femdom

 

Femdom stories

  

 

 

  

Total male slave control by dominant women

  

Inslaved male real life story

  

  

  

I am a single male in my forties who was involved in a female-assertive/male-passive relationship for about five years. (In this age of acronyms, may I coin one of my own? Female-assertive/male-passive = FAMP, it will save some typing...). Anna, my partner, was three years my junior. We met by happenstance, while simultaneously vacationing at a resort, and after a long-distance courtship of about two years, I relocated to share her home, and we were briefly engaged to be married. Although our relationship did not become permanent, I thought some of our experiences would be of interest. I have of course changed the names of the players to protect anonymity, and altered some minor details of the experiences to make them more readable. But everything that follows is indeed true.

 

Embarrassing Moments

 

Anna was a self-minded and determined person who did not scruple to assert herself, even in the most public of places. Though I doubt she had an innate desire to be sensually dominant, some of the embarrassing situations she created were stimulating, certainly to me, but perhaps to her as well. It may be difficult to understand how the feeling of humiliation can be erotic; how the tunnel vision and sinking feeling of blushing, and the withering feeling of defenselessness, can be arousing. But to some, these feelings can indeed be very exciting and addictive. Among my most memorable experiences are these.

 

After our courtship became serious, I relocated from my home city to hers, shared her condominium, and took a job that, by chance, was located only mere blocks from hers (the fact that her job paid more was a fact she never hesitated to note, despite my advanced degree and her lack of higher education). Anna was a very controlling person, and as she wanted to monitor my activities to the maximum extent possible, she insisted that I alter my work schedule to coincide with hers (a considerable annoyance to me, as I am an early riser and she was not), and that we commute together. We lived in a major metropolitan area where commuting by mass transit was the only practical means, and hence rode the subway together, twice daily, much of the week. As we lived near the furthest station on the line, seats were always available for the morning commute. Anna would seat herself and insist that I stand before her rather than sit beside her. I was not allowed to read or appear disinterested in her conversation, and if my eyes wandered (particularly in the direction of any attractive woman), she would clear her throat, give a piercing stare, and either tug my necktie or kick my shin (neither playfully nor severely, but merely noticeably).

 

Each workday she would call or email me several times at the office and loudly demand explanations for any missed calls or delayed responses. She randomly appeared at lunchtime to make certain that I indeed ate my prepared lunch and had no secret female lunch companions. She also insisted that I be waiting for her to arrive at the subway station in the evening for the trip home, promptly at 5:05PM, regardless of what time she actually left her office. Oftentimes, if she ran late, she would ask a homeward-bound female co-worker to find me in the station and remind me to wait for her.

 

On one occasion, Anna worked considerably late into the evening, and asked her colleague Mary (who lived in our neighborhood) to accompany me homeward. I cannot say whether Mary knew of the true nature of the relationship Anna and I had, but it was clear from her tone of voice that she spoke with the full weight of Anna's direction and expected to be obeyed. Perhaps she thought I was truly a bumbler who could not find his way home without female guidance, or she simply assumed that any long-term boyfriend of Anna's was naturally obedient. But in any case, it was embarrassing to feel the vicarious weight of Anna's presence through Mary. I feared that she would embellish or fabricate stories of recalcitrance on my part, and felt the powerlessness of a child seeking to appease a sadistic baby sitter.

 

One particularly embarrassing commuter incident stands out in my memory. Our train one evening had become delayed and was waiting at a station with its doors open. As there were no seats available, Anna and I were standing near a doorway in close proximity to many other passengers, including a very attractive woman in her mid-20s who was reading a fashion magazine and seemed oblivious to the delay. The weather was mild, and my curiosity overcame me, so I stepped briefly into the doorway to see if any visible activity outside the train justified our delay. At that moment the train doors closed on me, and I was knocked off balance into our fellow female passenger. Though she was unhurt and seemingly unruffled by this unavoidable transgression of urban life, before I could apologize on my own, Anna seized the moment.

