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Pirates of the sea…

It was a band of ruthless pirates unlike any the peaceful seaside villages had seen before…..

Seductive, merciless, predatory women sailing the seas in search of their treasures.

But, for these alluring women of the sea it was not buried treasures, glittering jewels, or shiny coins that they sought. No, no….. for these women, the only treasures they set their sights upon were…. men.

Men who would become their helpless captives…. sexual playthings to be preyed upon…. used to satisfy the insatiable carnal lusts of these provocative abductresses.

No man would be safe as long as their reign of sexual dominance continued. Once they had selected their target he would have no hope of evading his fate.

His capture would be inevitable whether on land or sea… rendered helpless…. soon little more than bound and shackled male cargo on a ship destined for deep waters where no one would hear his pleas for mercy…. his begging for relief.

Perhaps he would be bound to the mast for their amusement…. helpless male flesh made to quiver with arousal…. his steely hard cock weeping pitifully with its need for relief… his agonizing desperation the source of their exquisite pleasures and taunting laughter….

Or, taken down below… deep in to the hull of the ship ….. where the mere sight of the wicked bondage devices was so intimidating it has been known to cause even the strongest of men to crumble weakly to their knees in helpless submission.

Eventually, the relentless sexual torments would render their bodies and minds useless to their captors. Mercifully, these men would then be returned to their villages…. spent, exhausted and broken… and their search for their next captive would begin anew for these vixens of the sea.

She really did appreciate the way her husband always did his best to endure the pleasures she offered him. She found those quiet little sounds that escaped him and those anguished grimaces on his face when he tried so hard to hold back to maximize her pleasure to be adorable, cute and sexy.

Still, there were times when the devil whispering in her ear provoked her in to reminding him that his ability to withstand the pleasures of her sweet, soft pussy were solely dependent upon her desire for him to do so.

In other words, sometimes the mood struck her to give him a little reminder that if she wanted to make him cum that there was no amount of focus... no amount of willpower... no amount of reciting baseball statistics in his head that would allow him to withstand the irresistible pleasures her pussy could inflict upon him.

Today was one of those days.

She approached him with hips swaying, then reached beneath her dress to peel down her warm, moist panties. After allowing them to dangle teasingly from her fingertips for a moment she tossed them aside then knelt between his legs, wasting little time freeing his cock.

Within moments her soft hands and teasing tongue had coaxed him in to just the condition she wanted. Moving up to join him, she straddled his lap and in one slow, graceful motion took him deep inside, her pussy claiming his cock as its captive prisoner.

The moment her body went in to action her husband gasped softly, his muscles tensing and a look of concern washing over his face. She smirked inwardly, well aware of what was causing his plight. Rather than allowing him a moment to become acclimated to the velvety soft tightness of her pussy she was instead immediately unleashing the power of her female sexuality upon him.

Her hips were already moving up and down... erotically undulating forward and back... sinuously moving in that way that allowed her pussy to mercilessly pleasure his cock.

And at the same time her exquisitely honed muscles were already squeezing and releasing... clenching and rippling... the hot, soft wetness of her pussy like a vise of silk clamping around him, intent on milking him of his male essence.

She smiled inwardly at the obvious sense of panic and helplessness in his voice when within moments he was already groaning, "Baby.... my god...."

Never breaking her erotic movements she took his face between her hands. Her voice was soft, gentle, and reassuring as she murmured, "Shhh, I know baby... it's ok. Don't try to fight it, you can't.... just give in... enjoy it... that's what I want."

With her hips rolling seductively and the muscles of her pussy relentlessly working over his cock he had no prayer. She emitted a soft purr of triumph when his head fell forward in defeat, the perfumed softness of her cleavage only adding to her sensual entrapment of this now helplessly aroused man.

She could feel his sense of embarrassment and helplessness at his inability to resist her, making her drip with arousal and the rush of sexual power that she could wield over this man. And as his body surrendered to hers, she cooed softly in his ear, urging him on.

"That's it baby.... just like that.... cum... cum for me... I want you to feel how my pussy can milk every... last... drop from you."

Moments later with his spent body still trembling beneath hers he tried to apologize. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I tried to hold back but...."

Quickly though she interrupted him, smiling as her fingers stroked through his hair. "Shhh, hush... I know. Sweetheart, I love the way you always try to hold back for me, really I do. But still, I don't want you to forget, if I want you to cum... you're going to cum... and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it."

"Oh god....," he moaned softly.

In a soft voice she purred, "You understand that, don't you?"

Still panting, he replied, "Oh yes. I understand perfectly."

With a wicked grin slowly forming on her face she teased, "Good. Because I know you might be thinking that I've finished having my way with you, but trust me honey, I haven't."

