Space Age Love Song: Chapter Eight – Darian’s Ultimate Humiliation
Katrina spent a long time pondering Darian’s tongue and how good his servicing felt. In fact, it had been some time since she had been rocked so hard by an orgasm, and the fact that he was tonguing her while being anally probed and violated only made him more intriguing.
The next day, as Katrina reviewed her daily briefs, she could not stop thinking about him. She had milked him four times total the day before. She just kept making the guards bring him back, milking him until literally no more cum would squirt from his cock, even though his body twitched painfully from the milking.
She essentially dried him up for the day.
Katrina knew that he would need a few days to recover. She was receiving pressure from her superiors to hurry his interrogation, break him, and get the information they needed; but she knew it would take complete behavior modification before he’d break.
Darian would not confess and provide the information until he was nothing but a quivering, little, cum-drinking panty boy slave. Reduced to a sissy – removed of everything masculine about him.
The thought thrilled Katrina.
It thrilled her so much that she locked the door of her office that day, propped her boots up on the desk and unzipped her jumpsuit crotch, peeled her panties to the side and pulled her small vibrator from her briefcase.
She teased and massaged her clit that day thinking of Darian. Thinking of him bucking against the machine, his milk filling the tube as she rode his face and his talented tongue, feeling the strength and pressure of his licks not even affected by the violation.
Katrina came once again with his name on her lips.
The next day things got a little more interesting.
Katrina was in her office (missing Darian, of course, but he was in his cell; the guards said he had slept nearly nonstop for 48 hours, waking only to plow through his meal like a starving child. He was, indeed, exhausted by her — physically and mentally).
At around noon, the guards brought in a feisty little treat. She could not see much of him because he was thrashing about in his manacles, the chains rattling loudly as the guards pinned him to the floor and one of them reached up to hand her the paperwork.
Not even looking at the prisoner, Katrina read out loud. “Brandon. That’s all we have? Brandon?”
“He’s from Quadra Nineteen,” one of the guards responded.
Katrina turned, raising an eyebrow. That was the same ship Darian had come from. “Let me see him,” she ordered.
The guards shuffled around, until finally they had the prisoner pinned on his knees, with one pulling his head back by his long, dark locks. His bangs were covering his face, but she could still see vibrant blue eyes piercing through them. He looked to be about 23. Lean. Not much of a soldier, she pondered.
But what she found out later was even more interesting.
Apparently not only was Brandon from the same ship as Darian – they were associates. Brandon was Darian’s youngest reporting officer. And Brandon was less than a year into his service, so he was green.
Katrina found this delightful. Evil thoughts possessed her mind for hours. She sat pondering the most evil scenarios to best take advantage of the bait that had fallen into her lap, and of course she selected the one that made her pussy ache most of all.
She would see her strong soldier, Darian Helton, with his mouth wrapped around the cock of young Brandon.
And this would be his first lesson in servicing the male.
She could not wait.
Katrina started by buckling into her leather strap-on harness, wearing her 8-inch monster dick, as Darian watched, strapped down over the low horse.
There were no guards present. She excused them once they had him securely strapped over the device, face down. He was in a position that left his mouth and ass both level with Katrina’s large latex penis.
She wore black latex and black gloves this time, with thigh high boots. Her fine body was accented to the core; her long hair was hanging down. She indeed looked deadly, serious, and horribly aroused by her helpless strong prisoner.
He rarely looked at her eyes. He just kept his eyes down, thinking, contemplating. Possibly pleased to at least not be strapped into the milking device again. His ass – probably sore, raw, and weary from the previous violation.
“Do you like the look of my dick, Darian?” Katrina asked, sort of sauntering around him, sliding her hand up and down the length of her shaft teasingly.
He did not look her way. He said nothing.
“Answer me. Answer my questions, before I stick a steel electrical rod up your ass and start toying with a control box,” Katrina said coolly, as if not ready to deal with any bullshit or stalling.
“No. I don’t like it,” he said.
She put it right in his face, and pumped more with her hand, making suggestive thrusting motions with her hips to periodically let it slap his cheek. “Are you sure? I think you like to see a big dick like mine. I think you like to look at dicks. I think you want to suck it.”
Darian chuckled, eyes half closed. It was the first time Katrina had seen him do the cocky, arrogant chuckle in some time. In fact, it kind of turned her on.
In response, she shoved the cock into his face. She shoved it right into his mouth, then grabbed his head with both gloved hands and used the sheer power of her hips to push it in. It nearly gagged him. It nearly split his gums, and he choked on it, unable to move, to react fact enough to deal with the large member filling his mouth.
“You will learn to like IT,” she hissed, starting immediately with a slow, rhythmic motion of the hips to work it into his mouth a little at a time. Already she was getting hot with the images in her mind; images of being behind him, fucking and pumping his ass, as she watched him suck a real cock right before her eyes. Oh, the humiliation!
She wanted to savor the moment, though. Like all sensual sadists, she wanted to enjoy the sweet, muffled sounds he was making, the twitching of his body, the vain, desperate prying at the leather shackles by his fingers. All of it so useless, so sweetly innocent.
And he just kept gagging on it.
Again, and again. With every thrust, he choked, and his eyes watered. It was apparent, Katrina reckoned, that studly Darian Helton had never sucked dick before.
She wondered just how well he would do later. Sucking Brandon’s virgin dick.
Katrina first made Darian lick her asshole.
Once she was satisfied with his ability to take her cock full in his mouth, she let it slide out and then slowly unzipped the crotch zipper of her latex jumpsuit, peeled it back, bent over in front of him, spread her asscheeks and said, “I’ve been thinking about your tongue all day. But today, this is all you get to lick. So start licking.”
At first, Darian resisted. But when she made it clear he had a choice between her fucking his mouth with 8 inches of huge latex dick or licking her ass crack, he softly acknowledged that he’d do the best he could.
And Katrina, being the sensualist she was, just backed right up on his face, spread her cheeks wide and commanded, “Stick it all the way in, pig.”
Then for a good half-hour, Darian serviced her anally. Granted, he was not as enthusiastic or passionate as he had been before – but he was adequate. Adequate enough that Katrina licked her fingers and slid them down the front of her jumpsuit, going for her pussy at once, inserting them in and pumping them with the thrusts of her ass to his face.
When Katrina was exhausted from her ass worship, she moved immediately to the inflatable dildo harness for Darian’s mouth. He resisted having the latex pressed into his mouth, partially because of the phallic look, partially because he was unsure of what was next on her nasty agenda.
She made sure the dildo harness was locked onto his face, inflated in his mouth to the point that it was visibly uncomfortable, noted by his watering eyes and straining against the bonds. The only sounds that came from him were muffled grunts.
And then, she told the guards to bring her guest into the room. And she savored that moment, the moment when Darian would see young, innocent Brandon.
In fact, she wondered what her own urges would bring. Would she immediately make the older, stronger prisoner suck the young man’s dick while she watched? Or would she torture the younger soldier in front of him, until he begged her to stop, willing to endure anything to save him.
Regardless, she knew one thing for certain.
She’d cure that aching in her cunt. She’d cum – not once, not twice, but multiple times. Using both of them.
When the door lock clicked and they proceeded to enter, Katrina realized she had never been wetter.
He said to me, in all of his beautiful innocence, “I want to please you.”
I stared. He was delicate.
My hand felt so good against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. Lips parting slightly, as if to accept some unwarranted caress.
Leaning forward, I shut my eyes and whispered what I was feeling.
“I do want you to please me.”
“Yes…” his breath came out with one word.
“And how do you want to please me, my little victim?” The word — alone — said it all. But he did not hear it.
“Let me please you,” he responded, eyes moving up to look at me. Under short little spiky bangs. I could even see him swallow. “With my mouth.”
I smiled. Finger moving to his lips. “And so it is.”
He kissed it. The tip of my finger. Gracious. Eager.
I almost felt sorry for what I was about to do.
With his mouth.
And so, it shall be. He reclined on my bed. On his back. Vulnerable. His wrists strapped down, spread far from his body. His ankles, still in those boots I find so irresistible, spread equally, locked down.
A tight black t-shirt. Black jeans. A belt — hanging open a little, the buckle silver.
And a tight black velvet blindfold.
His eyes protested when I brought it out. But I said, softly, “All you need is your mouth.”
And he nodded. Swallowed. Closed those innocent eyes.
And was gone.
Spiky little bangs hanging over black velvet. I paced, watching his body growing accustomed to the restraints.
I watched, because that is what I like to do.
I watched, like a stalking beast, looking over what I would soon have. My fingers moved over his chest once. His head moved in response. To the side, in short– timed — jerks.
I imagined dripping water over his body. Or hot wax. I imagined him naked, vulnerable. I imagined giving him oral sex that would make him cringe, plead and beg.
I imagined making him suck off each of my fingers. One. At. A. Time.
Each time, longer than before. Hissing orders into his ear. Faster. Deeper. Wetter.
Masturbating as I did. Sucking my own fingers clean. Tasting it.
Instead, I watched.
When I saw his hips move — just slightly — I knew it was time.
He could hear the buckles of the device.
His head turned toward me as I sat next to him on the bed, moving the device around in my hands to determine which end was which. Unfastening the buckles, I listened to his breathing. Felt him moving on the bed.
