Cake: A Femdom Erotica Story

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch from Pexels

I call Theo from the car. “Is it on yet?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to wear it!”

We’ve been navigating our way into chastity. He isn’t fully locked down, and I admit sometimes I forget to tell him when to put his cage on and take it off. I’m a lazy domme sometimes.

“Yes. Yes! Quickly now. Put it on. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hear him rustling around in the background. “I’ll have to put the phone down, ma’am. My hands get all slippery from the lube I need.”

“It’s okay, pet. I’ll meet you at the front door.” I turn off my car’s Bluetooth phone and glance over at the paper bag on the passenger’s seat and grin.

At Theo’s door, I ring the bell, and he answers immediately. He’s naked, except for his metal cock cage. It’s a bird cage. I chose it so I can tease him and touch his cock and watch it try to swell through the bars.

“I could have been anyone,” I say to him, as I step into his house and hand him the paper bag.

“I knew it was you. I could see your car.”

“Still. You can’t be too careful. There could be crazy cougars on the loose just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting young men.” I kiss him hard on the lips and give his cage a tug. “Like me.”

Theo moans.

Our age gap isn’t horrifically wide, but I met him while I was teaching college and he was a graduate student. Not mine, which made things a lot less complicated.

“What’s in the bag, Theo?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” He grins. “What’s in the bag?”

“You’ll have to open it to find out.”

I’m getting very excited now. I love surprises, and I love that moment right before someone discovers the surprise. I always want to rush it, and then I ruin it. So, I just wait.

Theo puts the bag down in the kitchen counter and reaches inside. He pulls out a plastic container.

“Cheesecake! Thank you ma’am!”

It’s his favorite. New York style cheesecake with strawberry glazed topping.

“I’ll have it for dessert tonight.” He moves to put the cake in the fridge, but I stop him, using my body to block his way. The fabric of my skirt brushes against his nakedness and he moans a little.

“No, my pet.” I hold his cock over its cage and he gasps. “I’ll have YOU for dessert. Right now.”

Now, let me tell you something about Theo.

Theo loves cheesecake.

But Theo also hates getting messy.

He is fastidious to the point of annoyance. His house is spotless. He cleans daily. If I put down a coffee mug on the counter, he wipes the ring after I pick it up. His clothes are always neatly pressed, organized in the closet by color on matching hangers. His towels are each evenly folded. He uses only hand soap in bottles to avoid any soap scum in his tub. He is always clean shaven yet there are never any stray hairs by the sink. His hair is always groomed.

Honestly, I like this about Theo. Sometimes he cleans my house too, and he does a better job than the cleaning service I employ. I like that he is always well groomed. He shaves his pubic hair too, which makes some things much more…sensitive…and also easy to access.

But, I’m sadistic.

Just a little.

I like pushing buttons.

And this button has just been begging to be pushed since our first date when he asked me take off my shoes before entering his house. They were very pretty heels, and I’d picked them out just to arouse him.

So today I’m going to push the button.

I’ve still got my hand over Theo’s cage. I can feel the flesh of his cock straining through the bars. He’s breathing heavily.

“Oh, ma’am.” He’s gazing at me. I love how he gazes at me.

I take the container of cheesecake out of his hand.

“I want you to go into your bedroom, strip everything but the bottom sheet off the bed and lie down on your bed, face up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, as I relax my grip. He goes trotting off up the stairs, and I call after him.

“Throw the sheets on the floor.”

I hear him stop. “Throw them?” He sounds pained. “On the floor?”

“Yes. On the floor. Right on the floor, Theo.”

He sighs loudly, and I shiver. Oh, this is going to be fun.

I give him a moment, and then I follow with the cheesecake, up the stairs of his small, clean house to his bedroom, where he has indeed laid the coverlet and top sheet of his bed on the floor of his room. Thrown might be an overstatement, but that’s okay. There’s a lot more fun to be had.

Theo is on his bed, as requested. He is lying face up, totally naked aside from his cock cage. I see a drop of moisture on the head of it, just hanging there. He is beautiful to me. I love that he’s mine. And yet there’s something inside of me that wants to hurt him a little too—to dirty that fastidious nature up.

I strip quickly, efficiently. I’m eager to get to it. I don’t hang my clothes up. I make sure Theo sees that they are lying on the floor, haphazardly.

Theo has bondage straps under his bed, and I take our usual cuffs out of his bedside drawer and quickly clip him into place, spread-eagled on the bed. All the while he’s just following me with his eyes. Waiting. He trusts me.

Then I get on the bed with him. Next to him.

I bring the cheesecake.

“Cheesecake in bed?” He seems a little nervous.

I open the container. “Yes. Why?”

“I just don’t eat in bed,” he says, weakly.

“I know,” I say. “But I do.”

“But…” He stops. He bites his lip.

“But?” He knows he’s not supposed to question me during playtime. He has a safe word he can use. Outside of that, it’s my game and I make the rules. I give his balls a quick, light swat, and he gasps, whimpers. The thing is I know he likes it, so it’s more funishment than anything. But it sends a signal.

I put the container of cheesecake right down on his stomach, and I reach in with my fingers.

“Would you like a fork?” he asks.

“No. I’m fine using my hands, thank you.” It is all I can do to keep myself from laughing, watching his worried face as I delve into the rich, creamy, smeary substance of the cake with my fingers.

“Some napkins?”

“No thanks.” I take out a chunk with two fingers and stick them into my mouth, sucking off the dessert. It tastes good.

“Mmmmm. It’s delicious,” I say to Theo. “Would you like some? You would like some. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am?” It’s more of a question or a plea, but we both know he’s going to eat it one way or another.

“Of course you would.” I dip my fingers in again. “Open up, baby.” I put two cake covered fingers into Theo’s mouth, making sure to smear a little cake against his cheek as I do so.

Cake that he cannot wipe off, because his hands are tied.

“It is good,” he admits. He sucks on my fingers a little too long for just the cake, and I can tell his cock is really straining through the bars now. Still, he is flustered. He loves sucking my fingers. He loves the attention. But he hates the disorder.

“You missed some,” I tell him, and lean in to give him a big kiss. I bite at his lips and he pulls upward for more of me. He is attracted and repulsed at the same. I make sure to leave his face messier than when I found it.

“You know how I like to eat my cake?” I ask him.

“How?” He frowns. I’m in heaven.

“Off my pet, of course.”

“Of course,” he says, resigned.

And with that I take a gob of the cake in my hand and wipe it all over the cock cage.

He whimpers. “Yes, please.” And then “Oh, god.”

And I am between his legs darting my slippery tongue between the bars of the cage, taking small licks off the metal and the struggling flesh underneath dying to get free.

A piece of cake “falls” onto his bedsheet. “Oh.” I feign surprise. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to get your bed dirty.”

I pick up the piece and smear it on his chest instead. Then I lick it off, leaving him sticky. He sighs deeply.  And then I’m back to his cock, sucking on what there is to suck at, putting my entire mouth over the head of the cage and just leaving it there so he can feel the warm wet of me without the pressure his cock craves.  

Then I abandon all pretense of accident and smear cake pretty much anywhere I want on his body. And some on mine. He shivers and writhes, and I think some of it is out of lust and some disgust.

I put it on my tits and I learn over his mouth and tell him to suck. And he does. Very eagerly. My tits are very clean when he’s done and my pussy is wanting. I put some on his balls and lick them gently. They are so full, and he’s moaning.

“I love this,” he says. “I hate this.”

“I know, pet,” I say. “And I love that you love it and hate it. Don’t you like making me happy?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He is resigned. “I do. You know I do.”

“You know what comes next,” I say. It’s obvious. I don’t have to make him guess. He knows what I’m going to do, and he welcomes it.

“Say, please,” I say.


“Please what?”

“Please sit on my face. Please let me worship your pussy. Please let me taste you.”

“It’s going to be very messy,” I say. “I’m very wet, and, it’s going to be very sticky. It’s going to get all over your face.”

“I know,” he says. “I still want it. I need it. Please.”

I don’t want cake inside me, but I smear it all over the insides of my thighs and even get in some of the strawberry compote, and then I straddle his face backwards, facing his cock, my pussy and ass on his face, making sure to coat him with cake and with me. And then his hot tongue is buried inside of me, his lips sucking at mine, licking me clean and dirty at the same time. I can’t stop moaning. I grab backwards with my sugary hands in his hair, grind my clit against his chin, only giving him time for short breaths before I use his mouth, his face again. He’s moaning into me, and I have to check to make sure he’s saying more and not that he’s suffocating. But it’s more that he’s asking for. More. More. More.

His caged cock is bobbing in front of me, and I decide it’s time for the pièce de résistance of my little performance art exhibit. The cage key is on the bedside table next to us, and I take it and lean down, sixty-nining, so I can reach his cock.

“Don’t stop,” I remind him, as I manage to take off the lock and squeeze him out and through the cage. But I don’t have to remind him because he is thoroughly engrossed in my cunt.  

Now his cock is free, and he’s doubly enthused. But he is literally covered in cake and compote and its remnants. We’re both coated in sugar and cream. I sit back so he can have total access to my pussy with his mouth again, and I take a last glob of the strawberry jelly and use it as lube for his cock, milking his shaft with the wet, viscous substance not so unlike in texture what he’s licking from my pussy.

I’m getting closer. My hand is still lightly resting around his cock, but he’s basically just struggling to fuck it now, bucking up into it and trying to get the friction he needs as I grind down hard on his face, my orgasm swelling inside me. It’s really just the barest of touch.

I cry out as I come, and I snatch my hand from his cock at the same time, but too late for him to stop himself. He comes too. Frustratingly so.  Without relief or anything to rub against, shooting into the air and all over his legs and belly and sheets. It is a perfect ruined orgasm. He’ll be left horny and aching and wanting, just the way I like him.

My legs are shaky when I climb off him, and he is shaky from effort and unfulfilled desire. And maybe we’re both coming down from a sugar high. I manage to unclip his cuffs from the bondage system, and we lie next to one another, me sated and sticky, him a whimpering mess into my neck.

“Ma’am, that was amazing,” he whispers into my ear.

“You were such a good boy,” I tell him, honestly. “I know you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t,” he admits. “But I did. I did like it ma’am. I did and I didn’t.”

He nuzzles against me. He is adoring, still horny, his shaft thick against me.

He wants to come and he doesn’t.

He wants relief and he doesn’t.

He wants to be clean and he doesn’t.

