“Please [...]]]> Danny approached me one night after yoga. He looked distressed and excited at the same time, and he waited impatiently for me to finish up a conversation with a friend of mine that I planned to meet up with later on. When my friend turned away, Danny dove in, placing on hand on my shoulder.

“Please can I talk to you privately?” he gushed.

I decided to overlook his touching me without permission, seeing as he appeared to be rather agitated, and taking his hand, led him over to a little nook.

“Are you ok, Danny?” I asked him.

“I almost did it!” he burst out. “I got this close” — he held up two fingers just an inch apart — “to another man’s cock, but I couldn’t bring myself to suck it.”

He trembled visibly, and expressions tumbled across his face as quickly as the words tumbled off his tongue. Desire. Fear. Wonder. Disgust. Pleading. Longing.

“You mean to tell me you had cock ready to suck and you left some more man hanging?!”

He nodded dumbly. Poor Danny. He’d had cocksucking fantasies since he was a teenager and now, in his mid-twenties, he’d come to me for help. He’d heard through the grapevine that I was a FemDom.

“Am I gay?” he’d asked me that day, his big brown eyes desperate.

“Are you primarily attracted to women or to men? Who you do find sexy?” I asked in response.

“Well, women. I love women. I don’t look at guys and get hard. But I do when I think about sucking a dick.” He answered.

“Well then, I don’t think you’re gay. You’re cock-curious,” I added with a smile.

“I’m not gay?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Not right now. You might change your mind after you’ve stuffed a cock in your mouth though,” I’d teased him.

After that conversation, I’d not heard from him for a couple of weeks.  And now, here he was, standing before me and quivering like a chihuahua.

“Please Miss Pamela, I think… I think I’ll need you to force me…”

“Danny, dear. I told you, if you want me to engineer a forced-bi encounter, you’re going to have to pay for a FemDom session, just like all the other Domination-hungry submissive males out there.”

“Yes, Ms Pamela. I want a session. I want several sessions.” Again, the words tumbled out of him.

“Oh?” I quirked an eyebrow. “What for?”

Danny quivered again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“When I was on my–my knees…” He stopped. I waited. “When I was on my knees looking at it, I realized I didn’t know how to suck him and I wanted, really wanted, to make sure it felt good…”

He raised his eyes to mine and they were pleading.

“Please Ms Pamela, will you teach me how to suck another man’s cock?”

I laughed and wondered if he really knew what he was asking.
—-
Domina Pamela
(800) 601-6975
FemDom Calls are 2.50 per minute, minimum of 10 minutes
Email: Empress.Pamela@yahoo.com

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Fifteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. I was going to end with episode 14, but I heard from people asking me to continue, so here is the rest of their story:

Watching John blow his load in Sara’s mouth was intense. Underneath the lingerie and make-up was a man who bellowed when he climaxed. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and squirted on her face, and as he did so he verbally humiliated her, finally venting the months of frustration and agony he’d felt over being cuckolded. He needed that release, and I think that, ultimately, Sara needed to know that her husband was still a man. After marking her as his territory, it seemed to me she wouldn’t have any more doubts, even if her husband did like to wear dresses on occasion.

As she obediently kneeled for her facial, I slipped my hand between her legs. The space between her thighs radiated heat, and when my fingers touched the crotch of her pants, they found a slippery wetness. Sara was so aroused she’d soaked through her panties and her pants.

“My, my,” I drawled into her ear. “You’ve enjoyed being treated like a slut, haven’t you, Sara?”

Her only response was a shudder as my fingers pressed hard along the seam of her pants.

I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet, marching her into the nearby bathroom. I shoved her toward the large oval mirror, so she could see the globs of her husband’s cum on her face.

“You’re done, Sara. No more boy-toys. No more cock-locks.”

I gestured for John to come into the room and stand beside Sara before the mirror.

“See him?”

She closed her eyes in rejection of the sight of her husband. I tightened my hand in her hair and shook her.

“See him? He’s a man who likes to wear lingerie. So what? He’s got a cock that works and hands that know how to hold you. What’s your bitch, slut?”

(To be continued…)

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Fourteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

“I said SUCK IT!” My tone was forceful and demanding and brooked no argument.

Sara opened her lips,  took John’s twitching sex into her mouth and started sucking. He groaned beautifully as his poor tortured cock–finally freed of its chastity device–grew in her mouth, a sound of mingled pain and pleasure. He grabbed for his wife’s head and I released her into his hands, watching as his long fingers bunched in her hair and buried her face against him. She gagged a bit and tried to pull back but I pressed my hand against the back of her head.