His lips were parted, eagerly.
My eyes peered over, my hands moving through latex buckles. “Open a little wider for me, baby. Let me see that tongue of yours.”
He parted his lips, opening wider, let his tongue find its way out. Licking. Teasing.
I was watching him now, not watching the evil contraption in my hands. Not feeling, anymore, the long black cock. The smooth, cock-shaped rubber. How it was attached to a strip of latex that would soon cover his mouth, riding tightly all the way up under his nose.
The other side of it. Nearly eight inches of cock itself, more durable, rigid. Standing straight up. The side I would mount. Fuck.
Right on top of his face.
And he knew nothing.
“You want to please me with your mouth?” I asked him.
“Yes,” his response came at once. Eager. So innocent.
“Then open wide,” I ordered.
And he did.
Even though he was blindfolded, I could almost see it behind the velvet. Eyes shut tight, wincing, wondering, gasping, choking. He shook his head instinctively when the rubber cock-shaped device invaded him.
“Shhh…” I said, hoping he would hear me above his own choking, whimpering, betrayed gasps.
“Trust me,” I whispered, leaning to his ear to breathe to him, distracting him as I locked the straps tightly.
Buckling the cock securely into his mouth.
And only if you could see me, now, I thought, straddling his chest and hiking up my skirt.
I wasted no time.
My hands were in his hair. Both of them. I looked down at him like he was some — some 20th century fuck toy. A device, in himself.
That hair, hanging down, now damp with a little sweat. The gag locked tightly in his mouth. A nice, 7-inch cock extending up from his gagged mouth, glistening now as I stroked it, slowly, with lubrication.
Maybe he smelled the scent of it. Maybe he felt the way my hips were moving suggestively on his chest.
“I’m about to fuck you,” I said. Hissing, I imagine, because I was aching with desire. My pussy grinding, already, against the fabric of his t-shirt. I knew he could feel how wet I was. How hot I was.
“You…” I hissed. “You have this big, thick cock sticking up from your face. I am going to sit on you. Sit on your face, do you understand? I am going to fuck you. I am going to cum on your face. You will feel it. You will feel it, because the harder I plunge myself down onto you, the deeper that cock will get shoved into your mouth.”
He whimpered. It was a priceless, audible whimper.
“I am masturbating, right now, on your chest. Getting myself ready.” My words, breathless, distracted him. I could tell. As I moved my fingers under my panties I saw him squirming, more now, and I studied him. Studied my prey.
I eased my panties down. I eyed that cock I would soon mount. I though how helpless he must feel, unable to speak, to see. Knowing he was about to be fucked like an object.
“You wanted me to use your mouth,” I hissed, leaning over, brushing my lips over his ear. “And I am.”
To torture him, more, I moved my wet fingers under his nose. I held him still with my other hand, a fistful of hair, and made him inhale my scent. His whimpers sounded like half-sobs of frustration.
“You want to be licking me, don’t you?” I asked. He did not respond, so I tightened my grip and growled, “DON’T YOU?”
He nodded, nodded and whimpered a little.
“Maybe you will get lucky, ” I said to him. “Maybe a trickle of me will find its way down under that latex, into that gag. And you will see how good I taste.”
He was turning his head a little, disoriented, desperate.
I used both hands to hold his head still. “Don’t move. I am ready now.”
A slight whimper. I raised myself up. Opened my thighs above his head. Only if he could see me, I thought.
And felt it — the tip of that cock, sticking straight up and waiting for me. I teased my lips with it for just a moment, eyes closed, holding the headboard now for leverage.
I moaned, softly. I could hear the jingling of straps as he pulled at his wrists and ankles, knowing better than to move his head even an inch. I felt the cock filling me, slowly, and I opened my mouth and let out a gasp.
Sliding. Deeper. I moaned. And then I felt his hair tickling the insides of my thighs.
A blur. Mostly.
I fucked him that way, slowly at first. Then gaining momentum, holding the bed for leverage, plunging myself down onto his face — as it was — feeling the latex of the cock filling me again and again.
Dripping, soaking. My pussy coated it, and soon the wetness dripped down, slowly, almost reaching his lips. And when I looked down at him, momentarily, I almost felt sympathy for him, so used.
Reaching under with my fingers, I felt the aching wetness of my sex. I tasted it myself, and I told him how good it tasted.
I told him to hold still for me. To remain as he was — my fucktoy.
And I came.
I came right on top of him, grinding my hips in a slow, circular motion. Fully penetrated by the cock that extended from his face.
Came so hard that my juices coated his nose, his hair was sticky now.
Holding his hair between my fingers, breathing hard. Leaning against the headboard to keep me up.
And I could hear his breathing. Feel it brushing against my thighs.
And even though I had just cum, I longed to feel it between my legs. Against my pussy. His tongue, deep inside me.
Breathing hard, I slowly slid off of the large latex cock that filled me. I lowered my body onto him. I could feel his chest heaving. He felt so alive.
My fingers found way to his hair. My eyes were still closed.
I wondered, then, if he had the energy to do it again.
This time, though, with his tongue.
Looking at him, trapped in his darkness, unable to speak. I knew.
And as I unlocked the strap that held the gag in place, I was already wanting it again.
And he would have no chance to even speak once the cock was pulled from his mouth.
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His abduction had been planned for a month.
When I finally had him there before me, cowering, there was nothing that would stop me. I knew what I wanted, no matter how ruthless and degrading. I knew I had to do something to him to truly prove to him what he was to me.
Perhaps he was trying to make me feel sorry for him. I felt nothing, though, because I had planned for that. I had planned for those big, innocent eyes and the careful, calculated shifting of his shoulders.
This time, I used my new black straitjacket – an item that delighted me because of its sinister simplicity and complete functionality. Only four simple buckles made him so helpless.
The black hood, this time, didn’t render me so completely distracted. I had taken time to get used to it prior to his abduction. I had done so by sitting, quietly, in my dimly lit bedroom while holding it between my fingers.
I had masturbated with it, the first time cumming quickly, the second time with a little more precision. Desensitizing myself to its ominous essence.
It smelled wonderful.
I wondered, as I paced around him, if he could still smell my scent on the inside.
I had him sprawled there on concrete ground. We were in a parking garage. He was in the black straitjacket and black hood, and so there were no weapons. I had disarmed him.
He tried. There is no doubt he tried. First by the way he tilted his head, trying to place it against my thigh for mercy. Then, how he breathed – purposely, deliberately. Loudly.
“Are you hyperventilating?” I observed. Casual. There was no sympathy from me this time.
“You’re getting into the trunk of my car,” I told him.
This, I assure you, he was not ready for.
It had taken some research and investigation, but I certainly enjoy planning a kidnapping. Only a few models of cars had a trunk that could safely be used for transporting a human being. I knew how much air he had.
And, remarkably, he cooperated. He did not want to upset me, I think, because he had seen a glimpse of the high heels. The painful spiked pumps. He had seen the black leather gloves. He knew I had removed all of my rings, deliberately, and that meant that slapping him, hard, was not going to be difficult for me.
Maybe it was my scent surrounding him, comforting him, that led him to step willingly into that dark place.
Or maybe he was already accustomed to the darkness.
The drive was about ten minutes long. I’m sure it felt much longer to him. When I lifted the trunk and eyed him there, I was surprised and pleased that I still felt no guilt, no fear, and no hesitation about what I had planned to do to him.
He had his knees tucked up close to his chest, his head down. Still covered with the black hood (which was so beautifully designed), I was not faced with pleading eyes, dampening of the lips or a clever announcement to distract me from my plans.
I wrapped leather around his neck. It wasn’t a collar, really, as I never really pictured him as the type to wear a collar. I suppose because I never really imagined him as a slave, or even a submissive. He was simply someone I longed to dominate.
The leather around his neck was functional. Its purpose was so that I could yank him up, out of the trunk, to the floor, and direct him up the porch. It made it just difficult enough for him to breathe to keep him alert.
And he stumbled, just a little, trying to shake it off.
I imagine all he heard as we moved up the walkway was the sound of my heels and a slight hint of the wind in trees.
He still had no idea what was in store for him.
As part of my own little ritual, I took time watching him before I even began to remove the restraints.
I will admit, I enjoyed seeing him there, on the floor, straitjacketed and hooded. I knew he must look even better underneath all of that; his hair stuck to his face from sweat and tears, his eyelashes slightly wet.
I enjoyed watching him try, just once more, to see if he could find a way to make the straitjacket budge. I knew it frustrated him because he had found it, originally, not to be entirely too threatening.
After all, it was not white canvas. It was not real. Nor was it leather, covered with buckles, the metal jingling off of it ominously.
No, it was simple. It was so simple that he allowed himself to be put it in, much like the first time he playfully agreed to let me tie his wrists behind his back. After all, he probably thought, I could easily get out of it.
And he couldn’t now, either. No matter how much he twisted his shoulders, no matter how deeply he drew in his breath and held it.
But I certainly enjoyed watching him try. I enjoyed a single glass of wine, reclining in a big leather chair. I had my legs swung over the side, letting a single heel dangle from my toe. I sipped, tilted my head, and sighed softly to myself.
I snapped out of my pleasant daydream and decided it was time to get busy. When he heard my heels approaching he cowered a little, crouching down low, close to my feet.