He is a mess of contradictions I love.


“Yes, Theo.”

“Can I clean us up, please?”

“Of course, baby,” I say, idly stroking his still hard, desperate cock, feeling it twitch in my palm.

“As long as you use your tongue.”

The Gentle Domme on YouPorn Erotica

Hello, my Darling Deviants!

I have an announcement to make! You can now find some of my written erotica on YouPorn’s new erotica site under The Gentle Domme’s Sensual Femdom Stories and Fantasies! Stories are still be added, as some are still under review. More should become available in the days to come.

I’m still holding back some stories under the delusion that I’m eventually going to publish them all in a collection. But that would mean that I would have the TIME to do that, which I do not seem to have!

So, in the mean time, you can visit my new channel and read my stories there. In addition, I have them published here, and I have a few up on Literotica. I had some intention of posting more at Literotica, but that also got sidelined because my life is basically all smut all the time.

And I know many readers would like more about Joyce and Adam. I am still so into them, and I would love to continue their kinky romance. I really need to take a week off and just work on writing, but the allure of creating audio smut is strong. And writing takes mental energy that I don’t think I have right now.

So, soon, my lovelies! Soon!

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.


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.

Before the Slap

Photo by Warren Bradley from Pexels

I’m kissing you.

Maybe mauling is the better choice of words, since I kiss like bites, sometimes having to hold myself back from nibbling too hard on your pretty pink lips in the excitement of desiring more.

It’s not necessarily that I want to make it hurt. It’s just that I don’t want to stop.

That if this pressure feels good, more would feel even better.

And where is the line? It’s somewhere tenuous, right between that place where you moan and you yelp, and I’ll keep pressing until I find that sweet spot and then feel that tiny pit of hunger in my own lips that wants.

It wants to keep going, maybe even until it feels a drop of the slick salty iron of blood. But my conscience says no. And I ease up, feeling your body unclench beneath mine.

I pull back and look at you, and your eyes are glazed in that way that says you belong to me. And I place one hand against your stubbled cheek, caressing it. Petting it. Holding it where it needs to be.

You know what I want, and I can see from your expression whether you want it too. Are your eyes pleading? Your beestung lips trembling?

Is your cock hard against my other hand?

You know you can always say no. I wait for permission when it comes to this. Especially after that first time. When you cried, and I worried I had done something wrong. I hadn’t.

My hand on your cock feels like it’s thrumming in anticipation, or is that just your heartbeat I feel pulsing under your pants?

And then my hand on your open cheek. Priming you for the moment. Giving you time to understand what’s coming.

Before the slap.

So intimate. My eyes looking straight into yours. Watching you register the sting. The way it feels when my palm connects. How your eyes widen, a hint the watering to come. The small sound that escapes your mouth. My thumb stroking your jawline like a razor blade, supporting you and threatening you both at once.

“Please, Ma’am,” you say.

I feel my fingers twitch with impatience. I’m so eager to make you feel.  

The Keyholder-Part Four: A Gentle Femdom Erotic Short Story

gentle femdom chastity
Good things sometimes don’t come to those who wait.

After their first full night together, Adam found himself sleeping in Joyce’s bed.

Each night was more of the same.  Adam would return from classes. They would have dinner.  Joyce cooked one night. Then Adam cooked the next. One night they ordered pizza and watched an old movie on the sofa.

Joyce would draw a bath, take off Adam’s cage and clean him thoroughly. Then she would use him for her orgasm and give him the choice. Did he want more of this tomorrow? Or did he want to come?

Every night he found himself wrestling with the question. Did he want to come?

Of course he wanted to come! It had been weeks since he’d had an orgasm. He found himself dripping almost constantly. Every movement of Joyce’s body on him, even around him, even her very scent, made his cock strain.

Being inside of her was a curiously pleasurable torture. He never thought he would make it, but her quiet yet stern voice always talked him through it, until he found himself watching in delight as she came, using his body, his cock, leaving him frustrated, denied, so incredibly needy.

He wanted to come but he also wanted it to never end. He was afraid of what would happen if he made the wrong choice.

Would she be displeased?

Would she feel that he’d failed her?

Would he be banished down to the basement, and kicked out of Joyce’s bed forever?

He didn’t want to find out.

And, also, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want the intense feeling of desire to go away. It had quickly become a part of him. Every time he saw his key dangling on the chain between Joyce’s beautiful breasts, he was reminded that he belonged to her.

He was hers, and knowing that brought on the powerful feeling of submission he’d craved since….since practically forever.

And not only was he owned by someone. He was owned by Joyce—this…he was embarrassed to think of her this way…but…this goddess. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to fall down to her feet and kiss them and show her how much he desired her, how he wasn’t worthy of her but grateful that she’d wanted him, for some reason.

Sometimes he was so overcome by lust and adoration that he did, and she’d laugh and pet his hair, and he knew he was falling in love with her. 

So, that evening when she took him upstairs after dinner, bathed him, cleaned him and used him for what he was proud to say seemed like a very powerful orgasm, he was surprised when she didn’t ask the question. “Do you want to come now or do you want to do this again tomorrow?”

He was expecting it. He was expecting his answer. “Do this tomorrow. Don’t let me come, ma’am.”

But she didn’t ask.

Her cheeks were still flushed from her orgasm. She’d used him especially well tonight, and he was achy and leaking. There was a part of him that wanted to curl up beside her and cry just because his body was overwhelmed with sensations, and he knew she would be gentle with him.

There was also a small part of him that wanted to throw her down on the bed and fuck her the way he’d fucked girls before he’d discovered this part of himself.

But he knew Joyce would never allow it, and he knew he didn’t really want it anyway—not now, after he’d discovered that sex could be so much more if you stretched the desire out like this.

“Did I do something wrong, Ma’am?”

He gulped. It was the way she was staring at him. So neutrally. He couldn’t read her.

“I didn’t come, Ma’am. I followed directions.”

“I know you did, Adam,” she said, smoothing back his hair. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Every dollop of affection made him crave her more. 

“You were a very good boy. You let me use you so well. You’ve been very good…for…what…has it been over a week now?”

“Nine days, Ma’am,” he said, and then was embarrassed that he’d spoken, counted, so quickly. He could probably count it down to the minute if she asked.

“And you hadn’t come before that either? Had you?”

“No, Ma’am. Not for a while. Not for a few weeks.” The more he talked about it, the more desperate he felt.  It had been FOREVER since he’d had an orgasm. He’d been starting to think maybe he just wouldn’t have one ever again. But if his life could be like this, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

“Every night I ask you if you want to come, and you say no.”

“You ask if I want to come or if I want this tomorrow.” He bit his lip. Had he corrected her? He hadn’t meant to. He just wanted her to know why.

She laughed. She was half covered with the bedsheet, one gorgeous breast in his view.  “Yes, you’re right. I give you the choice. And you always choose to stay denied.”

“If it means I get to have you. I’ll stay denied for as long as you want if I get to have this.”

He couldn’t help it. He leaned down and put his head in her lap. He was overcome—with desire, frustration, love, wanting, embarrassment.

“Awww! Sweet boy,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I do love you this way, but you have to come some time. I want you to come some times. Just the way I want, and when I want.”

She put her hand under his chin and lifted his head up, so he was looking in her eyes.

“And I want you to come tonight, Adam. The way I want.”

Immediately, he was harder than he’d ever thought he could be. It was a good thing he didn’t have to fit back into his cage immediately, because it would have taken a lot of ice to shrink him down enough to manage it.

“I can tell you like this idea,” Joyce said, staring down at her leg. He realized he was leaking on her.

“Oh, Ma’am! I’m so sorry!” He stood up quickly.

“It’s okay,” she said. “See. This just proves my point. We need to let out a little of the pressure.”

“We do?” He wasn’t sure exactly what she meant.

“Yes, baby,” she said, and she stroked his cock lightly, encouraging more clear liquid to ooze from the head.

He moaned. He couldn’t help it.

“If we don’t express at least a little of that come, you’re never going to be able to keep lasting for me. I can tell how hard it’s been for you the past few nights. And don’t get me wrong. I like knowing it’s hard for you. But I don’t want you to accidentally spill over when you’re not supposed to. We can’t have that happen. Can we?”

“No, Ma’am,” said Adam. He had a feeling he knew what she was getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he was even more excited or more desperate.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, slipping off the bed and patting the mattress.

“I want you to lie down here like a good boy,” and I’m going to let out a little pressure.” With that, she squeezed his balls gently, and he winced at the light touch. They were so incredibly sensitive.

“What are you going to do?” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. But he was so on edge, he wasn’t sure what his body could handle.

“Not that much that we haven’t done before,” she said sweetly, as she sat down beside him on the bed and reached for the bottle of lubricant on the side table. She poured a not insignificant amount into her palm.

Then with a slippery hand, she began to deftly manipulate his cock.

It didn’t take much for him to let out a moan so undignified, he laughed in embarrassment. She knew how to stroke him exactly the right way—with enough force to bring him right to the edge, but delicately enough to keep him there on the precipice.

He began to squirm, and she put her other hand on his forehead to steady him.

“I know it feels good, baby,” she said softly. “Your body needs this.”

“It does,” he admitted, feeling a steady stream of pre-cum flowing out of him.

“But it’s just your body that needs this,” she continued, still stroking carefully. “Don’t you like feeling desperate for me?”

“I do, ma’am,” he said. “I really do.”

“I know,” she said, and he knew she did know. He trusted her totally.

“So, we need to give your body what it needs, but only your body. Do you know how we do that?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, although he had a feeling he did know.

With that, he felt Joyce’s hand on his ass, her lubricated finger investigating slightly between his cheeks.

He gasped and tightened, but she ruffled the hair on his head. “Relax,” she said. “This is going to feel good. It’s going to help.”

But he was embarrassed. He couldn’t help it. No one had ever touched him there before.

But he also had to admit that it felt terrific. Joyce’s fingers teased, gradually opening him up, as he felt himself become calmer.

Then her fingers were at the entrance to his ass, one playing around his asshole, tickling him there just a little until he heard himself moan and felt his hips buck unexpectedly. He hadn’t expected this to be so delicious.

And then while he bucked, Joyce gradually eased her finger inside of him, and held it there steady and still while she kept her other hand on his cock, also still, letting him take in the two sensations at once.

“Are you all right?” A sly smile grinned down at him. It was clear she knew he was more than all right.

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to get out. “It’s just…”

“Different,” she said. “A lot.”

