouring it very soon.
The drive back was again made instantly private, but this time full of innuendo and bravado boasting of past conquest, also how the company was his play ground, even included the firing of his last secretary due to his wife finding a lip stick mark on his bottom. He informed her discretion was always key, he had had to pay for therapy which he admitted had worked really well, he forgot to mention the regular beating he had issued out due to her making him look else where.
Within no time they was in the lift, up to the office and into his massive private lounge with has he informed her a rather splendid ensuite bathroom that had been the pools rest room before he saw fit to have it converted. Tobias went straight to the drinks cabinet and poured two very full glass`s of vintage scotch then went and sat on the overly big sofa with the already sat Miss Smith.
“Thank you Mr Dale may i just pop out and collect my bag from my desk” soft and seductively she said “why” somewhat a bit sharply.“
“Well i presume we are going to envelope on are relationship in the near future and a lady likes to be a bit fresher if you get my drift” very seductively explained. “oh yes yes of course, erm carry on” bit more sheepishly.
Miss Smith sprang up with a cheeky spin followed by a graceful hop all the way out of the lounge, how had he been so dam lucky this was better than any scenario he had ever played out, whilst contemplating this thought the intercom buzzer sounded, a rage of annoyance instantly replaced that happy thought. He moved to the intercom “this better be good, very good you little shit” he bawled into the intercom. “Yes sir, whilst you were at lunch new urgent paper work came directly from Mr Steel-Wade it needs your checking and signature” . This was just what he didn’t need, Miss Smith then again entered the lounge, “look Miss Smith i have some work to check and sign, so please stay i will be a hour or so” he informed her, “oh, ok, but i thought that fool Andrews checked the papers, could you not just sign whilst i get sorted in the bathroom….. then we could get on with that new relationship if you know what i mean” it was in the most seductive tone Tobias had ever heard, “ok i will see be back in 5 minutes, my sweet” he replied.
He re situated himself in his office were the paper work lay, pushed the intercom “Andrews have you checked every detail of this paper work” he urgently inquired, “of course, it is reference…..” “i don’t care you idiot, you can brief me tomorrow all the copies will be signed, come collect them in 10 minutes and make sure absolutely no one disturbs me again today” very annoyably.
He quickly signed each then performed a slight jog to get to his office, Miss Smith was still in the bath room, he downed his scotch and quickly poured a fresh one while undressing some what clumsily. The door to the bathroom slightly opened and a slender leg with suspenders and a black with silver high heel was exposed. Tobias instantly imagined if the leg was any thing to go by he would be romancing a goddess in a very short period, this made his boxers suddenly less roomy. “oh, Mr Dale i am going to treat you like you have never been before” she matter of factly informed him has she fully presented herself in the light from the bathroom.
She glided toward the trying to stand Tobias, stopping just short, from behind her back she revealed a pair of police style handcuffs, “i found these in the bathroom, throught i could use them on you whilst i use you then you wont be able to hurt me….. YOU being such a strong man” sweetly explained with a slight glint in her eyes. She was a goddess, by far the most sexy women he had ever seen, never mind had the chance to play with, he held his hand together in front of himself, “oh, no hands behind it will give you lift” quickly corrected. He turned round and put his hands behind himself, click click, she then floated around his shoulders until she was face to face then placed her lips next to his hear and whispered “it all changes today….”, in the same split second of confusion a ball shattering knee to the testicles was received. Pain, confusion and pure untold fear shot through ever cell of his body, “YOU PATHETIC JOKE FOR A HUMAN, TODAY YOU WILL BEGIN TO PAY FOR ALL YOUR SINS” she loudly informed him, quickly followed by another sharp kick to stomach. “now you just lay there whilst i go collect my other toys from the bath room, bitch, and please try to think of all the horrible things you have done has i know everything about you” this was sinisterly delivered followed by another swift kick. She then turned slowly giggling to herself and marched off to the bathroom.
Tobias was in a complete state of shock what, how, it was a nightmare of pain and where had it come from, he knew on one thing for sure he must get help, but how, ha the intercom. He still in unbelievable amounts of pain got to his knees, his genitals like a bag of hot coals roared with pain, tears were all ready trickling down his face, he managed to get to his feet still doubled over , he stumbled to the intercom button, just managing to bounce his head off the switch followed by “Andrews quick help…”. Tobias was suddenly pulled by his hair, thrown across the room , “now your going to get fucked you slag, help will be here in a moment and your only bitch will be the lesbian that uses you in jail” he yelled at the devil that towered over him.
She lowered her face near to his tear stained face “really”, at the same moment Richard burst in to the scene, “what the hell is going on here” he oddly inquired. Tobias smuggly but still struggling from the pain said “what`s it look like you arse hole, she forced me in here took my clothes then went mental, kicking me and hitting me, get the police so the bitch can rot in jail, your fucked slag”, Miss Smith then spoke softly “hi, hun, i was just educating this slime ball…… you now trying to get him to use some manners, come here you stud” with the flash of foot again kicked him in the balls while reaching for Richards tie pulling him close and kissing him passionately.