Using the toe of my shoe, I pushed him, by the shoulder, so that he fell back onto his side, then eventually his back. Then, just for amusement, I placed that same heel right at the base of his neck, pushing through the hood.
“I could end your life right now,” I commented.
The reason I said this, I still don’t know. I wasn’t really considering it, after all. I think I just wanted him to know that such sheer cruelty was even capable of entering my mind.
He tried to ease backward, and I could see the black fabric tightening over his chest with ever labored breath he took. Goddamn, I thought to myself, I love that fucking straitjacket.
“You probably want to know why I brought you here,” I said to him.
He nodded. Carefully, gently. Cautiously.
“I brought you here,” I told him. “Because I am going to rape you. Three times.”
I don’t know which affected him most. The tone of my voice on the word “rape” or the clarification that it wasn’t going to just be one time. Or maybe it was that same heel, now angled right into his crotch.
“Three very different ways.”
That definitely got his attention. And he tried to get away. He actually tried to get away. My boy sat up, fast enough to push my heel aside, and tried to get to his feet. I prevented him with ease and ended up sitting on his lap on the ground, my legs wrapped around his hips.
I felt his breath, even through the hood. It was tainted with the scent of my own pussy. I had no idea I’d soaked it so thoroughly. I imagine, for him, it was like being locked in a room with a pair of my wet panties duct taped right over his head. An idea for later, I pondered.
I nuzzled my face against the black fabric, closing my eyes, imagining where his mouth must be. It didn’t matter, really, because he was wearing a black latex ball gag. I felt the dampness, though, and for a moment just enjoyed the pounding of his breath, through his nose, as it hit my face through the material.
“Do you want to see?” I asked him. “Do you want to see what I have brought to rape you with?”
Remarkably, he nodded. But it wasn’t an encouraging nod, or a nod of excitement. It was a nod of trepidation, fear and hopelessness. It was a nod because he knew, based on how well he knew me, that anything other than a nod would get him beaten, beaten until he begged for the privilege of being able to nod.
He was, indeed, a very good boy.
I had the tools – the harness, the dildos (in several sizes), the leather contraption, all spread out on a small table in front of him. When the hood was removed, he actually didn’t look at them.
Instead, he looked at me. I was surprised to see that he hadn’t been crying; the wetness was from sweat. He was strong. Nervous enough to be visibly shaking, but only a little.
He looked at me, and I easily crouched down to give him eye contact. “It won’t work,” I told him. “I’m completely in a different place. You can save your strength. Do yourself a favor.”
Then his attention turned to the tools, and he looked at them only briefly before closing his eyes and swallowing.
“Three times I’m going to rape you,” I told him. I was walking to the tools, unzipping my skirt. I stripped down to lingerie and my heels only. I intended to be comfortable.
“Would you like a glass of wine, first?” I asked him. Just one glass, I added.
To my surprise, and disappointment, he declined.
I explained to him that the gag would be removed under the condition that he did not speak. The only words I allowed him to say were “yes” and “no.” Even so, I warned him not to use them too much.
“Do you understand?” I asked as I unbuckled and removed the gag.
“Yes,” he said. In a different state of mind, I’m certain he would have been a smart ass, and used his only other word instead.
Before starting with my project, I crouched down and applied some lotion to the corners of his mouth. He backed off, eying me suspiciously, confused by my demeanor.
I was watching my own fingertips. “Your skin. It’s chaffed from the leather straps of the gag. I had it on too tight.”
“Yes,” he said, looking at me, now holding still.
But then I put the lotion away, and I picked up a leather harness. I said to him, “Which way shall I rape you first?”
I’m sure he knew I wasn’t asking for his opinion. After all, with only having “yes” and “no” in his vocabulary, there wasn’t really an appropriate response.
“No,” he said. He said it when my back was turned to him, when I was picking up a bottle of clear lubricant and pondering it.
When I moved to him, he flinched and cowered, expecting to be slapped. Instead, I took him by the chin, lifted his head, and stared into his eyes.
“I think I’ll start with your mouth.”
Raping his mouth was a longer process than I’m sure he expected. Because I wasn’t just shoving my strap-on dick into his mouth; that was merely the warm-up.
The raping of his mouth as I stood, making him kneel to accept it, was merely the warm up for what I really intended to do with his mouth.
But he accepted the first part a lot better than I had expected. At first, understandably, he gagged and pulled away, shook his head, and used one of his two words. He said it many times, even as I grabbed him by the head and turned him back to face the latex cock that sprung out from between my legs.
“You know you like it,”
He said it again, his second word. “No,” he shook his head.
“That’s enough with the words,” I hissed. Then I pried his mouth open with my leather clad fingers, held his jaw that way, and pressed the entire length of my cock into his mouth.
I fucked him that way, actually making him look at me. Look right up at me as he knelt, arms still trussed over his chest in the beautiful black straitjacket. I imagine he was confused and bewildered, his mouth still sore from the gag, because he had no idea how long I might let this go.
My right hand alternated between holding his head still (or by the hair) or reaching to the base of my dick, and my left hand wandered between my legs from behind. I slid my fingers under my panties and massaged myself, still forcing him to keep looking right at me.
It was, for me, a very beautiful, nasty moment. Watching him struggle to accommodate all 7 inches of my cock, making him strain to stay upright.
When I pulled my dick out of his mouth I heard him let out his breath in relief. He thought it was over; the first rape, that is.
But that was just the warm up.
I locked the same dildo on one side of a leather gag harness. This time he tried to pull away again, shaking his head from side to side.
I had to grab him by the hair with one hand, growl at him to look at me, then slap him hard across the face. When I made him look at me again he shut his eyes hard, flinching in pain.
This time, when I pried his mouth open, I’m sure he tasted the wetness on my fingers. Maybe that helped him to cooperate even more. Once I had the cock in his mouth I locked the leather harness over his head, then mounted a red, jelly dildo on the other end, facing out.
“This is your first rape,” I told him.
And when I mounted him, spread out on the ground what he could in a straitjacket, I heard nothing but a quiet, painful whimper.
Raping him that way felt better than I thought it would. It felt better because I could feel him trying to hold still, but trying to breathe at the same time. The cock in his mouth prevented him from breathing at all that way, and I found that when I lowered myself completely onto the dildo it prevented him from breathing through his nose.
Convenient, I pondered, taking longer, more luxurious thrusts. I would lounge, momentarily, feeling the fullness of the dick inside of me, feel the slight twisting of his body as the desire to breathe started to consume him.
When I had received my fill of his tortured inability to breathe between thrusts, I dismounted and reclined back, opening my legs and holding them by the ankles.
“Come here,” I ordered. “And make me cum. You have sixty seconds. Then we start adding pain to the equation.”
He inched toward me, off balance, and I imagine that he would have been able to do a much better job if he had the use of his hands – even if to just balance himself on all fours.
It gagged him, painfully, every time he pushed forward to try to get that dildo deep into me. I made it hard for him, on purpose, by shifting slightly enough to make him have to move his head.
He was remarkably unsloppy.
But, alas, I did not cum.
And even though he didn’t have a clock in front of him, he knew when his time was up. And he knew when I pushed him away, pinning him back down on his back, he had failed.
And even though he had a huge cock in his mouth, I could make out the word.
“No,” he was trying to say.
And I picked up my riding crop.
Sitting on his face again, full with the wonderful feel of the jelly cock, I enjoyed the bare, tender skin at the insides of his thighs. I’d removed his pants and re-tightened the straps at the bottom of the straitjacket, and while sitting on his face he could do nothing to get away from the sting of that crop.
It did not take long to cum this time. I came mostly because of the whimpers he tried to get out when my ass and pussy didn’t prevent all sounds. His face, I noticed when peering over my shoulder, was coated, literally soaked, with a mixture of sweat and my juices.
And I think he was on the verge of tears when I straddled his lap to face him again, this time sliding my tongue up the side of his face just so I could have a taste.
I could tell he was exhausted.
“But we haven’t even gotten to the second way, yet,” I said to him, picking up my strap on harness again. He knew, even with the slightest glance, what the second way would be.
I used my heel to nudge him, standing over him as he cowered. “You’re going to take it either on your knees, shoulders to the ground and ass in the air, or you’re going to take it on your back with your legs up. I’ll be kind enough to give you that small choice.”
The decision, of course, only tortured him more. He had no idea which would be worse. He knew it would be painful and degrading no matter how the cock ended up in his tender ass. He was shaking his head now, close but not quite saying, “No.” He bit his lips. He was afraid to say it again.
I just stood there, hands on my hips, briefly reaching out and lubricating my 8 inch dick a little bit. I enjoyed watching it bob in response. I saw him regard it for a moment, then roll over onto his stomach, pulling his knees up a little and trying to position himself comfortably with his face to the ground.
Using my feet to pry his legs apart more, I placed both hands on his ass cheeks. “This should make you feel like the whore you are,” I told him. “And I know you’ve been wanting this a long, long time.”
He used the other word. He said to me, softly, “Yes.”
And when my cock pressed into him, he screamed the other word. He screamed it loudly.
Perhaps he never took the word “rape” seriously. An act of cruel penetration, a thrusting, merciless, opening him up and filling him completely.
“You love my dick,” I said to him. “Say it,” I ordered.
