Thomas Makes the Cheerleading Team

Give me an S! Give me an L! Give me a U! Give me a T!

When Thomas came home from work, I had the present wrapped and waiting on the kitchen table.

“Awww! My birthday’s not until next week, honey,” he said, shrugging off his coat. He gave me the usual kiss hello as I sat at the table observing him, and he immediately went to the pantry and got out his apron, hanging from its usual hook.

I had Thomas well-trained.

Our weeknights went as follows:

  1. Thomas would return home from work.
  2. He would give me a kiss.
  3. He would put on his apron and make us both cocktails of my choice. (Tonight it was mojitos.)
  4. Then I’d sit at the table and watch him while he prepared dinner.

Not only was he an excellent chef, he was a competent mixologist. Of course, it had taken time to train him.

I liked to watch him as he cooked. Thomas is handsome, and he knows it, and he likes subtly showing off for me…bending down a little deeper than he needs to put the chicken into the oven, reaching extra high to show off his biceps as he grabs the food processor from the top pantry shelf. I like watching and he likes being watched. And I like that he does all the work, and I get to put my feet up and enjoy the show.

But I don’t usually have wrapped presents waiting for him. He was right about that.

“This isn’t your birthday present,” I said, watching him muddle our drinks. “In fact, it’s really my present. It’s a present for you. For me.”

Thomas raised his eyebrow. He accidentally dropped a lime on the floor. “Oh!” He looked a little nervous.

Let’s just say that Thomas isn’t new to my ideas. I get a lot of ideas. About the way our relationship should be. About the way he should treat me. About the things we should do together and the things he should do to me and the things I get to do to him. And these ideas are a good part of why Thomas likes me. I know that because he tells me and because I know Thomas. I know the kind of man he is and the kind of woman he requires, and I know that I am that kind of woman.

And that gives me a lot of power.

I like power.

But that doesn’t mean that some of my ideas don’t make him nervous. In fact, that’s probably why he likes some of them so much.

“Are you nervous?” I ask. Although obviously I already know.

“No,” he says, not meeting my eyes.

“Just a little, I say.

“Not even a little.”

He crosses the kitchen and hands me my mojito. I grab his hand after my drink is safely on the table.

“Oh. I think you are,” I say. “But you can play coy if you like. Do you like to play coy, baby?”

Now the red rises in his face. He drops his eyes. “Maybe,” he admits.

I can see the bulge growing under his slacks. Like I said, I know Thomas and what he needs.

“Do you like to bend over so you can show off your ass to me when you’re making dinner?”

“Sometimes.” He gulps. The bulge grows.

“Are you my little slut?”

“Oh, Serena.” He slumps down to his knees and puts his head in my lap. “Yes. Yes I am.”

I take a sip of my drink. He’s done a good job. It’s tasty. “Yes, you are what?” I prod.

It’s barely a whisper. “Yes, I am your little slut.” He kisses my leg. “Thank you for letting me be your little slut.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” I tilt his head up so he can look into my eyes. “Do you want to see my present?”

“I do. Please. I do.”

He’s getting really excited now. It’s in his voice. He picks up the package and after I nod my head, he pretty much tears into it. Wrapping paper gets dropped on the kitchen floor. He’ll have to clean that up later, but it can wait. I admit I’m getting a little excited too about seeing his reaction.

The wrapping paper is off and how he’s opening the slim cardboard box that was underneath it.

He gives me a quizzical look as he sees what’s inside. He’s holding a few sort of shiny pieces of red, white and blue fabric and something yellow and silky underneath.

“Lay them out,” I tell him. “On the table.”

He does so, and the fabric takes shape. One red short flouncy skirt. One white tank top with a large blue monogrammed S on the front. A white pair of ankle socks. And a blond wig. In pigtails.

“Go team, go!” I bat my eyes at him.

“Serena. I…”

I can’t tell if he’s going to laugh or cry, but either one will do.

“A cheerleader? I don’t know….”

So, look. This idea didn’t come out of nowhere. Like I said, I KNOW Thomas, and we’ve batted around this cheerleading fantasy during sex before. Thomas likes to feel sexy. He likes to feel taken. He likes to feel slutty. And I think I do a pretty good job of evoking those feelings in him when he’s dressed as a man, or better yet, as I prefer him, not dressed at all.

But the cheerleader thing is deep in his psyche. Just like most high school boys, he watched the school cheerleaders bounce around in their short skirts, their tight tops. He saw the looks the boys gave them—the looks HE gave them, and he imagined things. He imagined what it must feel like to be those girls, to feel desired, envied, wanted.

Also, like most guys, Thomas watches porn. And porn has its fair share of cheerleaders. Porn cheerleaders aren’t real cheerleaders. They are slutty cheerleaders. Vapid cheerleaders. Cheerleaders who exist for the sole purpose of getting fucked often, eagerly and carelessly.

So, Thomas wants to feel like a cheerleader? A slutty, eager, vapid cheerleader? Then he can be MY slutty, eager, vapid cheerleader. Rah! Rah! Sis! Boom! Bah! For me.

The thing is that I’ve never dressed him up in women’s clothes before. A few times I’ve had him wear lipstick. But a full outfit? A wig. This will be a first.

“What if…?” He frowns. He knows he’s not supposed to question me. I know what he’s going to ask anyway. What if I look stupid? What if you laugh at me?

“No. Just put it on,” I tell him. I point to the downstairs bathroom. “Oh, and there’s pink lipstick in there. Be sure to apply it liberally. I want to see it coat my cock.”

Then I take my mojito and go upstairs to wait in the bedroom.

He takes his time. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. I’m starting to get annoyed. I’ve been waiting for him in the bedroom in a black tank and what I call my pegging panties—boy short undies that a dildo slides into and fits snugly. I usually prefer a pink dildo, but today I’ve chosen flesh colored, which seems more realistic. I’m not sure I’m even going to fuck him in the ass, but I want to see him suck my cock, and I think it will help me get into the role.

Then just as I’m about to go look for him, see if he’s had some sort of breakdown or fled the house—that I’ve gone one idea too far—the bedroom door opens, slowly, shyly.

He stands there in the doorway biting his lip and breathing heavily. He can’t look at me.

He looks—adorable. Really.

Thomas has a slim build. Not exactly feminine, but not extremely muscular either. I’ve never considered myself bisexual, but seeing him stand there in the short red flounced skirt that brushes the tops of his toned thighs, the way the tank fits him, almost giving the illusion of a waistline, the two blond ponytails framing his pretty face, the way the pink lipstick makes his full lips look even fuller-bee stung. I’m reconsidering if I could be into women after all.

“Well, aren’t you pretty,” I finally say. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

I get off the bed. “Come closer,” I say. “I want to look at you.”

He slides into the room in his ankle socks, and I can see he’s even walking differently than he usually does. He has a little bit of a bounce in his step. His swishes his waist a little. It’s not quite right, and I consider telling him so. But it’s cute. It’s funny. Charming. It almost makes me laugh but is somehow sexy at the time same time. This is how he imagines it feels to be a woman. I let that sink in.

He stands in the middle of the room, hands at his waist, still staring at the carpet. I circle around him, toy with the edge of his skirt, lifting it up just a little bit with my pinky finger.

“Oh, my” I say, whispering into his ear. “You’re not wearing any panties. Are you?”

He gasps, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my words or because of my touch.

“No,” he says. “You didn’t give me any.”

“I didn’t give you any?” I feign confusion. “Oh, you’re right,” I say, sliding my pinky up against the bottom of his ass, feeling him shiver. “I didn’t. Do you know why?”


His massive erection is literally lifting up the front of the skirt, but I ignore it for the moment.

