Your Task For Today

Photo by Mike from Pexels

Your task for today is to make it through reading this entire document without coming.

Sounds easy, you say. It’s just a page. Or two. Do I think you have no control?

Of course, I’m going to be stroking your cock as you read.

Feel it? My soft hand. Wrapped around your cock. Slippery with the lube I applied just a moment ago?

See my pretty polish? Black. My winter color. Such a contrast against your pale cock, although I think that even now as the blood is flowing in, it’s turning an ever more solid shade of pink or purple.

You can do it. I know you can. You’re my good boy.

Say it. “I’m your good boy. I can follow directions. I can be obedient.”

See. I know you.

I know you want to make it because I gave you clear instructions, even though part of you knows I don’t. Part of me wants you to fail because then I know I have complete control over you.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t resist me.

Let’s see what side wins out.

You can look. You can take a peek over the screen if you want to see one finger teasing the head of your cock in that special place. You know the one. Right there. That place where I can just gently stroke a half of an inch in either direction and soon you’ll be leaking for me. Moaning.

There it is. Isn’t it? Right there.

Can you feel the anticipation starting to build? Your cock starting to twitch in my grasp, trying in vain to thrust, if only I would let it. Maybe a little droplet of pre-cum sliding out of the hole, running down your shaft like a little tear of joy.

You can thrust for me, baby. Just a little. I don’t mind humoring you. You can pretend it’s my pussy you’re fucking, or my mouth. After all, it’s so close. I could just lean down and….

…well, don’t get ahead of yourself.

Go on. Thrust for me. Hump my hand. You’re getting desperate enough to do it now. Aren’t you? Even though you know you look vaguely ridiculous. Straining upwards. Biting your lip. Humping my hand like my eager pet and concentrating hard dying to get there and trying to hold back because I told you.

You’re not to come until you finish reading this out loud.

Awww. Are you blushing? I think you are. Don’t hold back. I love to see you blush for me.

Even if I were to lean down. My hair brushing over your thighs. My hot breath so close to your cock.

And then.

One lick. Just one little lick. You can take it. Can’t you?

Even though your balls are starting to tighten, to ache. Even though you can practically feel the come rising into your shaft. That’s just an illusion. It’s still neatly tucked away inside you, and it’s only to come out when I say.

And then I’ll get you nice and empty for me. Then I’ll milk you dry.

But first.

Let’s just think about something.

Something a little naughty. Something that I know you want.

My mouth down here doing a little bit more than licking. Oh, yes. Taking the head of your cock into my mouth and sucking. Gently. Nursing at your cock. Not too much pressure. Not too little. Just enough to keep you exactly where I want you without going over.

It’s a lot. But you can manage it. I know.

But then.

Let’s add an idea. I think you know the one.

It’s the one where you open your mouth nice and wide. And get ready to suck.

You do have quite the oral fixation, baby. It could be my fingers. It could be a gag. It could be my strap-on. But any way, you’d be eagerly lapping at whatever I placed in that orifice and really giving it your all.

But let’s be more specific.

It’s not my fingers. It’s not the gag, tempting as it may be to hear your muffled moans underneath it. It’s not my strap-on.

No.

It’s cock.

It’s hot, thick, veiny real bio-cock attached a to a very nice but rather insistent man that you’re going to drain him. That you’re going to be a very good boy and help him come in your mouth.

Can you feel it. How he twitches? How he pushes. How he holds the back of your head and pulls you closer, thrusting deeper and deeper, harder and harder into the back of your throat.

Try not to gag. It’s unbecoming. Although I know it’s hard not to. You are a bit of a cock slut. Aren’t you?

You can say it. “I’m a cock slut. I’m YOUR cock slut, Ma’am.”

And yes you are, baby. And I love it.

It must be getting challenging now.

Thinking about that nice big cock in your mouth getting so very close to spilling over.

My warm, wet mouth milking your cock. So leaky by now. So engorged. So needy.

It’s hard to remember who you are. Isn’t it?  Are you the who’s sucking or the one who’s getting sucked? Are you the one who’s taking or the one who’s getting taken? Maybe you’re both. Your cock says you’re both.

And now we’re getting to the end of this little story. You’ve almost made it, and if you can just finish, you’ll get such a lovely reward.

That nice insistent man is ready. You’re going to feel him pulse in your mouth, and then hear his groan and he’s going to flood your mouth with come. And you’re going to swallow every drop like the good little slut you are.

And as you do, maybe you’re that man. Are you that man? Who needs to come? Who needs to empty himself now? Who has been my sweet, obedient boy, my delicious little pet? And gets his cock milked because he knows that I know about those urges. That I care about those urges. That he needs me to help manage them.

So difficult to control. So eager. So desperate. So wanting.