And I honestly expected him to fuck up (maybe I wanted a reason to hurt him).
But he just said, “Yes.”
I said, “Say IT.”
He said, “Yes!”, and he was gasping.
“I give you permission to say the entire sentence,” I hissed, watching all 8 inches disappearing into his soft flesh.
He said it, painfully. He said it once, then I thrust harder and told him to say it again.
The next time, when he said it, his voice cracked. I felt I could cum from this penetration. I felt I could cum from his violation. I shut my eyes, and I concentrated on the feel of my dick inside of him. It felt a part of me. The pressure against my pelvis was driving me insane. I wanted to cum, but had no desire to cut his rape so painfully short.
“Do you want me to cum?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he gasped, and I imagined if he had his hands free, he would be clutching – grasping for anything to hold onto. The pressure of my body pounding into his made him shake.
“Do you want me to cum with my dick in your ass?” I asked him.
He didn’t reply. So I thrust harder, this time holding his hips for leverage. It was painfully deep, and he gasped, and he hissed “Fuck!”
And he immediately knew he had spoken an inappropriate word.
So when I gagged him, tightly, giving his ass only a few moments to rest, he did not resist and didn’t try to beg desperately with his eyes. He took the second half of his fucking without the ability to even cry out.
And when I came, his entire body was trembling.
I let him rest, but not for very long.
Taking off the harness, I watched him shivering there, breathing hard, his eyes shut tightly. I’d removed the gag when I was finished with his ass, and I saw him catch himself before saying, out of habit, “thank you.”.
“Now, what about the third way?” I pondered out loud.
I could see he was spent. His mouth – so precious, because his skin was so soft – was bruised from the various things I had shoved inside. The straitjacket, remarkably, seemed to almost be soaked through in some areas with sweat. He’d been in it for so long, it did not surprise me.
As I went through my box of toys, I noticed that he was unable to see around the lid. He could not tell what I was getting. I’m sure he could not guess what the third way would be, because the first two had been so ruthless.
I enjoyed talking to him cryptically about the third way as I reclined, legs open and my favorite vibrator placed lightly at my thigh.
“The third way,” I told him, so casual that one would not know I was nearly naked with the tip of a vibrator inches from my pussy, “Is the most meaningful. The most painful. The most unnatural for you.”
I saw such pain and exhaustion in his eyes. I know he wondered to himself what could be more intense than having his mouth used like a dildo and his ass raped with a dick 8 inches long.
And I saw longing in his eyes, too. Longing to kiss me right where I’d placed the tip of the vibrator. Longing to be held and comforted, and to be taken away and freed from the straitjacket that undoubtedly seemed like part of him now.
I saw recollection in his eyes. I saw behind them what he was thinking; he was expecting me to harness a latex cock around his hips and fuck him that way. Because I never let his cock inside of me; he knew that was off limits. He knew his cock wouldn’t be in my pussy, for one, because he had not submitted completely in my eyes, yet. And secondly, because I told him, in fits of cruelty, that his dick just was not adequate.
This, of course, was a simple act of cruelty just like any other toy I used to torture him with, but he always took it quite literally. In the heights of passion, when I made him lay on top of me and fuck me with an 8 inch latex dick while his own throbbed helplessly and painfully fastened away, I could see the pain in his eyes. Unfortunately, he never quite understood the insincerity in my observation, and that his dick, in reality, was more than sufficient.
So as I watched him, I noticed that he was concentrating on something else. Probably trying to lose the erection because the device I made him wear during those sessions was excruciatingly painful if he was hard.
He was still looking to the side, solemn, lashes slightly damp, concentrating, when I crouched down and lifted the black hood back over his head.
Even though he didn’t resist, I knew he did not want to be back beneath it. It was bad enough he was about to be used in what he considered the most painful, degrading way. Now, I was making sure it would be completely dehumanizing.
Just the sight of him that way, again, did wonders for readying me for another orgasm. I felt cruel and heartless as I prepared my tools. “You look so hot in black,” I said to him. Black straitjacket. Black hood. Black and blue.
Almost inhuman, now, he was there before me on his back, naked except for the straitjacket and hood. When I straddled his lap I leaned down to tighten the laces on the hood, making sure he would not be tossing it off. I wanted to look at him the entire time when I raped him the third way.
He whimpered when I took his cock into my hand. He whimpered because he knew how cruel I was, and he knew I wanted him hard before I locked on the harness that would push his painfully hard dick aside and support a stiff, 8 inch piece of latex, complete with balls.
I used lubricant to make sure it felt even better, and smiled, approvingly, when he stiffened in my grasp. I saw him squirm to try to get away. I saw him breathing, painfully, under the hood.
And he gasped, lifting his head, the hood pressed tightly against his face when he felt what I did next. I mounted him, slowly, letting out my breath when his cock entered me. I wondered, eyes closed momentarily, if he would cum from the mere shock of being inside my tight, warm pussy.
But I knew him better than that. And he knew not to disappoint me after giving him this gift. Still, it was to be a rape, and for me, that meant making him endure the entire time.
So I held his head tightly by a fistful of hair, right through the hood, and I fucked him like he was nothing more than a mounted dildo for my use. All covered in black, he could not even move. He squirmed beneath me but I did not let him move more than a few inches.
“Don’t cum,” I hissed.
“Don’t cum, or I’ll hurt you.”
I felt his body tense, I felt him pull all of his strength together. I enjoyed the feel of his cock inside of me, leaning down, gasping against his neck as I tightened around him.
I came, for the third time. I came without letting him cum at all; I came as he squirmed beneath me, covered in black.
Afterward, I collapsed on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck. Exhausted. “Did you like the third way?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he let out his breath. I could hear him, somewhere, behind the black hood.
“Did you expect that?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied, still breathing shakily.
I fingered the material of the straitjacket, staring at his throbbing cock, at the bit of precum that had formed on the tip. “None of them are quite as intense,” I told him, “As the third way.”
“Yes,” he agreed. And we remained that way for a long time.
So you want to be a little slut, do you?
Sometimes I have to wonder if you know who you are dealing with. If you know how cruel I can be. Sometimes I wonder if you will try to back out once you see the tools I lay out that I plan to use on you.
You don’t understand how much pleasure I will take in turning you into a pathetic little sissy. How I will strip each piece of clothing from you with a razor blade as you stand, wrists chained above your head, blindfolded, with my penis gag locked deep into your mouth.
How I will be standing in my latex corset, thigh high stockings and thigh high black patent leather boots. Perhaps now and then I will sit in front of your naked, helpless frame and move my heels down your tender flesh, leaving long, red gashes. How I will kick lightly at your hard cock as it stands out, begging for attention.
And my vibrator, should I decide to use it, may find it’s way down your naked flesh as well, still wet from being inside me as I writhed on my bed while watching you shiver in your chains. The slick, vibrating plastic will hum against your cock and balls until you whimper so loud even the neighbors hear. And I’ll just reach up and shove the gag deeper in, until you nearly choke on it. It’s good for you.
You’ll feel my hard nipples against your chest, I’ll let them free from my corset just to move them down your body and then to your cock, sliding it between them and rubbing you until your body shakes with need. And I’ll laugh.
Pulling back, giving your cock what it deserves A tight leather lacing, a harness, wrapped around under balls and pulled up, locked to your collar so every time you move your head you tighten the bonds. Your cock will be on fire for me, dripping precum, and every drop I will catch on my boots to feed to you later. As you kneel, nose to the floor, your hair a tangled mess in my fist as I push your lips to the cum and order simply, “Kiss, you miserable little slut.”
I’ll fasten a slick latex plug against the wall, pointing out toward your vulnerable virgin ass, and I’ll smile as I push you slow against it, until you feel it poking at your crack, working it’s way closer…closer. And if you shake your head in dismay, you’ll feel it on your cock. I’ll have my body pressed so hard against you, you will feel my nipples against your chest, my wet thighs riding your leg.
So when I hold you by the hips with my latex-gloved hands you will know what I’m going to do to you. Push. Watching you cringe. Push. Watching you let out your breath painfully, feeling your ass cheeks tighten when I move to massage them with my hands. Push. Until you whimper in pain and I know the plug is sliding it’s way deep into you. Your body shaking. How does that feel?
I’ll wrap my legs around your thigh and push, tightening so you feel my wetness slide up your flesh, your cock bobbing helplessly against my stomach, tugging on your collar. Oh, this is just the beginning.
And then, to re-dress you. As you stand helplessly, plugged like the slut you are, a cock in your mouth keeping you quiet. I’ll make you step into the lace panties I have chosen for you, red. And I’ll make you wiggle your ass as I pull them up over your thighs. And then the bra, also red, with false breasts.
But only after clamping your nipples tightly, squeezing them, torturing them. Twisting them until you cry out behind the gag. Making sure they are red and sore so you can feel them rub against the foam. A constant reminder.
In your red panties and bra you will look like quite the little whore, and I will pace, my high heels keeping you alert to where I am in the room. Telling you what a little whore you are. Taking Polaroids so I can show you later. Making you lean over what you can and press your ass into the wall to re-tighten the plug, to make sure it remains deep inside of you.