“Because slutty little cheerleaders like you don’t need panties. Do they?

“No. They don’t.” His voice is hurried. Breathless.

“What do slutty little cheerleaders like you need?”

His answer is a question. Tentative. “To get….fucked?”

“Good girl. That’s right. Sluttly little cheerleaders like you need to get fucked. And how?”

“However you want.”

I almost laugh. That answer came much more quickly.

“Oh, that’s right. Such a good girl. Such a smart good girl who knows what she’s here for. Show me what you’re here for. Show me what a good job you can do.”

And with that I push my cheerleader down on her knees in front of my cock.

I don’t even have to order. Thomas eagerly takes my cock into his mouth, swallowing it deep, sucking on it, bobbing his head back and forth like he can’t get enough of it. It makes me wish I could actually feel it.

“You’re so hungry!” I say. “What a good cock hungry little slut you are. What a pretty little slut. It seems like you’ve had a lot of practice.”

I grab the wig pigtails and pull them toward me and fuck Thomas’ face with my cock until drool is spilling down his chin. Then I pull him off and tell him to look at me.

He gives me doe eyes. He giggles. Actually giggles.

“Thank you,” he says. I can tell he’s not sure where to call me ma’am or sir, and I’m not either, so I let the lack of my usual honorific slide. Tonight everything is a little confused.

“You’re so welcome,” I say. I point down to my cock, which is largely pink now. “You certainly did coat it.” I place my fingers on his lips and smear the remaining lipstick over his chin and cheeks. It feels good to make a mess of him. Make him dirty.

The dildo is fun, but that’s not what I want. I’m not feeling masculine exactly, but I’m not feeling feminine either. I want to fuck my pretty new toy, but I want to enjoy it. I want to feel it. I know he’d like it if I bent him over, applied lube generously to his asshole and pushed myself in slowly, but I’m in a hurry. I want to feel it, him, her. He’s there for me to use. I want to use him.

“Get on the bed,” I say, and Thomas scurries off his knees and unto the mattress. He’s on all fours, and I can tell he doesn’t know how I want him.

“On your back” I say. “Don’t you want to get fucked? Don’t you want a good fucking?”

He giggles again and lies down on his back, his erection popping up out of the skirt, which he smooths back down over himself.

“Yes, please,” he says. He’s getting into it now. “Please give me a good fucking. That’s what I’m here for. I need a good, hard fucking.”

I take off my pegging panties, leaving on just my tank and slide between his legs. “You do? Why is that?” I say, rubbing my hands over the silky skirt and feeling his hard cock underneath.

“Because I’m a horny slut,” he says with absolutely no prompting. “I’m a horny slut and I just want to get fucked and used. I want to be good. I want to be a good girl and let you fuck me the way you like. Please fuck me. I need it.”

My hand reaches under his skirt to his leaking cock. “You ARE very wet,” I say. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes, please.” He reaches for his cock, but before he can touch it, I have both of his hands pinned above his head.

I tut tut. “Don’t touch. I’m going to give you what you want baby, but you just lie there like a good girl and take it.”

He goes still. Expectant. And I toss up his skirt and climb on top of him and slide down so he’s balls deep inside me.

He groans. Tries to throw his legs around me, and I feel like yes. I AM fucking him. I’m giving my little slutty cheerleader such a good fucking, the fucking of her life.

“You’re so pretty,” I tell her, running my fingers over her lips and sliding them inside. “Does that feel good,” I ask?

“So good,” she says. “I love it. I love to feel your hard cock inside me filling me up. Thank you, sir. Thank you. I needed this so much. Am I being good? Am I being your good slut? Am I behaving? Am I doing what I’m told?”

What can I say? I want to say that I can feel my orgasm building and never more have I wished to have a real cock, to feel what it would be like to grab my slutty cheerleader by the waist and pump my come deep inside of her, to feel her clench around me as she milked the come out of me like the obedient, vapid, sweet minded toy she was.

Instead I say, “I’m going to make you come now. Be my good girl and come for me. Come hard for me. I want to feel it, slut.”

“Yes sir. I will. I will.”

And I feel Thomas buck up into me as I bear down hard, grinding myself against him unsure of who is clenching into whom, but Thomas is grabbing against me, and I’ve got my arm wrapped around his head, drawing him to my breast and he’s saying, “Thank you sir” over and over again, and I’m whispering, “Take it. Take it my little slut, my good little slut” into his ear until the wave of pleasure hits me, and one of us or both of us is crying, That’s it. That’s it. Just like that, baby”. And then we are slumped on the bed together, both sticky and sweaty and laughing.

“You have such good ideas,” says Thomas.

“You have such good ideas,” says my sweet, lovely, slutty little cheerleader.

Brian’s Milking Lessons

Jessica leaned down to tighten her sneaker laces and Brian had a direct line of sight between her breasts.  He tried not to groan outright.

Brian heard the bedroom door open before he could cover himself. He’d woken up with a huge morning erection, like always, but he wasn’t always staying at his best friend’s house. He and Jacob met freshman year at the college dining hall, and they’d been close ever since. Now, a year later, he was at Jacob’s house for the entire summer break, while Brian’s parents were in Europe.

But not only had he woken up with an erection, he realized with a sudden horror that he’d had a wet dream too. Jesus, it had been years since that had happened. There was still a wet spot on the sheet beside him.

He tried to pull the covers up, but they were stuck.

“Brian?” The door was open, and standing in it was Jacob’s mom, Jessica.

Jessica was hot. There was no other way to put it. Long black hair. Big boobs he couldn’t help but look at. Jessica liked low cut tops. Sometimes he couldn’t believe she had a nineteen-year old son. Today she was wearing a t-shirt and tennis skirt that showed the tops of her tanned thighs.

Was he actually getting harder or was that his imagination? Oh, god. He tugged again on the bedsheets, but to no avail, and he cursed himself for just wearing boxers to bed.

“I was just going to tell you that Jacob had to go over to his dad’s for a while,” said Jessica. “He didn’t want to wake you up. I’m going out to practice my game in a bit, and I didn’t want you to worry if no one was here.” Jessica leaned down to tighten her sneaker laces and Brian had a direct line of sight between her breasts.  He tried not to groan outright.

“Okay. Thanks,” he mumbled.

“What?” Jessica finished tying her laces and started over toward the bed. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh! Nothing. Nothing. I just said thanks!” He tried not to let her hear the panic in his voice and hoped she would go away, but she didn’t. In a few short steps, she was there.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “My sheets. Did you spill something?”

Brian could feel his face turning scarlet. “Um. Yes,” he said. “I ummmm…” He searched for words, but now Jessica was standing over him. He was staring directly up at her breasts and he knew his hard on was completely visible. He couldn’t think straight enough to come up with an excuse.


He could see the dawning realization in Jessica’s eyes, and he wanted to die. He gave the sheets one more powerful tug, and the bottom one finally came unstuck. Unfortunately, settling on top of his giant boner, it just made his cock look like a ghost.

Jessica laughed.

“You look uncomfortable, Brian,” she said.

“Please go away,” he said.

“Well, I will,” she said, stretching the words out just a little too long, perching on the edge of the bed and plucking the sheet off him. “But it seems like you could use a little help. Would you like some help, Brian? I’ve noticed,” she said, staring down at his erection straining under his boxer shorts, “that you’re a very excitable boy.”

“I am?” He couldn’t tell whether that was excitement in his voice or terror.

She placed her palm directly on top of his cock, and he moaned. He couldn’t help it. He moaned out loud. “Oh, god,” he said. He could feel himself throbbing.

She laughed. “You are. Every time I see you, I can see a bulge in your pants. And now this,” she said, touching the wet spot on the sheets next to him with the tip of her finger.