Richard looked down at the fool and tutted ” you had no idea, you stupid (quick glance at his semi exposed privates) little man, you will truly regret today“ he then punch Tobias in the side of the head. Pain was at the forefront of his entire being at this point, but the situation was even more agonizing, they know each other, the unanswered questions all flooding into his head it was almost has painful has the punch.
The pair hugged and kissed passionately with each other moving to the sofa, Tobias was semi conscious but could see Richard being undressed, the sounds of passion were all that could be heard, except perhaps Tobias quiet whimpers. By the time they got to the couch Richard was exposed full bar his briefs, Miss Smith then spoke with pure venom, “hey you piece of shit get on your knee and face me and this real man”, Tobias didn’t move, “if i have to come over there, your balls will be getting stamped on with this heel ”, the silver heel was waved at him off the once elegant black suspended foot. Tobias with all his remaining strength did has ordered, “at last he may be getting it” she said sweetly, she then got up and walked slowly over to Tobias, circling him a few times, stopping next to him. “Okay you jerk lets see what you have….get into a begging position like a dog” she then roughly pulled him up on his knee, whilst pushing his pants down to the bend in his knees, the pair started to tittered.
“Richard come over here and see this”, Richard stood up and walked up right in front of Tobias, saying nothing his expression said it all, “well Richard please do him a favor and show him a real cock….after he has never really seen one”, Richard paused for a second.
“Please Richard it makes me hot, very hot” she play fully teased, “sure babe”, he pulled his breifs down to his ankles and picked them up, “babe pass me them pants”. She then continued to wipe the inside of the pants all over Tobias`s face, focusing on his nose and mouth, Tobias was terrified this was the worst place or things that he could ever imagine. “Got to get all these girly tears cleaned up” this was spoken in a matter of fact tone.
The pants were then placed right over his head and lift to dangle around his neck, she then glided over to couch and laid down full length, “this Toad is how it will go, i will tell you to do some things and you will hop too it so to speak (a girly giggle), if you fail to follow my order, delay or do such order not to my satisfaction, well lets say your lovely wife will need to divorce a fellow female” she softly informed him. “Do you fully understand, bitch”, Tobias was numb he didn’t know what to say, that was all changed, when Richard delivered a long sweeping slap too Tobias`s face, “i would learn to answer when young Lady Steele-Wade Smith speaks to you” informed Richard. “Oh did i not mention i am Mr Steele-Wade Smiths little princess and our little conversation at lunch, in the limo etc is on this tape in my bag” a sweet tone was used “my family don’t like people who abuse there position, and oh what was it, oh yes use work has your playground, daddy would have your balls but if you do has your ordered, only i will use your balls, oh and maybe a few friends ” a final tone of utter victory.
“Today was the last day you ever had the chance to do the right thing you piss stain and from this day your my bitch, my little toy to use abuse and always remember to address me has Lady you little shit”
Cockold Mistress
I arrived at the appointed time, rang the doorbell, and waited for Mistress to let me. I was more nervous than usual because today was to be special. Today, Mistress would be playing a most unusual role; today, Mistress would be my wife.
When Mistress answered the door, she was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. It was what I might have expected from my wife on a sunny fall afternoon. She smiled at me knowingly and said, “Hi, honey. You’re home from work early. Are you excited about tonight?”
“Oh yes, dear,” I responded. I’m not sure that my voice had the right enthusiasm. I was nervous as hell and I wanted to get this right. I was there for “my wife’s” pleasure, not mine.
“Come on then,” she said turning toward the stair, “I’m going to need your help getting ready.” We walked downstairs to her “dressing room” and I left her tribute on the side table as she locked the door behind us.
“You are such a sweet hubby,” she intoned as she smiled at me. The smile was just a little wicked and told me that her comment was not one of respect. “I love that you like to help me get ready to go out. It’s so much more fun when you help me choose my clothes and pamper me before a big night of partying.” I was warming a little at the enthusiasm in her voice. I knew that my wife did truly love this part and it made me want to please her even more. “Do you love me, sweetie?”
“Oh god yes I love you. You are the best,” I responded. It felt genuine. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall in line and accept Mistress in her role as my wife. “I so much want you to be happy. It always makes me feel good to share your joy and pleasure.”
“I love you too, sweetie. And tonight I’m going to show you just how much. I am going to give you everything you want and then some.” I smiled guiltily. I knew what she meant and I knew what was coming next.
“You know you are a really special husband.” Her words made me blush. “There are so few guys who would do for their wives what you do for me. And you not only do it but you enjoy it.” At her own words, she laughs. “You take such good care of me and I love you for it. I also love to hear you say it. Tell me what you’re going to do for me tonight. Please?” She wasn’t begging; it was a tease.
“Well I’m going to help you get ready to go out tonight.”
“Oh you can do better than that. Tell me what we’re going to do tonight.”
I gulp slightly. In most of our years of marriage, she had treated this part of our relationship as something personal and private. I knew what she had been doing but it was unspoken. Recently, though, my “wife” had gotten bolder and now I was expected to be an active participant. I swallowed hard, but my words came out as barely more than a whisper, “I’m going to help you get ready so that you can go out and fuck your boyfriend.” Her laughter made me feel two feet tall. She knew she had me. “That’s right,” she said. I was glowing bright red. “I’m going to go out with a man who can do what you can’t. Think about it, sweetie. I love you but that little cock is useless to me. But you manage to take care of me anyway, don’t you?”