Next the garters and thigh high stockings, also in red lace. Your cock will be bulging inside the red panties, begging for release. But I’ll ignore it, perhaps brushing a breast across it as I lean down to pull the thigh highs up. And then locking the garters to them, I might reach around and squeeze your tight ass again, dig my nails into it.
“You’re turning out to be quite a hot little sissy,” I’ll tease. More pictures. More pressing you into the wall. More pausing with my vibrator, you’ll hear it, hear me on the bed, moaning, writhing, bucking. You’ll feel my heels moving up your body as I watch you, poking at the panties, poking with that spike heel until you whimper and clutch at the chains painfully.
“You look so hot,” I will tell you, “Like such a whore, in red lace, I want to suck your tits.”
Will you wonder what I am doing with that vibrator, when you hear that distinct sucking sound?
“I just wish there were a man around,” I’ll say from on my knees right in front of you, “So I can suck some real cock, I want to taste cum, I want cum down my throat. I want to smear it over my lips and nipples…but all I have is you, my little sissy girlfriend, and my vibrator.”
I’ll play with your breasts through the bra, pressing mine into yours. You’ll be my little lesbian slut lover. That’s exactly what you need.
(Psst, I like my whores to wear this cute little robe around the house)
But of course, I have the solution. I’ll take you down from the chains and strap you down on the bed, pressing down on your so the plug is still tight. Leaving the gag and blindfold securely in place, leaving you in the red lace bra and panties, moving my hands over your thigh highs, my thumb teasing the naked flesh just about the seams.
With the bindings still linking your cock and balls to your collar, you will know better than to struggle. I’ll slide my strap-on harness around your hips. You know what is coming. You’ll know very well when I slide the big black dildo into the harness and point it upward, feel me moving on the bed, straddling you.
“I like fucking my girlfriend this way, ” I’ll remind you as I lower my wet cunt down on the big slick piece of plastic. You’ll feel the pressure on the other side of the panties, pressing down on your forgotten cock. You’ll feel it against your cock every time I ram my hips down, taking that dildo as deep as I can, massaging your tits and telling you what a little sissy you are.
Maybe you’ll even feel my wetness through your lace panties. You’ll know it’s there, you’ll know very well. And the pressure of my body riding the dildo will crush your cock and balls and ram that plug deeper into your ass. You will feel like you’re going to be split in two.
“You like to be used like a little slut sissy whore?” I’ll growl down at you, gripping your bra tightly, squeezing your breasts as I rock and writhe. When I cum, you’ll feel it piercing through the plug in your tight ass, you’ll feel it smashing down onto your trapped cock as my ass crushes against it, as I ride you like a horse, your tortured cock now pushed back all the way down between your legs, tugging hard on your collar.
You’ll hear me get up off you, spent, unlocking the harness and commenting at how wet the cock is with my cunt juices. But like a whore, you know what you get next. As I finally unlock that gag for the first time, you know what you get next. You will open your mouth wide for me, without even my asking, and accept that soaking wet dildo eagerly. And I’ll fuck you with it, fuck your mouth, until you can barely breathe. But like the slut you are, you will take it, and beg for more.
“You want more, little slut?”
“Yes Mistress, I want more, I’m a total whore, ” you’ll reply appropriately, and you’ll take that shaft deep as I watch and talk about how I might use it on your ass next, but wondering oh-where should I shove that plug in your ass when I am using your ass for this dildo? Oh, I wouldn’t do that, would I?
But you’ll take it all slut, You’ll be my slut when I need it, you’ll be my sissy when I need it. You will present me with your face as a sitting place when I feel like having your breath against my cunt and ass. You will bend over and give me a place to shove my plug when I want it. You’ll open your mouth wide and take my big, black dildo when I want to watch you suck.
And you’ll learn to like it.
“I believe that many women are intimidated by and uncomfortable with the concept of erotic female domination or femdom because of the way they see it portrayed in adult films and in the media. I believe that men also develop many bad habits after years of satisfying their fantasies on their own, and focusing on their own pleasure. Through communication, trust and safe, sane & consensual exploration of erotic power exchange, I think many couples can experience pleasure they never imagined, and also develop better relationship communication and intimacy.”
The Good Girl’s Guide to Female Domination
I receive a lot of email from women who are exploring domination and think they want to become a femdom. Many of them are doing it at the urging of their husbands or boyfriends, and the woman’s attitude can range from “This sounds ridiculous and twisted and I don’t think I can ever do it but I want to make him happy” to “Hmm, sounds kind of interesting, but some of that stuff is just too weird.” The common question is always, “Where do I even start?”
I decided to develop a series of “scenes” that range from extremely tame to a little riskier. But rather than just say, “Tie up your mate and do this, that, and the other thing to him,” I wanted to add what is important:
What YOU might get out of it
How you can do it without feeling uncomfortable
How to communicate about it
Hopefully, the end result will be that you find there are things you kind of enjoy, things you do once and say “not for me,” and things you do and look back and think, “Hey, that was really HOT! I want to try that again.”
To help you better understand where I am coming from, let me tell you a little bit about who I am, and about this website. I’m a very normal woman living a very normal life, with a career, and a mate. Unlike most of the women I hear from, I got into “erotic power exchange” on my own, when I was an experimenting teenager, and was not introduced to this by a boyfriend or husband. When I was a teenager, while relatively sexually conservative, I was fascinated with the sensualism associated with games like tying up my partner, or using blindfolds. As I got older, I was exposed to more, at my own pace, and found that there were a great many things I could enjoy with a partner. Some of them are considered quite kinky. In fact, some of the things I do now, I would NEVER have imagined I would do! One thing has never changed though, and let me make this clear:
I have always found the portrayal of “dominant women” in adult films and most adult erotica to be cheesy, ridiculous, and sometimes downright silly.
Chances are that you might only know about female domination (femdom)from these ridiculous portrayals of latex clad divas and men acting pathetic and you feel embarrassed for them. Rest assured, this is NOT what you are going to become. These films are developed to cater to a male audience. And most men, while they kind of dig that fantasy, really want one thing: A woman who really ENJOYS dominating him. That is more important than a costume or a fetish.
First, the rules. Please read these WITH your mate.
–Enjoy yourself. Let go. Don’t compare yourself to the stereotype of what you think “female domination” is — whether it be a dominatrix you saw on TV or something you read in the newspaper or saw in an adult movie or B-movie. Femdom is just a word. This isn’t the same thing.
–Enjoy yourself. Make sure you do the things you like and do them lots. If something feels right but you feel confused about it, know that you can reflect on it later, communicate with your mate and find out how you feel about it.
–Enjoy yourself. This is YOUR time. Do not get caught in the trap of thinking, “Ok, I can do this. I can stomach it to please my partner because I love him.” That’s not the point. It defeats the purpose.
–BE SAFE. Most of these examples are fairly tame, but always know your partner, his health situation, allergies. Always have a communication mode set up, either agree to talk openly during the entire time (So if he says “STOP”, that means stop), or set up a “SAFEWORD” if you prefer to roleplay — so if he says “STOP” and is just being dramatic, have a code word that really means “STOP”. Personally, I prefer open communication, especially if you are just starting.
–No nagging. Don’t push her into doing it. Let her do it when she is ready. Don’t pressure. If she says “I am going to give this a try when I am ready,” you are to back off and let her approach it in her own way.
–No asking for more. When she’s done with the scene or session with you, don’t ask for more. Even if you think you are complimenting her by saying, “Oh I am so turned on, please can we keep going” — DON’T. There is a time for communication (more on that later), but when she signals that she is done, you can’t ask for more.
–Don’t top from the bottom. No hinting at her, no telling her what to do, no trying to “help” her unless she asks for it. No trying to manipulate her into doing more of what you like. THE PURPOSE OF THIS IS FOR HER TO FIND OUT WHAT SHE ENJOYS. You already know what you enjoy.
–Don’t get addicted. The rush will be fantastic. Separate your relationship from your passion for these games and don’t let it rule your life. Provide her with appropriate affection and encouragement in the hours and days following her exploration, without expecting anything in return.
–Retain dignity. If groveling is your kink, please tone it down. Keep your reactions in check and note how she responds to your reactions. The goal here is to not have her feel uncomfortable when she sees you submit. All women react differently to varying degrees of humility in their mates. It’s your job to find out what her comfort zone is. It might change with time, but out of the gate you want her to enjoy it and not be distracted by you acting too pathetic for her taste.
THE GROUND RULES FOR BOTH PEOPLE
–All play is initiated by the woman. She picks the date and time. It is up to her whether or not to give advanced notice, and also to still NOT choose to play at that time.
–Play starts AND stops when she feels it should. When she is finished, or “stuck,” or if she feels that it just isn’t clicking with her, she says, “I’d like to stop now,” and all bets are off.
–Communication must take place after the “scene” is over — in preferably three segments. One, about ten or fifteen minutes after completion. Spend some quiet time cuddling or making love, and then take a few minutes to reflect on how both people enjoyed it. Talk about it again later — a few hours later. Often new feelings come out. Then, try to talk about it the next day when you have had a chance to totally remove yourself.
TOPICS FOR POST-SCENE DISCUSSION
–What did she enjoy most? This is her opportunity to share what has worked for her. Also, ladies, remember that often a great deal of the pleasure the man receives is in knowing that he did a good job or made her feel good. This is your chance to give him praise.