 

"Look at what you just did" she quipped in a carrying voice. "Why are you so meddlesome? Don't you know the people on this train just want to get home? They don't need you standing in the doorways and delaying them further. And look at what you did to this woman. Now you apologize to her."

 

"Sorry" I replied, facing the woman. The growing pit in my stomach prevented me from uttering more than one word, and meekly at that. I knew that the conversation was not over, but my role in it certainly was.

 

"Oh, it's no problem" she cheerfully replied - to Anna, ignoring me completely. "Men are all the same" she said dismissively, and with a cavalier wave of her hand, she returned to her magazine.

 

"You just wait till I get you home" Anna said. At that moment the walls seemed to close in upon me. I pretended to ignore her, and purposefully avoided the gazes of anyone else on the train, but felt both mortification and dread. The twenty something victim of my imbalance did not raise her head from her magazine, but fought back a smile.

 

Many submissive males fantasize about total control by a woman, and living in an entirely female-oriented world. That restrained smile put me in that world. Anna's control over me was so complete and obvious that even a casual female bystander could feel empowered by it, and not fear any consequences arising from smirking over my discomfort. Ms. Twentysomething didn't know exactly how I would pay for my transgression that evening, but knew that I would, and that knowledge would undoubtedly be shared at her corporate water cooler the next morning. The unexpectedly firm and public feminine admonishment of male misbehavior she witnessed obviously delighted her. Though I had not planned the incident, I felt in an odd way pleased that my clumsiness, through evoking chastisement, both gave Anna a venue for self-expression, and gave another woman a satisfying moment of emotional conquest.

 

Homelife

 

Nowhere was Anna more pedantic than in the home. Although, upon my move to her city, I suggested we mutually agree on a new residence, she dismissed my concerns. Her condominium, she insisted, appealed to her, and thus ought to appeal to me also. She simply felt that the woman in a relationship should have, as is tradition, unfettered authority over all domestic affairs.

 

I was allowed one bookshelf and half of one closet for my clothes and essential belongings - all the other closets, the dresser, and cabinets were hers alone. I rented a storage unit, to which she held the only key, for the balance of my possessions. She said this was necessary to prevent me from cluttering her living space, spending my money on frivolous things when my focus should be solely on her, and secretly acquiring a stash of pornography. Her private possessions, such as financial documents, were in contrast kept in a locked cabinet to which I had no access.

 

Financially, she allowed me some freedom, but there were restrictions. Bill payment was by her criteria. Joint bills (such as utilities) were split equally, despite her control over items such as heat and telephone usage. Other bills, such as those for my automobile, were my sole responsibility. Instead of dividing the mortgage, she insisted that I (like her) make a full payment, without receiving any equity in the property, as she felt that I ought to look upon our cohabitation as an enriching experience and not as a financial advantage. She also had strict quality of life demands, such as restaurant meals four times weekly, weekly flowers sent to her office and for the home, weekly gift certificates to department stores near her workplace, and spending criteria (e.g., I had to prove I spent at least $500 per occasion on gifts for Valentine's Day, our anniversary, her birthday, etc). The end result was that I worked almost entirely for her.

 

Trips to the market were usually embarrassing. Anna would prepare a detailed shopping list and walk briskly through the market as I struggled behind with the shopping cart. When she was finished selecting her items, she would walk home (we lived only one block away) and leave me to stand in line and pay for them. I was also solely responsible for transporting all the items home and putting them away. I was not allowed to add anything to her shopping list - instead, she insisted that I make a separate trip to the market on my own, at a time of her convenience (i.e., when she was out with friends or erstwhile occupied), should I want any food or domestic items of my own choosing. Initially I thought that this policy was a bit harsh but I gradually accepted it. After a short period of lifestyle adjustment on my part, I began to draw strength from Annas firm and unyielding nature, and subtly encouraged her to be even more strict. In a strange way, I found satisfaction in the continually evolving challenge of demonstrating my obedience and willingness to appease her, however absurd her demands could be.

