Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Melissa Benoist as Supergirl caption

how do you convince a vanilla boy to try being locked? how do you get them hooked?

Well, I’ll tell you what you don’t do. You don’t go up to a random boy, clutching a cage in one hand, a wild gleam in your eye, and say, “I want you in this, now!”

No, the answer is to use seduction, the same seduction that any girl would use to get any guy to do what she wants. So, let’s just imagine that this vanilla guy is someone in a class of mine at school. Here’s how it goes down.

One day, as everyone is milling into class, I notice our cute boy a few paces ahead of me. Like a morning zephyr I breeze past him, letting my hip or arm brush against his side. I turn and smile as I pass and say, “ Oh! Pardon me.” I reach back and touch the spot on his arm where I made contact, as if to say, “I hope I didn’t injure you there” but actually saying with body language, “feel the electric energy of my feminine touch.”

That’s pretty much all there is to it!

Okay, fine! There’s a little more. But you have to promise not to tell the girls that I gave these secrets away.

I find my seat. I’ve picked one with an empty seat on either side. Of course he comes and sits next to me. HIs attention is on me and I flashed a warm smile his way when I sat down.

“May I?” he asks politely.

“Oh! Be my guest,” I reply. 

This seemingly benign series of events is actually very important. It’s vital to paint the picture in his own head that he is pursuing me, and not the other way around.

“Did you do the reading?” I ask without waiting for an answer. “Wasn’t that ridiculous? I mean, sure Munch was a Symbolist but that doesn’t mean he could have anticipated the cultural signs and references that a semiotic analysis performed today would yield. Don’t you agree?”

Our boy hasn’t done the reading and is at a loss. But before he can cobble together a flimsy response I cut him off again,

“Van Halen!?” I exclaim gleefully as I pretend to notice his shirt for the first time. “No frik’n way!” I lean over to get a better look. “You rock! You absolutely rock. I’m so impressed. You and I are probably the only two people in this room who could pick David Lee Roth out of a lineup, I mean besides the professor.”

Class starts and I’ve accomplished my goals. I’ve established in his head that I’m intellectually superior and therefore not to be challenged. But rather than feeling threatened by it, my warmth has made him comfortable with me. Confident. He feels like he’s an insider in my world. Furthermore, he knows his role in my world. His role is to impress me. This scene plays out day after day, week after week, always bolstered with a soft touch, until he is utterly infatuated with me. The hook is in place but not set.

One day things shift. It could be that he finally works up the courage to ask me on a date. Or maybe we have to do a class assignment together. Or perhaps I just invite him over to my place for dinner. Let’s go with that last one.

He’s looking nicer than usual in that sweater and those slacks. As he waits for my roommates and me to finish cooking he slowly saunters around the living room, perusing our pictures and enjoying the décor.

“What is this thing?” he asks at length.

“What is what?” I respond from the kitchen.

“This. It looks like a metal dick.” He’s referring to the steel cock cage I keep prominently on the TV stand.

“Oh, that! Ha! Woops! You weren’t supposed to see that. It’s just a hobby of mine. It’s nothing.”

He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, puzzled.

“What kind of hobby?”

“Oh. You really don’t know what it is, do you?” I respond.

“Should I?” he asks, still confused, suddenly uncomfortable that he is not fulfilling his expected role of impressing me.

I walk over to him and wrap one arm around his waist.

“That, my love, is a male chastity cage.”

With my other hand I pluck the cage from his open palms and place it back on the TV stand.

We make eye contact.

“You mean you…?”

“Mmm hmmm.” I smile.

“And it’s a hobby?”

“I told you it’s nothing. It’s just something I’m into. You wouldn’t understand. Forget about it. Sheesh. Dinner is ready.”

But he can’t forget about it. Throughout the evening as we eat, play card games, watch movies, laugh and joke, his eyes keep wandering over to the little metal cage. He can’t bring himself to believe the thing is what he thinks it is. And, what’s even more difficult, how does this cute, fun-loving girl have this barbaric sexual thing in her living room? And just how “into it” is she? The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to wonder if he could undergo wearing it. He wonders if that would impress me. What it might feel like. The hook is now set.

Every time he comes over from now on, the cage is there in full sight. Every time he sees me, he thinks about it. Pretty soon we start talking more openly about it, about what I like to do to boys. About how much it excites me. I can now reel him in freely. He moves quickly from disbelief to curiosity to denial to resentment to a deeper interest and finally to a craving know what it would feel like.

One Saturday morning not too many days later he finds himself blinking as he stares down at the metal rings encasing his swelling penis. He wonders how in the hell he got himself into this thing and why he enjoys it so damn much.

Well Trained