Archive for the 'domination' Category

beyond that door

beyond that door
you are the brick-boy
the silver-tongued hero
you’re the whole shebang, motherfucker!

the hero, the big dick, the maaaan
the big man on campus
the man in the moon
the man to see
the man with a plan

you’re the taker
you’re the shaker
you’re the breaker
you’re the goddamn
candlestick maker

beyond that door
the world is your oyster
beyond that door
your kingdom come
beyond that door
women swoon and flirt and flatter

beyond that door
you are the candy man
the master of your own domain
you kick ass and take names
you are a player, a six-pack punk
every woman knows your name

but that door is closed
closed down, boarded shut, bang-bang
no way out, no where to hide
no where to go
but down down down

you’re on this side now
my side, mendicant man
my turf, toy wonder
you’re in the bosom of the bitch

you’re on this side:
you’re overpriced
and undervalued
and nobody gives two cents
suck it up

mendicant man
you’ve cashed your frequent flyers
mediocre man
you’ve burnt your neon bridges
nowhere man
you’ve spent your sorry wad

you’ll cease that fast-talking spinnity jive
right now (nobody cares)
and shuck that grandiose i-wish-it-were-my-dick tie
(nobody cares)
and lose those boot-cut Calvin Kleins
(not impressed)

get on the floor,
the stone cold floor
on this side of the door
where you belong

The Monkey Spanker

She has placed you over a kitchen stool so that your ass sticks up above it’s red vinyl seat, and then tied your wrists to your ankles with leather straps. She was neither gentle or rough, rather matter of fact about it. You are wondering whether you should tell her that you feel you might slide off the smoothness of the leather, looking up through the swatch of bangs over your eyes, when you see her taking a rolled length of leather strapping from the countertop.

She notices and smiles down at you. "Don’t worry," she says as she bends down in front of you and begins winding the thin leather around the length of your legs and arms, "you’re not going anywhere."

After she’s secured the binding at your ankles and top top of your thighs,  she cups your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. She smiles, running her thumb across your lips. "You’re very vulnerable now, aren’t you?" It’s a rhetorical question, so you just suck in your lips, pulling them between your teeth and slowly nod. No need for words; you both know who is running this show.

Her other hand trails upward over your taut bicep, then along your shoulder blade and down the length of your back until, teetering forward on her heels, she’s clasped your left buttock. She squeezes, the thin edges of her nails digging pressing into the rounded flesh. "I want your ass." The thumb pushes into your pressed lips, breeching the seal you’d made, and into your mouth. Reflexively, you start sucking on it. This seems to please her. She tips her head, pressing her forehead to yours. "Oh, yes," she murmers, "Yes, indeed. I am going to have that ass."

Flipping the top of a container of baby oil, she continues, "What did I catch you doing without permission today, hmmm?

"I touched myself, Dear Mistress.  But I am sorry and won’t do it again.  I promise."

"Try again.  That’s not the correct answer."  She is drizzling the oil into the palm of her hand, looking at you expectantly.

"Ummm …"

"Well?"

"Ummm, I was masturbating?"

"You were spanking your monkey.  That’s what you were doing — spanking your monkey without permission.  So what do you think that means?"

Cradling the palmed oil, she walks back over to you.  "I’m going to enjoy this, you know," she says, and you feel her rubbing the baby oil into the cheeks of your ass.  Her touch is soft and warm, almost a tender caress.  But you know the gentleness will not last.  Again she walks away, as you watch her heels tapping the marble floor.  Suddenly she turns around; the look on her face has changed, is fierce and determined.

"What happens to bad little boys who spank their monkeys?  Tell me."

"Ummm, I’m not sure, Dear Mistress.  But I said I’d be good from now on.  Could I maybe have another chance?

"No, there are no second chances.  And you know that.  Stop your bargaining and stop playing dumb.  Now I am going to ask you once again, and if you don’t answer properly, then this will be twice as bad for you.  Now, What happens to bad little boys who spank their monkeys?"