 

Household chores were similarly regimented. Although I did volunteer to perform all of them, Anna seemed to feel that the household worked better if she delegated chores of her choosing and kept others to herself. For example, she insisted in doing all the cooking and her own laundry, the stated reason being my incompetence at both. Vacuuming, dusting, etc were all done by me, under her supervision, and to a strict schedule. For instance I had to vacuum for at least 30 minutes, move one piece of furniture to vacuum behind on a rotating weekly schedule, scrub the bathroom floor for at least ten minutes, etc. Although Anna was not a nudist per se, she did enjoy being nude in the privacy of the home, and encouraged me to do so also. Prior to our cohabitation she claimed to always do the housework nude, and despite my preference for sweatsuits, she convinced me to go nude also. Anna had a very close relationship with her very attractive and open-minded mother (Joyce) and would frequently chat with her on the telephone while I did the housework. Though I cannot say precisely how many of the details of our relationship Joyce ever knew, during her visits she would always comment on the cleanliness of the home and remark about how well Anna had trained me, and once remarked that it must be pleasant to no longer have to launder any sweatsuits.

 

Naughty Nylons

 

Crossdressing is a lifelong activity that I enjoy to this day. I have no female persona, nor a desire to be passable; instead, I simply enjoy the sensuality of feminine attire, and the thrill that the sense of naughtiness at having stretched a cultural boundary provides. I limit my crossdressing to lingerie, shoes, and risque clubwear-type attire, and consider it a relaxing, self-expressive activity that privately frees me from the societal expectations placed on males. Crossdressing is at once both triumphant and submissive. At once I feel the power to assert my own interpretation of gender roles, and the restrictive vulnerabilities that feminine attire provides.

 

Anna knew of my crossdressing before our relationship solidified but only begrudgingly approved of it. While she viewed my sexual appetite as healthy, and did not overtly doubt my masculinity, she seemed to view crossdressing among straight males as a desire to cheat without cheating - in effect, to be the other woman in the relationship. Since this viewpoint was so anathema to how I felt, I chose to stand my ground. I knew my feelings to be true, and was reluctant to forego the simple pleasures of crossdressing, so I crafted an evening event that I hoped would change her mind.

 

It was a typical winter Friday evening, early in our then-long distance relationship. I escaped from work early and hopped in my automobile for the drive to her city. The drive was uneventful, and I arrived to a welcoming companion. As was customary, I brought my overnight bag, as we were to spend the weekend together. After a leisurely and satisfying dinner at a local pub, we walked home to her condo for what Anna undoubtedly hoped would be one of our typical evenings of passionate lovemaking. We entered her condo and the door locked behind me with an eerie thud that seemed ominous. Though Anna sensed that nothing but a typical evening together lay ahead, I busied myself with the details of mental preparation for an event that would both expand our boundaries and her preconceived notion of what crossdressing underscored.

 

She stripped nude, not entirely for sensual reasons, but largely because she simply preferred to be nude around the house, and I did the same. She prepared cocktails, and we sat on the couch together. Soon conversation became affection. I became noticeably aroused, and asked for a moment alone. I went into the bedroom and dug deep into the bottom of my overnight bag for my outfit - a black satin corselette, nylons, studded leather collar with leash, opera gloves, 5-inch stiletto sandals, and a clingy sheer knee-length halter dress. I laced up the corselette, nearly grew faint as I smoothed on the nylons, and was shaking so badly by the time the stilettos went on that I could barely fasten the straps. Finally came the dress, collar, and gloves. I was almost too weak-kneed to balance myself in heels, but once Anna heard the jingling of the leash chain, there was no turning back. I opened the bedroom door, asked Anna if she was prepared to see something different, and strutted over to the couch, handing her the leash chain.