She smiled at his gasp when she allowed the muscles of her pussy to once again resume clutching and tugging at his cock that was still imprisoned within her. And at the sound of his moan of pleasure being muffled in to her cleavage she laughed softly, purring, "You are sooo mine, baby."

currently fantasizing about having a boy straddling my waist with his hands tied behind his back and maybe he is gagged too. he has a vibrator up his butt and i’m holding his chin with my hand so he has to look at me the entire time while he is squirming and whimpering. he is moaning so sweetly and making these ‘mphh’ noises as i kiss his face all over 

How My Girlfriend Broke Me

Here’s a sort of unintended follow-up to the story I posted the other day. I hadn’t planned to re-use the suggested concept, but then I saw the picture included below and it got me thinking. 2,000 words this time.

I never used to have any issues with my bladder control. Or with my confidence, for that matter. It was that confidence that helped me land a girlfriend who was – if I’m being honest – out of my league. Unfortunately, the line between confidence and cockiness can be quite thin and I stepped over it one too many times. That was what got me into trouble with my girlfriend. That was why she finally broke me.

I used to tease her about how frequently she needed to go to the bathroom. And even though she never actually had any close calls as far as I knew, I would still try to embarrass her sometimes by asking if her panties were staying dry. But she was always quick witted and would usually put me in my place with a retort like, “Only as long as I’ve been dating you.”

I should have realized right away that she wasn’t one to let a man walk over her, but the longer the relationship went on, the more secure I felt and the cockier I became. I would lord it over her every time I had to open a jar for her, or kill a spider. They were things that most guys wouldn’t have given a second thought to, but I played them up as hallmarks of my value and masculinity.

The manlier I felt, the more I tried to make her fit a stereotypical feminine mold, expecting her to cook our meals and see that my clothing was always washed and neatly put away. She put up with it for a little while, but also used it as leverage when we argued or when there were chores for me to do and I was dragging my heels. Eventually, she stopped bargaining one task for another, got more aggressive, and began mocking me for becoming so dependent on her.

She warned that I would regret it if I kept acting like I commanded ultimate authority in the household, but I didn’t take her seriously because she was a weak little girl and I was a big strong man. I kept on teasing her with that in mind, but she started chipping away at my confidence in our power dynamic by pushing back in ways that straddled the line between playfulness and hostility.

Nevertheless, I still didn’t take her seriously when the vague threat of consequences turned into more explicit threats of violence. In my defense, I was sure she never meant for them to be taken seriously, though in retrospect I realize it’s better to just say she didn’t mean for them to be taken literally. She really was trying to make me improve my behavior, but I didn’t do so because I knew she wasn’t actually going to poison my coffee, or dump my body in the woods and find herself another man. These are the sorts of over-the-top declarations that a woman can make when she feels persistently frustrated, which no one would mistake for genuine.

There was only one solitary moment when I believed she was both willing and able to hurt me, and it was the moment that changed our relationship forever.

I was sitting on the couch playing video games, and she was keeping busy in the kitchen, cleaning and then prepping meals for the following day. She periodically called into the living room, first requesting and then demanding that I call it quits and do something productive like putting away my clean laundry. But I was completely transfixed. I hadn’t even paused to go to the bathroom; I wasn’t about to stop just for some boring chore.

I could hear her sighing in exasperation as I brushed off her recommendations. That might have been her only expression of displeasure, had I not gotten cocky again and called over my shoulder to ask her if she knew where my favorite tie was. As I soon realized, ignoring my own responsibilities was one thing, but adding to hers was a step too far.

“You can get off your ass and find it yourself,” she responded while slicing vegetables. “I think it’s one of the things you need to put away.”

“Come on,” I said, unsatisfied with mere verbal assistance. “I need it for tomorrow.”

After a moment’s silence, I heard a knife slam down on the kitchen counter and footsteps pad in the direction of the laundry room. My girlfriend’s voice trailed off, muttering, “I know you’re gonna fucking need it, and now you’re gonna get it too…”

As I continued mashing the buttons of the game controller, I heard her footsteps re-emerge from the laundry room and approach me from behind. I didn’t take my eyes off the screen, but raised my chin before asking, “Did you find it?”

“Yeah, it’s right here,” she answered quickly, and in a flash I saw the familiar color of my tie pass before my eyes, then felt the dichotomous sensation of soft fabric being forcefully pulled against my neck. I dropped the controller in surprise but was too shocked to do anything else with my hands. For a moment they just lingered in open air while I registered the fact that none of that air was getting to my lungs. Meanwhile, my girlfriend’s hands crossed each other and came to rest beside each of my ears. The nape of my neck settled into the V-shape created by her forearms, and she pulled my head back just enough to bring her smiling face into view of one bulging eye.

“What a nice tie,” she whispered in my ear. “Is this what you’d like to be buried in?”

Looking back on it, I know this was just the same sort of dark humor I’d grown accustomed to. But with the added physical threat, however fleeting, I finally took her seriously. For the briefest of moments, I believed I saw fatal intent behind her eyes, and something deeply buried in my psyche convinced me that she was really going to kill me. All my well-practiced confidence and composure suddenly became meaningless. My body just… reacted.