Your cheeks clench in anticipation.  You can how smell the baby oil, its smooth, innocently sweet scent juxtaposed against what you know is about to happen.  Mistress is tapping her foot, her full mauve lips slightly apart, her emerald eyes blazing.  She is eager now.  There will be no reprieve.

"Dear Mistress," you say sheepishly, "bad little boys who spank their monkeys get their bottoms spanked; they get their bottoms spanked very hard by their Dear Mistress.

She smiles, walks towards you and raises her hand.

 

 

Strap On

Bend over and grab your ankles.

What in the fuck is that?

Don’t play dumb.  I’ve seen the bookmarks on your computer; you know exactly what this is.  Now bend over and grab your ankles.

Those bookmarks don’t mean anything.  It’s just crazy guy stuff.  Just fantasy stuff.  Not real.

Is that why you’re forking out all those credit card payments for memberships?  I’m not an idiot, so don’t screw with me.  Do it!

I don’t want to.  I don’t want to do it for real.

Well, I really don’t give a shit if you want to do it for real.  Quit your lying, quit your whining and bend over and grab your goddamn, fucking ankles!

I’m getting dressed and leaving.  This is crazy.  You’re crazy.

Is that what you want?  You really want to leave?  You really are going to pass this up?

What are you doing?  Stop it?

Why?  What’s wrong with me rubbing my girl cock up against your boy cock?  Doesn’t that feel nice?  Think how good it would feel to take it up the ass.

Stop it.

You don’t want me to stop it.  Look:  your boy cock is trying to grow nice and big like my big black leather one.  I think it likes it.

It’s because your rubbing it with that stupid … that stupid thing.  It’s friction.  Of course, it’s going to react.  I am a guy, after all.  What do you expect?

I expect you to bend over and grab your ankles.  You know you want to, so just do it.

I, um, I ….

Come on, just do it.  I’ll just rub it up the crack.  Come on, bend over.

Okay, I’ll let you play this stupid game.  But don’t you dare try to put it in.

That’s good.  Now lean shoulders into the ottoman so you don’t lose your balance, and grab your ankles.  That’s it, like that.  Just like that.

What the fuck?  What are you doing?  Stop it.  What the fuck?  Damn it!  Get these off of me.  Get these off of me right now.

They’re cuffs.  I ordered them from The Stock Room when I ordered my little — well, my big — friend here.  Now stay there for me and don’t move.  I need to get something out of the drawer.

How am I supposed to go anywhere when you have my wrists cuffed to my ankles?

I guess you have a point there.  Okay, hold still for a second.

Christ!  That’s cold.  What are you doing?

It’s lube.  Unless you’ve been fucking your own ass with cucumbers and stuff, I think you’re going to need it.  So hold still.

You’re not really going to do this.  Come on.

Let me reach around here and check.  Uh, huh.  Your dick is rock hard.  So, let’s get this straight, lover boy.  You are now officially my bitch.  You’re my bitch and I am going to fuck your tight little asshole until you cream all over your belly.

Cum For Teacher

Her finger is in your ass, her mouth around your cock.  She is doing something deep inside of you that is making your cock leak and drizzle on the back of her tongue.  You hear her swallowing — wet, dirty slurps.  Opening your eyes and looking down, you see a pink-hued liquid sheen around her lips, lipstick having smeared and mingled with your cock juice.

The lewdness of what you see — this is Ms. Kavinaski, after all — causes your prick to vibrate and you’re about to pump a load into her mouth, when she senses it and quickly pulls away  — one big slimy, loud suck up the shaft and over and off the mushroom knob.  Your cocks is free, the air-conditioned air instantly cooling the hot slobber that drips down its shaft.

“Not yet.”

Your professor wiggles her finger deeper into your asshole and stares into your eyes as that finger hula hoops around and around.  You grunt, your hands pressed to the sides of the chair, knuckles white.

“How bad do you want it?”

Despite the mottled redness of embarrassment burning your skinny neck, hairless chest, and your pale face, you can’t help yourself.  Your hips move on their own, your mouth is a silent “O” opening and closing, opening and closing.  She licks her tongue around the roseate stain etching her lips, moves her finger outward to the inside edge of your puckered anus, then slowly begins moving it in and out. Deeper. Then Deeper. And Deeper still.