 

At first Anna seemed shocked and unsure of how to react to the sight of me in a dress, but after a few moments of normal conversation, she grew accepting. She teased me for my trashiness,  criticized my inability to walk gracefully in heels or sit properly in a dress, remarked at how disrespectful and unladylike my visibly aroused condition was, and suggested that I needed some discipline. I complied, and brought her a hairbrush she kept handy atop her dresser. I pulled my skirt up to my waist and bent over her knee for several dozen sharp swats. When she finished with me, she sent me red-faced and teary-eyed back into the bedroom to return the hairbrush. Undoubtedly she anticipated some oral pleasure, but I seized the moment, as I was determined to give her a new sort of oral pleasure that evening.

 

I dispensed with the dress and reached once again into my bag for Annas gift that evening: a black eight-inch strap on. I had purchased the very best I could find, an ultalightweight foam-filled dildo with flanged base and a fearsome leather belt with multiple crotch straps. I brought it to an amazed Anna and helped her secure it, holding it for her to step into, and gently but firmly adjusted the belt and straps. It fit perfectly, and the transformation was immediate. At once, Anna eschewed amusement for aggression.

 

She walked over to her full-length mirror and studied her profile. The straps massaged her hips, and the belt caressed her waist. The huge black dildo sat triumphantly at a realistic 110-120 degree angle to her body, and bobbed gently as she walked, providing her with mild excitement. She stood mesmerized for a moment, then the cocktail of adrenaline mixed with excitement and curiosity began to take effect.

 

She reached for her new penis and began to caress it. I aided by providing some personal lubricant. At first I stood behind her with my hands on her hips, but I quickly grew bold. I reached around her, first with one hand, then both, and held her hand in mine as she stroked herself. I was firm, and twisted the dildo slightly as I stroked, enhancing her pleasure. Finally she abandoned her role altogether and reached behind, pulling me closer as she began to moan and writhe. I continued my deep and passionate stroking.

 

After a few minutes I suggested a change of venue. I motioned her toward the couch, where she sat on the edge, the dildo towering above like a rocket about to launch. I had practiced deep fellatio on the dildo the prior week, and was ready. I knelt before her and grasped the base with my fingers, thoroughly kissing and licking this wonderful symbol of empowerment. Slowly I began to fellate, making certain to move my whole body as I did, so that the dildo base would work its way home and Anna would derive the maximum benefit. She did, and made no secret of it. As I grew more comfortable, I went deeper and deeper, until the entire dildo disappeared. Anna grinned broadly with a mixture of satisfaction and disbelief. Eventually  "What a good girl you are" became "Come on, be a good girl...make it disappear now" as she reached behind my head and measured my depth and duration. Soon we both felt the transformation that was taking place, as the dildo became not a toy or curiosity but a serious tool, and symbol of authority.

 

At what seemed to be the right moment for both of us, I arose and led her by the hand into the bedroom. Once beside the bed, I reached for a generous glob of lubricant, and applied it with my fingertips to her newfound member. Almost instinctively, I laid back on the bed, pulled my legs upward, and pushed my posterior forward for Anna’s use. She climbed atop the bed and knelt before me. I worked with her to position the dildo at a painless angle, and squealed with delight as she penetrated me.

 

Anna’s remarking "I can’t believe how good this feels" was a good sign that the dildo base had indeed found its sweet spot. After a few minutes, and an obvious moment of ecstasy on her part, I asked her for permission to masturbate. I pulled my legs up well high above my head, and masturbated into my mouth, much to Anna’s giggling delight. "What a great way to save tissues!" was her reply.

 

Corporal Punishment

 

Corporal punishment - known to Anna as CP - was a big part of our relationship. Although I initially introduced the idea to her, and she was somewhat reluctant at first, she quickly grew very enthusiastic.