“Yes. Both of those. Also…” he turned his head away from her because he felt shy. “Really fucking amazing.”

She laughed. “I’d hoped so,” she said. And then she started moving her finger slowly inside of him, crooking it ever so slightly toward his stomach, while also very slowly and lightly stroking his cock.

Whatever she was doing felt intense, and he twisted a little this way and that. It felt like if she just moved her finger a little more or he tilted a bit more to the left or the right, it was going to go from amazing to mind blowing.

But she was in control, and she seemed to keep right off that spot, that brink.

“Oh, ma’am.” He could feel an orgasm welling up inside him. It was even more powerful a feeling that he’d had earlier when she was fucking him, if that was possible.

He needed to her to know that she had to stop or he was going to come, and he wasn’t supposed to do that unless she let him.

He couldn’t stop his ass from contracting around her finger, but she continued that soft steady stroking that was almost hypnotic.

“Ma’am!” His voice was frantic. Was it his imagination or was she pressing a little harder inside of him?

He was going to come. There was no way to stop it.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, looking down him with that gentle smile. “Your body needs to this. Let it go for me,” she said.

He didn’t need any more encouragement.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, and he could feel his orgasm starting to overtake him, that powerful rush that made him want to rut and buck and thrust.

But just as soon as it began, he realized there was emptiness.

Joyce’s hand was gone from his cock, just out of reach.

Her finger was still in his ass. He was spasming against it, but there was no friction against his cock—nothing to thrust into, to rut against, to buck into except empty air.

He groaned as the orgasm that had seemed so powerful dwindled to nothing and watched helplessly as instead of the violent spurt of come that he’d expected, come simply dribbled from the head of his cock onto his stomach.

“Good boy,” Joyce whispered to him over and over.

She took her finger out of him and pulled him to her chest as he collapsed into sobs.

He wasn’t sure why. It’s not that he was upset. No. In fact, he liked the feeling he was left with. Joyce had been right, of course. His body had needed the release but this way he was still hers to play with and use and adore.

It was just that he was overwhelmed. His body was confused. It was release but not release.

Just what she had wanted.

“How do you feel,” she asked him.

“Confused! Like a little of the pressure is gone. But still horny! I still want you so much!”

Joyce laughed. “That’s how you’re supposed to feel.” She hugged him to her chest, and his cock twitched as her breasts pressed up against him.

“Now I just have one more question for you, tonight,” she said, seriously.

“Do you want more of this tomorrow, or do you want to REALLY come now?” He caught the sly grin that played on the edge of her lips, and he groaned.

He could already imagine the feel of the cold metal sliding over the head of his over-sensitized 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. “

The Keyholder-Part Three: A Gentle Femdom Erotic Short Story

locktober chastity gentle femdom
I hope everyone is enjoying Locktober!

Adam slept fitfully that night. He woke up several times, his cock aching to be released, and he kept imagining Joyce quite literally above him in the upstairs part of the house, sleeping with his key around her neck.

He wanted to be lying next to her, smelling her hair, her warm, lush body next to his. He could almost feel what it would be like if he tried hard enough to imagine, her soft skin, the impression of her body next to him, but then the image would fade, and he would just be alone.

And yet, he did feel her.

He felt that silent string between the two of them, the string she only needed to pull at, tug at, and he would feel it in his cock.

He was hers. He just wanted to be able to show her how much.

He thought about how jealous he’d been thinking she was with another man upstairs while he stood naked and waiting for her, and how angry he had been, but also how she had somehow known that it would excite him. He hadn’t expected that, and he strangely had to admit to himself that there was a part of him that liked it—although he was also very glad she had just been toying with him.

She had done it for him.

It made him feel—special.

The next morning he had class, and then he taught, part of his graduate student duties and for which he received his stipend. It was hard to concentrate all day, although he managed. He willed himself to place Joyce and his aching cock in a sealed box in his mind, so he could keep up with his school work and his own students.

But by the time classes were over, he was more than eager to return to his apartment. On the way home, he stopped at the grocery store to pick up some food for the week, and he picked out some flowers for Joyce.

At first he thought of red roses, but then he realized those were too common. He chose purple irises instead. They seemed more exotic, like Joyce, and purple was the color of royalty. He was starting to think of her a little like a queen, his queen.

He parked and grabbed his groceries, including Joyce’s flowers, preparing to bring them inside. But as he walked up the short path to the front door, he saw her, sitting on her front steps. She was in a long, flowy skirt today and fitted blue v neck shirt, and barefoot. She had a glass next to her filled with ice and a drink and a book in her hand.

“Adam!” She put down the book as he approached. “I was waiting for you.” She seemed genuinely excited.

He looked at the book.

“The Color Purple,” he said. “That’s a great book.” And he set down his bags and pulled out his purple flowers, feeling very pleased with himself.

“For me?” Joyce accepted them with a bright smile. “How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

“Just a guess.”

Adam couldn’t help feeling bashful around her. He knew he was blushing already. He looked down at the ground and couldn’t help but notice her pretty bare feet, her toenails painted pink.

He couldn’t get excited again—not yet. But there it was. His erection was trying to escape, but the metal prevented it. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“That was very sweet,” she said. “They’re going to look lovely at the dinner table.”

“I’m sure they will,” he said.

“But not quite as lovely as you,” she said, smiling somewhat wolfishly, it seemed.

“As lovely as me?” He laughed.  

“Yes. I thought maybe you’d join me for dinner tonight? After you put your groceries away? I thought we could get to know each other a little better.”

“Oh! Yes!” He couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t excited. “I’ll just go down right now and put this stuff in the fridge.”

“Sounds good,” said Joyce. “I’ll see you a little bit.”

Adam ran downstairs, shoving his groceries in the fridge and freezer, hoping he didn’t mix up which went where in his excitement. Then he practically bounded back upstairs.

She laughed she opened the door. “That was quick! So enthusiastic!”

“I was. I am,” he admitted. “I would love to spend some time with you and get to know you better, ma’am.”

“You really are adorable,” she said, ushering him inside. “Come. Let’s eat.”

Adam finally got a chance to see her house, which felt like he thought her house would look like. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it was comfortable and elegant. She had a lot of books.

 A lot of bookcases, actually. All full of books.

“I was a history teacher,” she said, catching him eyeing the colorful book jacket spines. “But I’m retired now.” She was in the kitchen. There was the delicious smell of home cooking emanating from the stove.

“You’re young to be retired,” he said.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how old Joyce was, but he thought probably somewhere in her late thirties or early forties. He knew it wasn’t polite to ask, and what did it matter anyway. She was perfect.

“I’m 42,” she said, stirring something in a pot.

“Yes. I am young to retire. Honestly, I have family money, and between renting the apartment and a few other properties I own, I don’t need to work. I volunteer now to keep my mind active.”

She flashed her teeth. “Well, I do some other things too, like invite smart, young men to apprentice with me.”

“Is that what I am?” He approached her at the stove, feeling bold for a moment, and slipped one arm around her waist. “Your apprentice?”

“Oh, in a way,” she said. “It’s kind of a partnership.  Don’t you think?” She pulled the necklace with his key out from her shirt and dangled it in front of his face.

He moved to kiss her, but she dodged him with a giggle, and instead pulled out a wooden spoon from the pot cooking on the stove. “What do you think of this?”

She held it up in front of his mouth and waited for him to taste it.

“Mmmm.” It was creamy tomato soup. “Delicious,” he said. “But not as delicious as you.”

She laughed, and before he’d realized what happened, she’d flipped him around so he was pinned up against the counter and her hand was slipped around his waist, pulling him toward her. The spoon clattered on the counter, and she kissed him hard.

“I was thinking about you all last night,” she said.

“I was too!” It felt good to say it out loud.

“We’re going to play,” she said. She cupped his cage gently, and he moaned. “I promise. We really are. I’m going to be nice to you tonight, Adam. But first we’re going to eat a little and we’re going to talk a little and we’re going to drink a little.”

I’m not going anywhere.” She tugged on his cage lightly. “And neither are you.”

The dinner passed in a blur. Tomato soup and fresh baguette and salad and wine, and Joyce telling him about her years teaching, her marriage, over but amicably, her family, parents both dead, her friends, hobbies, etc…and Adam explaining how he decided on engineering, moving from a small town. He talked about feeling different from his peers, wanting to be somewhere else, somewhere there was “more,” but he didn’t go into too much detail.

That part of his life was a little painful. It seemed like both of them had a little pain in their pasts.   

What neither of them talked about at all was what was currently between his legs. It was like they both knew they were saving that. It was there, a current running underneath everything, but it could linger, simmer. It would be there no matter what.

And then dinner was finally over, and Adam helped Joyce load the dishes in the dishwasher and clean up. And they sat on either side of her kitchen table, glasses of wine in hands and looked at each other.

“So,” she said, reaching out and taking one of his hands in hers. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” He didn’t know what she was proposing, but the answer was yes. How could the answer be no?

“Let’s go upstairs then. To my bedroom.”

They were quiet. She led, and he followed, and up the stairs he found himself in her room, which was white and serene and comforting.

“Sit down with me,” she said, patting her bed, covered with a soft white duvet.

Adam sat, wanting to sink into it, and she sat down beside him. She smelled good. That perfume. Or her natural scent. Or both. Adam wanted to nuzzle at her, but he could tell she wanted him to wait. He didn’t want to pester her. He wanted to be good.

“Last night was fun,” she said.

“It was!” Had he said that too loudly. Why couldn’t be at all cool around this woman? “It was,” he repeated, more softly this time.

“It was,” she said. “But maybe I rushed into that too fast. I should have checked with you first. I thought I was being clever, but I could have hurt you.”

Adam didn’t know what to say. It was true he had been shocked. Also angry and jealous for a time. But also…he had been excited. He hadn’t expected to have all the feelings that he had—so mixed up and jumbled together. But the combination had been…intoxicating.

“I think tonight, let’s get to know each other a little more,” she said. “Just the two of us. No games.”


“Ha! Don’t act so disappointed. I just meant no surprises. Like yesterday. Let’s get everything out in the open.” To emphasize her point, she put her hand on his crotch, just very lightly.

Everything? What did she mean by everything? He could feel himself starting to melt.

“How often do you usually take off your cage,” she asked, petting him slowly.

“Every few days. To clean myself. Make sure it’s still working.” He laughed.

“And how long do you usually wait between orgasms?”