“I’m finger fucking your tight, little virgin ass, dear boy.  But, then again,” she grabs your still-oozing dick with her free hand and slowly pumps it, “but this is virgin, too.  Isn’t it?”

When you don’t answer — instead closing your eyes and moaning — she stops pumping her fist.  “Answer me, or I’ll stop.”   Eyes still closed you begin to open your mouth.  “No.  Open your eyes and look at me.  Look at  Mrs. Kavinaski and say it.”   You open your eyes.  Looking at her you feel dirty — like a dirty, little boy.  Her slight sneer makes you even feel dirtier.  She knows what you are feeling, what she is doing to you, how out-of-control hot you are.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

It is barely a squeak; but, there, you at least said something. But she’s not satisfied.

“Don’t call me ma’am, call me teacher.  I’m your teacher.  I’m your vile, dick-jerking, ass-fingering teacher.  And you’re my slutty, nasty, dirty student.  A very horny student who needs something from me real bad.  So why don’t you try again.  If you want to me to play with this stiffy of yours, try again.”  She jerks it up and down just once, then looks at you expectantly.  You swallow, even as her finger continues to deliberately and methodically screw your asshole.

“Yes, Teacher.”

Her mouth is immediately back on your dick, her pumping finger picking up speed.  You feel your balls tightening, pulling up under your groin.  Your groans are loud, echoing in the otherwise empty classroom as your hips buck and you try to fuck her finger and mouth at the same time.  Then she removes her mouth and starts pumping your cock hard and fast.

“Now, tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Ms. Kavinaski.  I want it.  Play with my dick.  Jerk me off.  Finger fuck my ass. Please.  I want it bad.”  She smiles, pumps finger and fist even faster.

“Now!  Cum for teacher, you dirty, filthy boy.  Shoot that hot spunk right here on my face, while I ream out your ass with this finger.”

And you do.

You cum harder than you probably ever will again in your entire life, shooting all over Ms. Kavinaski’s auburn bangs, her neck, across her face.   You ride the knot to the end, feeling your balls jerking, your asshole spasming around her finger, watching a thick clump of your own boy-milk ooze down her forehead and cling to her thick eyelashes.   You are panting, sweating, almost crying from the intensity of it all, when she speaks again.

“What do you say?  What do you have to say now?”

This time, you know what to say.  Between rattled breaths, you answer.

“Thank you, Teacher.”

 

Don’t Think. Just Obey.

Why he is here, he couldn’t tell you. Even later, the memory will be fuzzy at best: a business trip, an unfamiliar town, a rented car, trouble sleeping.

The bar is nice, the music not too loud, the regulars behaving themselves. He sits nursing his scotch, listening to the three women next to him, catching occasional glimpses of their animated faces in the mirror behind well-stocked shelves. He thinks the one next to him, the brunette, has met his reflected gaze once or twice. Her shoulder has brushed his no less than three times, which isn’t a surprise, given their close proximity. The last time, she’d even turned to smile at him, which he took as a quiet “excuse me.”

He orders his second drink just as the brunette’s two friends move out to the small dance floor. Watching the way their bodies move together, seeing the way they look only at each other, he wonders if they might be lesbians. A slight smile creases his face as his mind conjures an ongoing array of possibilities.

“No, they’re not.”

Lost in the fantasy of two blondes getting it on, he hasn’t noticed her moving closer, but here she is. He smiles, nods, lifts his glass and takes a drink before answering.

“So besides being beautiful, you can read minds too?”

He is surprised, caught a little off guard, when she doesn’t smile back. Instead, she sits back down on the bar stool and lights a cigarette. She stares at him, inhaling deeply. “I can read your mind,” she says through a plume of exhaled smoke. “And it’s a very messy place. Quite undisciplined, in fact.” She reaches into her Dooney & Bourke purse. “But I can fix you right up in no time, make everything all better.”