 

I introduced the idea by bringing home a smooth canelike 36-inch 3/8 inch diameter carpenters dowel and suggested that, since men sometimes act like children, they sometimes need some old-fashioned schoolboy discipline. It worked. Her curiosity overcame reticence, and she soon had me nude, on all fours atop the bed. I encouraged her to be aggressive, and disregard any reaction on my part, but insisted on a safe word until we were both comfortable with each other (she chose 1200, her score on the SAT which was annoyingly above mine of 1160). Though somewhat tame at first, by about the 10th stroke she had worked up enough passion and sexual energy to affirmatively use the cane. I was unsure how much I could really take, or whether she knew to stop before any genuine damage was done, so I used the safe word at about the 25th stroke, by which time I was trembling uncontrollably and crying hysterically. I hugged her and thanked her, and after a few minutes went to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My bottom was covered with thick red welts and two very prominent bruises. Anna admitted that she did not understand my desire to be caned, but began to feel the power of the cane as it swooshed though the air, and liked it. She also admitted that, while the sight of me in tears was initially distressing, she did enjoy the feeling of power that reducing me to tears gave her.

 

The experience was both liberating and satisfying. I felt pride in having not only let my guard down, but also awakening at unleashing a part of her psyche that even she was unaware of. I thought it was both healthy and pleasurable for her to know that this option of disciplining me was available to her, whether she chose to use it for sensual reasons or to genuinely discipline me for a wrongdoing. I also took satisfaction from knowing that she now knew that I accepted her in all her moods, and that she had absolute freedom to be a total bitch if her whims suggested. I felt like I had given her a gift, and had the satisfaction of both giving and seeing the gift well-received and used. The bruises and welts were something I was proud of, and I admired them. The next morning I took Anna to breakfast at the local restaurant. Smirking from across the table, she asked me if I was having any trouble sitting. I replied that I was, but that my discomfort was temporary and that the growth in our relationship was permanent.

 

As our relationship grew and Anna became more comfortable with experimentation, she became more bold. Eventually, Friday evenings (and occasionally Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons) became my discipline times.

 

Fridays were the worst for me. My discipline usually began immediately upon our arrival home after an evening out. When Anna was in her worst humor, if we drove to her eating and drinking establishment of choice, she would slap my face repeatedly in the car after I had parked, so I would be noticeably reddened as we walked from the parking garage to her condo across the street. After we entered the building, if no neighbors were present, she would lead me by my hair or necktie to the front door, and upon entering her unit, either demand that I strip in the entrance foyer, or grab the scruff of my neck and march me to an overstuffed easy chair in her living room.  In her most aggressive moods, she would literally throw me over the chair, and return from a brief visit to the master closet armed with both a 36" cane and the 24" paddle she called her board of education.

 

She didn't believe in warm-ups; she got straight to work, with a ferocity that only seemed to grow with my weak-kneed quivering and teariness. Although I dreaded the exponential agony of the first five or six strokes, the pain stabilized by about the tenth, and as the endorphin kicked in, the pain became a curious pleasure. Control was never a problem for me - by the tenth stroke I usually leaned toward Anna, eager to prove just how much I could take. I gritted my teeth through the first few strokes but usually began crying and whimpering shortly thereafter. Our energies combined to enhance the experience - the more of a whimpering crybaby I became, the more I needed a reason to cry, and the more forceful the strokes became. I was supposed to count my strokes, but usually after about twenty, the intensity of the experience (shrinking peripheral vision and muffled hearing that made me feel as if my head were in a vise) and my hysteria robbed me of my ability to speak with any clarity. The beatings did indeed work. Any recalcitrance or indifference I demonstrated before a beating were replaced with vigorous enthusiasm afterward. I would literally run across the condo to bring her wine, slippers, or whatever she needed, and the passion of my oral worship, foot massages, and so forth were also similarly enhanced. Shy, embarrassed responses to questions were replaced with sharp, audible "Yes Mistress" and "No Mistress" retorts that seemed natural to me.