I knew she was right. There was barely enough cock to put into her and when I just kept popping out she had decided it just wasn’t worth the trouble. She was okay with me using my fingers and my tongue to get her off but she needed more. So I didn’t resist when she started dating other men. The way things evolved just seemed natural. I smiled weakly and said, “Yes ma’am I will always take care of you. That includes helping you get the kind of sex you need and want.”
Her laughter spoke volumes. She loved me but she knew I was hers to use. “So what does that make you, sweetie?”
“That makes me a wimp and a sissy and a cuckold,” I choked out. I knew it but it was still hard to say.
“Whose wimp are you?”
“I’m your wimp, ma’am. I’m yours to use anyway you want to. I’ll do whatever you want to make you happy. What would you like me to do you for you now?”
“Well for starters, you can get out of those clothes. Those are a man’s clothes. You’re not a man are you?
“No, I’m not a man” my reply was tinged with shame.
“Prove it,” she chuckled.
I took off my shirt and lay in on the settee and then kicked off my shoes. Looking at my feet, she asked, “Now what are those?”
I wasn’t wearing socks and the feet of my panty hose shown below the hem of my jeans. “Those are panty hose,” I admitted.
“Oh you are my sissy boy aren’t you?” she giggled, “Okay, off with the pants.”
I unbuckled the belt and let my jeans drop to the floor. Kicking them aside I stood there in just the panty hose, my panty hose, as she stared at my crotch.
“Good sissy, I see you haven’t tampered with my property.” She was looking at the locked cage on my cock. “It’s so small and useless I wouldn’t want you wasting any time playing with it.” Even as she said this I felt myself shrivel inside the device. Jerking off was the only way I might satisfy myself but she figured my time was better spent focused on her. “Now why don’t you help me get ready for my date?” “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could muster.
“Help me out of these clothes,” she instructed as she started to pull the sweatshirt over her head. Standing behind her I took the sides and pulled upward as she let it slide off her body. Pulling her arms out, I took it and set it on the table. With little make-up and an everyday plain white bra holding her ample breasts, Mistress was the spitting image of my wife. The illusion was complete. “Fold it properly,” she instructed, and I proceed to make a neat package of the garment. “Now the jeans.”
I fumbled to unbutton and unzipped the tight jeans. “Don’t get too excited and don’t touch,” she stated firmly, “there’s nothing there for you, sissy.” Carefully, I hooked a couple of belt loops and started to slide the jeans down her legs. Sitting down on a side chair she lifted her legs. “Remove them,” my “wife” demanded. Kneeling, I slipped off the sandals she was wearing and pulled the jeans off her legs. Not needing to be told a second time, I carefully creased and folded them and set them with the sweatshirt.
Wearing only the plain bra and a mismatched pair of bikini briefs, the vision of my wife sat there and raised one foot. “Massage it,” she commanded. Kneeling again in front of her, I took her foot and began to message her lovely appendage. When she switched feet so that I could message the other she saw me take an extra breath. I was intoxicated by her aroma. The fragrance of her feet was mixed with her bodily smells of sweat and sex. I am sure she had been masturbating before I arrived. “You like that don’t you? Get your nose in there and smell them.” I put my face to the sole of her left foot and breathed in deeply. She giggled.
“It certainly doesn’t take much to make you happy does it?” She was right, I was in heaven.
“No ma’am,” I replied between deep breaths that pulled her scent into my nostrils.
“Clean them.” I looked at her confused; there was nothing to wash with close by. “With your tongue, silly wimp,” she laughed again. Her amusement was contagious and I was pathetic; I gave her a silly grin and began to run my tongue over her bare foot. “Suck my toes clean, too!” One by one, I took her toes into my mouth and swirled my tongue around each of them. When I was done with that foot, I repeated the procedure on her right foot. As I sucked on her big toe, she shocked me with her comment. “You are very good at that sissy boy, I bet you would like to suck a cock, wouldn’t you? I didn’t and I shook my head no.
“Oh come on. I do it all the time. Just not yours. Suck on my big toe like it’s a hard cock.” I was about to resist when she followed up with an imperial, “Do it!” Putting her toe back in my mouth, I gently move my tongue around. “No, no.” she implored, “do what I do. Give that cock nice long strokes in and out.” I began to bob my head up and done on her foot moving from the tip to the base with my lips, sucking hard as I moved up the shaft of her toe. Laughing again, she chortled, “Good sissy, good girl, that’s the way to do it. You’ll be ready when I bring you the real thing. Tell me you want it!”
I was about to say no but thought twice about it. I’m a sissy and this is what my wife says wants me to do. So I complied, “Yes, I want it.” “Oh, you can do better than that. Tell me in all the detail what you want and what you are going to do. And I want to hear lots of enthusiasm.” She had one hand resting on her breast and with the other she was tracing small circles on the front mound of her panties. I wanted to panic and reject the images in my head, but clearly this was turning her on and I didn’t want to deny her.