Her eyes holding his, her hand moves from her purse to place something between them on the bar. He looks down to see a leather collar, its stainless steel studs reflecting the sparkling lights hanging from the overhead above them.

He doesn’t say anything, just shapes his mouth into what he hopes passes for a wry grin, tips his glass, downing the rest of his drink.

“If you need to get drunk to get kinky, you’re not doing it right.”

This time when he looks at her she is smiling. And so he smiles back. “Who said I wanted to get kinky,” he answers, waving to the bartender, this time pointing to both their drinks. “I’m just here for a couple of drinks, a chance to unwind. That’s all, Miss.” She cocks here head, the smile having reached her twinkling eyes. Dark blue eyes, the color of cobalt, he notices.

“Mistress.”

“Pardon me?”

“What I mean is don’t call me Miss, call me Mistress. Mistress Paige.”

The bartender is serving their drinks, taking away the empty glasses. If he notices the collar, he doesn’t let on. “Don’t worry about the bartender,” she says, “he’s not in this. You and me are in this. Only you and me.” She reaches out, touching his arm, right above the bend of his elbow. She slowly squeezes, until her hand is a fist, bundling his shirt sleeve and flesh into a hard knot. “I’m going to do this to your balls,” she whispers in his ear. Then she flicks the edge of his ear with her tongue. “Mmmm … you taste good.”

He looks into the mirror again, seeing that the blondes are now back, both eyeing him in its metallic reflection. The one on the far right, the one in the cashmere sweater dress, moves her lips, mouthing, “Do it.”

Although “Mistress Paige” is turned towards him and cannot see her friends, she tells him, “Take her advice. Put the collar on. It will better than any fucking sex you’ve ever imagined in your wildest, pedestrian fantasies.”

And he doesn’t know why, but he does. He picks up the collar, turns to Mistress Paige and puts it around his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees both of the blonde’s reflected, knowing smiles and wonders if they will be a part of this. A part of what will happen next.

“No, they aren’t coming with us.”

He is starting to think that she really can reads minds, when Mistress Paige takes a leash from her purse and attaches it to the collar. He opens his mouth, maybe to protest, to tell her she is going to far. He really doesn’t even know what words want to come out of his empty, dry mouth. But she stops him with a finger across his lips, shushing him.

“Don’t think. Just obey.”

“Yes.”

She pats him on the head, runs her fingernails down the side of his neck, then curls her fingers under the edge of the collar. He feel her knuckles against his Adam’s apple as she pulls him close. “Now your getting it,” she whispers, looking straight into his eyes. He believes she is right. His world is changing, becoming transparent and shimmering. The blondes, the bartender, even the leather bar stools and flickering bar lights are fading ghosts.

“Don’t think. Just obey,” Mistress Paige repeats herself. He knows what to say, what she expects of him. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now…” she relaxes her grip on the collar, “get down on you knees.” She repeats herself again, “Don’t think. Just obey.”

Don’t think. Just obey. He hears the words inside of his brain, echoing in his bones like a mantra as he lowers himself to the wooden floor. Staring straight ahead through a sea of legs he hears the noise of the bar — the jukebox, the jumbled drunken voices — as if from behind a wall of leaded glass. Don’t think. Just obey.

“Begin crawling towards the door. Do as your told. Now!”

He does what he must. He crawls.

Tagged BDSM · femdom · discipline · domination · fem fatale

Cock Socket Lydia

I am Cock Socket Lydia. A common slut-submissive with openings in my body which are to be filled often. This, of course, would be my asshole, my whore mouth and my cunt. I am nothing more than a cock socket.

Master tells me this and trains me daily to remember it always.

If Master cannot train me personally, he lends me to trusted friends and they fit their cocks into my various sockets as pleases them. The fact that his friends might be too busy or cannot be bothered to train me on any certain day does not impede Master’s plans for me.

Master is very wise in his ways and, of course, always has a Plan A and a Plan B. Just in case.