“I can explain,” he said, although he certainly could not.

“Can you?” Her face turned serious. “I think the explanation is obvious, Brian. And I think the remedy is too. You could benefit from some milkings,” she said, with a soft smile on her face.

“Some what?” Could he be any more embarrassed? He could barely focus on what she was saying.

“Milkings,” she said, again. “Would you like me to show you?”

He could feel himself nodding, if only because she was putting her hand back on his cock. He tried to breathe deeply, but her hand felt amazing settling on top of his boxers. He couldn’t help himself. He felt himself thrust up against her.

“See,” she said, putting her other hand on his thigh to keep him pressed down on the bed. “That’s what I mean. You’re too excitable, Brian. I don’t even know how you get any work done at school. Do you have an A average?”

“B,” he admitted.

She tut-tutted. “That’s what I’m saying. I suppose you don’t have a girlfriend to help to keep you nice and empty.”

“No,” he gulped. Was he really having this conversation with his friend’s mother? Maybe he was still dreaming. If so, did he want to wake up or not?

“That’s a shame,” she said. “And you’re so handsome too. You’ll find a girl soon to help you manage all of this. But in the meantime,” she said, pointing again at the wet spot, “This really isn’t acceptable in my house. So, why don’t you lean back and let me manage it.”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. “But what about Jacob,” he managed to say, as she encouraged him to lift his hips so she could slide his boxer shorts off.

“It’s okay. He won’t be back for at least a few hours. We have plenty of time.”

Now he was totally naked in front of his friend’s gorgeous mother. He tried to cover himself with his hand, but she quickly moved it away.

“None of that,” she said guiding his hands underneath him. “In fact, why don’t you put your hands under your back. I’m not sure you can control yourself.”

With one hand on his thigh and one hand on his cock, Jessica slowly began to stroke him up and down. Her hands were as beautiful as the rest of her. Soft. Red, manicured fingers. Brian couldn’t stop staring at them.

“You see, Brian,” she said. “Young men like you have too much testosterone. And you’re too easily excited. You can’t focus on the things you need to focus on. You also can’t keep your hands off yourselves, and that leads to bad habits. What you need is to be put on a regular milking schedule. No touching yourself in between milkings. You just let me control your erections.”

“But,” he protested. No touching himself? But her hand felt soooo good sliding up and down his shaft.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t even need any lube, you’re producing so much pre-cum. Do you see  how badly you need this?”

His cock was still engorged. In fact, it felt harder than when he’d woken up. Ever since he’d gotten here and seen Jessica, lounging by the pool in her bathing suit or her pajama shorts riding up her ass as she prepared breakfast in the morning, he’d felt like he was in a permanent state of arousal. He nodded, embarrassed but realizing that what she said was true.

He did need this.

“But can’t I touch you?” he whined. He wanted so much to have one of those big breasts in his mouth. To slide his lips over it and suck at her nipple.

“Ssshhh,” she said. “You just lie there like a good boy, and let me take care of this. It will be over soon.”

Her hand worked efficiently, pumping up and down. She looked at him seriously while he bit his lips. He couldn’t stop moaning. The girls he’d been with had never been this good at giving hand jobs. It was like she knew exactly the right places to put her hand, exactly the right movement to bring him to the edge. He couldn’t stop himself, even if he’d wanted to.

Much sooner than he’d expected he heard himself groaning, “I’m going to come. I’m going to come.”

“That’s a good boy,” she said, soothingly. “Get it all out for me now. Come on.”

Something about the words spurred him on. Yes, he would be a good boy. He would be good for her. He felt the come building up in him, ready to spurt out, and then he realized too late that she’d taken her hand away. He couldn’t stop himself, though. He felt himself thrusting into the empty air, come spurting out of him without all of the delicious pleasure.

He whimpered. “What did you do?” He felt emptied but still frustrated, horny. His cock was still hard.

“I know. I know,” she said, stroking his cock softly with her hand. “That was difficult. Wasn’t it?”

“Why did you do that?” he asked. “I’m still…I’m still….”

“You’re still hard and aroused,” she finished for him. “It’s part of the process of getting you all emptied out. I know it’s frustrating, but you’re doing such a good job for me. You should be proud of yourself.”

And strangely, he did feel proud of himself, glad that he’d pleased her. He wanted more, more of her, more of what she was doing to him.

She slowly started stroking him again, using his come as lube, and he could feel his breathing getting heavier. How was it possible that he was getting more horny? But, still, now he was nervous about what she was going to do.

“It’s okay, baby,” said Jessica. “Don’t hold back on me. Here,” she said, pausing to gingerly take off her t-shirt and pull down her bra, showing off her amazing breasts. They were so big and full. “I think this will help,” she said, and she leaned down and put one breast in his mouth. With the other hand, she resumed her ministrations to his cock.

He let his lips settle over her nipple and began to suck at it gently. She guided it into his mouth so he could keep it there with his hands still underneath his back. He felt taken care of. Calm. His next orgasm appeared almost out of nowhere, as he whimpered into her breast. But she seemed to know it was coming, and she again took her hand away at the last moment, leaving him to shoot his come all over himself. He could feel that there was less now. She was right.

This time he didn’t protest. He continued to suckle at Jessica’s breast while she stroked him very gently, waiting for him to be ready again. Even though he was frustrated, he had to admit there was something pleasurable about it. And he knew Jessica would take care of him.

“That’s a good boy,” she whispered into his ear. “See. You’re getting the hang of it now. Aren’t you? It’s not so bad, especially when you’re distracted.”

And then she began again, with measured strokes, letting the pleasure build and build in him again.

“I’ve helped a few other boys,” she said, as her slippery hands glided softly over his shaft. “Not Jacob, of course, although he’s had some lessons from a friend of mine, and it’s benefited him so much. He’s a straight A student. My friend even showed his girlfriend how to do it, and that’s why he’s such a good boyfriend. Once she realized the advantages, she was very thankful. It’s good you’ll be here all summer. You’ll see. By the end of the summer, you’ll understand why it’s so much better this way. And if you don’t find a girlfriend by then, school isn’t too far. I don’t mind helping you until we can train someone else.”

“I think I’m going to come again,” he whispered, momentarily removing his mouth from her perfect breast.

“What a good boy for letting me know,” she said, happily.

This time when he came, he could feel that there was hardly anything left to come out of him. He felt himself straining to empty what little was left in his balls, pumping at the air. Jessica kept her hand planted firmly around the base of his shaft, to help him fully come as much as possible, giving him something to anchor him, even while refusing him the pleasure of a full orgasm.

When he was done, he felt totally empty, but still hard. It was a strange feeling he’d never experienced before.

“You did such a good job for me,” said Jessica, removing her hand. She grabbed a tissue off the side table and wiped him off. “Now, let’s do one more thing. Okay?”

Before he could even say yes, she’d stood up and pulled off her panties, shoes and socks. Clad only in her short tennis skirt and her pulled down bra, she climbed on the bed, and planted herself over him, sinking herself down onto his still hard but totally drained cock.

“Oh, my god,” he said, as he felt her warm, wet pussy envelop him. It felt heavenly, and yet, he knew as soon as he felt her slide up and down on him that he was never going to be able to come. He could last forever.

“This is the best part,” Jessica said, as she fucked him slowly and languorously, her gorgeous breasts right in his face. “Now I can use your pretty cock to come as many times as I want. You don’t mind? Do you, Brian? After I’ve been so nice to you. I think you can see why Jacob’s girlfriend appreciated his lessons so much.”

Brian couldn’t speak. But he knew it didn’t matter. It was going to be a long, dry summer.