He felt shy. “It depends. The longest I’ve gone was about three weeks, and I was pretty desperate then, ma’am. Usually, more like two is all I can stand. But I’ve never had a keyholder before. So, I had to rely on myself, and sometimes….I just didn’t have enough discipline to continue.”

“Okay,” she said, taking her time. “Well, here’s what we’re going to do tonight.” She rubbed his back as she spoke, and felt that calm slipping over his again. It was an effect she had on him. He felt slightly dazed in a pleased, lust drunk way.

“First, we’re going to get you nice and clean. Which means,” she said, pulling her necklace out from between her breasts, that I’m going to take your cage off.”

His cock immediately felt harder the minute she said that, which, he realized, was going to make the process even more difficult.

But god, how he wanted out of the cage—and then he didn’t—but he did. He really did. He needed it. And he did want to be clean for Joyce!

“Take your clothes off for me. And meet me in the bathroom.”

The bathroom was just off her bedroom. Adam slowly undressed, tying to give himself a little time so his cock could calm down, but it was so challenging knowing that she was waiting for him in there.

And once he got into the bathroom, it wasn’t any easier.

Joyce had changed out of her day time outfit into a loose terry bathrobe, her dark hair clipped up in a bun out of her face and her neck exposed. He could see a hint of one of her gorgeous breasts peeping out one side of the robe.

She had the bath running, a soft looking white washcloth on the side of the tub and a bar of soap.

She had his key in her hand.

She sat down on the side of the tub and directed him to stand in front of her, so she was eye level with his cock. It was exciting…and embarrassing. She took her time, just looking at him, and she even lightly petted his ass, slipping one finger gently between his cheeks, probing very lightly.

He flushed and gasped.

“Is that new,” she asked, sweetly.

“Yes. Oh…yes.” No one had ever touched him like that before. But he felt embarrassed asking for more. He wasn’t sure what to ask for more of.

But she just said, “Interesting,” and moved on, keeping him wanting.

“I’m going to unlock you now, Adam. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” It came out as more of a moan. He had started shaking, tried to will himself to stop, but he couldn’t. He wanted to feel her hand on his cock so badly.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you?”

“Yes.” Oh, god. Just touch me, please, he thought.

And then her hand was on his thigh and then his cock, over the metal, and she was turning the lock, removing it, placing it on the bathroom counter, and easing, gently, easing the metal cage off.

Luckily, he had been leaking already, so the cage slid off relatively easily, although as soon as it nudged off the tip, he could feel his cock starting to grow. And he still needed to get the metal ring off from behind his balls, which could be tricky.  

“Ssshhhh.” She petted his thigh. “Such a good boy. You’re doing great, Adam. Halfway done.”

He had no idea how she did it, but she managed to ease one swollen ball through the metal ring at a time.

He gasped with every touch, convinced she was going to have to pry it off him with bolt cutters, he felt so swollen and achy, but she was gentle and patient, and each touch of her fingers on his balls felt silken and calming, and then he felt a sense of relief as he realized he was free.

“That’s a beautiful cock you have under there, Adam, she said, stroking it very lightly with just the tip of one finger. “I’d say it’s still working quite well.”

He shuddered from the touch. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

Her robe had slipped open a little more, and now he could see the nipple of one of her breasts, the top of one thigh.

She had him get into the bath, easing himself into the steamy water, and she sat beside the tub, looking at him with that patient stare she had.

“Let’s get you nice and clean,” she said, taking the washcloth and rubbing a little soap on it. “And give you a little bit of time to get readjusted.” Then she took the washcloth and gently started soaping him—first his arms, then his chest, then his legs. She even had him part his legs, so she could run the washcloth between his cheeks. He thought he saw a smirk on her face when he gasped again, but it was gone too soon to be sure.

And then finally, she washed his cock—gently—so gently—his erection was hard. It felt thick. Engorged. Even he was impressed with how hard he was. It twitched every time she touched it, and even when she didn’t. It was like his cock had a mind of its own, and now that it had been freed, it only wanted one thing.

And then…bath time was over.

She pulled the plug, helped him out of the tub and handed him a big, fluffy towel to use to dry off. 

“Now that you’re nice and clean for me,” she said to him, back in her bedroom, easing him onto her bed, on his back right in the middle, a soft pillow supporting his head, “I’m going to use you.”

The minute she said the word “use” his cock leaped to attention again. It was ready. He was ready.

“Would you like that, Adam? Would you like me to use that lovely, delicious cock to give myself an orgasm? Would you like to see me come hard all over that lovely, delicious cock? I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

“Oh, ma’am.” He could barely speak. “Yes. Please.”

“Whose cock is it, Adam? Tell me.” She slipped off the robe, letting it fall to the  floor, and he took in her gorgeous soft body standing right there so close, naked in front of him.

“It’s your cock, ma’am. It’s all yours.”

“That’s right. Good boy. It’s my cock.”

She climbed onto the bed. She had a condom in her hand that she deftly opened.

“And what do you need to do with my cock while I use it, Adam?”

“Ma’am? I don’t know,” he said. “Tell me, please!”

She unrolled the condom down over him, and he could see and feel himself twitching again.

“Nothing,” she said, climbing on top of him, her pussy poised right over him. “You don’t have to anything. I’m going to do ALL the work. The only thing you have to do,” she said, with a smile as she eased herself onto him, “…is not come.”  

Ohhhhh. She felt so good. She felt amazing. She worked her pussy down on him with exquisite slowness, clenching and unclenching her muscles, as she slowly eased his cock deeply inside her, until she bottomed out as their pelvic bones met.

“Ma’am!” He warned her. Oh, god. He was so close, and she hadn’t even gotten started yet.

“Sssshh.” She whispered into his ear, her breasts in his face, and turned his face to the side, so it was facing the wall, his cheek on the pillow.

“Be good,” she said, like it was a secret. “Be good. All you have to do is just lie here and let me fuck you. Just relax and take it and let your cock stay nice and hard for me. It won’t take long, if you’re very good, and then you’ll my good boy and we can put your cage back on and get you locked back up nice and tight.”

“Oh, god.” At the mention of his cage, frustration and desire surged through him…remembering how confined he felt in the cage, but also how safe and distanced. He wanted both. He wanted the cage and he wanted this. He wanted to come and he never wanted to come.

“Sssshhh,” she said, again, working her pussy on him with that painful deliberation. She was barely moving, but her muscles were milking his cock incrementally, her breathing speeding up. “Take it,” she whispered. “Just take it. Don’t fight it.”

He tried to complain again—worried that he wasn’t going to be able to last, but she silenced him with a firm hand over his mouth.

“You can do it, baby,” she said. “Keep my cock nice and hard for me. I’m almost there. It won’t be long. Do you like the way my pussy feels milking you? Can you feel all that come in your swollen aching balls wanting so much to come out for me?”

Could he?  Could he? He tried to keep his mind empty like Joyce told him, imagined himself as her toy, so lucky being used this way, concentrating on the sweet pressure of her pussy, the sound of her ragged breath, the feeling of her hot hand on his mouth. But his body fought him. It wanted release so badly. 

“I know it’s hard,” she said. “I know how much you want to come…need to come…but I need you to stay desperate for me, baby.”

She shuddered, grinding herself against him, forcing him ever more deep and tight inside her.

“I’m going to come now, baby. I’m going to come on that beautiful, hard cock of mine, and I need you to stay nice and still and calm and let it happen. Okay? It’s going to happen now, Adam, and you’re going to be very good and calm and still  for me. Aren’t you?”

He groaned. “Yes,” he managed to mumble from beneath her hand, feebly, feeling her muscles tighten even more, watching one of her hands clutch the bedsheet beside his cheek as the other tightened over his lips.

“Good boy. Good boy,” she repeated over and over, as she used him, working out her orgasm on his body. “Good boy,” as her hand came off his mouth and into his hair, first grabbing and then petting, as her breathing slowed and she fell forward onto his chest, kissing it, and then his neck and finally his mouth.

“You did such a good job, Adam,” she said, climbing off him, unrolling the condom off his still extremely hard and desperate cock.

“Please, ma’am. May I hold you?” He felt tender, fragile.

“Of course, baby,” she said, allowing him to nestle in her arms. She petted his hair. “That was difficult. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “It was so difficult. I’m still so…”

“Horny,” she finished for him. “Frustrated.”

“Yes. Very, ma’am.”

“I know,” she said.

And he felt like she did.

“I’ll give you a choice,” she said, as he inhaled the scent of her, his face between her breasts.

“I can let you come now, before we put your cage back on. Or you can stay hard and desperate and wanting for me, and we can do this again tomorrow. I think I know which choice you’re going to make, but I’m going to let it be your choice, Adam.”

His cock had never felt quite so locked before, he realized an hour and an ice pack later, as Joyce turned the key.

The Keyholder-Part Two: A Gentle Femdom Erotic Short Story

Adam’s heart leaped a little at the note, as did his cock, which he had managed to keep under control for most of the morning. And he rushed down the stairs with the key and Joyce’s note and let himself in to his new place.
Adam’s heart leaped a little at the note, as did his cock, which he had managed to keep under control for most of the morning. And he rushed down the stairs with the key and Joyce’s note and let himself in to his new place.

The next day, Adam collected his things from the dorm studio where he’d been living during his first year of graduate school. He hadn’t planned to move quite so quickly, but he wasn’t taking Joyce’s invitation lightly, and between yesterday’s excitement and the aching, delicious pressure of his cage, frankly, he couldn’t get there fast enough.

He didn’t have many belongings, just a bed, two side tables, a few lamps and his clothes, books and personal items. So, it turned out to be a good thing Joyce had the couch, now infamous forever in his mind. It was easy enough to rent a small U-haul, get a friend to help him load it, and he was at the apartment by mid-day.

He definitely did not forget his key.

Joyce’s key-he reminded himself, a wave of desire passing through him, as he stood outside her house.

He had a keyholder now.

It was entirely up to her how long he stayed caged, or not, how often he would have orgasms…if he would have orgasms at all.

He shuddered with uncertainty and want at the thought.

Standing there, he realized he didn’t actually have a key to his new place. Or a lease. Or anything that said he had a right to live there. And he wondered if maybe it had all been a dream or a cruel joke, and now he had nowhere to live.

What was more believable? That he’d accidentally stumbled upon not only a great apartment but an unbelievably hot woman who wanted to fulfill his deepest fantasies or that he’d been hit by a car crossing the street and was currently in the hospital with a concussion?

