Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

It was only a month ago that Angie had joined the company and was assigned the desk adjacent to Jack’s. She seemed nice and polite enough, while also being efficient and skilled at her job. A perfectly acceptable work partner.

She did though have one habit that he found… distracting. Whenever she would make casual conversation with him she had this habit of turning toward him, her sleek, toned leg swaying in a rhythmic, mesmerizing way.

Not wanting to risk being called to HR Jack did his best to avert his gaze and look away when she spoke to him. Unfortunately, she had this way about her… an authoritative demeanor… that made it difficult.

All it took was for Angie to say, “Jack? I’m talking to you… look at me,” in her soft, yet assertive tone of voice. Just a few words and he would find himself looking her way again, and without fail his gaze would inevitably drift back to the captivating sway of her leg.

Within a few days of working with her Jack found his mind beginning to drift with thoughts of her… inappropriate thoughts… fantasies of what it might be like to be with her.

Even though he found them to be unnerving in a way her couldn’t quite put his finger on Jack began to look forward to their casual chats.

There was something about the way she spoke to him… her choice of words… the cadence… the silky tone of her voice. He found it to be mesmerizing, as if Angie’s voice was weaving around him and drawing him in.

There were times when he found himself zoning out, like he was hearing her voice her but not the actual words she was saying. Instead he found himself gazing at her legs, his mouth hanging open, his mind disoriented… dazed… empty… and unwittingly now fully under Angie’s control.

He nodded mindlessly as her voice softly urged, “That’s it, Jack…. look at my legs…. watch them… they’re so sexy… they turn you on, don’t they?… you can’t look at them without getting hard… you can’t think about them without getting hard… you can’t think about me without getting hard…”

Day after day her suggestions continued, drawing him in deeper, becoming bolder, strengthening her hold over him until Jack was utterly defenseless against her.

Now, all that could save him were those times when Angie was merciful, flipping the switches and triggers in his mind in such a way that would allow him a chance to be productive at work and offer him a respite from the state of near constant arousal in which he now found himself.

But, the rest of the time?

Jack was a wreck.

And it wasn’t just the dreams when he’d wake up in a sweat, feverishly aroused, achingly hard, night after night cruelly waking from his dream just as Angie was about to fulfill his fantasy and give him the orgasm he so desperately needed. When without fail Jack would wake a moment too soon, deprived of his relief, so desperately frustrated that even his own efforts to find release proved to be futile. Instead, he was left to find his way back to sleep still desperate… aching… mindlessly whimpering Angie’s name.

It was also his conversations in the office with her. Those moments of feeling as if he were zoning out as they chatted began taking on a different tone. More erotic. More visual. And in a surreal way, more life-like.

The first time had left him feeling dazed, disoriented, and even embarrassed. As he listened to Angie’s voice he found himself losing focus, his mind drifting off to a fantasy in which he imagined he were kneeling before her, kissing her feminine polished toes, working his way up her sleek, sexy legs, adoringly worshipping them…. becoming so turned on… so hard…

Only to feel himself snapping out of his fantasy at the sound of her voice. “Jack?…. sweetie?… everything ok? We’re done talking now and need to get back to work, okay?”

He was mortified. Had he said anything? Oh god, had she noticed his face was flushed and his cock was straining against his pants? Fortunately, apparently he was safe, Angie seemed oblivious to his plight and was already back at work.

To his dismay these occurrences became more frequent. More erotic. More vivid.

The next time Jack imagined Angie’s voice urging him on even further, instructing him, guiding him. His mouth drifting higher up her calves… to her shapely thighs… her fingers entwining in his hair, nudging him higher… until he was between her thighs, kissing, licking, sucking… until it was as if his senses were being overwhelmed by the heat, scent, and taste of creamy female arousal.

But as suddenly as the fantasy began it was gone and once again he was sitting at his desk, frazzled, Angie’s voice bringing him back to reality.

Jack was at the point where just walking into his office and seeing Angie was unnerving, his cock stiffening, his mind whirring with a sense of helplessness as he wondered whether or not today he would again be slipping into one of those dream-like fantasies when they chatted.

They began to take on a new twist, not only did Jack imagine himself worshiping and pleasuring his work partner, but she was doing the same for him. Her soft hand stroking him… her tongue teasing him… the only difference was that unlike when he imagined licking Angie to orgasm, Jack always snapped back to reality before he could reach his.

It was becoming maddening to him. Was he losing his mind? Why did this keep happening to him?? Should he set up a session with a therapist??

And why in god’s name could he no longer get all the way to an orgasm?? Why did every fantasy, every dream, every hallucination always end a moment too soon and leave him aching in frustration?

Finally, one day after Jack broke free from one of his surreal fantasies he sat at his desk trembling… lightheaded… so disoriented and aching to cum so badly he thought he might break down and cry.