“Take it you little bitch. Suck that cock!” I pushed her head even farther down onto him, holding her there until she started to heave and press her hands frantically against his thighs.

We let her get some air, and then John shoved his cock back into her mouth, fucking her face in earnest. I was really enjoying the sight of a man dressed up in women’s lingerie fucking a woman’s face. There was something almost poetic about both the scene and the payback.

I got down on my knees beside her so I could whisper into her ear, and I untied my little leather paddle from my belt. I gathered her wrists up behind her with one hand and with the other, I held my paddle.

“You are such a good little cock-sucker, Sara. I always imagined you would be,” I said into her ear and signaled to her John.  He pulled his cock out of her mouth and then I let my paddle fall against her ass. She jumped and cried out.

“Owww!”

I paddled her a few times in short succession.  She struggled a bit, sawing her wrists, but seeing as she could have easily broken my hold, it was obviously a token resistence. She was softening up very nicely.

I pointed at Sara, then mimed slapping my own face. I looked up at John. He gave me a questioning look. I frowned at him.

He slapped her. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he said, “Bitch, get back to sucking my cock!”

Sara gasped. “What did you call me?”

“Bitch. I’m your husband. Now. Suck. My. Cock.” And with that little serving of humiliation, he grabbed the back of her head and shoved it toward him, toward his stockinged thighs and panty-lined balls.

As he pulled his wife onto his cock, I grinned at John. The man was learning fast that he could be every inch the man even wearing panties. A cross-dresser he might be, but a sissy he was not. And I had a feeling that it was going to be a long time before Sara thought about cuckolding him again. We’d both make sure of that….

THE END   (Or rather, the intermission.  If I get enough interest, I might continue on to the good parts, you know, strap-ons and bondage and all that   I DO SO LOVE COUPLES DOMINATION)

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Thirteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

I held my hand out toward John with an imperious gesture.

“The key.” I demanded.

He dropped it into my palm.

“Stand in front of your wife.”

He gave me a questioning look, but did as I said. He appeared to have some misgivings about how I was handling his wife. He had no idea that she was softening up rather nicely. Like taffy, she just needed to be pulled in two different directions at once in order to make her maleable.

I pulled sharply downward on Sara’s hair, forcing her head backward. I looked into her eyes for a long moment, enjoying what I saw there, enjoying the flow of power between us.

“You will remove the chastity device,” I said to her, and held the key over her face. She blinked rapidly a few times, then slowly lifted her hand to take the key from me.

I loosened my grip on her hair.

“Good girl,” I said warmly, aprovingly, and she gave a small sigh of relief.

I watched her lean toward her husband.  It was an interesting juxtaposition, one that amused me greatly. There John was, standing over his wife in his lingerie, stockings and heels, while she knelt, fully clothed and obviously cowed, before him, her hands fumbling with the clear plastic chastity restraint she’d locked on him last month.

I could tell when it was removed by the huge sigh he gave. His big hand went down to where his cock and balls were hanging outside his panties and he touched himself with obvious relief. He started to move away but I gave my head a firm shake and gave him a stern look. I tightened my hand in Sara’s hair, and pushed her father forward, toward her husband’s satiny groin. She resisted, making me smile.

“I think you owe John a blow job, darling Sara,” I drawled. “I understand its been months since he had one.”

“No! Not while he’s dressed up like that!”

“Like what?” I asked

“He looks like a she-male slut!”

“Mmmmm…” I purred. “Doesn’t he though? That’s what makes it so delicious…” I let my words trail off. Then I gave her head a good shake by the hair again.

“Suck it!”

To be continued tomorrow…

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Twelve of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

There was no doubt in my mind that Sara was innately submissive. Her attempts at turning her husband into a sissy cuckold hadn’t been signs of dominance so much as childish bitchiness. I took one of her nipples in one hand and tightened the other in her hair. I gave her nipple a firm tweak, then gave her head a shake. She moaned languidly and her eyes opened slowly.

“What’s this nonsense about putting John in chastity?” I asked her in a low, vicious voice.

Her eyes opened wider.

I gave her nipple another tweak, this one designed to zing along her nerve-endings with just enough pain to season the pleasure.

“Owww! …ah….” Her protest was cut short by my fingers tightening in her hair.

I dropped my hand from her nipple down to the crotch of her pants, my fingers cupping up into her and the heel pressing hard against her clit. Her body bucked a bit under me and I smiled into her eyes–smiled slowly, sensuously, and with just a hint of cruelty.