 

After a beating I would frequently cling to her. Although Anna perhaps never fully understood the emotional release and curious satisfaction a submissive feels after a punishment session, she did connect the dots and correlate my level of obedience with her level of strictness. Often she would lead me to the bathroom and have me examine my welts, giggling and smiling at what a wimp I was, what I made her do, or what I deserved and could look forward to next time.

 

Though I was supposed to muffle my squeals and sobs, on some occasions I could not, and we eventually experimented with a ball gag and thigh-to-wrist restraints. Though I cannot say just how much any of the neighbors ever discovered about out lifestyle, a telling moment arrived when our relationship was still a long-distance one, and we inadvertently crossed paths with the couple who occupied the next door condominium (as the units were mirror images of each other, we shared a common bedroom wall with their unit, and a common living room wall with our other neighbor). We met in the local supermarket, and ignoring me totally, our neighbor Janice approached Anna. "We can always tell when your boyfriend is in town" she laughed. Pointing toward me, she added "I'm glad you found a man who knows his place". The weather was balmy, and upon returning home, we pulled back the drapes to discover that the bedroom window crank had jammed and, despite our supposed privacy, the window had been wide open the previous evening. The swooshing cane, whimpering cries, and harsh criticisms of my housework undoubtedly found at least one welcome ear elsewhere. Interestingly, shortly thereafter, a delighted Janice and her grim-faced husband moved to a private home of her choosing. Perhaps the power of suggestion led Janice to discover the benefits of discipline in her own marriage, and she sought a more private space for the use of her own cane.

 

Anna was not generally creative with games, but on one occasion surprised me. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was busy on the computer when she entered the room, surprisingly dressed in a business suit,  and carrying a box that she handed me. In it were a roll of masking tape and a full alphabet set of large cursive letters, the kind that are posted above grammar school chalkboards. She had purchased them on ebay.  "Its time for you to decorate the classroom" she quipped. She led me into the living room and had me paste the letters on the living room wall. She then had me strip as she got the cane from the bedroom closet. "Hands on your head" she ordered.

 

"Stupid, naughty boys like you need severe discipline. What letter is that?" she asked, using the cane to point toward the "A".

 

"It’s an A" I answered. She stepped aside, and landed the cane firmly on my bottom. "No, you moron, it's a capital A. And what letter is that?" she continued, pointing toward the "B".

 

Of course, my answer was wrong again (it was a cursive B). Nor was the small "m" small, it was lower case. The L was the letter after K. The W was two v's set next to one another. The S was the first word in spanking, which was what lazy students deserved. And so on, until all 52 upper and lower case letters had been incorrectly identified, and a very proud teacher led her well-disciplined student into the bedroom for some extracurricular activities of her own choosing.

 

Exhibitionism

 

Interestingly, Anna loved watching me masturbate, and the more public the setting the better.

 

On one occasion, we were returning from a Friday evening dinner in town via mass transit. This was by mutual choice, as it was most convenient, and as we both enjoyed imbibing, driving was ill-advised. It was the late evening, and we were two of only three passengers in the last car of our subway train - the other was a lone inebriant, passed out at the far end of the car. The doors closed at an outlying station, and as we were to cross a river, a lengthy distance was to be traversed, and we had several minutes to travel before reaching the next station. Anna knew this and chose to enjoy this moment of semipublic privacy. We sat adjacent a doorway windscreen that blocked any view of my body (besides feet and head) from the adjacent car.

 

"Jerk off" she quipped.

 

I gazed back in dumbfounded silence.

 

"Don't make me repeat myself" was the only reply I got. I got the message and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. Nervously, I pulled them to mid-thigh level and began to fondle myself. Though the risk and embarrassment of the moment intimidated me, Annas icy stare and commanding presence overcame my fears. She transitioned from a position sitting beside me to one kneeling beside and slightly hovering over me. I had confidence in her guardianship so I focused on my task. When my moment of extasy arrived I stopped briefly, just to ascertain that she really wanted me to complete this exercise, but received only an angry "I didn't tell you to stop". Shortly thereafter I soiled the floor of the train, much to Anna's giggling delight.