He considered this possibility for a moment, but then noticed a pink ribbon dangling from the top of the staircase to the basement apartment. He approached it, and saw that attached to the ribbon was a key, and an envelope with a note. Inside it said:


I had to run out. I’ll be very busy today, but you can be sure you’ll hear from me this evening. Your lease is in the apartment. Looking forward to our arrangement. 


Adam’s heart leaped a little at the note, as did his cock, which he had managed to keep under control for most of the morning. And he rushed down the stairs with the key and Joyce’s note and let himself in to his new place.

There was the couch, just as he’d left it yesterday. And Joyce’s red panties were still on the floor. It hadn’t been a dream. Or if was, he was still dreaming, and he didn’t want to wake up. He looked around guiltily, and then knowing he was alone and without being able to help himself, he picked them up and sniffed them.

Mmmmm.  His cock strained, and he stuck his hand down his pants and touched it over the metal cage. He could feel a little wetness seeping out of the hole, and he knew he was leaking remembering what Joyce’s pussy had tasted like all over his face, the way she had taken control of him and used him and how much he wanted her.

But his cock was hers now, he reminded himself. It wasn’t even up to him anymore. And just the thought made him excited and calm in equal measures.

He had to be calm. For her.

Because she hadn’t said he could take the cage off. She hadn’t said he could come. She hadn’t even said he could touch himself, he realized, and he pulled his hand out of his pants quickly.

He would be good! He would follow directions!

There were some papers on the kitchen counter. The lease, of course. And a pen, for signing. Adam grabbed them. He didn’t have much experience with apartment contracts, but it all seemed standard and ordinary. Typed. Legalese. So, he initialed and signed, and then he flipped to the last page.

This one was different. Unlike the other pages, it wasn’t typed. It was handwritten.

Adam leaned in, and he swore he could even smell a hint of Joyce on it, some kind of perfume she’d had on yesterday he’d noticed as she leaned over him in this very kitchen, her breasts practically in his face.  

Dear Adam,

I think you will find the rest of this lease to be in order. It’s the one I have used for years for other tenants.

However, this last page codifies a different sort of lease between you and me.

In short, it is the lease for your cock.

By signing, you agree to give me control over it and over your cage. Unlike the lease to the apartment, which is a standard 12-month lease and cannot be broken without 60 days-notice and two-months rent, this lease can be terminated at either time by either party.

Therefore, by signing this lease, you are agreeing to give me complete control over your cock, your cage, and your orgasms for as long as you see fit.

And I agree to take control over your cock, your cage, your orgasms, for as long as they and as long as you, please me.

Consider carefully before signing. Remember exactly what you are giving up and think intently upon what you will be receiving.


Adam was beside himself.

He stood at the counter, against the very drawer that had attacked him the day before and realized he was rubbing himself up against it without thinking. He wanted nothing more than to unlock himself and stroke himself furiously to an orgasm. It would take twenty, thirty seconds at most. Joyce wouldn’t even have to know.

But he would know.

He looked at her words again. “Remember exactly what you are giving up and think intently upon what you will be receiving.”

He breathed deeply. He composed himself. He signed.

And he left the key to his cage on top of the agreement.


He spent the rest of the afternoon unloading his things into the apartment and trying to keep Joyce off his mind, although she kept wandering in and out of his thoughts. Then he returned the U-haul, ate some quick fast food for dinner in his car, and headed back to the apartment. It had been a long day.

It was dark by this time, and he noticed that a light was on in the upstairs part of the house. Joyce must be home.

He wanted to bound up the stairs to see her, but he realized he didn’t know what to say to her. What were the rules? He wasn’t sure. But she had said he would hear from her later, so he decided to take her at her word, and he went back into his new place, still feeling a little unmoored.

Everything was as he’d left it before he’d returned the moving van, except the lease papers were gone from the kitchen counter.

And so was the key to his chastity cage.

Instead, there was just a sticky note in their place. It said:

Take off all your clothes.

Stand in the middle of the room.


Adam shivered, trying to tell himself it was because it was a little cold in the apartment. But he knew the truth.

He followed Joyce’s directions. He shucked off his clothes and stood naked in the middle of his new living room, his bare feet cold on the tile floor. The room was still relatively empty. The couch was behind him. He had boxes on the floor, an end table by the front door.

He was still incredibly excited, but the cold at least helped with his erection, keeping it from straining too much. Although, he was still very conscious of the fact that he was encased. Perhaps more conscious than he had ever been before when he had held his own key.

True. It had been in an ice cube, so it couldn’t be retrieved immediately. But he could retrieve it if he needed it.

Now, Joyce had it. He didn’t know where. And he had agreed to her rules. His cock was hers. The knowledge was exhilarating—and a little terrifying.

How long was he standing there? It felt like hours, but he knew it wasn’t. Maybe fifteen minutes. It just felt endless.

And then he heard it.

Joyce’s voice.

But from where? 

He heard her easy laughter. The sound of clicking heels on a hard wood floor. Some clanking. Like glasses?

He looked all around, but she obviously wasn’t in his apartment.

She was upstairs. So how did he hear her?

Then he noticed the small box on the wall. It had been there all day. He’d been aware of it, but wasn’t sure what it was. The building was older. Now he realized exactly what it was. His cousin had one in his house, built in the early 60s.

It was an intercom. And the light on it was blinking. It was on.   

He could hear Joyce because she was recording herself above him.

He thought of the note she had left earlier, and despite his frustration, he had to laugh. “You’ll hear from me this evening.” That’s what she had said.

He practically groaned out loud, but only stopped himself because he didn’t know if she could hear him too.

Because her clicking heels weren’t the only footsteps he heard.

He heard heavier footsteps too—footsteps like from someone’s flat footed, solid shoes.

A man’s shoes.

Joyce was upstairs with a man, having drinks, wearing heels, laughing. And here he was—downstairs—in the basement—naked, wearing his cage…and leaking onto the floor.

He couldn’t hear everything. The sound was muffled. They weren’t right next to the intercom. They were moving about the house, probably around the kitchen.

There was the scraping of chairs on the floor, more laughter, some of Joyce’s and some deeper chuckles, and then more of Joyce’s again. Flirty. Sexy laughter.

Adam found himself getting jealous. Why wasn’t he the one up there laughing with Joyce? Having dinner or drinks? Who was this guy?

But then mixed in with the jealousy was something else. Curiosity. Desire.

What was she looking like? What was she wearing? What was she laughing at?

What did he look like? Was he handsome? Were they touching?

He listened intently for every little sound. Running water. Was it in the kitchen or the bathroom? Silence. For how long? What did the silence mean? Then more muffled talking. Was that a moan? Or a grunt? Or just a sigh. Or something from outside.

He couldn’t tell, and it was making him crazy.

He imagined Joyce upstairs with this man, some good looking older man, someone Joyce’s age and then remembered what she had looked like yesterday, sitting astride his lap, kissing him, so in control. And what she had tasted like, the view of the inside of her creamy thighs as she rode his face.

Silence. There was just silence now.

What were they doing?

Was he fucking her?

Somehow, he imagined that this man would take control. He would grab Joyce and push her up against the wall, lift up her skirt and plunge into her pussy with his cock. Joyce wouldn’t be the one in control. He would. She wouldn’t grab his hair and push his face into her wet pussy. Instead, she would eagerly take his cock into his mouth, on her knees, looking up at him with hooded eyes…Adam’s key hanging from a gold chain around her neck, swinging lightly every time his cock hit the back of her beautiful, pale, smooth throat.

“Ungh.” He let out a strangled cry, somehow on the verge of orgasming, despite his cage, despite not even touching himself. But he knew he couldn’t come. He knew if he did, he would regret it.

And then….a moment later there was a knock at his door. And then the turning of a key in the lock, and there was Joyce, a half empty bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. She was wearing a figure hugging black dress and red pumps. She looked, as she had yesterday, amazing. He was pretty sure his mouth had starting watering, like she was Pavlov and he was her dog.

“I think I heard you,” she said, like she was surprised. “Was that you I heard just a second ago? It sounded like you were upset!”

She smiled brightly at him, as she stepped into the place, her heels clicking now on his floor.

“I….” Adam didn’t know what to say. He was still incredibly turned on and jealous, strangely confused and very naked.

“I heard you,” he stuttered out. “I could hear you up there with that man.”

“You could?”

She placed the bottle and glasses on Adam’s end table and walked over to the intercom.

“Oh! You could! Silly me. I must have accidently flipped on the intercom when I came to collect your lease agreement this afternoon.” Her eyes were playful. “This old thing,” she said. “Were you spying on me, Adam?”

“No!” Adam tried to stand up straighter, even though he was incredibly conscious of just how naked he was and just how clothed Joyce was. He wanted to hide himself. He slipped one hand on top of his cage, in his outrage, just to give himself a little more protection.

Joyce quickly stepped up next to him, so close he could feel the swish of the fabric of the dress she was wearing against his thigh, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek, as she gently took his hand and removed it from his cock.

“No, Adam,” she said, simply. And she didn’t have to say more. He understood. He must not cover himself from her.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

And then, “But I wasn’t spying, ma’am. You told me to take off my clothes and stand here naked and wait, and I did. And then I could hear you up there.”

“You could?” As she spoke, she hitched up her dress, and then took the hand he had used to cover his cock.

“What could you hear?” Then she spread her legs a little and guided his hand up her thighs, until it reached the warm, wetness of her pussy.

He moaned. “I heard you laughing. I heard your heels.”

She spread her legs a little more and urged his hand up, until one, then two fingers were inside of her, and his palm was nestled against her clit. She pressed herself into it.

“And…”  she said.

“And…” With every thrust of his fingers inside of her, he couldn’t stop himself from slightly bucking his hips into empty air, mimicking what it would be like if it was his cock snugly fit inside her. 

“And I heard a man with you. And I heard you talking. And then I couldn’t hear you talking, and I wasn’t sure what you were doing. And I imagined things…”

“What did you imagine, Adam?” Her breathing was faster now. She pulled down the top of her dress so one heavy voluptuous breast was freed, and she took it and put it in his mouth.

“Suck,” she said. Not harshly, but it wasn’t a request either. It was an order.

And Adam did. And he felt his mind floating back to that state of blissful calm as he sucked eagerly on her breast, his fingers still inside her as she used them.

Then she took her breast away, and she asked again, “What did you imagine?”  