Slowly at first, I told her, “I want you to bring me a guy with a big cock to suck.” She smiled as I paused to consider the words I had just spoken. I may have thought about what it would be like to suck another man’s cock but I had never uttered those words out loud before. “I want him hard and wet from fucking you.” I not much of a man I remember; so what the hell.
“Yesssss!” She hissed. Her hand was moving faster.
“His cock will be a lot larger than mine and he’ll stretch my lips as I suck up and down on the shaft with the head completely in my mouth.” It wasn’t something I wanted to happen but my little cock was swelling and making the cage bob. She notice and giggled.
“Well that certainly turns you on! Tell me what he does.”
“He puts his hands on my head and begins to fuck my face. He’s too big so I put my hand around his shaft to make him feel good. I know that you will like to watch me jerk him off and it will keep him from trying to put his monster down my throat.” “Good girl. You learn quickly. Don’t you just love sucking cock? Tell me you do.”
“Ummmm,” I moan. In my head I’m getting into it. I take her foot and hold it like his cock and begin to make vigorous sucking and pumping motions. Pausing, I managed to say, “Yes, I love it. I love sucking cock. I want to feel him cum in my mouth.” I go back to my sucking. In my hand I feel her foot go rigid and she pushes it into my mouth, hard.
“Suck it. He’s cumming in your mouth. Moan like a horny sissy slut.” I moan in earnest. I am lost in the mixture of humiliation and hedonistic pleasure. Pleased with my performance, she pulls her foot out of my mouth.
“God you’ve made me hot. I need to get fucked so badly,” my “wife” says. She is my wife. Any pretext of role playing is gone. “Sit there and help me decide what to wear.”
My wife gets up from the chair. She is strikingly beautiful even in her boring everyday underwear. She walks over to the table and picks up a lingerie set. It’s black and lacy, a low-cut bra that would barely contain her, with a matching garter belt. She has a red thong and the stock tops are tinged with red as well. “Don’t you wish I would wear something like this for you?”
I know the right answer. “Oh, no! That’s too good for me. You should wear it for your dates. It will get them really turned on. It turns me on just thinking about it and but I would be a waste of your time.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you are right. Seeing your little thing get hard would just make me laugh. This outfit is for getting the big dogs panting. Too bad for you, sissy boy. But let’s look at some other choices and you can choose for me I want something to make my guys really hard before I suck cock.”
She proceeds to hold up several alternatives, including a 50’s style foundation garment. The bra and girdle and bottom are all one piece and there are hooks on the back for closure and hooks on the crotch for access. Nylon stocking tabs dangle from the bottom. Oh god, I want to see her in that and she knows it. My dicklette is throbbing again. In the end, I choose the black lace with the red thong. “Why didn’t you choose the fetish wear?” she asks. She calls it that because no woman in their right mind would wear that stuff today except for its effect on poor pathetic wimps like me. I would wear it. She knows that too. Once I conceded to her that it turned me when she fucks other men, everything unraveled. I had to tell her about my cock cage and ball stretcher and show her my own collection of lingerie. Now she was using my kinks to control me. She was most amused to discover that her infidelity was my biggest thrill.
I was into her preparation now. “I want you to wear something that will really turn your date on,” I encouraged. “You need something to get the juices of a real man flowing. You want to make him hard and hungry. That lace outfit will do the trick.”
She smiles at me. “Good answer! You do love me don’t you?”
“Yes dear, I do love you. I love you more everyday. And tonight I want you to get the fucking of a lifetime.”
“Oh I expect to,” she says calmly, “You will love this. I’m going out with two studs tonight. Think about it sissy. I get two and you get none.” Then she added, “Well, it won’t actually be nothing for you. My pussy will be twice as full when you’re down there with your tongue later on tonight.” She gives another one of her cruel laughs and says, “I bet you wait up for me! You’ll be so horny but you won’t be able to do anything about it until I get home. As your reward, I’m going to tell you all the juicy details … while you go down on me and clean me out.”
My heart is pounding. After letting me imagine all those secret liaisons, she is finally letting me on the details. I should be mortified. A normal man would have left her years ago. But I’m not a normal man. I’m a wimp and a cuckold. Her wimp. And it turns me on to think of her fucking and sucking handsome guys with big cocks. I take my satisfaction in knowing that she still comes home to me.
But we aren’t done yet.
“Turn around,” she says, “and put your hands behind your back.” Doing what she says, I feel the cuffs being placed on my wrists. “I don’t want you getting any ideas. And don’t turn around or you will be punished beyond your imagination. This would be something new for my wife; she was never into to discipline despite my efforts to encourage it. But I know the woman standing behind me is capable of intense cruelty. I am not going to tempt fate.
I hear the rustling of clothing behind me. I imagine that she has removed her day underwear and she is naked. It has been so long since I have seen her completely naked but as much as I want to I don’t dare look. Behind me she says, “Say ahhhh.” Doing as I’m told she reaches around and shoves something in my mouth. I realize immediately from the taste and smell that she is gagging me with her panties. It’s just one more humiliation. She knows that the more she torments me the more I want it. I feel a leather strap being added to hold the wad of cloth in place. I’m sure I feel a naked breast against my back as the strap is cinched tight. She says she’s tired of listening to my pathetic whining talk. She’ll do the talking from now on. “Do not turn around,” she commands. I obey.