The Package

It would be fine. It wasn’t like the thing was going to say “chastity cage” on the side of the box. Was it? Of course not. He was being ridiculous. People ordered tons of sex toys on the internet. Nobody advertised it. They would never know.

Greg’s phone dinged just as the meeting was starting. He glanced at it quickly, not wanting to be rude to the presenter.

“Saw a package came for you when we got home. We’ll hold on to it to it doesn’t get stolen. You can get it tonight. –Sophia & Kristen”

Shit. He could feel himself break out in a cold sweat as the guy at the front of the room started saying something about production values. The text was from his new upstairs neighbors. They were cute young girls a few years out of college. He was pretty sure they’d said they were teachers? God, he wished he had teachers who had looked like that. They were both blondes. Could even be sisters, they looked so much alike, but they weren’t.  Friendly, sweet smiles. Both a little thick, in a good way, in a way he’d wanted to grab on to their hips and give them a good…But, they were young. Teachers. He was such a pervert sometimes. Why couldn’t he control himself around women?

Arghhhhh. He groaned internally, pretending to focus on whatever was going on in the presentation. Why was he such an idiot? He could have used a package locker and picked the damn thing up himself. But he was supposed to be working from home today, before this stupid meeting got called. And yes, it was certainly nice that they took it in for him. He was the one who told them about the packages that had gotten stolen from the woman in the upstairs apartment before they moved in. It was a nice thing for them to do. But just. Why THIS package?

The first speaker sat down and his co-workers clapped politely. He found himself mimicking them, his thoughts a million miles away. Actually, his thoughts were closer than that. A lot closer. Like basically entirely focused around his cock.

It would be fine. It wasn’t like the thing was going to say “chastity cage” on the side of the box. Was it? Of course not. He was being ridiculous. People ordered tons of sex toys on the internet. Nobody advertised it. They would never know.

Except that now he knew they had it, that his new chastity cage was sitting right in the middle of these girls’ apartment, that they could find out his secret at any time, it was literally all he could think about.

What if they knew? They’d know what a pervert he was. 

He couldn’t even explain why he’d bought it. He’d just had fantasies about it for a long time, the idea of a woman controlling his cock. Controlling him. He’d had one before he started dating Barbara, but then he threw it away when they got serious. He wanted to tell her, ask her to use it on him, but he’d been too embarrassed. After they broke up the fantasies started coming back. Well, to be honest, they’d never really gone away. Had they.

Oh my god, what if they saw it? He’d never be able to look them in the eyes again. They’d think he was a degenerate.

“So, what do you think, Greg?” His boss smiled at him expectantly.

“Oh.” He nodded. “Uh. I think it’s great!”

The meeting was endless. He literally thought they would keep him there overnight. When they suggested bringing in dinner he wanted to scream, but he powered through, made a mad dash for the subway, and finally he was at his front door.

It was no big deal. He’d just get the package. In fact, standing there, he realized what a moron he’d been to freak out. It was just a package. They were never going to know what was inside of it.

So, relaxed, he climbed the stairs to the row house and rang Sophia and Kristen’s doorbell.

The doorbell barely rang once before the door opened, Sophia standing in the doorway. She was wearing a comfortable looking pair of cotton pajamas with kittens on them. She had her long hair up in a ponytail. She was barefoot.

Behind her, he could see Kristen lounging on their living room couch also wearing some kind of pajama set. Her hair was down. She was munching on something crispy, a bag in her hands, her feet planted on the coffee table in front of her. The TV was on.

“Greg!” Sophia smiled. She was so smiley. “Kristen,” she said, turning to her roommate, “Greg’s here!”

“Hi Greg!” Kristen waved from the couch. She put the bag in her hands on the table. “We were waiting for you!”

“Um. You were?”

Sophia opened the door wider. “Yeah! Come on in. We were just watching The Romancer. You can watch it with us.”

“Oh. That’s a really nice offer, but I just came to get that package that was dropped off for me. It was super nice of you to bring it inside. I know I told you. There’s a real theft problem in the neighborhood. But I’m pretty tired. So, I’m just going to grab it and go, if you don’t mind.”

Sophia turned her head toward Kristen. “Greg just wants his package,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” Kristen smiled at Greg again. “It’s right here.” She pointed in front of her toward the coffee table.

He waited for Sophia to get it for him, but she didn’t move. So, he said, “Okay,” and shuffled inside the house. As he neared the coffee table, he heard the door close behind him. At the same time, he saw exactly what was on the coffee table—his chastity cage sitting neatly next to a bag of chips—the box beside the cage, empty.

“Oh my God!” He lunged for it, and at the same time, he heard Kristen and Sophia break out into peals of laughter. He grabbed it off the table and clutched it to his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or yell.  He was sure he’d never been more humiliated in his life or ever would be.

“You opened it?” It was all he could muster.

Sophia was still standing by the door, bent over laughing, and Kristen was practically sideways on the couch, her face red. She couldn’t seem to stop giggling. Finally, Sophia managed to calm down enough to speak.

“We’re sorry! Really! Honestly, I didn’t open it before I sent you that message. Kristen thought it was the necklace she ordered. I don’t think either of us expected…this,” she said, pointing to the metal cage clutched against his chest. “But then we saw it. And, it was just so funny!”

“And we’d never seen one in real life,” Kristen chimed in. “We were curious! We wanted to see how it works.”

This had to be a nightmare. He would never be able to face these women again. “You wanted to see how it works?” He literally had no idea what to do. Did he storm out? How fast could he move? He shouted, “It’s a felony to tamper with the US mail!”

This set them both off into cascades of giggles.

Sophia came up behind him and draped a soft arm around his waist. She started guiding him to the couch, and to his surprise, he let her. He thought he was probably in shock.

“You’re right,” she said. “Please don’t turn us in. Okay?”

He definitely heard her snicker.

She led him between the coffee table and the couch and plopped him down next to Kristen, and then she sat down on the other side of him, so he was sandwiched between the two of them. He felt weirdly like a doll. He grasped the cage two-handed between his fists. He clenched his knees tightly together.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said, eyeing him and then her roommate. “You show us how it works, and nobody will tell anything. Okay? It will just be a secret between the three of us.” Then the two girls each put a hand on one of his knees and gently began to pry open his legs.

“Wow. Okay,” he said, not so much as in agreement, but as a way to try to process what was happening here. The girls were each massaging a thigh lightly, as his legs spreader wider and wider, and he could feel himself start to get hard.

He wasn’t even sure how he felt anymore. Angry? Mortified? Confused? Aroused? Yes, definitely aroused. The anger was starting to fade and the mortification was ebbing into a pleasant embarrassment, a lot like the kind he felt when he was fantasizing about being locked.

“Okay,” he said, again, slowly. This time he meant it as a yes. A tentative yes. “But,” he looked each girl in the eyes, all four blue, and asked, “Why?”

“Why ask why, Greg,” said Sophia, squeezing his thigh a little harder. “You don’t think you’re the only one who likes to get a little kinky. Do you?” She reached over him and tugged open Kristin’s pajama top, revealing a perky breast. Then she quickly pinched Kristen’s nipple until the girl squealed.


“Sometimes it’s fun to be in control. Right, Kristen?”

Kristen smirked and rubbed her now erect nipple. “And sometimes it’s fun to be out of it.”

“So, just show us,” said Sophia. She got very close to him and whispered in his ear. “Be a good boy. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.”

Greg tried to slow his breathing. “Okay,” he said again. “But I’m never going to be able to get it on with you two next to me touching me like this. I’m really turned on,” he admitted.

Kristen grabbed his crotch and squeezed.  “Ooooh. He is! Sophia, feel!”