“I imagined him upstairs fucking you,” he admitted. “I imagined him pushing you against the wall and lifting up your skirt…your dress, and I imagined that you wouldn’t be wearing any panties, like you aren’t wearing any now. And then I imagined him taking out his cock and fucking you. Hard.”

“Go on,” she whispered in his ear, breathy, her voice uneven. “Don’t stop. What else did you imagine, Adam? Tell me.”

He whined. Gulped. He could feel her wet and hot and tight against his fingers, her pussy contracting around them, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock, letting him slide in and out, milking the come out of his swollen balls. 

“I imagined that you got down on your knees and you took his cock into your mouth and you sucked him. And you looked up at him while you were doing it so he could see how much you loved it…how much you wanted to take his big, thick, hard cock in your throat. And…and….”

“Yes. Yes. Finish it,” she said. He could tell she was on the verge of having an orgasm.  He tried to turn his head to look at her, but she blocked him.

“No,” she said, nicely but firmly, like she was speaking to an overexcited puppy, which was a bit like how he felt.

“You’re doing such a good job for me, Adam. Keep being a good boy and look at the wall and finish it for me, and I’ll come all over your fingers, and then you can lick them off. Ok?”

“Ok.” He felt meek. But proud. He was doing a good job. He wanted to do a good job for her.

He continued. His voice strained, “…And then he told you to open your mouth wide because he was going to come, and you did. And you sucked out every last drop of his cum. And…and…and….the whole time….my key was hanging around your neck, and you knew…you  knew…You knew that I could hear you down here fucking him and sucking his cock and you liked it. You liked it!”

She groaned and bit into his shoulder as she came hard, one hand possessively grabbing his chin, the other in his hair, pulling his head back, as she ground her pussy rhythmically against his hand, riding out the wave of her orgasm.

“Good boy,” she whispered, again and again into his ear.

“Such a good, sweet, denied, locked, desperate boy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I hope so ma’am.”

“Look,” she said, and she finally let him turn his face toward her pink, heated cheeks.

She pointed at her neck.

Around it, he saw a slim, delicate gold chain, and at the end of it, settled right between her gorgeous breasts, was his key.

She smiled, and then she kissed him on the mouth.

“That was my ex-husband,” she said. “We’re still friends. He comes over every once in a while, and we have a drink for old times’ sake.”

Adam was embarrassed, but he needed to ask. “So, you weren’t fucking him?”

“No,” she said. “Not tonight, anyway.” She smirked.

“But you knew I could hear?”

“Of course.” She laughed. “The whole time I was thinking about you down here naked and caged and probably dripping pre-cum all over my nice clean floors.”

She glanced down at the tile. “It looks like I was right.”

“Uhhhnn.” He bit his lip. He was still so horny. “Ma’am? Maybe…maybe?”

Maybe she would take pity on him. Maybe she would let him come? He’d even take a ruined orgasm. Anything to relieve the pressure.

“Oh! Of course,” she said. She reached and gave his heavy balls a squeeze, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“These are coming along nicely. You’ll have a such a nice big load saved up for me. Eventually. But you’re not ready yet. Are you. You can take a little more for me, can’t you, Adam.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew. He also knew how much he was going to ache later, toss and turn, maybe have to ice himself down just to get to sleep.

But she was right. He wasn’t ready. He wanted. He needed more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he submitted.

She patted his cheek. “That’s my boy,” she said.

“We’re off to such a good start.  I almost forgot your reward for being such a good boy. Open wide and suck my fingers nice and clean. Use lots of tongue. For practice.”

“And Adam,” she said, caressing his key with her left hand as he hungrily nursed on the manicured fingers of her right, “Don’t forget to say thank you when you’re done.”

The Keyholder: A Gentle Femdom Erotic Short Story

gentle femdom chastity
“Hello, Adam.” She continued, taking out a set of keys, which Adam tried hard not to start at too deeply. They reminded him of HIS key.

The basement apartment was perfect.

Perfect location. Perfect size. Perfect rent, meaning that it was low.

As Adam stood in front of the row house waiting for the landlord to come out and give him a tour, he hoped silently that she hadn’t already made up her mind to go with another tenant.

But when she emerged from the front door a moment later, he forgot the apartment entirely. She was gorgeous. Just his type. Wearing a clinging sweater and a figure hugging knee length skirt. Also, he could tell she was a good bit older than him, by maybe ten years or so. He had a thing for older women—just one of his “things,” and he could feel his cock straining against its snug metal cage underneath of his pants.

That was another one of his “things.”

He regretted wearing the cage now, although he wore it most days, and he had started feeling naked without it. But he hadn’t expected—this. This woman who was efficiently making her way down her front steps with a playful smile and her well-manicured hand outstretched in a greeting. She made him feel extremely conscious of it all of a sudden.  

“Hello, there,” she said. “Don’t you look like a fine, upstanding young man. I’m Joyce. Nice to meet you.”

She laughed a little, and Adam couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“Thank you,” he stuttered. “Adam.” He could feel himself blushing. “I try to be.” All the while was acutely aware of his cock trying to break out and retreating, and he suddenly felt horrified that she would KNOW.

But she couldn’t know, he reminded himself.  There was no way for her to know. His cage fit well. He wore it all the time. No one could see it under the dark fabric of his pants. So, he took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the reason he was here—the apartment.

“Hello, Adam.” She continued, taking out a set of keys, which Adam tried hard not to start at too deeply. They reminded him of HIS key. And seeing her hold them made him wish for a keyholder of his own—a woman, like Joyce, who would have the control over him that he craved.  

“I’ve had a few applicants already, but I haven’t made up my mind. I am really looking for someone who can be helpful once in a while. I mean, not ALL the time. But since my divorce, I admit sometimes things get a bit screwy, and it would be nice to have a tenant who could help me out a little. That’s why the rent is low. Is that something you would be open to?”

“Oh!” He realized he said that too loudly.

Joyce looked startled. “I don’t mean I plan to take advantage,” she said, quickly. “Just small things, like when the smoke detector went off and I couldn’t figure out how to get it to stop. Or when there was a brick loose on the front stairs.”

“Oh, no,” he said. The idea of helping Joyce out with her chores made the apartment even that much more valuable. If only she’d known he would have paid extra for the privilege. “I’d be fine with that,” he said. “I’m very handy. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

She smiled. “What a catch! Then let me show you the place. Okay?”

Adam blushed again at the compliment. He followed her down the narrow staircase to the basement and waited as she fumbled with the lock to let him inside.

Inside, the apartment was just as nice as it had looked in the pictures.

“Take your time,” she said. “Take a look around. Let me know if you have any questions.”

The apartment was totally unfurnished except for a sofa in the middle of the living room.

“The last tenant left that,” she said. You can keep it, or I can get rid of it for you.

“Thanks,” he said. “I could use a couch.” And he began his inspection of the place, turning on and off lights, checking out the laundry nook, the bathroom, the small bedroom, the kitchen. Everything looked clean and in shape. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“So, you’re a student?” Joyce asked, conversationally.

“Grad student,” said Adam. “I’m studying engineering.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “That’s a lucrative field to be in.”

“I hope so,” he said. He was in the kitchen now, making sure the fridge worked.

“Any girlfriends? It’s not that I mind. I just want to know who might be around….Or boyfriends?”

He laughed politely, trying to pretend that he didn’t wish Joyce was asking for a reason other than pure safety.

“No girlfriends,” he said. “Or boyfriends.”

He added too quickly, “But I’m more interested in girlfriends.” And then he wondered if that had sounded desperate. But if Joyce had noticed, she didn’t comment on it.

Then he started opening up the kitchen cabinets, seeing how much space was available for his stuff. One drawer was sticky.

“Are you now…” She was leaning up against the wall next to the front door, tracing a pattern on the tile floor with her foot. “No girlfriend? A cute young thing like you?”

It almost sounded like she was flirting with him, but he realized that was crazy. His cage was getting to him.

He pulled hard on the drawer, and at the same time, Joyce called, “Oh, wait, Adam! Stop. It’s broken!”

But it was too late. He pulled harder, and the drawer suddenly came unstuck and flew straight into his groin, the corner of it hitting straight onto his cage.

“Oh, my god!” He doubled over, instinctively. The pain was intense, partially because of the way the drawer had knocked into the metal and partially because he was already so swollen. It had been weeks since he’d allowed himself an orgasm. He’d been engrossed in studying, so it had been okay, but now being around Joyce, he was already feeling desperate. The combination of both knocked the wind out him.

Joyce was at his side in a second. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I am so, so sorry. Are you okay?” She leaned over him, and her top dipped lower so her ample busom was straight in his line of view.

He groaned.

“You’re not okay. That damned drawer! I meant to tell you. Are you….she looked down at his crotch…are you injured?”

“No. No. It’s okay,” he managed to croak, but he realized he didn’t sound reassuring. There was no way to explain that the closer Joyce got to him, the closer those breasts were to his face, the closer he could smell whatever delicious perfume she had on, the more it was making his cock swell inside of its cage.

“I really think you’re not okay,” she said. “Look. Let me just check. I’m worried you’re seriously hurt.” And before he could stop her, she reached out and touched his cock over his pants.

“No!” He said.

But it was too late. A curious expression was already on her face.

And as soon as he felt the pressure of her hand, he moaned. He moaned.

He actually moaned out loud.

“Oh, my god,” he said again, but this time he wasn’t sure if it was from pain, desire or mortification.

Joyce’s entire demeanor suddenly changed. She went from worried to smirking in the space of ten seconds.

“Adam, what have you got going on down there?”

And instead of taking her hand away, she gripped a little harder, feeling her way around the outline of the cage.

“Oh, my,” she said. “Is that what I think it is?”

Adam was so flustered he didn’t know what to do. Should he tell her to remove her hand? That was the last thing he wanted. But he was so engorged. He needed relief. And he hadn’t even brought his key with him. He kept it at home frozen in an ice cube so he wouldn’t be tempted to use it…just like he wished his keyholder would to do him, if he had one. And now Joyce was going to be disgusted and he wouldn’t get the apartment. God, he wanted to come! God, he wanted out of his cage.

He started to cry. Silently at first, but Joyce’s hand was still there. Massaging? Was she massaging his caged cock? And a moan slipped out, followed by a sob.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” He didn’t want her to see.

“You are,” said Joyce. “Poor baby.” She took her hand off his cock and took his hand instead.

“Come over here.” She led him over to the couch, and he let her guide him, pull him down next to her. The pain was fading, but the arousal wasn’t, especially now that her body was pressed up against his, her hand on one of his thighs, and the embarrassment was even stronger.