 

On another occasion we were vacationing in a rural state. I was already feeling humiliated as I had forgotten my wallet and ATM cards that day, and as Anna had refused to loan me any cash, I was required to beg her for purchases in-kind (if that doesn't sound embarrassing, consider that we stopped at a Dairy Queen and, in front of a bevy of teenage women, I was denied my request for a hot dog while she indulged in her favorite sundae). She also had the details of the trip planned, kept them to herself, and refused to allow me to bring any maps (as they were too male). Instead she relied on directions and simply told me, the primary driver, where to go.

 

Late in the day we found ourselves on a lightly-traveled road in a rural area, and chanced upon a clearing. Anna spotted the clearing ahead and told me to stop, and I complied. She opened her door and motioned me to come outside. "Come on, lets go for a walk" she said.

 

I caught up with her and she led me by the hand into a cornfield, no more than fifty feet from the road, but the corns talks hid us from all angles. She released my hand and gently nudged me several feet away from her. Folding her arms and forming an evil smile, she gave the order "Jerk off".

 

By now I knew my obligation. "Yes mistress" I politely replied, pulled my pants down, and got to work. After several minutes Anna grew impatient and gave me sixty seconds to complete my task, or finish on her hand for me to lick off.  Luckily I adhered to the deadline. She told me the next time she wouldn't be so lenient, and had me fix myself up and return to the car.

 

On still another occasion, on a westward vacation drive, we paused for the evening in a small city motel of Anna’s choosing (she had timed the trip so that we would arrive in the early evening, and had chosen a motel with an indoor pool, as she was an avid and expert swimmer). By prior arrangement, as we had no children requiring lifeguard oversight in our party, Anna had negotiated after-hours pool access (the pool closed at 7PM, and we arrived around 9PM). Thus we were able to enjoy the pool in relative privacy, a welcome diversion following a daylong drive.

 

An added bonus was a small hot tub adjacent the pool. As I disdain cold water, I partook of the hot tub as a warmup before a swim. Shortly after enjoying a swim, Anna joined me in the hot tub. Though we were undoubtedly monitored by the front desk clerk via CCTV, the details of any activity in the hot tub would not be noticed so long as we were relatively stealthy. Anna quickly realized this. She sat opposite me and gave the order, "Jerk off". As I presumed relative privacy, I complied. I carefully pulled my swim trunks down to mid-thigh level and began to fondle myself. After achieving a state of arousal, Anna reached into her bathing suit and produced a condom that she surreptitiously passed over to me. I applied the condom and completed my assignment, struggling to keep a straight face so as not to arouse the suspicion of any probing eyes. Afterward, back in the motel room, Anna had me remove the condom in her presence to verify that I had indeed been fully obedient and completed my assignment.

 

Bitch Ballet

 

Anna had no aspirations of becoming a professional dancer, but took evening ballet lessons at least twice weekly. Her desire was largely to remain fit and indulge in a hobby. This fit well into our lifestyle, as during these times I was expected to do all my own household chores (such as my own food shopping and laundry) so as to not disturb our joint time at home. Typically, on dancing nights, we would arrive home together, but soon part ways for the evening. Depending upon the time of her lesson, she would either depart home immediately after changing clothes, or sometimes have a light snack before departing.