Sophia grabbed at him too, and they took turns massaging his cock, which now felt like it would never fit in a cage. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on.

Finally, Sophia stopped and pushed Kristin’s hand away too. “We’re never going to get to see it if we keep this up. He’s too excitable. Look.” She pointed to the wet spot that had appeared on his pants. “Well, we can see why he needs the cage. Can’t we?” she said.

Greg tried to protest. “I don’t NEED it! You guys are touching me. There are two of you. It’s a lot!”

“Uh huh,” said Sophia. She put her hand lightly over his mouth and glanced down at the stain on his slacks. “Sure. You don’t need it at all. You’ve just made a mess all over yourself because you’re totally in control. Right?”

She smiled at him, sweetly, and then patted him on the back. “Now, be a good boy and go in the bathroom, and don’t come out until your cage is on. I know it might take a few minutes for you to calm down. But don’t worry. We’ll wait.”

In the girls’ lavender scented bathroom, Greg tried hard not to think too much about anything, because when he did, he varied between being pretty sure he was going to have an anxiety attack and being unable to get rid of the raging boner between his legs. Finally, he pretended he was in yoga and did deep breathing, focusing on his breath, until both his anxiety and erection subsided.

Then he carefully put on the cage. It was the same kind he’d had before he started dating Barbara. So, he knew how to get it on, even though he forgotten how snug it could feel. He took the metal ring and carefully slid his balls through first, tugging gently, one by one, and then managed to pull his flaccid cock through the ring, so both his testicles and penis were being hugged by it. Then he slid the metal cage over his cock and fitted the pegs into the holes so the two pieces clicked together. Then he finally fitted the padlock on to hold the cage in place and locked it with the small key provided.

Almost immediately, he felt a slight buzz in his body, like he was a little high. He could feel the weight of the cage dangle between his legs, the way he felt encased, restricted. He touched his cock between the slotted metal bars of the cage. It was just enough sensation that he started to get hard again, his skin pressing up against the inside of the metal, but not quite enough that he could get full satisfaction. He remembered why he loved the feeling so much.

“Greg?” He heard a feminine voice from outside the bathroom. “How are you doing in there?”

“Um. I’m almost done,” he said.

He took a big breath. Now that he had the cage on, he acknowledged this was really happening. He’d never used a cage in front of an actual woman before. Just the thought was so stimulating that he started leaking pre-cum from the end of the cage. He grabbed some toilet paper and desperately started to try and wipe it up, when the door opened, and he was caught here, pants and underpants around his ankles, leaking cock straining against its enclosure.

It was Sophia. “Oh my god, Kristen,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “He’s adorable. Come look!”

“No!” He tried to pull his pants up with one hand, but Sophia reached out and stopped him, and then the two girls were standing in the doorway of the bathroom staring at him, exposed and vulnerable. He knew somewhere in his mind that he should feel humiliated, but he seemed to have passed that point sometime in the last few minutes, and now he just felt like an object in a pleasant kind of way, as Sophia and Kristen ogled his caged nakedness. 

“He really is,” said Kristen. “Can I?” she asked, more to Kristen than to him, as she reached out one manicured hand and fondled his cock, making the cage swing lightly from side to side. He felt the pleasant tug from the weight in his balls, and his cock trying to get bigger trapped inside the metal, and he groaned outright.

The girls giggled again. “Here. Let’s get all these clothes off you, so we can get a good look,” said one. They were starting to blur together.

And he felt himself being led out of the bathroom and back into the living room, where they peeled off his sweater and t-shirt and took off his shoes and socks, and finally helped him out of his pants and boxers until he was just standing naked in the middle of the room with nothing on but the cage.

Finally, Sophia opened his palm, and he let her take the key out of it. She slipped it into the pocket of her pajama top.

Then the girls walked around him, him totally naked, them still in their pajamas, tittering and stroking him and pressing themselves up against him just to see his reaction, which was now an almost continuous stream of pre-cum that was beginning to drip onto the floor, and a series of moans and whimpers, especially every time one “accidentally” pressed her hand up against his cock or extremely sensitive balls. e

“Oh my Greg,” Sophia said, taking his cock firmly in her hand. “You’re looking quite pent up in there. “I’ll bet we could get you to do just about anything right now.”

He nodded, vigorously. He thought he’d lost the capacity for speech. “Yes,” he finally managed. “Yes, please.”

They laughed more. With him? At him? He wasn’t sure at this point, and it didn’t really matter anyway.

With that, they took him by the hand and led him back toward the living room couch. Kristen pushed the coffee table out of the way. Then the girls looked at each other slyly and slipped off their pajama bottoms.

Underneath, they were totally bare—just their neatly trimmed blonde pussies right in front of his face.

“Look what you’ve done to us,” said Sophia, coyly, slipping one of her fingers into Kristen, coating it with wetness. Kristen moaned and shuddered. Then Sophia took her wet finger and opened Greg’s mouth slightly with it, feeding it to him. He sucked at it greedily.

“Now why don’t you get down for us,” she said, pointing to the ground, “And go down.” And Greg obediently climbed onto all fours as the girls took their spots back on the couch. This time it was their legs that were spread wide, their pussies wet and open, and Sophia crooked her finger at him, motioning for him to crawl forward.

“You know, we can hear you down there,” she said, as Greg planted his face between her thighs, his caged cock swinging uncomfortably but tantalizingly. He began to lap at her cunt, hungry, painting his face with her. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close so she could grind against him. “That’s right. Right there,” she said, his face so buried in her, he could barely breathe.

“The sound carries,” said Kristen. She was watching and fingering herself, as she waited her turn. “You don’t think we can hear. But we hear everything.”

All those nights watching porn. Chastity porn. Denial porn. Jerking off. He’d thought he was being quiet. Apparently, he wasn’t.

Sophia climaxed loudly, gripping her thighs around his head and trembling against him as she came. Then she passed him over to Kristen.

She gave his cock a short stroke with her foot as Kristen opened her legs nice and wide to accommodate him and he whimpered with pleasure with the feeling of fullness and aching in his cock and of being so thoroughly used.

“I think he’s pretty good. Don’t you Kristen?” Sophia leaned back on the couch to watch. She used her toes to idly toy with his cock. “Don’t worry. You can be a little less gentle with him. Can’t she, Greg?” Sophia didn’t wait for an answer before she pushed his face deeper into Kristen’s pussy, making both of them moan.

Finally, he heard Kristen cry out, her thighs clamped around him. “Oh, god. Yes. He’s good. He’s very good.”

He slumped to the floor, his cock still straining. Kristen and Sophia’s wetness were literally coating his face. He felt sticky. Sticky and…tingly….and….pleased with himself. He was doing a good job. He was being a good boy. Wasn’t that what he had wanted all along? Yes, it was. 

He crawled back to Sophia and lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his hair gently. Then she slowly dangled the key to his cage in front of his glazed eyes and said, “I’ll just hold on to this for you.”

He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling.

“I don’t think you’ll mind. Will you? After all, we wouldn’t want it to get stolen.”

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Can You Be Patient? Can You Be Very Good?

erotica femdom queen

He stood halfway between her and the door. She had a feeling he might turn and run and that feeling made her feel sorry for him but also excited her. She fingered her dress, considering options. Should she try to calm him down or try to extend the moment? She decided on both.

The young men stood in front of her expectantly, shifting their weight between their legs. They’d been standing for a good hour before she arrived. No words. Hands at their sides. Naked except for underwear that was largely insignificant. The lighting was dim. They didn’t know it, but she’d been observing them the entire time from a panel in a side door, taking her time, watching them as they didn’t know they were being watched, taking in their small movements, their stamina, idiosyncrasies. The way one scratched idly at his ankle with a toe. The way one yawned and then quickly tried to hide it, stretching his neck.