“So, tell me about that,” she said, her eyes darting over his crotch.

“I don’t….I don’t want to,” he said, unsure if he meant it or not. What would he tell her? What could he tell her? “It’s…embarrassing.”

“Do you want the apartment,” she asked, coolly.

“You’re still going to rent me the apartment?” That thought had ceased to be a possibility to him the second the drawer had come unstuck. 

“It depends,” she said. “Are you going to tell me about that?” And with that, she put her hand on top of his cage again, letting it rest there lightly.

He felt dazed. “It’s a cage,” he admitted.


“For my….”

“For your cock,” she finished. “It’s a cock cage. A chastity cage. Isn’t it?”

He gasped. “How did you know?”

She laughed. “Adam, I’ve been around the block a time or two. It’s not like I don’t know what a chastity cage is. I just never expected a cute young thing like you to show up at my front door wearing one. And to think, I almost had that drawer fixed yesterday.”

Adam was shocked. Joyce looked so proper. His mind raced.

“Let me see it,” she ordered.

“See it?”

“Yes. Pull down your pants. I want to see it.”

See it! She wanted to see it? Adam had dreamed of a moment like this, but now that it was here and not just a fantasy in his head, he was gripped by mortification. His cock looked so small in the cage. Helpless. That was part of what he liked about it. But what if Joyce laughed at it? At him?

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he admitted. “No one but me has ever seen it before.”

“Do you want the apartment?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

“Then let me see it.”

Her hands were lightly tracing the outside of the cage under the fabric of his pants. She deftly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. “See. I’ll do half the work for you.”

“You might laugh at me.” He frowned. The tears felt like they might come again.

“I won’t laugh,” she promised, solemnly. “Not at you.”


He knew his face was flaming red, but he managed to lift himself up enough to pull his pants and underwear down so they rested below his knees. Then he was naked from the waist down on the couch, his chastity cage on full display to Joyce. He had never felt so vulnerable before. Or so horny.

“Well, isn’t that cute,” said Joyce, fingering his caged cock.

The feel of her skin everywhere except his cock itself was maddening. True to her word, she didn’t laugh. But she did grin in a way that made Adam feel desperate and nervous at the same time.

“Aren’t you cute,” she said. “Cute enough to eat up.”

And she climbed on top of him on the couch, her skirt riding up, and kissed him hard on the mouth, biting at his lips. She also started grinding against his cage, the pressure painfully pleasurable.

“Oh, ma’am,” he whispered, not even realizing what he’d said until it had come out from his lips.

“Oh, yes.  Ma’am” She took a break from kissing him. “I think we’re going to get along very well, Adam.”

“Ma’am,” he whined. “I’m so swollen. Please. It feels so good, but I’m so swollen.”

“I know, baby. I can tell. Poor boy.” She cupped his full balls and squeezed lightly. “You ARE full. We’ll have to do something about that. But not quite yet.”

“Do I have the apartment,” he asked. “Can I live here?” The apartment and the pain and the pleasure and the desire and Joyce were all mixed together now in a way he couldn’t understand, but just knew he needed.

“Well,” she said, evenly. “There’s just one little test left. Maybe we can call it a background check.”

“Oh. Yes, ma’am. Please. Tell me what it is.”

“I’ll just show you,” she said.

She climbed off his lap and arranged herself on the couch, slipping a pair of red panties from beneath her skirt and onto the floor.

“Let’s see how industrious you are, Adam. Let’s see what kind of help you can provide. I did say I was looking for good help. Didn’t I?”

She hitched up her skirt, so he could see the small triangle of neatly trimmed thatch in the v of her thighs. Then she opened them wide.

The invitation was unmistakable.

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He fell to the floor and buried his face between her legs, coating his mouth and cheeks in her wetness. He wasn’t sure what she liked, how to do a good job. He didn’t have much experiences—just eagerness. But he didn’t need it. She grabbed the back of his head with both hands and pulled his face into her pussy so he could barely breathe, grinding her clit against him.

Meanwhile, he was aching so much, he wanted to explode. 

“That’s it,” she coaxed, working herself against him. “Right there. Good boy. Keep still. I’m almost there already. You got me so worked up. It won’t be long.”

He didn’t move. He just let her use him as she liked, and a powerful wave of calm washed over him.

This was everything he had been looking for.

“Good boy.” Her thighs tensed against his skull. “Keep your tongue nice and flat, just like that. You don’t need to do anything else. I’ll do all the work.” She grabbed his hair and held him still. “Almost. Almost.”

It was hard. He needed to breathe, but he knew what was expected of him.

“Shhh,” she coaxed, like she knew exactly what he was thinking, his limits and just how far she could push them. And then she let out a delighted squeal, her hands gripping even harder in his hair, her pussy clamped over his mouth and pulsing against him.

After she was done, she let him slump to the ground and rest his face against her leg. He had never felt so satisfied or so horny in his entire life. His cock strained against the inside of the metal, and he felt tingly and high, and yet content. This was where he was meant to me.

She petted him gently, and he sighed in affection and frustration against her smooth skin.

Finally, she spoke.

“Well done, Adam. I’ll take first month’s deposit in sweat equity,” she said, with an easy laugh, that he knew wasn’t at him but for him.

“You can move in tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring MY key. But, don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll be needing it for a while.

A Special Gift for My Favorite Toy

gentle femdom menage
“So,” I said, taking a last sip of my wine. “Let’s talk about why Caroline is here tonight.”

I don’t normally get approached by women online. My profile on the kink site I use to keep in touch with friends makes it clear that I’m 99% heterosexual and generally not looking for another partner. Julien is all I can handle right now, my adorable sub with his slightly bratty attitude that keeps me on my toes.

And while I find women beautiful (in fact, there are so many more visually pleasing women than men), I’ve tried kissing and fondling them, and it’s never been anything more than pleasant for me. That passion and desire I feel for men, for their angular bodies and strong biceps, deep voices and thick thighs, well, it’s just not there for women. And maybe it’s also that I have a thing for bringing out vulnerability in men. Most women wear their vulnerability out in the open.

I do.

I guess I like a challenge. 

So, while I’ve kissed other women, made out with them at parties when I’ve gotten a little tipsy, even played with a few, some light spankings, biting, pinching full nipples under dresses, some swats with my crops, that’s as far as it’s ever gone.

Until Caroline.

Caroline and I met at a kink event. Just a bunch of kinky people getting together and talking—about kink, but also about politics, work, the latest bingiest shows on TV. These events were partly about hanging out with friends and partly about flirting with existing play partners and scoping out potential new ones.

I was there with Julien, like usual. He was hanging on my arm, being candy. He was a bit of a fox, with his dark longish hair always hanging over one eye. Julien was a flirt, and even though he was submissive, sometimes subby women got confused by his energy, and they’d approach him, thinking he was a dom. And occasionally, if he was in the mood, he’d play along.

That’s what happened when I went to the bathroom. I returned to find Julien deep in conversation with a petite brunette at the bar. He had that cocky look on his face. It was the look I loved—right before I loved smacking it off him. And I suppressed a laugh as I slid up behind him and laced my arms around his waist.

“Joanna,” he said, lifting one of my hands up and kissing it.

I peeped over his shoulder, and I could see the woman up close. She was shorter than me. Voluptuous. Unsurprising, since Julien was a boob guy. Pretty. Maybe cute was a better word. Pert. Young. She looked innocent, although in these circles, looks could be deceptive. 

I caught surprise and perhaps disappointment on her face. That was Julien, always getting girls’ hopes up. But if she was disappointed, she covered it up quickly and introduced herself.

“Caroline,” she said, chirpily, introducing herself. “I love your necklace.” She pointed to the pendant I wore around my neck.

“Ahhh…I’m never without it,” I said and patted Julien’s cheek. I opened the pendant to reveal the small key inside. “Julien makes sure of that. Don’t you, darling?”

I didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing.

Carloline giggled. “So, he’s your toy?” she asked. I could tell her attention had turned from Julien to me. It happened sometimes, but I didn’t think it would lead anywhere.

“My toy. My lover. My partner.”

“Lucky you,” she said. “Lucky both of you. I thought maybe he was a top.”

I smirked. “Sometimes he thinks he’s one too.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a hint of his usual mischievousness. I wasn’t sure whether to her or to me or to both of us. “I just aim to please.”

“Awww.” I kissed his cheek. “You do, darling. You always do.”

That’s all that things came to with Caroline that night. And she’d slipped out of my mind by the next few days. But then one day, out the blue, I got a message from her. She said she liked my profile. She reminded me of where we’d met. We’d read a few of the same books, liked a couple of the same movies. But that preamble was all an excuse to get to what she really wanted.

Which was me.

And Julien.

As I’d surmised, she said that when she’d met Julien, she’d thought he might make a good potential play partner for her. She was looking for a man to top her occasionally. And she had been disappointed when she’d realized he wasn’t available and wasn’t really a top. But that then she’d met me and found me attractive, and she wondered if there wasn’t some way we could all play together.

Now this was an interesting offer.

Because the thought of watching Julien with another woman, under my control, of course, was quite sexy. It was something I’d been fantasizing about a lot recently. Although I wasn’t attracted to women myself, I kind of liked the idea of directing my own personal porn.

And I liked Caroline, and I liked that she’d respected me enough to contact me, instead of going behind my back to message Julien.

So, I wrote her back with an idea.

Julien had no idea about what I had planned.

I thought about telling him, the possibility that he might freak out. But that seemed unlikely. He’d had lots of group sex before he’d met me, and enjoyed it. He was also an exhibitionist, and it was clear that he’d found Caroline sexy. He wouldn’t have been giving her that “toppy” energy if he hadn’t. Plus, he had a safeword he knew he could use if things got out of hand. But I was 99% sure they wouldn’t.

That Friday night, I told him to dress nicely. We were having a guest over for drinks.

He was surprised but used to following my directions and not asking too many questions.

He liked my surprises.

When the doorbell rang, he was wearing my favorite grey cashmere sweater and well-fitting black slacks. I’d unlocked him from his usual cage the night before and permitted him to have an orgasm. I didn’t want to spoil the evening by having it all end too quickly. He answered, and I could see he was genuinely surprised to see Caroline there in a simple tight black dress holding a bottle of wine.