My mouth is waiting.

Episode 1 of The Gentle Dommecast: Introductions, Orgasm Control and Pain Play

Ha ha! After much bribery, I roped my partner, dubbed “The Rough Subbe,” into doing a femdom podcast with me! Here is Episode 1, in which we discuss who we are, starting a podcast, orgasm control (my favorite) and the role of pain play in femdom.

I had way too much fun doing this, so you can expect more, whether you like it it or not.

Why Denial is So Dang Hot!

My biggest kink is orgasm control. That involves a lot of things, including teasing, edging, ruining, chastity and denial. 

I got into edging a long time ago, and while my partner really enjoyed it, he only liked it within a single sexual encounter. He liked the teasing and edging but then wanted to come. 

And I liked that too! It was fun! I still like it. Orgasm control doesn’t have to be too extended for me to enjoy it. 

But when I started playing with ruined orgasms, and teasing and edging followed by more extended denial, I realized just how much I loved controlling my partner’s sexuality. 

Some men, not all, really love the feeling of that build up. The anticipation can be better than the orgasm itself. And I love the desperation, the adoration, the all consuming attention that’s placed on me when a man is desperate to come.

The hard thing is that I also like making a man come! It’s sexy! So, I am constantly fighting with myself about letting him or not! I know it will be exciting if I let him but then the build up will be over and it will take time to come back. And we’ll both be a little sad the anticipation is gone.

That’s partly why I sometimes enjoy giving ruined orgasms. I get to see him come BUT he also stays hard and horny for me.

The down side is that if you do it too many times, you can get the timing wrong and then he just has a disappointing real orgasm, and no one ends up happy! 

You know what they say. Variety is the spice of life. A little teasing here. A little edging and ruining there. Throw in some chastity. Truly, the way to a man’s heart is through his very aroused cock. 😉

Wet Heat

Don’t spill!

So, I have kind of a weird turn on.

Ha ha! If you’re reading this, then that means nothing to you. I regularly hang out with people who like getting stapled for fun.

This is much more innocuous. And much less bloody.

I get turned on by the idea of making men come in their pants.

I’m going to be honest. I don’t think I have yet ever made this happen. I’m thinking back. Possibly in underwear. But definitely never through pants, despite my best ministrations. I’ve gotten close, but there was never quite enough stimulation. But I really WANT to make it happen.

What is it about this that I find so hot?

I think first it’s the embarrassment. I love the idea of making men lose control, despite their best efforts.

And there’s something so juvenile and inexperienced and even a tiny bit emasculating about forcing a man to make a mess of himself in his pants. (Yes. There are some other options for that, but they aren’t quite my jam.)

One of my favorite things to do during sex is to tell a man to definitely NOT come, while doing absolutely everything in my power to make him come and fail. So, this might be just a different take on that.

In my ideal fantasy, I’m probably lighting rubbing him through his trousers, watching him get more and more turned on, more squirmy.

He tells me to stop–that he’s getting too excited, that he’s going to make a mess, and I give him a pitying look and tell him that he just needs to calm down and get himself under control.

He can do that for me. Can’t he?

And he gulps and says, “Yes ma’am,” but it’s clear that he’s not so sure, and let’s face it..I’m not slowing down. In fact, if anything, I’m speeding up–rubbing harder, squeezing, getting more of a grip on his bulge.

“Oh”…he looks down and there’s a slight wet spot appearing through the fabric.

“I’m leaking,” he says, like he knows he’s being bad, which just makes me more thrilled.

“You are,” I say, not at all condescendingly. 😉 That’s my favorite voice to use. Condescending yet gentle. I get off on fake pity.

“Poor baby,” I might say. “I know it gets hard to get so excited. This is why I know what’s best for you Isn’t it?”

I think we both know the answer to that question.

Now, were I to take it further, what might happen?

His breathing would speed up.

He’d tense up, maybe half heartedly try to push my hand away, but I wouldn’t be having any of that.

I’d just slap it away gently and say, “I thought we agreed that I know what’s best you for. Didn’t we?”

And he’d gulp and say, “Yes, ma’am,” the red on his cheeks starting to creep all the way down his neck.

“But….” he’d protest. “I’m going to. I don’t know if I can’t stop myself…”

“Sssshhh.” I’d hold his head tight to my breasts with my free hand and tell him to be quiet, that he doesn’t need to think, that I do the thinking for him.

And then with a whimper and a yelp, he’d say “Oh! Oh! I can’t help it. I can’t help it, ma’am.”

And I’d feel the wet heat under my hand as he jerked against me, nuzzling his head into my neck out of embarrassment and adoration.

“It’s okay, baby, I’d say. You did such a good job for me. Such a good, good boy. “