He began softly muttering to himself to the point that Angie called over to him and asked, “Jack? Are you okay?”

In a soft, weak voice he answered, “N-no…. I’m not. Something’s wrong with me… I… I can’t tell you what it is… but, something’s wrong. I… I think I need to make an appointment to see someone.”

To his surprise, he watched as Angie rose from her desk and approached him, standing behind him. She began speaking in that calm, mesmerizing voice that immediately caused his mind to open to her.

This time though, rather than rendering his mind completely malleable and taking him deep, she allowed a small portion to remain aware, just enough to keep him barely tethered to reality.

Gently raking her fingers through his hair she purred, “You’re fine, Jack… nothing’s wrong with you. I’ve got you.”

“I… I don’t understand?” His voice was soft, distant, but still coherent.

“You don’t need to understand, you just need to know that you’re mine now. All I’m doing is giving you what you want. I could tell the first day we met… how easily your mind surrendered to my will.”

“So… this… is real??”

Laughing softly Angie purred, “Well that depends on what you want. Do you want it to be real, Jack? Do you want more of what you’ve been experiencing?”

“Oh god….,” he moaned in excitement.

Pressing her lips to his ear, she whispered, “Do you want to be mine, Jack?… my toy?… my helpless, little plaything?”

“God yes!” he groaned.

Chuckling softly, Angie purred, “Perfect…. then, cum for me, Jack. Cum for me now.”

To his utter disbelief, a moment later a wave of pleasure washed over him and he felt himself cumming uncontrollably, releasing weeks worth of pent-up cum into his pants.

As one of the most intense, and without a doubt the most unexpected orgasm seemed to go on forever Angie’s voice cooed in his ear, “That’s it… don’t try to fight it, you can’t… cum for me…. don’t stop… give me all of it…. every… last… drop.”

When the waves finally subsided, Angie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the dazed, disbelieving, and totally spent man. Kissing his ear softly she murmured, “You are sooo mine, Jack… and this is only the beginning.”

Billy’s future

NOTE: This scenario is a fantasy continuation of this post from a friend of mine:

https://pleasemaamno.tumblr.com/post/636968272886218752/billy-had-just-learned-all-about-swearing-he-was

Billy’s heart raced as he pushed open the door slightly and peered inside his sister’s room. There was Samantha, beautiful, blond, apparently changing into her sleeping clothes for the night. Samantha was staying over with Billy’s sister Adalyn. Adalyn was in the shower and Billy was spying on Samantha for a moment, feeling himself growing more aroused by the second.

Of course, having Samantha around reminded Billy of the fateful night a few years ago when his sister and her friends had stripped him naked and spanked him for swearing, a night he’d replayed over and over in his mind - the most humiliating, yet somehow most thrilling and erotic, experience of his entire life. He hated that he had loved it so much, and felt a strange and inexplicable urge to endure another spanking from a girl.

The boy had lost sight of Samantha as he remembered the night of the spanking, and suddenly the door was pulled inward and the boy fell to the floor at Samantha’s bare feet. The girl, wearing her top but in her panties, pushed the door closed and before Billy could move, she had him pinned down beneath her.

“Let me go!” He cried, blushing at his quick capture and feeling embarrassed that he was aroused.

“Sssshhh,” Samantha urged. “Just relax, you know I’ve got you. Just surrender, Billy, you’re my prisoner now.”

Somehow, her words both calmed him and made his humiliation and arousal worse. How could that be? He relaxed beneath her.

“I surrender,” he told her. “I’m your prisoner.”

“Good boy,” Samantha told him. The boy was already shirtless - he’d been preparing to go to bed himself when he realized Samantha might be changing. She turned him over and reached for her pants nearby, and ordered the boy to put his hands behind his back. When he obeyed, she bound his wrists with her belt.

“Why are you tying me up?” Billy cried. “What if Adalyn gets out of the shower?”

“Oh, you’re her prisoner for the night too,” Samantha explained. “But I am not entirely sure you’re not going to enjoy it, at least a little.”

Samantha put him on his knees, then walked over to the bed. She sat down and looked at him.

“Now,” Samantha started. “Do you remember the night me and the other girls spanked you?”

He dropped his gaze, embarrassment filling him. “Yes.”

She paused. “I noticed that little body of yours had a bit of a reaction,” she told him. “Now it’s time to see if I can get that same reaction from you. Walk over here, and I will take off those pants of yours and put your naked body over my thighs for another spanking.”

Tears sprang into his eyes. He didn’t want another spanking, but he knew, without a doubt, it was about to happen to him anyway. He was already captured and tied up.

The boy rose on shaky legs and moved to the beautiful female. She whisked off his pants and boxers, leaving him naked before her, and then ordered him to get across her legs. Billy stared at her thighs a moment and heaved a sigh of surrender as he lay across them, feeling his privates against her smooth legs. She caressed his bottom.