I kissed her on the cheek and welcomed her in. We made small talk, as I poured a glass of her wine for each of us, and then another, until all of our cheeks were slightly pink and we were giggling a little as I invited her to sit down on the couch between Julien and me.

“So,” I said, taking a last sip of my wine. “Let’s talk about why Caroline is here tonight.”

She and Julien were both awkwardly silent.

“Ah. Okay,” I said. “I guess I’m going to have to take control of this situation. Hmmm? Well, good thing that’s my specialty. Right?”

I took one of Caroline’s hands in mine and one of Julien’s in the other.

“Julien, darling. Caroline has a bit of a crush on you. And me, although I don’t like to brag. Isn’t that right, Caroline?”

She nodded, blushing. In a small voice, she said, “I do. I couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you.”

“It’s really your fault,” I said to Julien. “You can’t help being so charming getting girls hopes up when you already belong to me.”

He bit his lip and couldn’t help smiling a little. He liked it when I reminded him of his place.

“I’m sorry,” he said, doubtfully sorry at all. “I just thought Caroline was very attractive. But you’re right, ma’am. I belong to you. I’m sorry, Caroline. And flattered.”

I turned to Caroline, who was artfully staring down at the carpet. I could practically feel the tension running through her, even though she’d been excited coming over tonight, even texting me to ask what to wear.

“Julien is sorry, darling,” I said to her, kissing her hand lightly. At that, she turned her face up toward mine, a shy smile on it. “He would have loved to get his hands all over that delicious, smooth body of yours if he could have…probably have loved to kiss and lick and suck various parts of you, certainly have loved to bury his face between your legs and make you moan.”

At that I heard a little whimper from Julien.

I patted his cheek.

“Luckily, I am such a gracious mistress, who enjoys sharing her toys–with the right people. Isn’t that right, Caroline? Isn’t that why you’re here tonight? Didn’t you ask me if I would share my toy with you?”

Cheerful, perky Caroline from the bar was sinking down into subspace fast. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, although I hadn’t directed her to call me ma’am at all. I decided I liked it though, and decided not to correct her.

“Yes, what?” I goaded.

“Yes, I wrote to you and asked if you would share Julien with me.”

“And?” There was more, and I wanted them both to hear it.

“And if you would take charge.”

“That’s right.” I took her pointy, delicate chin in my hands and gave it a little squeeze. She sighed, happily and settled into my palm.

“Julien, aren’t you a lucky boy? And isn’t this your lucky day.” It wasn’t a question. I got up and then sat down to left of Julien on the couch, pushing him over toward Caroline. “Show Caroline how much you like her, darling,” I ordered.

I could tell he wanted her. Hell, I could see it in those tight slacks. But he gave me and then her a look. He was torn between taking orders from me and making sure she consented.

“Show her, darling,” I said again, this time a little more gently. “She’ll tell me if she doesn’t want something. Right, Caroline?”

Caroline nodded, her eyes already half-closed in anticipation of Julien’s caress. We’d talked about this carefully. If at any time she wanted to stop, all she had to do was let me know.

That was all the reassurance Julien needed. Although he appeared gentle, one of my favorite things about my boy was that he was NOT sexually passive. He slid his hand behind Caroline’s head and drew her close to him and began to lightly kiss and nibble on her lips—finding the pressure and pattern that made her moan and gasp, trailing down her neck and collarbone, until she was clutching at him.

If it had been me, it would have been Julien who was doing the clutching. I knew how to keep him in thrall. But this was a role he enjoyed playing sometimes, and I admit I found it fascinating to watch him in control, directing Caroline’s pleasure. He was good at it.

Her breathing grew more and more ragged, and I saw that Julien’s hand had found its way under the low v collar of her tight dress and was starting to fondle her breast. She pressed closer and closer to him, their bodies rubbing up against one another on the couch as I kept watch.

I could feel myself getting wet watching them. And I stood up and walked quietly across the room to get a better view and not disturb them. They were so involved with each other, they barely noticed my absence. Caroline’s hand was on Julien’s pants, massaging his cock over the thin fabric. I realized if I didn’t do something soon, my plan was going to end before it began.

I cleared my throat, and they both looked up at me, faces red, eyes glazed, both of their mouths smeared with Caroline’s red lipstick.

“Down, Julien,” I said, simply. It was a command he knew well.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave Caroline a shy smile and tipped her backwards on the sofa, so she was splayed on it. Then his mouth was trailing up her thighs, giving her legs soft little teasing kisses, closer and closer.

She squirmed, clearly wanting more.

“Not under the panties,” I said. “Just a taste.”

And although I could tell that Julien wanted nothing more than to bury his face between her thighs, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and stayed on top of the flimsy fabric between her and her bare skin, simply blowing lightly on her and alternating pressure for her to grind up against. I loved watching him. He was so good. So beautiful. I never got to see him from this viewpoint when he was between my legs.

She grabbed the back of his head to try and pull him closer, and I decided to move the evening to its next stage.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” I said.

They followed, at first lust dazed, but then like eager puppies, hungry for more, and once in the bedroom the two of them stood in front of me, expectantly, waiting for my next command.

“Caroline, on the bed,” I said, and she and I sat down next to each other at the end of my king size mattress.

“Julien, take off your clothes. Slowly. We want to watch.”

He blushed, and began removing his sweater and the thin t-shirt underneath and then started undoing his belt, pants falling around his ankles. He kicked them aside and let us admire him for a minute in his tight undies. Caroline let out a small gasp as he slowly pulled them down, revealing his hard cock underneath. It was a nice cock. I could understand her interest.

“Now, Caroline,” I said, turning to face her. “You’ve gotten Julien all worked up, as you can see.”

“Yes,” she mumbled. She bit her lip. “I can see that.”

“And I think we discussed this. What do good girls do when they get a man so excited? You wouldn’t want to just leave him this way. Would you?”

I thought to myself—I would, but Caroline wasn’t me.

“Noooo.” She shook her head.

“Then go show Julien your appreciation. Wouldn’t you like that, Julien?”

“Yes.” He swallowed and a smile crept over his face now that he saw where this was going. “I’d love it.”

I helped Caroline off the bed and walked her across the room, stopping in front of Julien and slowly guiding her down on the ground, on her knees, right in front of his cock.

She eagerly took it in her mouth, and he groaned.

Julien and I were both facing one another, Caroline in between us on the ground, so I could look into his eyes as she licked and sucked on him, see his desire, hear him moan.

I leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, “Aren’t you going to thank me for bringing you such a delicious gift, darling?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he blurted out. “Thank you so much.”

Of course, I couldn’t ignore Caroline. I knew what she was here for, and it wasn’t just Julien. I placed my hand on the back of her head and pressed gently.

“You can do better than that. Can’t you? Be a good girl. Take it all the way down. Here. Let me help.” And I placed both hands on either side of her face and worked her cute mouth down even more deeply onto Julien’s cock, until she had taken it down to the base, and I could hear her gag slightly, his cock straining against the back of her throat.

Julien shivered with pleasure, and I almost giggled. This was more fun than I’d imagined.

“Such a good girl,” I teased Caroline, leaning down to watch her minister to Julien. “So obedient. So eager. Are you ready to get fucked?”

“Oh. Yes….” The words came out garbled.

I laughed. “What a sweet little slut we have here, Julien. She can’t even bring herself to take her mouth off my cock.”

I ran my fingers through her long, dark hair. “Give her a good fucking, Julien. She’s earned it.”

Julien looked at me hard and licked his lips like the fox he was. He wasn’t used to getting permission to fuck anyone. Certainly not me. I fucked him. How I wanted. When I wanted. I could tell he was making sure I was telling him what he thought I was.

“That’s right,” I said. “Take her. Use her. That’s what she’s here for.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. I was so used to being in charge, I sometimes forgot how strong Julien actually was, and he easily pulled her off her knees, flipped her around, marched her over to the bed and pushed her down upon it face first, her flushed cheek mashed against the plush bedspread, her long, thick hair half covering her face.

“Hike up your dress for him, Caroline. Let’s see how wet you are.”

She was well past shyness, and she did just as she was told, going one step further and sliding off a pair of red silky panties that framed her heart shaped ass. I could see as they fell that they were soaked, probably partly from Julien’s warm tongue and partly her own juices.

Julien went to our usual drawer and donned a condom. I knew how excited he would be. He never got to fuck me this way, from behind, pumping into me at his pace and for his pleasure. I only fucked him on top. His job was to lie there and get fucked, and he knew it.

“Say, please,” I said to Caroline, and her response came out as a whine.


“Please, what?”

“Please, ma’am!”

That was all it took and Julien slid himself inside her, grabbing her hips hard enough to leave a bruise and pulling her against him, using her body as he wanted. She was wet, wet, and I could hear the shlick shlick of their bodies slapping together with long, hard thrusts. Julien took one hand off her hip and put on the back of her neck, to gain even more control over her, to get even deeper, and she arched her back and moaned and starting shaking a bit.

I watched them go at it for a few minutes, enjoying Julien’s prowess and the slight tinge of jealousy that played on the outskirts of my emotions about how eagerly and quickly he’d acquiesced.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” She kept repeating. “I’m going to come. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

I walked behind Julien and laced my hands around his waist, feeling the way his body pistoned in and out of this girl.

“Give her what she wants, Julien,” I whispered to him. “But remember. Whose cock is that fucking her?”

“Yours, ma’am,” he said shakily.

“How does my cock feel inside that tight little pussy of hers?”

“Good. It feels good, ma’am.” I could tell it was hard for him to form complete thoughts. All the blood had left his brain.

“Just good?”

“Amazing, ma’am. It feels amazing. Thank you for letting your cock fuck her. She feels warm and wet, and god I love pounding into her.”

“You’re so welcome, my love.” Then I took my hands from his waist and put them on his hips, encouraging him to fuck her deeper and harder.

“Oh, god.” His breathing was getting faster and faster. “Yes. Please. I’m going to come. Can I come, ma’am? Can I come?”

“Yes, baby,” I said quietly, so only he could hear. “Come hard for me. And make her scream.” At that moment, I realized how horny I was, and I clamped my thighs together, feeling my pussy pulse.

Just then a wail went up from Caroline, and even I could feel the effect of her convulsions as they both came hard together, her pussy clutching at him until he slouched down on top of her, spent.

I let them rest for a minute to catch their breath and come down from their high, as I shucked my own clothes and climbed onto the far end of the bed, legs spread, facing them both.

“Well, that was a fun first round” I smirked. “Now who’s ready to attend to the queen?”