–What pushed his buttons? Gentlemen, please do not use this post-scene time to lay out your laundry or wish list. YES, do tell her what pushed your buttons. But cautiously phrase things. DO say things like, “When you pinched my nipples, I thought I was going to lose it! That was so intense and exciting.” DO NOT say things like, “I wish you would have pinched my nipples more.” Don’t phrase things in the negative. Say what you liked, not what could have been better, UNLESS she asks you. This is confidence-building time.
–What odd emotions are you facing? For both partners. Guilt? Shame? Why are you feeling these things? What is worrying or nagging you? Talk through the roller coaster of emotions are you both feeling to better understand how this makes you feel. Note that many times the emotions run VERY high right after completing this kind of scenario, and it takes some time to level off. Think about what you are feeling and talk about it.
–Aftercare — do not underestimate the importance of “aftercare” for both partners. It is common for one or both people to feel exhausted, zoned, restless or confused. Often a sure-fire aftercare method, to help both people settle down, is good old fashioned quiet cuddling. Gentlemen, do not forget that your femdom needs aftercare too — often they are dealing with confusing feelings of guilt, or wondering if they were adequate. Also, remember that aftercare comes also the next day — a phone call or an email to say again, “I really enjoyed that.” The bottom line: Communicate!
QUICK TIPS FOR HER ENJOYMENT:
Ladies, I cannot emphasize enough how important these few tips are:
1. ENJOY YOURSELF. Don’t try to do this just to please your partner. This is playful, sexual experimentation. Treat it like that.
2. DO NOT force yourself to do any of these things if you are not in the mood. Period.
3. KNOW THAT YOU CAN STOP whenever you want. He knows the rules. You do this on your time. Don’t feel obligated.
4. THINK ABOUT the fantasy/scene ahead of time — a day or two before, a few hours before. Think about what will make it exciting for you. Think about how shocked and enamored he is going to be.
5. REMEMBER there is no set start and stop time, or “time length” this should last. It may be ten or fifteen minutes. It may be a half hour. It may be broken up throughout the day or over a few days. When you are done or feeling not quite into it, you say, “I am ready to stop now.” At first, you may want to purposely take less time in your adventures — they can be exhausting!
ON TO THE SCENES
The following are simple suggestions for games that you can play with your mate. You take on all the risks involved, and please note that these are suggestions. Always keep safety in mind, and be aware of your partner’s physical and emotional well being. Always communicate and always have an agreed upon way to stop the interaction immediately. This is critical to trust and safety!
1. LIGHT BONDAGE
Description: Often a little light bondage is the easiest first step for a woman who is exploring female domination / femdom. I think I read somewhere that a great majority of couples experiment with light tying-up and blindfolding games at some point. It’s the most portrayed on primetime TV of all the female domination / femdom scenarios. You may have already experimented with this type of play with your mate. This time, though, do it on your terms. You choose the time, and you choose when and how to restrain him. Some creative, spontaneous examples:
–Lightly bind him to a chair and feed him dessert
–Tie his hands behind his back and make him service you orally
–Blindfold him and instruct him how to make love to you
–Tie him to your bed and pretend he is your sex slave, or someone you want playful revenge on. Pretend he is someone you have wanted forever, and now you have him in your clutches. IF you role play, make sure you tell him ahead of time how you want him to react. Should he be scared and timid? Should he be brave and stoic? Should he be a bit of a smart aleck, so you can give him an attitude adjustment? Which of these sound most fun to you?
** Always remember to be careful with bondage. Handcuffs are flashy and fun, but have to be watched as they can dig into the nerves and do damage — only use them if you are not going to be putting a lot of pressure on them. Scarves, pantyhose, ties work well, but do NOT tie the knots too close to the skin. The point here is to create the aura; later, if you want to follow this path, you can learn how to restrain someone so he really cannot get away, and do it safely. Stay away from the neck.
** Never leave your partner bound and unattended with no way to get free.
What do you get out of it?
For me, there is something very sexy and sensual about bondage. Maybe this is just in my wiring. The sight of a man bound tightly or helpless in some way is just raw. I always get fascinated with wrists, ankles, and hips during bondage. The little struggling bits get me very excited. I like to see a man challenged, and to me, bondage is a challenge. He’s helpless. I like things like heavy breathing, sweat — these things come out when a guy is struggling, even if it’s make believe. It’s also fun turning the tables.
Note to men: Your fantasies may include heavy bondage, latex, straitjackets, cock and ball harnesses, or real imprisonment. My advice to you: Back off. Let her learn to enjoy the concept of bondage first. If you are looking for those games, you have to put your own desires aside and let her evolve. She will not go from light bondage games to complicated bondage overnight. If you help her enjoy the above games, she is more likely to want to try more. Remember, it’s about HER pleasure!
2. TAKING CHARGE OF HIS ORGASMS/TEASING AND DENIAL (also known as “Chastity”)
Description: This is probably logistically one of the easiest games to play with your mate, and one that will generate the most results quickly. Very simply put, you get to control when and how he has an orgasm. Men often respond very well to being controlled this way. It is exciting for them, and they feel very helpless and enamored with a woman who is not afraid to control his sexual release. You start by simply telling him that he is not allowed to have an orgasm unless you direct him to, and with your permission. You can make the rules. If he is the nagging type, tell him that if he bugs you about it, you will put it off even longer. Make sure you continue to have him pleasure you, however. And make sure you let it be known that you are enjoying having this pleasure, and that he cannot have his own until you say he can. When you are satisfied with his suffering (a few days, a week, even a couple of weeks later), you can make him “EARN” the right to have an orgasm (you pick what he has to do!), or have a great lovemaking session, or even have him masturbate in front of you. He will be putty in your hands. He will probably be on the “honor system” as he could have snuck off at some point into the bathroom, or at work, and satisfied himself. But if he is serious about submission, he will confess if this happens, and you can make him start over again — or punish him by making him do something he hates (Clean the bathroom? Mow the lawn?). Always remember that the closer you get him to orgasm and then stop, repetitively, often directly results in making him hornier. Timing wise, these kinds of scenes work well in the course of ONE evening (lots of starting and stopping, so by the end of the night he’s just ready to explode and will do ANYTHING for you), or over several days, with periodic teasing. Teasing can include things like: A nasty phone call or voice mail in the middle of the day (tell him what you are wearing, that you are masturbating and let him listen, tell him about a fantasy of yours, or just simply say “I bet you wish you could cum right now, eh?”), a handjob in the morning that never leads to anything, the start of a blow job that never happens, wearing something super sexy and flashing him in the bedroom, making him go down on you, sending a pair of your panties to work in his briefcase, pointing out to him casually things about your sexuality, “Gee, it must be cold in here, my nipples are really hard, can you tell?” — Be a flirty tease, be sexy and know it, be confident and HAVE FUN. Tease the hell out of him. He’ll be fit to be tied!
What do you get out of it?
You call all the shots. You have complete control over your sex life. Regardless of your sex drive, this will always work in your favor — If you have a low sex drive and feel bad about that, who cares — you deny him, and it gives you the breathing room you have always wanted, and actually you may find your sex drive comes back when you aren’t pressured all the time. If you have a high sex drive, you can have your cake and eat it to. All the oral sex you want, when you want it, without having to return the favor. If you LOVE intercourse and can’t live without it, train him (it takes practice) to penetrate you WITHOUT having his own orgasm, or experiment with dildos and vibrators. The bottom line is that you will own your own sexual pleasure, and he will become more and more under your spell as his desire for you increases. If he starts whining, or nagging, or his behavior during this “high horniness time” is a turn off to you, TELL HIM. The last thing you want to do is reward bad behavior by not pointing it out. He will be looking to do what you want during this time, and if anyone needs to modify behavior, it will be him. I have found that most men (even non-kinky men) respond to this kind of game because it’s sexy and fun, and most women can get into it because it’s relatively low pressure and she has many options to do it her way.
NOTE TO MEN: Your fantasies may include chastity devices or more severe treatment or humiliation regarding your inability to have release. Back off. This is about having her enjoy the concept of controlling your pleasure, and she must start with what is fun and not complicated. Chastity devices can be expensive and bulky, and in practice are often hard to implement. If she really enjoys controlling you verbally, she may go down that path, so make sure she has fun. Men are often tempted to create their own rituals and rules regarding “not being allowed to cum” because they have done it for so long all by themselves with a make believe femdom, or someone they met on the Internet. DO NOT try to mold your mate into this person. Let her find HER style. Got it? Bottom line again — let her find out what works for her!
What’s next? Let’s move over to – How to Become an Amazing Domina – It’s Easy!
Illustration by Sardax
Perhaps Stephen was surprised that it started with him face down. Unable to move. Restrained at every limb. A hood over his head. And a room that was very, very cold.
I guess I don’t know if anything ever really surprised Stephen though; he was fairly calculated and thoughtful, sometimes difficult to read. I told him, though, that it was only a matter of time before I made my way to Manitoba to unravel him. Of course he believed me on some level.
But face down?
After all, I couldn’t really see him that way. And it was such an unconventional way to start a relationship. Face down, on a medical table, in a warehouse somewhere, with dripping water in the background and a cold chill in the room. He was still half drunk maybe, a little delirious, definitely cold, and still had not said a word to me. Typical.