 

On several occasions, I drove her to her lessons and waited for her (she refused to allow me to return home and pick her up after her lesson). I had to sit beside the dance floor and maintain eye contact with her at all times, and if she even thought I was daydreaming she would publicly scold me after the lesson. The scoldings, with statements like "I didn't know there was anything in this room more worthy of your attention than I", or "And just where was your mind this evening? Obviously you had better things to think about than I" were nearly always delivered within earshot of her friend and classmate Sarah, an always well-coiffed and tanned businesswoman, who obviously approved. Sarah was stunning, a self-made executive at a shoe company, drove a Z3 sports car, and always viewed me with a devious and probing smile. Well in her forties, she had a mature, commanding presence that naturally demanded respect, and was softly spoken but sensually powerful. Given Anna’s difficulty with keeping secrets, it is highly likely that Sarah knew all the details of my role in our relationship. Secretly, I fantasized about being loaned to Sarah, not in a sexual context, but simply because she seemed so naturally domineering. I dreamed of a morning spent moving her lawn, cleaning her house, and washing her car, followed by an afternoon do tingly carrying her purchases around the mall and being attentive in every way. Certainly she would find fault with me and punish me; Anna, noticing whatever marks Sarah left on my behind, would add her own as punishment for having disappointed her friend.

 

When she chose her own transportation to her dance lessons, Anna made good use of my time home alone. We experimented with chastity devices, and eventually owned an Access Denied/ Tollyboy style belt. The belt fit well and was very exciting to wear, but was simply too cumbersome for everyday use. I was very intrigued by the notion of a 24/7 chastity device, but unfortunately this was before the Curve/CB-3000 was available, and Anna would not allow me the time or resources to craft my own (I am a competent machinist and could have easily done so). Frequently, Anna would lock me up before leaving for her class, just in case I had a desire to satisfy myself in her absence. She was playful in other ways as well. On occasion, she would lock me into a latex catsuit I owned (locking the zipper to a collar), tether me by ankle cuff or collar to a screw eye I installed in a beam in the living room (I made a tether from flexible, coated aircraft control cable that allowed noiseless motion throughout the condo, but not as far as the front door), have me strip nude and lock all clothing (including laundry) out of my reach in the bedroom, and call home using her cellphone repeatedly throughout the evening and give me one cane stroke for every ring beyond the first per call. In cases where I was locked up or away from clothing, I had access to an emergency key, sealed in a custom-printed stationery envelope from her workplace that I could not replace if opened.

 

Though I previously commented that Anna was not particularly fond of my crossdressing, she did on a few occasions direct me to wear my "best outfit" (the chastity belt with pantyhose and one of her bras) under my street clothes when we went to dinner, and she also allowed me to do the housework in a full maids costume, including a crinoline, on my birthday and some very special, selected occasions. Though she did not relish the sight of me in feminine attire, she did occasionally remark that she appreciated the attentive and obedient mindest it seemed to create for me.

 

As previously noted, the relationship Anna and I had ultimately failed. There is always, in such cases, no shortage of blame to be levied, and little can be gained from doing so. There were obviously foibles, miscommunications, and some bad behavior along the way, but my desire in penning this narrative is to reflect on the good while simultaneously inspiring others, as others have inspired me.

 

 

  

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________

go to main Femdom movies site                                go to main Cuckold stories site

                          go to Chastity belt stories                                         go to Femdom stories

__________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

REAL FEMDOM  HOME

  

 

Femdom movies

  

Femdom movies 2

  

Femdom movies 3

  

Femdom movies 4

 

  

 

©  Cuckold Stories  Navigation:

  

Cuckold husbands   |  Cuckold Movies  |  Cuckold husband stories  |  Slut Wife Stories  |  Cuckold creampie  |  Creampie cuckold  |  Forced BI  |  Hot wife  |  Dominant wives  |  Mistress wife  |  Submissive male  |  Cuckoldress  |  Forced chastity  |  Chastity slave  |  Tease and denial  |  Cock teasing  |  Sissified - Sissy  |  Humiliated cuckold husband  |  Cuckold stories  |  Slut wife 2  |  Cuckold Marriage  |  Stories by authors  |  Cuckold pictures |  Real cuckold  |  Femdom

 

FEMDOM STORIES

FEMDOM STORIES  HOME

back to main site:  REAL FEMDOM