Sometimes I am hung by my wrists in the Training Cage with my sockets stuffed by a variety of dildoes. Sometimes one or more of the dildoes may be vibrating. Sometimes not. This is always up to Master. He decides what type of cock-training my sockets need.

At other times, Master locks me into the Slave Stockade where he often arranges the sybian behind me so that my anal socket can be repetively abused. Of course my oral and slut sockets are jammed full as well. Again, Master decides with what.

I am cock socket Lydia. Would you like to fit your cock into one of my sockets?

Krista’s Cock-Pig

It is in front of your face. You can smell it. It is cock. It is the cock you are going to suck tonight. Perhaps it is a cock that will fuck you, too. You have no say. You are, after all, only a Cock-Pig.

Once you were a man. You lived a free life, had a fairly successful career. You worked hard, you played hard. Lots of young, hot women. Footloose and fancy free, as they say, living what you thought was the good life.

But then you met Krista. Tall, beautiful and wickedly sexy, she was different somehow. Different than the girls you usually bedded and forgot about. At first, it was just filth whispered into your ears as she fucked you. Then it was porn while she sucked your cock. The porn started getting kinkier, freakier. And you couldn’t get enough, could you? You were obsessed, wanted to be with her all the time.

And that is how she began training you, although you were too stupid to know it at the time. Even now when you think of before and now, you’re not sure exactly how she did it. Soon, though, you began living your weekends in a cage in her basement, your cock in a device that kept it hard, yet wouldn’t permit orgasm. You were an animal.

Krista’s Cock-Pig. That is what she started calling you. She would come to you with a strap-on and make you suck it. Then she would promise orgasm, that she would remove your Cock-Pig chastity device if you bent over and spread your ass and begged for her big, girl-dick. And you did. You would have done anything to cum. The thing is, just like she knew would happen, you started liking it, didn’t you? You started to like taking that big, fat strap-on up your ass.

It wasn’t long before she’d tricked you into leaving your job and turning over everything you had –your money, your house, your car, your savings– to her. She took away your life as a free man and put you in the cage full time. You became her 24/7 Cock-Pig.

That was when she began cum-training you. You would hear her upstairs fucking some guy –you never knew them, at least at first– and your dick would twitch and strain against the chastity device. Later she would come down to you. She’d taunt you, show you her swollen pussy lips. “Remember how tight this pussy is, Cock-Pig,” she’d ask, pushing on her stomach, causing milky cream to drip out of her slit, down the crack of her ass. “Remember when I used to let you fuck me?” You did remember and it made you crazy hot.  So easy for her to make you eat her out, lap up all that cream pie.  You would have done anything to get your chastity device off at that point.

Then she started bringing you down cups of cum, even a bowl of cum one time. “Come here, Cock-Pig,” Krista would say, putting the bowl on the floor right inside your cage. “Crawl over here and get your cup of cum, Cock-Pig. Come lap it up and I will take off your device for a little bit. Maybe I’ll even give you a good, hard fucking.”

And so it went. You really were some new low form of animal, Krista’s Cock-Pig.  But Krista had a plan.  And you soon learned you could even go lower.

“Oh, Cock-Pig,” you heard her calling as she came down the stairs. Only this time  she wasn’t alone.  There was a second set of footsteps.  Heavy footsteps.

And then she was there in front of you, a man beside her. A very big man with his very big cock in his fist. “Now I’m going to show you what a Cock-Pig is really good for,” Christa cooed, opening your cage. “Crawl out here now.” Her voice was as sexy as ever, but there was a breathiness to it you hadn’t caught before. This was exciting her. This was where she’d been leading you since the beginning.

“Suck it, Cock-Pig. Suck this big fat cock. When the cock cums, you get to cum.”

And so you sucked it. When he was getting close to cumming, Krista removed your chastity device and whispered in your ear, “When that cock cums, you can cum. From now on the only time you will ever cum is when you are sucking a cock and it comes.” And she wrapped your own hand around your dick. “Play with it, Cock-Pig. Jerk it while you suck that cock.”