Not that it really mattered. I could sit there all day and just watch him, face down on the table, waiting for him to start to come to grips with his reality, waiting for him to be the first to blink, so to speak. He had a hood over his head anyway, and couldn’t see that I was pleasuring myself, just kind of watching him, sometimes taking a break, sometimes stopping to read a book.
Stephen took his sweet time (again, very typical) before lifting his head up that first time, turning it toward my direction (how he knew, I am not sure, he must have been listening after all), and saying my name. Just one time. Not a question, not a call for help, not a whimper. Just saying my name, matter-of-fact, as if to say “Of course you did this. I am not surprised. Bring it on.”
I couldn’t help it really. I was excited. I’ll admit. But he couldn’t see me anyway, couldn’t see me kind of blushing, skin flushed with a combination of arousal and glee. I walked over and leaned down low, putting my lips close to the side of his head, whispering so he could hear through the fabric of the hood. “Giddy up,” I said.
Seven days I had set aside to deconstruct Stephen.
Day one he remained face down on the table, and once I was aware that he was awake, I played a little cat and mouse game where I whispered things to insist that he beg, plead, whimper his way into getting me to take off the hood so he could see.
He would have nothing of that. His only response was to say my name again. Again, not a call for help, not a whimper, not a plea. Just a statement of fact. And, he made sure I could hear him breathing, of course, so deliberate, so subtle, but very calculated.
He was naked, so I took the time to walk around his frame a few times, trying to get various reactions from him. Sliding my fingers up the soles of his vulnerable feet (I think there was a giggle; I bet he was biting his lip to stifle it), moving my palm over his ass cheeks, stopping briefly to pinch. I slid the riding cop up his ass crack to make him tighten, and even that he seemed to go about in a very deliberate manner.
It was only day one, so I wasn’t too worried. I took off the hood before he had to beg for it. I wanted to see my prize anyway. See if his cheeks were flushed or his eyes were red, see how messed up his hair was. See if he’d keep his head down to the side or lift it up, strain to see me, or rest his chin on the table. Face down had to be getting tiresome for him.
Stephen blinked, yawned, and looked at me sideways, and said, simply, “Hello, I’m Stephen.”
He didn’t stare too much at my outfit, sadly. I was in a tight latex catsuit-type outfit, thigh high leather boots with extremely long laces, elbow length gloves that were more medically suited than anything. I had a tray for medical instruments next to me, and on top of it was a sealed plastic bag.
“So then, let’s get started,” I smiled. I was admiring his eyelashes and his lips for a moment, but soon longed for the first desperation in his eyes, or crack in his deliberate breathing, or whimper from deep within him.
I opened the plastic bag, which was sealed tight, and Stephen watched me carefully. Inside was a mix of colors and fabrics all together, and soon enough, he could see that they were pairs of panties.
“Seven of them,” I said. “Seven, I came in all of them. I came masturbating in each one of them, thinking of a different thing I would do to you.”
He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he wanted to say. Probably something like, “Fascinating.”
But Stephen just watched. I was quite content, happy, buzzing.
“I’m going to tell you what I was thinking about when I came in each of these panties, Stephen. Let’s start with this pair.” I held up a darling little pink French cut panty. “When I was touching myself in this pair, I was thinking about what it’s going to be like when I have my name tattooed on your ass.” I paused, thought for a moment, then added, “Akasha’s BITCH.” I played with the fabric in my fingertips a little, then smiled approvingly, and finally leaned over with it.
Stephen knew, and he didn’t really resist, but he didn’t necessarily cooperate either. I pushed the panties into his mouth – hard – much more cruel than my tone would have suggested, and then went back into the plastic bag.
I removed a black lace thong. “Oh, this was special. I thought about how long you’d last when I put a plastic bag over your head, showing you just how serious I am about this breath control thing. Actually, I came twice here.” I reminisced a little, sighed, and then leaned again to Stephen’s mouth. “Open up.”
This time, he did give me a disapproving grunt, but he took it anyway. Hearing him breathe through his nose made me wet. I thought about adding an 8th panty to the mix when the list was finished; surely, by then, they’d be soaked right through.
Next was a cute, polka dot cotton pair of panties that wasn’t much in the sexy department, but wet was an understatement. “Oh boy. I remember these. This time, I was thinking about sticking seventeen needles in your ball sac.”
That got a bit of a grunt from him. Arousal or fear, I am not sure.
“Don’t ask me where I came up with Seventeen. Oh, I guess you can’t ask me anything. Open up, slaveboy.”
I turned this pair inside out and pushed them into his crowded mouth deliberately. It was clearly getting uncomfortable for him, but it was just the start for me. “Five more to go,” I announced. “Moving right along.”
I heard some movement around the table. Finally, Stephen was testing his bonds. Good for him, I thought. He’d find that the straps around his ankles were even tighter than those around his wrists. He’d soon find out that there were straps pulling down over his thighs and his lower back. He’d find that a collar was tight around his neck. Soon, he’d find out he was in a spiked cock ring, and his balls were trussed up in unforgiving leather straps.
“This pair,” I continued, retrieving a white satin thong, “I used my vibrator with these, and I came in them thinking about what you were going to do when the needle plunged through your tongue,” I paused, brought them to my lips, kissed them delicately. “I’ll admit, I fantasized about some tears here.”
The white satin thong was difficult to shove into his mouth. He choked a little, and his brow was furrowed, and it was the first time he looked to be something close to angry. But he was hard, I knew it, and he was loving it – on some dark, twisted level.
When I went back into the back, I saw his fingers digging into the sides of the medical table. That thrilled me. I was getting to him. He was uncomfortable, breathing harder now, but watching, listening. The bag must have seemed stuffed so full to him. He had to imagine how on earth would I get all those panties into his mouth? Surely he would choke.
Next I pulled out the lavender boyshorts. “These took a long time. Well, the panties didn’t take a long time, I just took a long time cumming in them,” I announced. His eyes were staring right into me. He was finally starting to try to screw with me, I thought. I reached over and covered his eyes with my hand as I continued to talk.
“These panties took awhile for me, because I was having way too much fun. These are still soaking wet. I remember the orgasm very well. I was loud that time. I think the neighbors heard me. I was imagining how you’d handle the day I plan to turn you into a fucking whore; dressing you up, stripping away all that tough boy exterior, forcing you into acts that are illegal in some states. The details – there are many. That’s why it took a long time,” I sighed. I looked at Stephen, thinking for a moment. “This may be tough. Work with me. Open up.” I reached over and removed my other hand from his eyes.
Stephen just gave me a disapproving grunt, but somehow, I managed, after a lot of shoving, stuffing, prodding, to get them into this mouth. When he appeared to be attempting to spit them all back out, I reached over from behind and grabbed him squarely by the balls. That was all the threat he needed.
The next pair of panties were red lace, part of a cute lingerie set that I considered including in the bag, but knew the entire mass of fabric would never fit into his mouth. “It’s a shame such a pretty mouth is going to be so stretched, so violated. You’d think I would want to spend our first day together enjoying your mouth, admiring your soft lips. Maybe even kissing you,” I thought out loud. “That’s ok. I’d rather see you suffer.”
Stephen was listening, but clearly uncomfortable, perhaps a tad upset. But sometimes I saw in his eyes that he was just dealing with it, and was determined to remain unflappable.
“In this pair of panties, I was thinking about fucking you in the ass. Hard. For hours. With a strap on cock that’s going to be too large, even for a whore like you.”
To be honest, those barely fit. But I found a way.
The last pair of panties were beaded in some areas, probably going to be very uncomfortable for him. I sighed, remembering my recent encounter with them. “I came in these on the airplane, on the flight over here. In the lavatory. But I was enjoying myself under the blanket during the whole flight.”
I knew, as I was trying to find a way to get those into his full mouth, what he was thinking. Despite the discomfort and awkwardness of the situation, he wanted to know what I had been thinking about. “I’ll tell you only after you get it into your mouth. MAKE it fit, Stephen.”
He shut his eyes tight. He concentrated. But I knew he wasn’t doing it for me, he was doing it for himself. He gagged a few times. He nearly choked. He kept repositioning himself as I held them in place, applying pressure, trying to find a home among the rainbow of colors in his stuffed mouth.
Finally, I was satisfied. I picked up the duct tape and pulled a strip off the roll loudly. I applied the strip firmly over his lips (well, over the massive wad of panties that were protruding). Then, I took the roll and started pulling off larger strips to wrap around his head tightly, ensuring it would remain tightly in place. He choked as I did this.
“Those panties,” I said softly. “On the plane.”
There was a silence. Just his labored breathing, a subtle half gag, muffled, on cloth.
“I was thinking of your tongue in my pussy.”
I’ll be honest, I expected a whimper. But he held himself together. I guess that made me angry. Seven pairs of panties and he still wasn’t even slightly cracked. He was clearly holding it together. But it was only the first day, I reminded myself. What fun would it be if he fell apart in the first hour?
The next days are a blur, really, and it would take novels to explain them all. And yes, I did all seven things to Stephen – sort of – in my own special order, in my own way, as a deliberate means to deconstruct him. I wanted to strip away every inch of protection he had, internally and externally, and then sink my nails into his most tender, vulnerable soul, before putting him back together in just the manner I found to be useful to me.