“Where is the key, little cat?”

“In–in my closet, hanging–” she swallowed “hanging from my belt rack.”

“Good girl,” I said to her. I looked over my shoulder at John. “Go get the key.”

She looked up at me with her hazel-gold eyes. Her expression seemed resigned.

“He told you,” she said, simply. And those simple words said everything.

“Yes,” I said, giving Sara’s pussy a squeeze. “He told me how naughty you’ve been, you slut.”

She hissed in her breath and moved under me, her inner thighs grinding my hand tighter against her pussy. “I just wanted my husband back,” she said, almost wistfully.

When John came back with the key he was still wearing his lingerie, and his heels clicked on the beeswax of the ancient oak flooring. I stood up and man-handled Sara onto her knees by the hair.

To be continued tomorrow…

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Eleven of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

Since Sara seemed to be so stunned she was incapable to doing anything but gaping at us, I gave her something to gape at.

I gave her husband a rough kiss and dropped his head back on the couch. Then I stood up, smoothed my hands over my luscious body, making sure she got a good look at every curve, and walked boldly toward Sara, watching her face every step of the way.

You’re mine, I thought at her. You’re a little bitch in heat and I’m going to show you your place in the world. In Pamela’s world. I fingered my dildo in its holster, lifting it an inch and letting it fall back into place.  I so wanted to bend the bitch double and fuck her hard with my strap-on. I pictured it in my mind’s eye and projected it at her.

Her eyes fluttered. She was having trouble holding my gaze. I felt a sense of triumph. I’d gotten a lot of practice at seducing women when I was at college and I knew the signs.

I sat across her lap. She was so much taller than me that in other clothes I might have looked like a child sitting there. But as a Dominatrix I owned every inch of me, and every inch of her, too, though she didn’t know it yet. I slipped a hand under her hair and tangled my fingers at the back of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed for a long moment.

“Mmmm…. beautiful Sara. I’ve wanted to kiss you for years… but I knew the Major wouldn’t approve.”

Her eyes opened, focussed on my mouth, my mouth covered in her husband’s lipstick. I lowered my face toward hers and she made a protesting noise at the back of her throat. I slipped my other hand up to her throat and splayed my fingers across it, adding the faintest bit of pressure.

“Kiss me,” I commanded her. “Kiss me. I know you want to.”

My dark eyes held hers, mesmerizing her. Kiss me, I thought at her, and pushed on the back of her head. Her eyes closed and she surrendered to my kiss. I brushed her mouth lightly, tenderly, until she released the breath she’d been holding. I kissed her again, kissed her eyelids and her cheeks, nibbled on her chin.

When she started panting, I yanked her head back hard and slid my tongue into her mouth.

She moaned and her hands came up to hold me and in that moment I knew I had her.

Yes, I thought. She’s mine!

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Ten of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

I wasn’t quite sure how things would go forward for the evening, but I wanted to make sure to lay some groundwork. I told John that if they were ever going to have a normal sex life again then he needed to re-establish himself as a sexual object in Sara’s eyes regardless of how he was dressed — and that was where I would come in. I told him that no matter what happened, no matter what Sara said, he was not to follow her orders, but mine. He had to stop being submissive to Sara. If she gave him a command, he was to look very pointedly at me, and follow my directions, no matter what.

Sara called when she was on her way home from work. We chatted for a few minutes and she asked after John. I knew she was probably wondering if he’d exposed himself as a cross-dresser or not, and I decided to let her think he hadn’t. I told her he was being an excellent host and ended the call with the anticipation of having lots to talk about when she arrived.

She walked in on me and John on the couch. He was laying on his back wearing a bra and panties, thigh-high stockings, and heels. I was straddling him in my full Domme-gear, including the holster strapped to my thigh with a dildo stuffed in it. She gasped and we both turned to look at her.  His hair was in my fist and his lipstick was smudged and he didn’t have to pretend to be alarmed. Me, I grinned at Sara, told her she had an amazingly sexy husband, and asked if I could have the key to his cock-lock, seeing as she didn’t seem to have use for his cock anymore and I was interested to find out how well it worked after several weeks of forced chastity.

Sara’s jaw dropped. So did her purse and her keys. She staggered over to a chair and sat down, staring. Staring.

John and I sat there in our clinch on the couch, waiting. How was Sara going to react?

To be continued tomorrow…

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Nine of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

“I won’t tell The Major if you won’t,” I said to John, mostly for effect.

Daddy already knew how I was.

