I grabbed him by the hair and leaned forward, pressing his face into the wood of the desk while I forced a finger into his ass.  I told him he was mine to do with [...]]]> This entry is a continuation of previous posts.  If you haven’t read them yet, it is probvably best to start here.

I grabbed him by the hair and leaned forward, pressing his face into the wood of the desk while I forced a finger into his ass.  I told him he was mine to do with as I pleased, and seeing as he had been such a bad boy recently, cheating on his wife and nailing every pieces of ass in sight, I was going to rape his ass. Give him what he deserved. He moaned, diving deeper into sub-space with every word I spoke. He was completely naked, with me standing over him in my bustier and stockings, and he ate it up.

I told him how much I was going to make it hurt, and how he was going to take every inch of my strap-on, and that he was going to take it with his mouth closed, no screaming, and that the only thing I would permit him to do was to grip the edges of the desk to brace himself. If he did anything else, if he screamed too loudly, if he moved to resist me at all, I’d leave. I’d take my strap-on and my bag of tricks and I’d walk out on him, leaving his ass hungry for what it really wanted.

Then with a final rub of his face into the wood of the desk, I released his head. I moved around behind him, deliberately dragging the strap-on down the length of his body.  I scratched at his welts with my fingernails, which made him whimper and  dance his ass around. And then I stood behind him, with the head of my big black strap-on pressed up against the puckered rosebud of his anus and I said, “Tell me how much you want me to fuck your ass.”

And he did. He begged, he pleaded, he told me in lurid detail how he wanted me to ream him out, how he’d cleaned himself for me, how he was such a bad boy and deserved what was coming, every last inch of it.  And in the middle of one of his sentances, I leaned hard into him and forced the head of my strap-on into his ass. He gasped and sucked in air and then his teeth clicked together and he moaned mightily, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. The cocoa butter creme gave his ass and my dildo an awesome slipperiness that allowed me to push smoothly into him, even as his body tensed, even as he resisted my efforts to penetrate him. And penetrate him I did, diving inexorably into his ass until every one of the 10 inches was inside him and my harness was abrading his welts.

And oh how me moaned! How he wriggled his ass! He cried, his tears pooling on the desktop, but I didn’t stop.  He wanted to be violated, wanted to be taken hard and fast, and so that is what I did. I set my feet in those 4″ heels, grabbed his hips, and fucked his ass with unrestrained violence. I unleashed a tempest of passion on him, and as I invaded him, I subjugated him with my voice, with my words, telling him he was a pathetic excuse for a man, and that he’d never fuck me again, not with his small little penis that was incapable of satisfying me like Simon could with his big thick cock. And I described Simon’s wondrous cock, the cock that produced the copious amounts of cum that Pilot had recently cleaned out of me.

I leaned forward onto Pilot, my palms balanced on his low back so the angle of penetration made it possible for me to hit his prostate, and as I jabbed my hips into him, I told him to cum, demanded that he empty himself without a single stroke of his cock, and he did.  He came hard, with open-mouthed cries, his whole body rigid, as I sawed the head of my strap-on against his prostate.

Such a good little anal whore.

My pilot friend met me in the lobby. We hugged hello, and when his arms wrapped around me he said, “I’ve been dreaming about worshipping your ass all week.” I purred, flush with memories. A closet submissive with a guilty conscience, the man had a serious thing [...]]]> This blog entry is a continuation of this post.

My pilot friend met me in the lobby. We hugged hello, and when his arms wrapped around me he said, “I’ve been dreaming about worshipping your ass all week.” I purred, flush with memories. A closet submissive with a guilty conscience, the man had a serious thing for asses and freshly-worn panties.

We had drinks and some appetizers in the hotel bar and talked about all sorts of things.  We talked about his work, and how being an airline pilot still qualified him as a pussy magnet.  I learned a lot about the sexual habits of airline personnel, who were apparently uninhibited by marriage in their activities. Apparently pilots and flight attendants are constitutionally unable to be monogamous. Every overnight was like staying in Vegas. Apparently, what happens on an overnight never happened.

Within two hours we were upstairs in his hotel room, my black leather dufflebag sitting prominently on the bed. He kept glancing at my little bag of tricks, growing progressively more excited. I grabbed the bag and walked toward the bathroom, telling him that when I came out, I expected him to be ready for me.

In the bathroom, I disrobed, carefully hanging my litle black dress on a hook. I pulled my harness out of the bag, located the dildo, and gave it a quick soap-and-water rinse.  I noticed the Fleet’s enema packaging in the garbage, so I knew it wasn’t necessary to hang up my old-fashioned enema bag — my pilot had already prepared himself for the evening’s adventures. I adjusted my black satin bikini-bottom panties, making sure they fit snugly into the crack of my ass, plumped my breasts in the bustier, and headed back into the room with the dildo and hardness in one hand and my bag of tricks in the other.