I can hear more rustling and shifting. She is certainly taking her time. When she tells me I can look, I turn and see her standing there. She has on the black outfit with the red thong. The stockings attached to her belt make her legs look like a million dollars. She has put on her trademark red lipstick; a color that says fuck my mouth … if you dare. Only a real man would take that bet; she can cut the rest of us down to size with a simple glance. Her hair has been brushed and the fuck-me pumps nearly complete the outfit. All she needs is the dress. But she’s in no hurry. We have time before her date arrives. My wife is happy to use the time to play with me.
“Let’s see that pathetic dick of yours. Take off you pantyhose.” My hands are still cuffed behind my back and she laughs hysterically at the dance I do trying to get them down and off. I grunt and moan through the panty gag. And that makes her laugh harder. The exertion makes me salivate and that makes the panties even wetter. I can taste her in my mouth. Now I am sure she has masturbated before I got “home.” She wants me to know exactly what I am going to be missing. Silently, I thank her. I am pathetic.
With the pantyhose gone, she reaches for the combination lock that holds the cage pin in place. Turning it to 0-0-0 it opens for her. She removes the cage and the pin but leaves the cock ring in place. I know that this is only a temporary reprieve. “Look at that thing,” she says, “I marry a great guy who is smart and takes care of me, but he’s got nothing useful between his legs. You know that don’t you!” Her tone is demanding of an answer and I nod my gagged head to offer a sad yes. “You know that’s why I have to fuck other men, don’t you?” For awhile, she went through a period of feeling guilty, but that didn’t stop her from needing it, or getting it. Now that she knows I’m her willing cuckold, she wants my affirmation to assuage her guilt. This time I nod my head more vigorously. I want her to be happy; I don’t want her to feel guilty. “I fuck them to help you; isn’t that right?” I try my best to smile with the gag in my mouth and make an, “uh-huh,” sound. “You want me to do it, don’t you?” Another “uh-huh.”
“You know what else I have to do, don’t you?” Again, I know what’s coming. “Nod your head if you understand.” I nod. “You want this don’t you? I nod. “I wouldn’t need to fuck other guys if you had a real cock. You’re a great guy and I love you but your cock is useless.” She gives it a swat with her open hand and the sting resonates through my body. My “uh-huh” has a little higher pitch this time. “Your cock is the problem and we need to punish it. You understand that don’t you?” Again I nod my head. I hate my little cock. I want her to punish it. Then I hear her chuckle again. “I’m going to enjoy this.” I think torturing my dick gets her even hotter for her date. It certainly lets her take out her frustration with my inability to service her properly. She goes to work with her CBT tricks, squeezing my balls and whipping my cock. For the next half hour clothes pins and vibrators alternate with whips and ice and lotions. The taste of her panties turns me on and makes me hard for her treatment. Those same panties muffle my screams when the torture becomes too much. At some point she puts ear buds in my ears and blindfolds me. I am listening to gothic organ music drown out my thoughts in the medieval dark. I have no idea what is coming next. She never fails to surprise me. She wants me to know that it’s all the fault of my cock. If I had been a real man, she wouldn’t need to go elsewhere for an orgasm. She’s not punishing it … we are. I want her to do this as much as she enjoys doing it.
Occasionally the pleasure of the pain brings me close to my own orgasm, but she always stops short. I don’t give her orgasms with my cock, why should she give my cock any she figures. We agree that what makes her happy is my encouragement to fuck other men. The more my cock suffers the less useful it is. Punishing it before she goes out seems to help justify her dating for both of us. When she’s done I don’t feel like I want to fuck anyone or anything. My own hand isn’t appealing. She’s horny, I’m useless; we both know she needs a real man now. But she’s just getting warmed up for the night. This is a big turn-on for her. She’s ready for hands on her breasts and deep tongue kisses. She wants to suck a cock … a couple of cocks … and fuck until the orgasms won’t stop. Tonight she tells me, pulling an ear bud from one ear, she’ll have a cock in her pussy and another in her mouth. Thinking about it makes her hot and she punishes my useless dick with gusto. I feel ice against my cock and balls. I shrivel up into my usual nothingness. She takes off the blindfold and removes the ear buds. Picking up the pin and cage from the table she reassembles it around my limp dick. Holding the lock she turns the hasp around and pushes down. Then she spins the dials for the combination. This is the reset position. She doesn’t bother to look at it; she just hooks it through the pin, locks it in place, and gives the dials another spin. I was on the honor system when I came “home” with the 0-0-0 setting but now I have no idea what the combination is. Neither does she. She chuckles at the startled look on my face.