“Time for you to be spanked,” Samantha told him. “And I am sure this will not be the last time you get spanked over my legs, silly Billy.”

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it is time

Nurses, Enemas, and Medical Fetish

don't get me wrong, i think it's adorable when subs are shy

but there's something so tantalizing about a pretty boy who's normally shy being bold and taking the initiative to ask me to wreck them

a boy quivering like a baby deer, red up to his ears while he describes the dirty fantasies he's been having about me

a boy who's become such a perfect toy for me that his desire to be dominated by me outweighs his natural shyness.

he's so needy for me that the shame burning inside him from begging for such filthy things doesn't hold a candle to the way it makes his cock leak. his mind going too fuzzy with pleasure to care about how pathetic he sounds, mindlessly babbling and begging beneath me.

just.... corrupting a shy boy <3

Cruel Nurse

You’ve been in an accident that has left you half-paralyzed. You can’t really move, but you are on the mend. It’s just going to take a long while. You do have feeling in certain parts, however. In fact, it would seem your genitals are all the more sensitive, though this may have something to do with not having been able to touch yourself or release for three months. All you get down there are a few tender sponge baths, and we aren’t exactly allowed to take it further. At least not until I come on staff.

I’m apparently either exactly your type in the looks department, or you’re just so pent up any woman will do. Perhaps a combination of both. You get an erection every time I walk in the door, and today, it doesn’t seem to want to quit. I give you a small frown. “What’s this about, then?” I say.

You mumble an apology and mention it’s been weeks since you could touch yourself. My frown remains but now it is a sympathetic one. “I see. That must be very difficult for you.” You mumble something, and I lean over, my cleavage quite visible, and say, “Speak up, please, I can’t hear you.”

“Please, please touch me!” you manage to choke out.

My eyebrows raise a bit. “Well, that certainly is a bold request. Well, lucky for you I am single.” I walk out the door, leaving you confused for a moment, but I am speaking with two other nurses, telling them to keep a look out. I come back in and go over to the shelf. I grab a latex glove and slowly slide it onto my hand, letting go of the cuff with a snap.

I close the door and pull the privacy screen around us, then pull up a chair. I reach over and grasp your penis. You are so sensitive, the touch sends a shiver down your whole body. I begin to stroke you, in quick rhythmic tugs. You babble a stream of thanks. I have to restrain myself from smiling in that cruel way that every boyfriend I’ve had learns to fear.

I sit prim and proper, a look of clinical boredom on my face, though the twinkle in my eye suggests I’m having more fun than I’m letting on. My hand, moves mechanically, the latex glove making the whole scene seem strangely impersonal, but even this heartless touch is more than enough to inflame your poor, lonely cock.

Suddenly, my hand stops. I am still touching you, but I pinch your cock just below the penis head. Your cock flexes in between my thumb and forefinger, but the sudden cease of stimulation and the pinching have cut off your climax. You gasp and look at me confused. However, the moment passes and I resume my stroking. I continue for a few more minutes, then stop again, just before you peak.

Again you gasp, and this time look to me with a pained expression. I wait a moment, and resume stroking, only to stop again a few minutes later. You beg me to keep going, but I give you a cold look. “Be quiet,” I say. “Do you want to cum or don’t you?” Eyes wide, still confused, you nod almost drunkenly. “Then be quiet. You don’t want to get caught like this.”

Maintaining my detached expression, I edge you again and again for nearly an hour, teasing you to the brink, then backing off only until you’re about to get yourself under control, then starting up again. Your sticky pre-cum coats your stomach and my gloved hand.

“How often did you used to masturbate?” I ask you with forced flatness, emphasizing the words “used to.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken in an hour and the words briefly startle you.

“T-t-twice a day,” you gasp.

“Oh, my,” I say. “So you must be really frustrated, I take it?” You nod vigorously. “Well, then, I shall have to be careful not to get you too excited.”

“Oh, please, PLEASE!” you whine.

I just give you a look of bored tolerance, staving off another climax with the pinch, then slowly resume stroking as you let out a frustrated groan. Another half an hour of edging goes by, and you can only offer pitiful whimpers and pleas. I’ve got the rhythm down to edge you almost once a minute. Suddenly, after one more close call, I stop and stand up, pulling the sheet back over you.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp. “You can’t leave me like this!”

“I see no reason not to,” I say. “I’ll be back later, we can pick back up then.”

“But you can’t! Oh, Jesus, I need it so bad!”

“I see. And what are you going to do about it?” You squirm in an attempt to reach your cock yourself, but you only wince in pain. “See. You’ll only hurt yourself if you try. And that could make this recovery go even longer for you. Which I suppose I don’t mind. That just means even more opportunities to do this.”