And she stayed so close that you could hear each of her breaths, smell her perfume. Soon the man was grunting, thrusting his hips, grabbing your head. And then you were taking your first load right from that swelling, jerking, squirting cock and cumming all over your own belly at the same time.

And you were finally real. You were Krista’s Cock-Pig.

FemDom Handjob

“Get your fucking pants down, now!”

Heart racing, you struggle with your belt. She doesn’t have a right to treat me like this, you think to yourself. You try to ignore the clammy grip of nervous sweat around your balls. I ’ve paid good money after all; she is really nothing more than a whore when you get right down to it.

The more you think about it, the braver you’re feeling. Mistress, my ass! Just who in the hell does she think she is to talk to me like that?

Ignoring your own better judgment, forgetting that your pants are now down around your knees and your dick is sticking straight up, you look up to say something, to somehow defend yourself against her scornful abuse.

“You timid, little piece-of-shit, loser. Who in the fuck do you think you are looking at?”

Her voice is cruel and unforgiving as she looks at you with cold, icy blue eyes—first straight into your face and then down to your naked, twitching cock. She smirks, and you know you are beaten, that she has you, that she knows you for the warped and twisted degenerate that you are. Your bravado is gone, your words caught dry and useless in your throat.

Wiggling her slender hand into a latex glove, stretching and pulling the latex to fit snugly between her fingers, she continues, her voice a wicked snarl, “Don’t even think about smart-mouthing me, asshole. You’re the one who called me. You’re the one who was so damn curious about a “FemDom” handjob. You’re the butterfingers who evidently can’t jerk off your own dick. You’re the underachiever who evidently needs an instruction manual on how to fuck pussy correctly.” Her voice is sharp and cold and you know now that there will be no kindness, no mercy. But your cock is throbbing as you watch her squirting lube into the palm of her gloved hand.

“Five.”

She spits the number out at you as her slithery fist grabs your prick and moves down the length of it. The shock, the suddenness of it, is so visceral that you almost shoot your load right then.

“Don’t you fucking dare, weasel boy. This dirty, nasty, useless prick of yours doesn’t cum until and when I say so. And that would be when we get to the number one. Got it?”

“Christ! Fuck! Shit! Yesssssssssss, Ma’am.”

You hear yourself, a whimpering, blubbering, mindless automaton. You are her toy: a helpless, filthy cock-toy to abuse and molest at her whim.

“Four.”

As her hand moves—once up and once down—you feel her grasp tighten ever so slightly. Oh, she is a gifted Goddess. You know that now and your urge to cum is almost overpowering. You can’t help yourself and begin to actually wail. “Please, Mistress. Please let me cum now. Oh, please.” You hear yourself and are ashamed, but cannot stop. “Please, Mistress. Let me cum now. Let me be your dirty filthy boy and cum now. Please, please, please, please.”

Abruptly she loosens her grip and—before you even understand what is happening—smacks your cock. Once. Twice. Three times. There is nothing, nobody but you and her, her hand and your dick. You actually swoon and feel yourself buckling when she grabs your arm and pulls you you back up.

“No you don’t,” she whispers sweetly, lips grazing your ear. The unexpected change in her manner has you spinning and powerless, totally focused on her. You struggle to speak, to tell her you adore her, to tell her you belong to her while your abandoned cock twitches and drips, pointing directly at her: your Mistress, your Queen.

“You came here for a FemDom handjob. Don’t you remember? Or did your brain melt and drain into your balls and leave you stupid? If you spew already, you’ll miss the show.”

She giggles as she moves away from you to sit in a nearby chair. You are tempted to beg her to come back, to jerk your cock again, that you will be a “good boy.” But seeing the look on her face you think better of it and are silent.

“That’s more like it,” she says, pointing between your legs. You are helpless, exposed. “That dick is now my property, my personal gear shift. Got it?”

Afraid to look at her, you nod, staring straight ahead. “Yes Mistress.”

“I’m going to start again in a moment, but this time I’m going to start counting back from ten.” Unable to stop yourself, you moan in frustration.

“Make that fifteen.” You bite your tongue.