“You don’t need it anyway,” she’s smirking again. My eyes readjust to the light. Damn, she’s beautiful. And in that underwear, she is eroticism personified. “How would you feel about having it removed?” she asks looking at my crotch. “Get rid of some hair, well a lot of hair, put you on hormones, and we could make a passable woman out of you. You are more like a sister or a girlfriend than a husband anyway.” Outwardly, I am horrified. But inwardly there is a certain appeal. Right now, battered and caged, I don’t feel any masculinity down there. “Instead of being a woman with a sissy boy husband, we could be a couple of sexy girls out picking up guys.” She has removed the leather strap and pulled the damp panties out of my mouth. “Do you like that idea? Tell me how much you want it.”
She is pulling on the sexiest leather dress over her naughty lace undies. I should be turned on but instead my emotion is jealousy. And not jealousy of the guys who will fuck her tonight; I’m jealous because I want to be in her shoes. Lost in my thoughts, I blurt out, “Oh god yes that would be wonderful. I want to be a woman just like you.”
Her laughter is genuine now. She is thoroughly amused. She has extracted the ultimate confession.
She steps out of character and is again my Mistress. “Get dressed sissy boy. I can see why your wife likes to fuck other men, but she must really love you to keep coming home. She doesn’t want a girlfriend, she wants a husband. You better take good care of her, not get jealous if she does fuck other guys, and be thankful for whatever she gives you.” Picking up the panties off the settee, she hands them back to me. “Here’s a present for you, put these back in your mouth and don’t take them out until you get home.” I wad them up and force all the material back into my mouth. They are cold and damp now, but they are still rich with her scent.
“Good luck with that cage. If you don’t get it off before your wife gets home, your wishes may just come true. As for the panties, I have worn those during the day for the last couple of days. I’m sure that they are full of my juices, some piss, and my boyfriend’s cum. Knock yourself out.” She’s still laughing as the door closes behind me. If she reads this she’ll know I sucked on those panties all the way home. I knew I was tasting Mistress, but in my mind the juice and piss and cum were those of my well-fucked wife.
The Baroness
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knew that I was in for a rough time as soon as her hulking bodyguard slugged me into unconsciousness outside the embassy gate after she had me ejected for snooping around. I had almost discovered the secret of her arms dealing apparatus , and then she had turned the tables on me……………….Baroness Fontaine now had me in her grasp.
I was hauled to her penthouse, where I was stripped , tied to a chair, and had electrodes attached to my penis and testicles. as I awaited my fate, the Baroness strutted coolly into the room.her bodyguard placed a plush love seat in front of me and she regally sat down. she was attired in a gold lame robe and matching turban. her tanned, sexy body was practically on display, as the robe was loosely tied. on the table next to her was her cigarette case, a gold cigarette holder, and an ornate crystal ashtray. there was also a switch box that was attached to the electrodes on my groin. her bodyguard produced a lighter upon seeing that she was placing a thin brown cigarette into the holder. she exhaled a thin stream of scented smoke into my face, and her bodyguard slammed his fist into my face. the Baroness chuckled lightly at my pain, and asked me what I was doing at the embassy. I instinctively kept my mouth shut, as I had been trained to do in the event of torture. she peered into my eyes, trying to gage my tolerance for pain. she told me how interesting the testicles were, that they were the cause of the greatest pleasure. she inhaled and blew more smoke into my face, telling me that they were also the source of the greatest pain. she then pressed the button on the switch box at her side with the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder. waves of untold agony surged through my body, accompanied by the Baroness’ evil chuckling. she instructed her bodyguard to bring her a glass of champagne, as it seemed like she and I were in for a long, nasty session. three hours later, when I was pitifully sobbing over my devastated testicles and begging her to kill me , I agreed .the Baroness then instructed her bodyguard to draw her bath, as she was going upstairs to sexually enjoy her girlfriend and would be back down in about five hours to continue my destruction. as the hulking bodyguard left, she stood and slowly ground out her cigarette on my tortured penis. I merely accepted this additional pain as part and parcel of what remained of my pitiful life. the Baroness was now my Deity, having the power to decide on a whim the moment of my merciful demise. I could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she strutted away…….
Mr. Johnstone secretary
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Sitting alone in his darkened office, his large desk only lit by a small lamp and the glow from his monitor, Mr. Johnson dutifully signed yet another document. Placing it on the small stack in his out box and pulling another from much larger stack from his in box. He couldn’t wait to finish the seemingly endless stack of paperwork before him. He knew his wife would be waiting for him at home. She had winked at him as she kissed him goodbye this morning and told him tonight would be special. It seemed as though it had been forever since… Clack, clack, clack. The echoing sound of heels on the hard floor of the hallway were a common one to Mr. Johnson, but not this late at night. His thoughts about home now faded with the distraction. Soon the clacking had entered the room and approached his desk. “Alexandra, it’s late. You should go home.” Mr. Johnson said without even bothering to raise his head.
“I would, but I’m afraid that there is work here that needs to be done before I leave for the night.” Ms. Alexandra said in her usually soft demeanor.
“There’s nothing to be done here that can’t wait until tomorrow. Go home, get some sleep.”
As he raised his head he quickly noticed Ms. Alexandra was dressed rather strange. She was always a snappy dresser, very professional, but not tonight. Her short tight leather skirt barely covered the tops of her lace stockings, and her tight blouse barely concealed her black leather bra.
“I’m afraid this just can’t wait…” Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked around his desk and plopped herself into his lap.