You start to beg again, but I immediately fix you with a steely hard gaze. “Stop that,” I say. “No begging. It’s annoying.” You open your mouth to protest. “Stop it.” I say with finality. You’re mouth works, but I hold my gaze, and you look away, defeated. You mutter an apology.

I say nothing for a moment. Then I leave the room. I return a minute later with a blood pressure sleeve. Wordlessly, I pull back the sheet, slip the cuff over your penis, and begin to repeatedly squeeze the bulb.

“What are you doing?” you say, startled by this. I say nothing, just continue to squeeze the bulk. Almost entranced, you watch the sleeve inflate, and for a few moments, the squeezing of your cock is pleasant. Then it becomes uncomfortable. Then it becomes almost painful. Only when you let out a yelp do I stop increasing the pressure.

“Oh god, please, take it off, take it off!” you beg.

I give the bulb one more squeeze and say, “Shut up.” You curse. I squeeze the bulb one more time. “Shut. Up.” You have to bite your cheek not to say anything, or even whimper. I let the sleeve hold for a few moments, then I slacken the pressure just enough that it’s just uncomfortable again. However, the tight grip forces your cock to remain rock hard.

I slip something out of my pocket. It’s a little “bullet” vibrator. I ease it into the edge of the sleeve, right on the sweet spot I discovered as I was stroking you, then give the bulb one more squeeze to secure the vibe in place. You grit your teeth as I turn it on.

“I’ll be back to check on you in an hour,” I say. “I suggest cumming within that time if you really want release.” I pull the sheet back over you and leave.

True to my word, I don’t return for an hour. When I come back, there are tears of frustration running down your face. Despite the erotic sensations of the vibrator, the cruel sleeve has not allowed you to release. I remove the vibe, then wait another minute for you to calm down a bit, before releasing the pressure of the sleeve and removing it.

However, I then remove a long, thin ribbon from my pocket. I tie it snug around the base of your cock then loop it around your testicles, before pulling the ribbon down and tying it to the bottom frame of the bed. This pulls your testicles away from your body, while enticing your penis to remain hard.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you moan, pitifully.

“Just making sure you’re secure.” I sit on the chair and resume my stroking. You immediately try to cum, but the ribbon pulls tight against your balls, resisting your natural urges. Despite my steady, unceasing ministrations, you still cannot release.

Desperately, you plead for mercy, and ask me why I am doing this. I reach over and flick your testicles. Not too hard, but they are quite sensitive, and it’s enough to make you yelp in horror. “Be quiet,” I say.

I stroke you for some time, maintaining my mechanical tugging, but you hang on the edge of orgasm for as much as ten minutes, the bondage cruelly preventing you from going over, before I have to stop and let you cool down.

You’re steadily leaking pre-cum now, and my glove is slick with it. I use my other hand to steady your cock, holding it at the base. Then I take my gloved hand and begin to run a finger around and around the ridge of the head, stopping to slip the finger down across the frenulum, then back up to circle around the ridge.

You let out a series of sharp cries and whimpers, and despite my orders, you beg me once more. I slip my hand down and now, instead of my finger on the ridge, the palm of my hand catches your penishead. I twist my palm against you like I’m unscrewing a lid, making sure to curl my fingers to tug gently on the ridge as they slide along it.

You let out a low scream and try to thrash, calling for help. I give your balls a quick slap. “Stop talking,” I say. My voice doesn’t change, but you know I mean business. Every time you talk, I give your balls another slap, and soon, you force yourself to remain as quiet as possible, returning to a pathetic whimper.

After another few moments of this, I stop, and stand up. I then pull a device from my doctor’s coat, a small box with wires coming off of it, ending in pads, and a plug. It is an electro-stimulation device. You look at it with renewed terror. You’re about to protest once more, but another look from me, and you know better.

I attach the little pads to your penis, in three pairs along the length of the shaft. I then plug the wires into the box, plug in the box, and turn on the dial. Immediately, you feel every nerve in your penis light up with a rapid pulsing of sharp pleasure along the length of the shaft.

You can barely draw breath to scream, much less beg. Your body shudders with overstimulation. I then replace the blood pressure sheath, careful to maintain the placement of the wires. I squeeze the bulb until your penis is just a bit too snug in its grip. Your cock head, already an ugly shade of purple, swells to maximum tension. I leave your balls bound; between that, and the sheath, you will not cum no matter what. I turn up the dial on the e-stim to maximum, and agonizing pleasure ripples through you.

Knowing you can’t help but cry out now, I produce a gag, and secure it around your mouth. I lean close to your ear and say, “My shift is ending, so I’ll be back tomorrow. The nurses have been informed to make sure your current condition remains stable until I return.” With that, I leave you to suffer through the night. If you haven’t managed to cum by the time I get back, well, clearly you don’t want it bad enough yet.