Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

[Mistress did this post yesterday, but seems to have accidentally left it as a draft...]

Morning, guys

I'm doing this one. It's another Barscubed. I'll have to qualify the caption - unless you want him to look you in the eye or to face away from you. If you want it, as the Domme, of course it's allowed.

Actually, I'm not sure about my womb being holy either. but if that's how Barscubed sees it...

N x

Check it out

The power is addictive!

boys who are confident and flirty but get flustered the moment you flirt back have a special place in my heart

Cupid's Chokehold

Her silence stretches on for an eternity. Her gaze shreds the tattered vestiges of my dignity.

I hate this.

I hate the never-ending feeling of freefall that comes with her stare, like a roller coaster drop that never ends. Apprehension clouds my senses, making me feel utterly powerless.

That’s what bothers me the most. I’m genuinely afraid of what she’s about to say. Her control over my life is so internalized that I’m trembling like some petulant toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

She knows how powerful this silence is. How cruelly effective it is in reducing me to a blubbering mess. She enjoys it.

I cannot stand it. For fucks sake, I’m a grown man cowering in a soggy diaper in front of my former wife, terrified of the punishment that is undoubtedly coming my way.

All because I said something “naughty” to her.

I’m trembling because I said “crap.”

Crap.

I let her so thoroughly dominate my life she even took my language. She wasn’t content merely destroying my dignity, autonomy, and independence. No, she took everything. My adulthood included.

And for what, you might ask? All because I became incontinent. Because “she’s never seen anything more pathetic than a grown man in a diaper.” Diapers cost me my marriage, sex life, and adulthood.

Now, I have this. If I’m lucky, I’ll only have to stare at a wall in timeout for who knows how long. If I’m not, I’ll be sobbing on her lap as she spanks me.

Either way, I’ll accept it. Because that’s what I am now. This is my life.

I’ll tearfully apologize to her in my soggy diaper, looking—and acting—every bit as pathetic as she says.

I just wish she’d say something and end this infernal silence.

Blowjobs foot beta style!

Have you had sex with a woman in front of a locked boy? Or made a locked girl tease a locked boy?

Who hasn’t?

But seriously…who? I want to tell them what they’re missing.

Yeah, enjoying my sexuality and the sexuality of others before the hungry eyes of locked boys is sort of a guilty pleasure hobby of mine. It might even be a calling card.

It’s one thing to lock you up and make love to your girlfriend right there in front of you. That’s always fun, especially when you start hearing her make whimpers and squeaks and moans you’ve never heard her make before.

But imagine for a moment, going downtown to a cozy little club instead. You’re dressed to the nines in that shirt that makes your eyes catch the light. Your girl is wearing the little black dress with the golden hem you bought her for your anniversary. I’m wearing that perfume that forces you to inhale whenever you catch the scent. Imagine pushing past the crowd to the bar where we leave you. You watch from across the room as I take your girlfriend by the hand out to the dance floor. You’ve never seen her laugh and smile so much in her life as we dance and joke. She spins away when the horn section flares and melts into me when the bass walks. When we finally come back to the bar, out of breath and needing refreshment, you can’t ignore how her eyes keep finding mine, how my calf tends to brush against hers, how she blushes when I put my hand on her knee. You wish she did that for you, but your cock is content where it is, locked in a cool, smooth, steel cage.

On the ride back to the hotel I sit between you. She leans her head on my shoulder and I play with her hair. I slide my hand down and make lazy circles on the smooth skin of her inner thighs with my fingertips. She coos softly and it seems like her skirt keeps moving higher and higher. My free hand rests on your thigh, high and very close to that inescapable cage. You can’t help wonder what new things I will teach her about her body when we finally arrive at our room. You cross your fingers that you will be allowed to see it all and not be gagged, blindfolded and tied to a chair in the bathroom like last time. Please, not that again.