The one at the far end appeared nervous, and that drew her gaze toward him the most. He was fair, even in the low, buttery light. Long and slim with bee stung lips. He stood the straightest of the bunch. He looked afraid to move.

He was the one.

She pointed. “Him.”

She waited for him in the bedroom. There was a fire going opposite the large, high bed and candles lit around the room. It was dark and warm. She sat in a plush corner chair, hidden in the shadows, and anticipated.

“Hello?” A sweet voice as the door opened.

“Come in.”

“Hello?” A hitch in his breath. A small stumble of bare feet on the tile.

“In the corner.”

“Oh.” He laughed. But it was jumpy. “I couldn’t see, ma’am. I’m adjusting.”

“You will.”

“I will. I mean. I am….Ma’am.”

He stood halfway between her and the door. She had a feeling he might turn and run and that feeling made her feel sorry for him but also excited her. She fingered her dress, considering options. Should she try to calm him down or try to extend the moment? She decided on both.

“Come here,” she said. “Sit at my feet.” She patted her knee.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, hurriedly. “Of course.” He walked quickly to her and kneeled beside the chair, his head bowed in front of her.

He smelled sweet and fresh and she couldn’t help herself. She reached out to tousle his hair. He gasped, moaned slightly and leaned into her touch, rubbing up against her hand slightly like a pup.

“Oh, you are eager!” There was no point keeping the pleasure out of her voice. She’d picked well this time.

“I am, ma’am,” he whispered, strained. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to get too excited.”

“I hope not.” She laughed. “Why do you think I chose you?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

She picked his head up by his chin so she could look in his eyes. Wide. Impatient. Expectant.

“Because you’re perfect.”

He bit his lip and smiled.

“Stand up. Take those off.”

“Yes ma’am.” He acted quickly, up off his knees and fingers tucked into the band of the thin fabric.


“Yes? “ He paused. “Did I do something wrong? You said…”

“No. No. It’s just, I should take a little time and enjoy you. Turn around. I want to see your ass when you take them off.”

He exhaled, gulped. “Of course, ma’am.” Began to pull at the fabric again.


“Yes, ma’am.” His fingers shaking a little, he inched it down, revealing a taut bottom a shade or two even lighter than the rest of him.

“Perfect,” she whispered again.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad you like me.”

“I definitely do. Now bend over.”

“Bend over?”

“Ma’am,” she reminded. “Keep your manners.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t you want me to look at you?”

“I do, ma’am. I mean, I do! It’s just…” He halted.

She rose from the chair and stood with her face against his back. “Yes?” She encouraged. She placed her hands lightly against his hipbones, pulling her to him just a little, feeling him sigh into her.

“I’m embarrassed.” He hunched and his shoulder nuzzled against her breastbone. “Ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “But you’re beautiful,” she said. “I want to see you.” She took one hand off his hip and pinched the smooth flesh of his ass playfully. “Besides. I want you embarrassed.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t so much a word as a moan, and he stepped forward and leaned down gracefully, taking what was left of his shorts with him.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?” She walked around him in a circle, her hand on the small of his back, pinning him there as she toyed with him. She ran one finger delicately between his cheeks and smiled as he shivered. Once she was behind him again, she pulled him close once more. “Was it?”

“No, ma’am?” His voice was thin.

“You can stand up now,” she said, and when he did, she slid her hands around to his chest and stomach, slowly moving them down his body.

“Oh! Getting a little desperate,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It wasn’t a question. You’re leaking all over my hand.”

“Ah.” He groaned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I am. I am getting very desperate. You’re so beautiful. You’re so nice. You’re being so good to me. You’re making me very, very desperate. Please.”

“Please?” She teased, her voice full of fake pity. “Please? Poor baby. You can get on the bed now, but I’ll have to take my hand away. Just for a minute.”

He hesitated for a split second, and then scrambled up onto the mattress, face up, and she followed, slowly, hiking up her knee length dress as she did, kneeling over his thighs. His cock twitched and flexed against his stomach, leaking out slickness.

“Now, I need to know. Can you be very patient? Can you be very good?” She climbed on top of him and slowly lowered herself down, taking him inside of her.

He groaned. “Yes, ma’am. I can be patient. I can be good. I want you to enjoy yourself, ma’am. Thank you for choosing me, ma’am. Thank you. I can be good. I can be patient. You won’t regret it.”

“I know you can. I know I won’t.” She leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “You feel delicious. You’re doing such a good job for me.” Then she laughed as he shuddered against her skin. With every desperate moan and whimper, her excitement built.

She moved slowly and carefully, squeezing him, working him, appreciating each sigh and effort, purposefully speeding up to watch his face clench, his hips buck despite himself, and then slowing down to enjoy his frustration, his tortured breath.

He was thick inside of her. She liked watching the silky fabric of her dress rub against his smooth skin, the feeling of it ruching heavy around her waist. She wanted to take more time and stretch out her pleasure, but her body didn’t want to wait. Anyway, there was time. He wasn’t going anywhere. She grabbed his hands and pushed them over his head, leaning over him, into him, rubbing against him as she used him to massage herself.

“Oh, please, ma’am. Please.” He begged, and each word spurred her on.

“Please ma’am, what?” She teased. She could feel her orgasm building, right on the verge.

“Please let me come. Please, ma’am. Please?” His hips rose against hers, trying to meet her rhythm, but she refused to let them. She kept him pinned, locked her eyes onto his urgent ones.

“Oh, gorgeous boy.” It crested over her and she rode him out through it, his teeth biting into his lip so hard there was a drop of blood. “Not yet. Not yet.”

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Becoming Teacher’s Pet

dominant teacher fantasy

What I propose is that we strengthen your willpower and attempt to reduce some of those confusing and distracting urges that young men your age are prone to experiencing. What you need to learn is restraint and the ability to push through distractions.

Hello. Thank you for coming to see me after class during office hours. I know I give you a lot of homework, so I understand this puts an extra burden on you. But I think in the long run you’ll find our meeting…meetings will be, perhaps, to your benefit.

I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you are currently my favorite student. You see, every once in a while I spy a student who has such potential, but doesn’t realize it. He could be truly excellent, but for some reason, there is something holding him back. You are such a student, my dear, and it pains me because my job is to help you be all that you can be, and I feel like I’m failing you.

No. No. I know you LIKE me. I’m flattered that I’m your favorite teacher, but it’s not important that you like me. What’s important is that you learn from me. That you show improvement.

Do you think you’ve demonstrated improvement as this year has progressed? Answer me honestly. I can tell when one of my students is lying.

Really. Well, it’s commendable that you can admit to your failures. Let’s take the last quiz we had on 19th century poet, Emily Dickinson. You got the basic questions correct. However, you failed at many of the more detailed questions. Don’t you think that details matter? Shouldn’t we strive for perfection?

Yes. I agree. That’s why I think we should start by reviewing your quiz..but this time with a little extra encouragement.

Stand up. Pull down your pants and lean over the desk.

That’s a good boy.

I know this might be embarrassing, but remember, I’m your instructor. You don’t need to be afraid. I have your best interests at heart. And the sooner we get this over with, the fewer people will see you in such a very exposed position. Not too many people walk by my office, but the halls can get busy after football practice. And my…you ARE exposed. You have such a lovely bottom. It would be a shame to mar such beautiful, pink flesh.

Now, what I’m going to do is retest you on your quiz and see if you’ve mastered the questions you got incorrect before. If you have, thats excellent. If not, I will deliver five swats of my ruler for each incorrect question. As I punish you, I want you to say the correct answer out loud. And pay attention. Because I may surprise you by asking the same question more than one time to ensure you’re paying attention.