“I’m flattered. I truly am, but I’m a married man.”
“I know.” she giggled.
“I have no intentions of sleeping with you.”
“Y-y-you don’t?” Mr. Johnson stuttered in confusion.
“No, I don’t. I know all about the belt your wife makes you wear.
All the girls know that bulge in your pants isn’t your manhood. Why do you think we’re always so giggly!” she taunted with a devious smile. Mr. Johnson’s face went pale as he heard her words and realized the repercussion of such rumors amongst the employees would undermine his authority. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” he quipped as he unsuccessfully tried to stand and push her out of his lap
“That’s funny, your wife does!” Alexandra’s words had struck a never as she pulled the key hanging from her necklace out of her blouse. “She told me all about your belt, how you can’t even get hard. *giggle* She also told me all about your little secretary fantasy too.” The soft coo of Alexandra’s words had caused Mr. Johnson to restlessly squirm in his chair beneath her. The fantasy she spoke of could only be one thing. But why would his wife share this with his secretary? His fantasy was the reason his wife had locked him in his cage in the first place…
“You remember don’t you? The one where your secretary would get under your desk. Slowly she would caress and fondle you while you’re on the phone to an important client. Soon those caresses and fondles would turn into kisses and licks, until finally she popped your raging hard cock into her mouth…” “We both know that isn’t going to happen though, don’t we.” she teased as she run a hand across his face. Mr. Johnson’s face had now become two shades darker than the pinkish red lipstick on her soft pouty lips. His cock raged harder against it’s tiny prison. He knew he should do something, say something, anything, but he couldn’t focus. His charm and quick wit had failed him, all he could think about was her. How her eyes were beautiful, her perfume sweet, and her soft voice drew him in. “We can still play a game though. You wanna be my secretary?” she said as she opened the drawer on his desk and removed the large dildo his wife had given him.
“She told me about this too!” Alexandra’s offer caused him a moment’s pause. He knew he couldn’t, he’d have to face all the women in the building in the office come Monday morning. The rumors about the belt would be bad enough. Knowing that every time they whispered and giggled that it was because … No, it was just to much
“I’ve never even seen that before. Now I better get home to my wife. She’ll be waiting for me.” He snorted as he went to get up. Alexandra hopped to her feet and watched as he headed for the door.
“Awww, that’s too bad. Perhaps another time…” Mr. Johnson paused with his hand on the door knob. He knew that tone in her voice all to well. He knew she hadn’t finished.
“Until then I’ll just have to keep the key your wife gave me. Don’t worry, she won’t really be disappointed. She figures it’ll be a few months before you succumb.”
He turned back to see her skirt on the floor. The dildo was now in her harness. A wicked grin had spread across her face, she knew she had won.
Sitting alone in his darkened office, his large desk only lit by a small lamp and the glow from his monitor, Mr. Johnson dutifully signed yet another document. Placing it on the small stack in his out box and pulling another from much larger stack from his in box. He couldn’t wait to finish the seemingly endless stack of paperwork before him. He knew his wife would be waiting for him at home. She had winked at him as she kissed him goodbye this morning and told him tonight would be special. It seemed as though it had been forever since… Clack, clack, clack. The echoing sound of heels on the hard floor of the hallway were a common one to Mr. Johnson, but not this late at night. His thoughts about home now faded with the distraction. Soon the clacking had entered the room and approached his desk. “Alexandra, it’s late. You should go home.” Mr. Johnson said without even bothering to raise his head.
“I would, but I’m afraid that there is work here that needs to be done before I leave for the night.” Ms. Alexandra said in her usually soft demeanor. “There’s nothing to be done here that can’t wait until tomorrow. Go home, get some sleep.” As he raised his head he quickly noticed Ms. Alexandra was dressed rather strange. She was always a snappy dresser, very professional, but not tonight. Her short tight leather skirt barely covered the tops of her lace stockings, and her tight blouse barely concealed her black leather bra.
“I’m afraid this just can’t wait…” Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked around his desk and plopped herself into his lap.
“I’m flattered. I truly am, but I’m a married man.” “I know.” she giggled. “I have no intentions of sleeping with you.” “Y-y-you don’t?” Mr. Johnson stuttered in confusion.
“No, I don’t. I know all about the belt your wife makes you wear. All the girls know that bulge in your pants isn’t your manhood. Why do you think we’re always so giggly!” she taunted with a devious smile.
Mr. Johnson’s face went pale as he heard her words and realized the repercussion of such rumors amongst the employees would undermine his authority.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he quipped as he unsuccessfully tried to stand and push her out of his lap. “That’s funny, your wife does!” Alexandra’s words had struck a never as she pulled the key hanging from her necklace out of her blouse. “She told me all about your belt, how you can’t even get hard. *giggle* She also told me all about your little secretary fantasy too.” The soft coo of Alexandra’s words had caused Mr. Johnson to restlessly squirm in his chair beneath her. The fantasy she spoke of could only be one thing. But why would his wife share this with his secretary? His fantasy was the reason his wife had locked him in his cage in the first place…
“You remember don’t you? The one where your secretary would get under your desk. Slowly she would caress and fondle you while you’re on the phone to an important client. Soon those caresses and fondles would turn into kisses and licks, until finally she popped your raging hard cock into her mouth…”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen though, don’t we.” she teased as she run a hand across his face.