An uncle figured it out when I was 10 or 11 and I overheard him saying to my father, “She can’t be trained like the others, Simon, she’s not going to just take orders. She’s spirited, like my stud, or my lead mare. She’s going to take careful handling. You’ve got a little dominatrix on your hands, mark my words.”

But John didn’t know that Daddy knew, and in saying that, I’d gained his trust. He thought we both had something we wanted kept from The Major, and that gave us a bond.

“I need to ask you some questions, John, and I want you to answer honestly. I have some ideas, but I need more information.”

John agreed with great relief, and I asked him a plethora of questions while he made us virgin mojitos and we moved out onto the deck that faced north, toward the bay.

The picture that I constructed after my battery of questions and his candid answers was this: He and Sara had dabbled in dominance and submission, had even gone to The Citadel in the City once in a while. Yes, Sara seemed to enjoy being submissive, and no, she’d not shown any inclinations toward dominance until the past year. No, being submissive didn’t arouse him, not the way being feminized did. When I asked him about his cross-dressing, I learned quite a lot. He’d gotten started with an ex-girl friend’s panties–jerking off into them. Then he jerked off wearing the panties. He liked the softness of the fabric. And there was something about the fear of discovery that added extra spice to it. As he’d gotten older and building his business became more stressful, he sometimes sought refuge in dressing like a woman, because when he was dressed like a woman he could find emotional release from the tension by crying, acting frivolous and care-free, or simply allowing himself to feel helpless.

But in the past 6 months Sara had taken him places he never wanted to go, places he wasn’t sure he wanted to visit ever again. Forced feminization had really pushed the line, but with cuckolding and chastity she’d taken things way too far — and now he wasn’t sure how to get his marriage back on track.

When he finished talking, I asked him a question that surprised him. Had Sara ever been with another woman?

His affirmative answer had me going “Yes!” A plan had been forming in my mind, and that final bit of information had me fairly confident of success.
To be continued tomorrow…

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Eight of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

The old hacienda John and Sara owned was a sprawling U shaped building erected around a central courtyard. I had no idea how many bedrooms they had but I knew there were many — enough to hold a couple dozen guests. One of the rooms I’d stayed in during a big gathering had a huge mission-style four-poster bed in it, a bed that I knew I’d have use for, even if it wasn’t for sleeping.

When I found the room I dumped my gear in it and did some setup work, including stringing some ropes from the sturdy canopy that enclosed the bed. I laid out my strap-on harness and a couple of dildos, lubricants (including the warming type), and on the bench at the foot of the bed, I placed a couple of floggers, a paddle, and a crop — all the toys I considered necessary for a sensual domination session. Then I found the closest bedroom and unpacked some of my clothes, looking for the black satin skirt that I knew would go perfectly with my bustier.

I went upstairs and stood in the doorway of the living room, where John had returned to wait for me. I’d put on a thigh-length black vinyl overcoat and knee-boots that gave me a fetishy dominant look, especially combined with my hair pulled back in a cone-shaped leather fastener that added height and severity.

For the second time that day, John jumped when he spotted me.

To be continued tomorrow…

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, [...]]]>

This is Part Seven of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.

The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:

I sent John off to his room to repair his make-up and give him a chance to pull himself together. Meanwhile, I walked out to my car and pulled two black leather duffle bags out of the trunk. They contained my Dominatrix fetish gear, and I had a feeling they were going to come in handy.

I hadn’t talked to Sara yet, of course, but the seeds of understanding her and what she’d done to her husband blossomed as I recognized my own discomfort with John’s transformation from manly-man to full-blown sissy.

Sara was all woman. She was 5’10″ of lush, golden womanhood. I recall that she often referred to her husband as one of the “few good men,” and while she’d never been outright submissive with John, she’d always taken the supportive role. The trophy wife role. And while I knew that she’d always appreciated John’s kindness and sensitivity, she’d never had cause to doubt that her Semper Fi guy was a real man. Until now.

The more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that the balance of power in their relationship had been upset, and while Sara was trying to fill the Dominant role, it really wasn’t her nature. I had a feeling that she wanted her manly-man back, and that she was waiting for John to take his manhood and his dominance back, and in doing so, reclaim her respect, and his self-respect.

But the pickle, as I saw it, was that John, liked dressing as a woman. He liked feeling feminine. But at the same time, he chafed at the humiliation of the submissive “sissy” role that Sara had cast him in. Which gave me some ideas, oh yes. Ideas I was looking forward to trying out.

To be continued…