She saw it before I felt it. I instinctively closed my eyes in relief when she let the tie go slack around my throat. The sound of my sharp intake of breath mingled with the sound of her much sharper laughter. I leaned into my gasp and opened my eyes. A new kind of shock registered on my face as I resumed awareness of the rest of my body and noticed a warm, wet sensation in my groin.

Begrudgingly, I looked down to see what my girlfriend was laughing at. By then, a softball-sized wet patch had formed in my lap, and it was still growing. My fingers dug into the couch as I tensed my entire body in an effort to stop my bladder from emptying, but in the wake of what I’d convinced myself was a near death experience, it was almost as if I had to quickly re-learn how to work my muscles. By the time I regained control, there was already a soaking wet imprint of my entire ass on the couch cushion. I wasn’t even sure whether my willpower had finally won out or my bladder had just emptied enough that it no longer took any effort to hold the rest.

My girlfriend continued laughing the whole time I sat surveying the scene. Her first giggle burst out of her with unprecedented force, demonstrating a purer glee than I think I’d ever seen in her before. It helped me to realize just how ridiculous the whole thing was. Her act of “strangling” me had lasted less than ten seconds. It had been abrupt, maybe aggressive, but not hostile. Some people would have considered it foreplay. It certainly wasn’t anything to piss my pants over. In time I realized that the only reason I’d done so was because I’d underestimated my girlfriend for so long. When I pushed her into vividly demonstrating her strength of both mind and body, it flipped a switch that I haven’t found a way to switch back ever since.

It’s fair to say that I’m scared of my girlfriend now. Not in any way that’s rational or even conscious, but on a deep psychological level. If I’m thinking clearly and making an effort to live with the confidence that I used to consider second nature, I can almost see her in the same light I did when our relationship was still young. But if she startles me or makes any effort to intimidate me, that goes out the window right away.

In those moments, I don’t necessarily see her as a threat to my wellbeing, but I do see her as a threat to my masculinity. And that’s bad enough. I don’t have to expect her to hurt me in order to be irrepressibly aware of the fact that she could if she wanted to. And if I let my guard down long enough for her to remind me of that fact… my body just reacts.

It’s actually made our relationship better. If my former cockiness ever starts to rear its head, all she has to do is catch my eye with her intense gaze and draw attention to my neck or hers, and within ten seconds, I’m sure to start pissing my pants.

I slip up with her at home sometimes. If I don’t spring into action when she tells me to get started on the laundry, then there’s a good chance I’ll end up adding the clothing I’m wearing to the first load. If it seems like I’m expecting sex too much or too often, she’ll suggest autoerotic asphyxiation and I’ll end up jerking off in the shower after I rinse the urine off my legs. But I can handle all that. I’m used to it. The times when I really have to watch my behavior are when we’re out in public.

I think she loves having this power over me, and although she never wields it just for fun, she’s definitely vigilant in looking for reasons to bring out her ultimate party trick. If I accidentally offend one of her friends, then I get to make it up to them by letting them laugh at me while I stare at my girlfriend like a frightened little boy and piddle on myself. If we’re at a party and she’s ready to leave before I am, she only needs to retrieve her coat and draw her scarf tightly around her neck in order to convince me that it’s time to take her home.

The new dynamic has really challenged my former notions of what confidence is. It’s comparatively easy to stay self-assured in situations where your dignity doesn’t depend on anyone else. But now I know that when I’m somewhere with my girlfriend, I’m usually just one stern gesture away from running out of the room to escape a chorus of laughter or disbelieving gasps. I have to be confident in myself to not misbehave, and also confident in my girlfriend not to get bored and decide she wants to make me wet myself just for the entertainment value.

The troubling thing is that she’s probably got the confidence to do it. For all that I used to tease her about having to go to the bathroom all the time, I think I would have been mortified if she had ever pissed her pants when I was with her in public. Now I’ve done it with her a dozen times, and she remains completely un-phased. She’ll happily send me out to wait in the car, soaked, while she lingers at a social gathering to explain that her boyfriend sometimes has accidents when he gets a sudden fright and that she has to take him home now to get changed.

Any confidence I used to think I had is dwarfed by the fact that she’s still willing to be seen in the same crowd with me after telling them I’ve turned into a pants-wetter. Sometimes she doesn’t even wait until I’ve done it. Sometimes she’ll tease me in public the way I used to tease her in private, asking in a loud voice whether I’ve gone to the bathroom, telling me that the movie we’re about to see might be scary enough to make me pee, or that I should be careful with my nervous bladder around the girls at our latest social gathering.

I don’t know why she feels the need to make things up to embarrass me even more, though. Nothing else – certainly no other women – have scared me into pissing my pants… so far.

sure, sex is cool, but have you ever made a cute boy cum in his underwear for you??