“You’re learning,” she almost—but not quite—purrs as she stands up again and walks toward you.

“Now stand there with your pants down around your ankles like the gimp-loser dick-wad you are while I lube this glove up one more time.”

“And then we’ll try again.”

Orbital Debris

  1. Cock Leash
  2. Nipple Clamps
  3. Studded Collar
  4. Large Dog Pen
  5. Butt Plugs (assorted sizes, electric, inflatable, etc.)
  6. Chastity Cage
  7. Wrist/Ankle Cuffs
  8. Body Harness
  9. Fetish Latex
  10. Fetish Leathers
  11. Strap-On Dildo
  12. Ball Stretchers
  13. Catheters
  14. Urethral Sounds (of progressive sizes)
  15. Enema Bags (varied selection of tubes and nozzles)
  16. Cock Ring Assortment (aluminum, rubber, leather, vibrating, etc.)
  17. Spreader Bar
  18. Vacuum Penis Pump
  19. Penis Prison
  20. Assortment of Canes, Whips, Paddles & Crops

~In Space No One Can Hear You Scream~

Her Princess Cunt

“Never underestimate the power of your cunt,” Martin had said to Addison not so many years ago.   And he’d meant it.  From the bottom of his heart.

And Addison, being smart and a bit on the wicked side, took his words to heart. It was easy to put two and two together–his words and his ongoing fascination with her pussy. The attention he directed to the V at the top of her thighs was different from what she’d experienced with other guys. They liked it, they liked it a lot. But Martin was absolutely obsessed. And it was this obsession that was his downfall. It made him stupid and weak, and easily manipulated.

So it didn’t take long–a matter of weeks perhaps–until Addison had Martin exactly where she wanted him: On his knees, cum-denied and at her service. It wasn’t the relationship she’d envisioned as a little girl dreaming of prince charming. It was, in fact much better in that she was most certainly a princess. A spoiled princess. Martin’s princess.

Tonight Addison was conducting a scent training session. Martin knelt before her, naked and eager, an obedient puppy moaning and mewling every time she tugged on his cock leash. “What do you want Puppy Martin? What do you want from Princess Addison?” Giving Martin’s cockleash two quick tugs, she widened the gap of her already spread legs, feeling the rose-print panties stretching tight into the slit of her cunt.

“Ooooh! Those panties feel so good against my clit, Martin. I may have to have you lick me tonight instead of just smelling.”

“Yes. Yes, please Princess Addison. I will lick your cunt. I will lick you cunt and make you cum so good. Please Princess. Please let me.”

“Don’t think for a minute that if I DO let you lick this cunt that I will let you cum. You get lazy and inattentive once you cum and I am not in the mood for such silliness. Do you understand, Puppy Martin?”

“Yes, Princess.” I will be good.. I promise to be soooo good for Princess.”

Addison giggled. During their entire exchange, Martins eyes had been ogling her panty-covered cunt, while at the same time his cock was jerking and twitching and a long, pearly string of precum was now dangling from its head.

“Oh, Martin. You are just too cute. I don’t dare let you lick my Princess cunt. You just might lose control. But we will continue with the scent training. Would you like that?”

She tugged on his cock leash three times and saw the gooseflesh rising all over his naked flesh as he whimpered. “Crawl over here between my legs. That’s it. Now rest your head against this thigh and watch as I pull these panties into my slit and get them all wet with Princess juices.”

Sliding her tailbone to the edge of the chair and spreading her legs even wider, Addison grinded her clit and vulva into the panty crotch, feeling the wetness there spread. Martin groaned and she could actually see his nostrils flaring.

“Can you smell it, Martin? Can you smell your Princess’s cunt?”

Martin groaned again, this time louder and longer.

“Let’s proceed with the training then.”

With that, Addison put her hands and the back of Martin’s head, pulling his face into her crotch.

“Smell, Puppy Martin. Smell my Princess Cunt until I tell you to stop.”

Wrapping her left leg around his neck, Addison picked up the book from the chairside table and began reading.

Martin began his breathing lesson with gusto.

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