Well, I can’t help but be disappointed. But you did take your punishment well. That’s something to be proud of. Not even a tear. Well, maybe just one? Your face is certainly red now, but not as red as your rear. It’s actually more a lovely shade of pink. It may be a little challenging to sit tomorrow, but that should help remind you to apply yourself faithfully to your studies.

As I suspected, you haven’t been applying yourself as stringently as I’d like. The question is how to motivate a delicate boy like you. The typical enticements won’t work. Stand up. No. Don’t pull your pants up just yet. We’re not close to being done. You’re going to be up very late tonight completing your homework, I’m afraid.

My. I can see that my discipline certainly had an effect on you. Something is certainly standing at attention! How are you feeling right now? I think I can see some people looking in the office window. No. Don’t look. Eyes on me, please. If you’re embarrassed you only have yourself to blame for your performance, but I know you will do better next time. After all, you are my special boy.

What I propose is that we strengthen your willpower and attempt to reduce some of those confusing and distracting urges that young men your age are prone to experiencing. What you need to learn is restraint and the ability to push through distractions.

Let me ask you honestly. Has anyone ever touched you here? I can tell you’re rather innocent. It’s charming, really. Oh. I can see, and feel that you like that. It’s clearly a new experience for you.

Have you touched yourself? At night? Perhaps when you’re under the covers and you think your roommate might not hear? I’ll tell you a secret. I’ll bet he knows. And maybe you listen a little too long to the noises coming from the other bed and feel yourself getting excited?

That’s perfectly normal. No need to quiver like that. But it’s not quite the same as when someone else touches you. Is it? Especially someone who knows what she’s doing and has…a guiding hand?

My, you’re positively twitching and I can hear your breath getting harder. See. This is what I mean. When you give into your base impulses so easily, there’s simply no way for you to maintain the discipline required of you to remain an A+ student. And you want to be my A+ student. Don’t you?

Of course you do.

So let’s make this a little more challenging to strengthen your resolve. Hold these two dictionaries for me, one in each hand. Arms outstretched. That’s right. Let’s build up those muscles. I’ll keep touching you on two conditions. First, you need to keep holding my books for me. Second, I’ll be calling out some basic words you ought to know the definitions for. If you get them correct, the pleasure will continue. But for each definition you’re unsure of or get wrong, I’ll sadly have to apply my trusty cane to your beautiful bottom. It’s motivated quite a few boys in its time.

And remember. Hands down and game’s over. If you want release, you need to earn it, just like your grade.

Oh. Poor boy! Are those books getting heavy? But doesn’t my hand feel good wrapped around you? If that whimpering and begging is any indication, it certainly does. Stop bucking your hips against me. It’s unseemly. Shhh. You don’t have to do anything but concentrate on holding your position and your studies. Let me do the rest of the work. Relax and clear your mind.

You’re almost there. Aren’t you? But the books! You did very well on your definitions. You made me so proud, as well as the strong way you took the cane for your mistakes. Those marks will be excellent reminders in the days to come.

Oh! Such a shame—you dropping the books.

You’ll have to keep building your upper body strength. After all, a healthy body leads to a healthy mind. And you so hard and dripping too. It looks painful. It really does hurt me more than it hurts you to see you this way.

Now I have one last lesson for you today.

I know it’s throbbing. Stop whining, please. You’re doing very well, and you’ve tried very hard. You’re not quite there yet, but I do see some immediate improvement.

Sit down on that chair. I’m going to pull my skirt up and I’m going to put you inside of me. Honestly, all of this instruction has gotten me a bit worked up, and you should get SOME reward for your effort. There’s nothing like positive reinforcement to make a lesson stick.

That’s it. It’s nice and warm and wet isn’t it. I’m sure it feels very snug in there. No. Don’t move. Just sit. I’m sure your bottom is still feeling rather sensitive. Isn’t it? But not too sensitive to enjoy the slippery slidey feelings, hmmm? You have to stop crying out like that. Three of my fingers in your mouth should do it.

There that’s better. Suck on these and concentrate on staying nice and hard for me.

I don’t have to ask you how it feels. Do I? I think I can tell by your eyes, and well, my lessons have clearly been…inspirational. I dare say I’m feeling inspired as well. Quiet. Close your eyes. Oh, you’ve been a very, very good boy. Can you feel how hard I’m gripping you. That’s it. That’s it. You can last just a little bit longer for me. Show me what you’ve learned!

Yes. Yes. That’s exactly the spot! Oh! Good work! Very, very good!

Well, that was refreshing. Thank you. Pull your pants up. Buckle your belt. I needed that. It’s challenging being such a dedicated instructor, and I’m glad you recognize that.

Oh, I know it’s difficult that I didn’t give you any release. Try not to beg. It’s not going to get you anywhere. You’ve made such improvements today, and I want you to keep striving to get better and better. If I just gave in to you so easily, I would be failing you. Now, I think it’s time for you to go back to your dorm and work on your homework. And I’ll expect to see you at my office hours tomorrow.

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Boss Woman

dominant woman stockings bare feet

“But I could have sworn I heard you say, “I like women in power,” low, as you walked past me out of the room. You got donut sugar on my blazer.”

You walk tentatively into the office, your hair mussed, a confused look upon your face, a face I’d thought of as charming the first time I saw it in the break room last week, as you munched on a breakfast donut, sugar powder dotting your stubbled chin. You didn’t know who I was yet.

You said, “Are you one of the new hires? Did you meet the new vice-president yet? I heard he’s tough.”

“She is,” I said, and I couldn’t help but give you a wolfish grin as the pink color climbed into your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, practically choking on the donut.

“I’m not.” I liked the way the embarrassment looked on you. “It’s not the first time I’ve surprised people.”

“Men,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Men. I suppose you mean it’s not the first-time men have been surprised.” Chastened, your big hand reached for another donut and then seemed to think better of it.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Not just men. But mostly men. They’re not used to seeing a woman in power.”

“I’m not like that,” you said. “I’m not. I’m just…I’m just an intern. I’m just starting out. Or I was. This is my last week before graduate school.”

“Hey, we all had to start somewhere. And don’t put yourself down. You’re not just an intern. The company wouldn’t have recruited you if you didn’t have potential.” And then I couldn’t stop myself from adding, “You just have to live up to it.”

I thought I saw you gulp, your Adam’s apple bob up and down as your hand hung just above the box of donuts, like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to leave, like you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave. And in that moment I almost thought I might do something crazy, if I hadn’t worked so hard to get the position, if there hadn’t been people right outside the break room who would definitely hear if I pulled you to me quickly, leaving trace donut dust in the air and mashed my lips into yours until I made you bleed with my desire.

Just then my secretary walked in wanting a latte. I could see your eyes hover over me for second, downcast. I supposed I’d done it again. I knew I could be intimidating. Now I’d probably put you off. Word would get around. I’d be the office bitch, once again. Not that I totally minded. It got things done, and it got them done right. But it could be lonely. And frustrating. It had been a while since I’d had a man in my bed, or anywhere else for that matter, and my vibrator was running out of batteries.

But I could have sworn I heard you say, “I like women in power,” low, as you walked past me out of the room. You got donut sugar on my blazer.

So, now here you are, a week later, your last day at the office, if I’m calculating correctly, which I am. I definitely am. Not that I haven’t been attending to my responsibilities. But I’m good at multi-tasking. It should be 8:00 PM, and you should officially not be employed or connected to the company in any way.