Pilot was on his knees  by the desk, utterly naked and fully erect.  When he saw me, he moaned. I set the bag and toys on the bed and sauntered over to him. When I reached him I grabbed him by the hair and forced his face up against my panty-covered pussy. He rubbed his face against the satin, breathed deeply, and sighed. His hands caressed my legs on their way up to my ass, which he cupped worshipfully in his palms as if each cheek was made of Ming china. I told him that I’d had sex with Simon a few hours ago, and that he’d cum in my pussy and my ass, so I had some cuckold clean-up work for him. Which he proceeded to do with enthusiasm. Simon sucked the crotch of my panties and then cleaned my pussy and ass with his tongue like the good little submissive ass-worshipper he was.

I rewarded him by bending him over the desk and thoroughly thrashing his ass with my crop. When he was nice and pink with lots of good welts, I massaged cocoa butter creme into his skin. He sighed so voluptuously that I couldn’t help but pinch his welts once in a while, seasoning his pleasure with jolts of pain that made him hiss and moan. Then I put on my harness, slid a polyurethane condom down the length of my big 10 inch strap-on, and rubbed more cocoa butter creme along its length.  I was making it very very slippery, so it would slide in easily, no matter how ready Pilot was. He liked the pain, the feeling of violation, and I was just the woman to give him what he craved. Oh yes, I certainly was.

Read the continuation of this story here.

Working later hours last night went pretty well, and given that my lover was playing poker with the [...]]]> Every once in a while I get a foodie on the phone. Foodies are shy about their fetishes and sometimes it can take 20 minutes for them to get around to talking about what really turns them on. Food.

Working later hours last night went pretty well, and given that my lover was playing poker with the guys, I kept the lines open for an extra hour or two, and took some interesting calls. One of them was from a guy who had never eaten his own cum, and wanted me to ‘help’ him do so. Getting him worked up was not difficult.  All I have to do is open my mouth and most men are instantly hard. I’ve just got one of those voices that tickle men behind their balls. But I knew, as we were talking, as I teased him with different images like getting him off with my feet and making him lick his cum off my toes, or eating another man’s cum from a freshly shaved pussy, that he was holding back on me.  He wasn’t into body worship or cuckolding or humiliation. 

I was about ready to go the pantyboy route with him when he asked me if I’d ever heard of someone cumming on their food and eating it. And that was when I knew I had a foodie. I giggled and asked him if that is what it would take to get him to eat his own cum — did he want a bagel and schmeer? His breath caught and he tried to laugh, but it came out as a huff, the kind of huffing sound a guy makes when he’s been punched in the solar plexus — or when his sexual buttons have been pushed.

“Mmm…” I said, “Instead of a bagel, lets imagine a warm cinnamon roll. Wrap your cock up in that warm, googey goodness and stroke. Can you smell the cinnamon?”

The tension in his voice was beautiful. “Ooooh… If I had a cinnamon roll I’d go get one right now,” he gasped.

I mentioned the cinnamon roll warm and slippery like a pussy, and his cum the icing on the roll. And that was it. Bang! Over the edge he went, huffing and moaning and spewing into the imaginary gooeyness. He was only too happy to lick the cum off his fingers then!

Yes, foodies are fun.

I’ve been aware of my power over males since I was 12 years old, and I’ve been teasing them ever since. And oh, the things I’ve gotten men to do for me! [...]]]> So I’ve mentioned my love of strap-on play, and feminization, but I’ve not really mentioned one of my favorite things: plain old-fashioned cock-teasing.

I’ve been aware of my power over males since I was 12 years old, and I’ve been teasing them ever since. And oh, the things I’ve gotten men to do for me! I like turning guys on, getting them worked up, and then denying them access to my body for satisfaction. When I was a teenager, I got boys to masturbate while I watched, and there began my love of Strokers.

I do so enjoy telling a man how to stroke–fast or slow, tightly or lightly; how to touch himself–balls, nipples, etc; and even how to breathe. I like to be an inspiration and guide for male masturbation. Since a young age, I’ve had males offer me control of their cocks. I’ve had guys on their knees begging to please me, begging me to use them, begging for release–begging  just because it feels right to have a Goddess to worship and appeal to for sexual favors.

I’ve had men beg to kiss my feet, stroke my legs, lick my ass. I’ve had men stare longingly at my breasts, daring not to touch or even to ask, and sometimes I’ll absentmindedly stroke my cleavage, or shimmy, or give my nipples a tweak.  Men with body worship fixations are so easy to tease, and I love  using their fixations to torment them without mercy.

Knowing a man is stroking off to me really turns me on. My juices start flowing and I’ll often reward an obedient stroker’s enthusiasm by slipping my fingers into my panties and touching myself, too. It is one of the best things about being a phone sex FemDom–all those men stroking and sighing for me.