I denied him food and water, sometimes denied him air. I had assistants in and out – both licensed and unlicensed – to apply the tattoo, to complete the piercing of his tongue (he did not cry), to be on medical standby when my breath control games did lead to a bit of unconsciousness. I couldn’t figure out if he was scared. I didn’t really care, to be honest, I just wanted an excuse to use that oxygen mask and sweetly brush the hair on his forehead back and tell him he was going to be ok. All while clenching my fist around his balls to wake him up so I could continue. When his half gasps turned to little shrieks, I knew I got through to him.
The needles seemed to make him angry and hot at first, then deliriously serene and almost post-orgasmic. I had to check his cock to see if he came. I remember holding him tightly by the chin and growling, as my girlfriend drove another needle into his flesh, hissing at him, “You aren’t supposed to ENJOY this.”
He appeared drunk, kind of half laughing and half wincing, and the only other notable reaction was that the way he writhed in his restraints, now on his back, was nearly poetic. I’d never tell him that though, it would go straight to his head.
The sixth day was when he started to crack, barely, and he looked so sweet with a little facial stubble and his hair dirty, his body straining. He never resisted during the various repositioning moments, not that he could (I had help. Big, strong help), but on the sixth day he asked to be unrestrained, “just for a few minutes.”
“Why?” I asked him. Of course, I wanted him to say the correct answer, “So I can hold you.”
Instead, he was Stephen. “So I can stretch.”
On the seventh day, I knew our time was coming to an end, and he wasn’t nearly as deconstructed as I had wanted. His hair was dyed black. His ass cheeks were tattooed- and a fine job, I might add – with the words, “Akasha’s Bitch.” His tongue was still sore from the piercing, but he seemed to actually enjoy it.
The various violations he’d taken in stride, sometimes getting to the point that his breathing turned to a whimper, but never outright begging me, or groveling in any fashion. It was difficult to imagine what a groveling Stephen would look and taste like.
I was fairly exhausted, also. I wondered if I had not planned intensely enough. Maybe day eight was what was needed, a day when IVs would be brought in, and a heart monitor beeping in the background, and Stephen would be injected with drugs that were usually reserved for war criminals or victims in sci fi movies. Maybe water boarding was the answer.
“Are you afraid of me?” I asked him on the morning of day seven.
“Yes,” he responded. This was nothing out of the ordinary, he’d never deny that he was afraid, he was just able to do it in a manner that appeared very brave. This fascinated me so much that I asked him probably four times a day, and he’d always answer the same. But he’d never elaborate.
I couldn’t figure out why if he was afraid and I knew he was afraid, why I wasn’t satisfied yet. I surely had many orgasms – both in the panties before seeing him, and over the course of the six days prior. I’d cum while watching him, cum while hearing him scream in pain, cum while seeing him take the needle or the cock.
This time, he was in a rubber straitjacket. I saved that for the last day, and made sure it was painfully tight. I added chains around his body just for good measure, padlocking it. He looked like an escape artist. I liked that. “If you don’t behave yourself,” I warned him, “I’ll throw you into Lake Winnipeg. See how long it takes you to get free.”
Stephen just smirked at me. He liked the straitjacket, I could tell. And he liked the plug that was way too large for his ass, and the way his ankles were tightly shackled together, and his cock was surrounded by spikes, forcing him to remain focused.
My luggage was packed and sitting there near the exit. I showed him my plane ticket so he could see that I was, indeed, leaving that night. That his freedom was coming soon. He looked at me, puzzled, as I straightened my business skirt, checked myself in the mirror. After all, I was going straight to New York for a business trip, and would be going into a meeting after the red eye. I was no longer the latex clad diva, I was a stunning executive in an expensive suit with insanely sexy black pumps.
Stephen didn’t like being ignored. And he was so used to me telling him everything, every single little detail about what I would do to him and what I was feeling, that the sudden silence from me must have been deafening. I got on my cell phone and called one of my business contacts to discuss my meeting.
I paced. Stephen listened, and watched. I could hear the rattling of the chains as he changed positions. He was on the floor of the warehouse, his new black hair a furry mop, but at least he’d stop talking with a stumble from the tongue piercing.
Clearly, his thoughts were on the panties, and day seven.
Day seven was the day, I told him, that he’d have his tongue in my pussy. At times, I think that thought got him through the tortures. At times, I think he kept that in his mind’s eye as the reason for all of this; after all, we had not cuddled, had not kissed even one time. There was no real intimacy, unless you consider me ramming 9 inches of strap on dick into his ass. No, it was all about power. Not intimacy. At least, not that kind of intimacy.
I shut my cell phone and the snap echoed in the warehouse. My high heels made the same distinct sound as I walked to him. He looked up at me. New Stephen. New in appearance, but not in attitude. He looked quite lively, actually. A bit sleepy, but doing just fine.
“Are you forgetting something?” he asked me. Flirtatious. Clearly flirtatious.
I crouched down and placed my lips close to his. He breathed, but did not make a move. Even though I was in control and had tortured him for six days, he was readily willing to play the tease. We remained there for some time. I could see he was looking at my lips.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“You first,” I challenged.
There was a moment that seemed like a long time. And it probably makes sense to no one, just how significant it was. But I was not going to move to kiss him, because I knew he’d turn away. Just to fuck with me. And he was not going to move to kiss me, because he knew I’d turn away. Just to fuck with him.
I debated the responsible, dominant, appropriate action at that time: Grab him by the hair and not kiss him, but essentially rape his mouth with my tongue. In a very sensual, deliberate, erotic, suggestive way, until he whimpered into my mouth, shook in the straitjacket.
But I couldn’t do it. Because that would mean he won. And he was stubborn, even after six days of torture. So we remained that way for what seemed like several seconds.
I wished I had a gag handy. I didn’t. So I reached under my skirt and started to slide my panties down. Pair number eight.
Stephen swallowed but kept his eyes on my lips and didn’t move. And he didn’t resist when I pushed the clearly-most-wet panties into his mouth. “You surely didn’t forget what happens on day seven,” I said to him. I used my fingers, under my skirt, to tease my pussy for a moment, to massage my clit. When I brought my fingers to his lips, he surely knew how wet I was. I coated his lips with it, then leaned over and gently licked just a small portion of it off of his perfect upper lip.
I could feel his breath, from his nose, on my face. I knew the makeshift gag was probably painful as hell on his fresh piercing. With careful studying, it appeared that his eyes were tearing up, but I knew it wasn’t from desperation, it was a mere reaction to the sharp stinging in his mouth.
“I’m not going to do number seven,” I told him. “There will be no tongue in my pussy today.”
He looked at me, confused. It must have been confusing, because he knew how wet I was, and for days I had talked about how much I was looking forward to the grand finale. And I knew, for him, this final act of intimacy would be a stamp of – well, purpose – behind the torture he’d endured.
I ran my finger over his top lip. “Nope.” I said, sighing. “Not that I don’t want to, Stephen. God, want to. I imagined how I’d pull up my skirt, push you over and sit on your face, ride you, looking down at that tight gorgeous straitjacket and taking in your helplessness as you licked…and your tongue…I’m sure…you have a fantastic tongue.”
Dismay is the only word I could use to describe the look on his face. But it was brief, and he corrected himself, put himself right back into the game, not willing to be manipulated. But I had seen a glimpse of it, and I knew it was there.
I remained leaning down close to him, my lips close to his mouth, my hand under my skirt, masturbating as I whispered what I knew his tongue felt like. It was clearly a bit awkward to stand in such a position and bring myself close to orgasm, but I was turned on enough, I could do it.
He remained painfully still, almost unbreathing, unemotional, as if he knew that any reaction on his part, any discomfort, would just bring me to orgasm and end the game. At least, that’s what I read into it. Maybe he was just bored. With Stephen, I never knew.
“Maybe I need to come back, for eight days next time,” I breathed into his ear, leaning closer. “Maybe I didn’t torture you hard enough. I needed to see you broken and begging. And it’s still just out of reach. If I can’t have my ultimate pleasure, than neither can you.”
Finally he let out his breath, but tried not to pant through his nose, instead just calmed it and quieted it, swallowing hard. His eyes were down. I was looking at his beautiful eyelashes. “I’m going to miss you,” I said.
I saw a little bit of struggling in the straitjacket, and a tension in his jaw. A cab pulled up out front, I could hear the engine idling.
“Someone will be by in one hour to free you,” I said to him, kissing him on the forehead. I turned and walked away, collecting my luggage on the way out.
“You can keep the panties,” I said after him, with a wave, and then exited the warehouse doors, letting them close loudly behind me.
In the back of the taxi, I imagined Stephen still there, on the ground, looking out after the door, perplexed. I wonder if he spit the panties out, or kept them in his mouth as he waited.
“Where to, Miss?” The cab driver asked me.
I put on my sunglasses. “Just drive me around for a half hour. Then right back to this location.”
I removed my cell phone from my purse and called the airlines to change my flight. One more day would do Stephen some good.
And 45 minutes of waiting, thinking he was truly abandoned, might be what it took to strip that last piece of armor away.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Akasha@Akashaweb.com All Rights Reserved
I have written over 1000 sexy, hot femdom stories and they will all be added to this site. So put on your satin panties and check back daily! XO Akasha
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