Earlier Today I Remembered Snitching On A Co-worker At My First Job. My Boss Was A Woman In Her Late
Earlier today I remembered snitching on a co-worker at my first job. My boss was a woman in her late 40’s or early 50’s called Irene. She usually wore heels and red lipstick and she had big boobs. Looking back she probably contributed to a number of fantasies I have now, and I know from certain things she’d say sometimes that she could sense my submissive nature. Extra impressive as it wasn’t even something I was aware of about myself at the time.
Anyway, I remember a guy about my age telling me he was planning to call in sick on an upcoming Saturday because it was his birthday and he wanted to go out. I laughed along, probably asked him where he’d go. Then as soon as he’d gone I told Irene what he was planning. It was such a weaselly narc thing to do… but I’d absolutely do it again now. And I realise looking back it was because I was desperate for Irene’s approval and for her to tell me I’d done well.
The guy ended up working the Saturday and asked me why I’d told Irene. I completely denied it. Irene was pleased with me so that’s all that matters.
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I want mummy to sweet talk me onto her lap, facing her with my legs splayed easing myself down onto her strap-on. Tell me I’m such a good boy for being so willing to bounce on mummy’s cock.
Please can a hot mummy hypnotise me and get me to kneel in front of her to stare at her feet and tell me I’m mummy’s happy little boy and staring at feet is all I want?
I want my boss to make me her chaste little pet who lives to adore and obey her and make her very happy. Short of that maybe I could just be kept in chastity by her and let out for masturbation over authorised images once or twice a month.
The sun’s come out this week and there are lots of ladies with bare legs and slight displays of cleavage around. I feel so overstimulated and weak and horny and controlled and I love it. I just want to ask one of these nice ladies if I can sit on the ground massaging her feet and sneak peeks up her skirt at her bare legs.
“Mummy’s boobies just turn your mind to mush, don’t they baby? That’s okay. Mummy will think for you.”
Train me. Brainwash me. Make me absolutely desperate to please you, terrified any time I think I’ve done something that will even slightly displease you.
Fantasy idea: a super religious Christian woman kidnaps me and brainwashes me into thinking she’s God’s representative on Earth, leaving me to worship, adore and obey her, completely and without question.
“You want to be let out of chastity? But baby, what about what mummy wants? Didn’t you tell me what mummy wants is the most important thing ever to you? Yes, you did. Now what mummy wants is for you to stay in chastity and not ask about releases again. Can you do that for me? Good boy.”
Imagine having a loving, caring, nurturing girlfriend who tells you she’s booked you a spa weekend as a treat but it’s actually a reconditioning facility to regress you into her helpless baby.
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