Except your presence, which is present in front of me. Sitting in a cushy chair in front of my desk. And still adorable. I’ve asked you to stay late. We should be alone. Even the housekeeping staff goes home by 6:30 PM on a Friday.

“Did I do something wrong,” you ask. I can see you’ve been biting your nails. My, you look young in the warm office lighting. Did I mention that I have a little thing for young men? They’re so…accommodating. And so full of energy that needs a little direction. I’m really good at giving directions, or so I’ve been told.

“Not at all,” I say. “From what I hear, you’ve been an excellent addition to the team. I’m sure they’ll want to recruit you for a full-time position when you finish school.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“Thank you, what?” I raise an eyebrow at you. Playfully, of course.

You bite your lip. I can hear you suck in a sigh. “Thank you, ma’am?”

“Now that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” I’m glad my desk chair has rollers on it, because it easily slides over to your chair, so I’m sitting right in front of you.

“No, ma’am,” you say.

“Do you have a fever?” I reach out and gently place my palm on your forehead. I can’t help it if my breasts lightly brush over your dress shirt. Or if my nipples are hard. These new bras just don’t have enough padding, and they keep it cold in the office. “Because your face is very red, and you seem to be sweating. Frankly, I’m a little concerned.”

“No ma’am,” you croak out. “It’s just.” Your eyes are all the place now, the wall, the floor, the ceiling, that weird chicken figurine my predecessor left, and I’ve forgotten to throw out. They’re everywhere but on me. “It’s just, you’re very pretty ma’am.

I laugh. I really can’t help it. “Why, thank you,” I say. I slip my finger under your chin, lightly encouraging your face upwards so your eyes meet mine.

“I’m sure you hear it all the time.” You’re biting at your lip by this point, and I can see a faint outline of a bulge underneath those gray dress pants of yours. Which is to say that you’re exactly how I want you to be. I take the opportunity to slide off one of my pumps, exposing my stockinged foot.

“You’d be surprised,” I say. “And a woman can never hear how pretty she is enough times from a man she likes.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers and your mouth is hanging open a bit. You’ve got plump, juicy lips, and they’re just begging to have my fingers between them. But I can be a little patient. My foot starts a slow slide across the gap between us, which is not very wide, really. I place it on your shoe.

“You know that as of three hours ago, you’re no longer an intern at the company,” I say.

“Oh, yes. I suppose your right.”

“So, therefore, I am in no particular position of authority over you.” My foot makes its way over your ankle and glides up your pants leg over your calf, then your thigh and finally your groin, where it rests comfortably on top of your cock, which is definitely bulging and impressively sized. Just the right size, if my foot is doing proper reconnaissance, which is seems to be from your squirming.

“Technically speaking,” I say. I make a small circle over the bulge with my toes and you whimper appreciatively.

“That is to say that you are completely free to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I arch my brow.

“I mean, no ma’am. Please. I don’t want to go.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, since my foot is really proving itself now. I’m grinding it against your cock and rubbing it up and down. Your slacks aren’t very thick, because I can feel the outline of your shaft hard against it, and a slight wet spot appearing on them over the head. You groan and buck just once, which makes me smile.

“That’s good,” I say. “Because even though you’re not my employee, I still feel like I have a lot I could teach you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I’ve found that young men like yourself–bright, promising young men—can get a little carried away too easily. They’re so…,” I pause, and grip the shaft of your cock with my toes, causing you to cry out. “They’re so excitable.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod, but let’s be honest. At this point you’d probably nod if I told you that you were an alien.

My toes continue their massage, the wet spot spreading deliciously.

“And I like to help them channel all of that energy, so they can be more productive. Think of it like a mentorship, but only for promising applicants. Would you say that you are a promising applicant?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. Please. Yes. I am promising. I can be promising. I’ll promise anything. Please, just don’t take your foot away, ma’am. Please.”

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. Just a little too excitable. You can’t help it really. All of that testosterone coursing through you. You wonder how I became a vice-president? I don’t have to deal with all of that testosterone making you do silly things. Like make that mess on your pants. Do you see it? It’s quite unprofessional. Stand up, please.”

I remove my foot, which is a little damp beneath my stocking, and you moan. I didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to get redder, but they do. When I tell you to undo your slacks, you pull yourself up and out of the chair at lightning speed. Before I can even slip my other shoe off and stand up beside you, your belt is undone and your zipper is down.

“What do you have to say for yourself,” I ask in your ear, as we both look down at the stain on your pants. Of course, it’s on your boxer briefs too, and I’m glad you chose white because I can clearly see your cock underneath them, like you’ve been in a wet t-shirt contest, which I suppose, in a way, you have. Only you’re the only contestant and you’re definitely going to win.

“I know.” Your eyes are on the floor. “I’m so embarrassed. You’re very exciting, ma’am. I just want to please you. What can I do to please you? Please?”

Suddenly you’re all eyes on me, and I can’t help it, and I grab the back of your head with both hands and pull you to me, my lips on yours, like I’d wanted to a week ago. I swear I can still taste donut sugar on your lips.  

I’m not a gentle kisser. Some men don’t like it. They ask me why I can’t be more ladylike, but then they’re the ones who are missing out, aren’t they?

Because you’re certainly not. You don’t mind it at all when I take your bottom lip between my teeth and bite, not hard enough to draw blood, but I admit it’s a struggle to control myself. You just moan into my mouth and thrust your hips helplessly against my skirt, your hands fluttering at your side. You’re not sure what to do with yourself at this point.

Darling boy, I have really gotten you worked up.

“Sssshh.” I unclamp my teeth from your lips, with some difficulty, and whisper soothingly in your ear. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I like you a lot. I find you very pleasing.”

Your breath is fast and hot, and it gets even faster when I slip my hand down the front of you and slowly work it under your boxer briefs, tugging them down as I do, so your cock pops free of the tight fabric. I can’t help but look, and my it’s a nice one. I take it gently in my hand, with the other hand still draped across the back of your skull. I gather your short hair, and give it a little tug.

“Just to let you know that you’re mine, at least for the moment,” I say softly.  

Then I begin a slow assault on your cock, gently pumping up and down. I don’t even need any lube. That base is already covered.

I watch your face as I do it, my eyes locked onto yours. You’re tense. We’ve barely started and you’re already almost there. I can tell you’re trying hard not to lose control, but your hips can’t help jerking. You’re leaking like crazy, and you’re so hard. So very, very hard. When I take my hand away for a second, you literally cry out in desperation.

“Ask,” I whisper.

“Ask?” The word rushes out of your lovely mouth, but I know there’s not any blood left in your brain.

“Just ask. Ask permission.” I barely place my hand back on your throbbing cock, let my breasts brush up against the side of your chest. I’m only just touching it. Like a feather.

“Please. Please, ma’am. Let me come. Please. I’ll do anything. I swear. I’ll do anything. Just don’t stop. I’d love for you to be my mentor. I’ll be good for you. I’ll be so good. You’ll see. I’ll make you proud of me.”

“Sweet boy. That’s all you have to do.”

And with that, I increase the pressure just a hair’s breath, one slight slide up and down from the base to the head, a small touch behind the head where I know it’s most sensitive, and that’s all it takes.

You shake, explode. Come runs over and down my hand and you let out a thick, masculine groan that sends a pool of heat straight between my legs.

We stand there together, silent, as I give you time to come down from your high, and your neck turns, nuzzling into my clavicle, kissing my neck so gently I want to devour you.

“Did you mean it,” you ask. I can hear a tremor in your voice. Unsure.

“Did I mean what?”

“That I could be yours? That you would teach me? Show me?”

I smile. I want you so much.

“Oh, baby. We haven’t even gotten started yet. We have the entire weekend to get acquainted. And I’ve got donuts.” 

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