Mr. Johnson’s face had now become two shades darker than the pinkish red lipstick on her soft pouty lips. His cock raged harder against it’s tiny prison. He knew he should do something, say something, anything, but he couldn’t focus. His charm and quick wit had failed him, all he could think about was her. How her eyes were beautiful, her perfume sweet, and her soft voice drew him in. “We can still play a game though. You wanna be my secretary?” she said as she opened the drawer on his desk and removed the large dildo his wife had given him. “She told me about this too!” Alexandra’s offer caused him a moment’s pause. He knew he couldn’t, he’d have to face all the women in the building in the office come Monday morning. The rumors about the belt would be bad enough. Knowing that every time they whispered and giggled that it was because … No, it was just to much.
“I’ve never even seen that before. Now I better get home to my wife. She’ll be waiting for me.” He snorted as he went to get up. Alexandra hopped to her feet and watched as he headed for the door.
“Awww, that’s too bad. Perhaps another time…” Mr. Johnson paused with his hand on the door knob. He knew that tone in her voice all to well. He knew she hadn’t finished. “Until then I’ll just have to keep the key your wife gave me. Don’t worry, she won’t really be disappointed. She figures it’ll be a few months before you succumb.”
He turned back to see her skirt on the floor. The dildo was now in her harness. A wicked grin had spread across her face, she knew she had won.
“Welcome home dear, I trust you got the key from your secretary?” Mrs. Johnson said with a smug grin as he walked through the door.
Story and Artwork Saucy © CollarNcuffs.com
Black Panties
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“Uh…” her soft and almost inaudible gasp resonated through out the room. He couldn’t look back, he knew all to well the trouble he was in. She had returned from shopping early, and stood by the door in shock.
“What do you think your doing?” she asked in a baffled tone. His mind began racing for a suitable answer.
“Honey, I can explain.” he finally stammered out as he turned to face her. Dropping the shopping bags in her hands, the baffled face quickly turned to anger as she realized exactly what he had been doing. His cock bulged beneath her finest pair of black lace panties.
“No, don’t even try. Get my panties off now. … Now!” Pausing only for a brief moment he awkwardly complied. As he pulled them down, his man hood bobbed out, harder than she had seen it in ages.
“Hahaha, you pervert! You fucking pervert!” her anger had seemed to all but vanish in her laughter. Sighing a sigh of relief his cheeks still blushed…
“Wait till my lawyer hears of this. Hahaha, on second thought, you best put those back on, they’ll be all you have after I’m through with you!” Quickly he shrank as her almost gleeful threat set in.
Collecting her bags, she left the room and him behind.
Entering the living room he’s now dressed, a worried look across his face. She’s sitting side ways on the sofa, phone in hand.
“I know! I couldn’t believe it myself! Talk about ridiculous! Hahaha!” her laugh sends chills up his spine as he approaches. His ears straining to hear the imperceptible voice on the other end.
“Excuse me, I have to go. He’s here now. … Bye.” She bursts into giggles before she hangs up the receiver.
“Who was that?” he asks in a soft tone with little confidence.
“My lawyer.”
“Honey, please, don’t do this. I beg of you. I’ll…”
“You’ll what? You’ll do anything?” a glint of sadistic glee fills her eyes as she sits up, looking him in the eye.
“Y-yes, anything. Just please, don’t do this.” the words escaped his lips before he could stop himself.
Standing up, she slowly hikes up her skirt past her garters and removes her panties.
“You like them? Do they turn you on? Is it the soft lace, the fabric ridding up your ass as your cock bulges in the tight fabric?” she asks as she teasingly holds her wet panties by a finger. “or is it that they’re soaked in my sweet honey?” … “You said anything didn’t you. Put them on.” she tosses them at him.
Pausing he stares at her in disbelief.
“You said you’d do anything, now put them on.” her tone shifting from playful to demanding. Carefully, and cautiously he removes his clothing, still in disbelief. The deliciously wicked smile across her face growing with each piece he removes.
“Put them on, you know you want to.” she coos as she walks over to him.
“No, I don’t.” his words are doubtful.
“Hahaha, don’t lie. Yes you do, your hard little friend says you do.” She softly strokes his cock with her hand.
“No, no, no. Slowly, enjoy it.” her words slowing him as he slips them on. His cock dripping precum as he forces it down and into them.
“Mmmm, they do look rather sexy on you, my bitch.” Her playful smile fading away in favor of a wicked grin. “That’s right, that’s part of anything. Your my bitch, and your cock belongs to me now. You don’t cum with out my permission anymore. Understand?” Her hand now running over his bulge.
“Y-yes dear.” his voice as week as his knees.
Unbuttoning her skirt, and letting it fall to the floor she reclines back on the sofa and spreads her legs.
“Please me bitch and I just might let you cum tonight.”
“Hehehe, mysterious stains and panties out of order… Now I know, and now your mine…”
Story by Saucy © CollarNcuffs.com