One Day Sunday: Part Three
Our next stop was shoes and I was standing in front of the 10’s at a discount shoe store, with our shopping bags in hand and my wife’s hand bag over my shoulder. After considering having me wear just the corset on top, she changed her mind and decided on the tank (it was a coral shade with lace trim), reminding me of my morning comment, that this was not an appropriate time to look slutty. It hid my corset but was clingy and revealed my curves. My waist was further accented by a wide studded belt she bought along with the corset. It hung very loosely around my waist and rested on my hips.
At the moment my wife was in the next aisle. She kept her distance, wanting to watch me. I was ordered to shop on my own. There was a man and woman working sales in this store. I was relieved that the woman offered to help me first. “What are you looking for today?” She was about 35, conservatively dressed. Although I wasn’t entirely “en femme”, few could have doubts as to the kind of shopping I was doing.
“Well, I’m on a mission. I’m told that I look too “nice.” My wife turned into my aisle, pretending to browse. “So I’m looking for something… wicked. You know what I mean?” This was for her eaves-dropping ears, and I watched her suppress a smile. I’d show her slutty.
It had a pleasing effect on my clerk as well. “I know exactly what you mean! A sexy, “come hither” look? How much of a heel do you want? These black pumps are really sexy I think. And we have some really great specials on boots. These over-the-calf leather boots are a bit naughty and are only $40. What size do you wear?”
“Those are naughty,” I agreed. “Sometimes a 10, sometimes an 11, depends.”
“We’ll get both those sizes.”
“Can I find help you find something?” This was the male clerk speaking to my wife.
“I was looking for these in a seven. I see them in 8’s and 9’s, but… “
“7’s are here on the other side. I’m sure we have them. Let’s find you a pair…”
I continued to poke around and browse while I heard my wife pretend to speak under her breath to the salesman. “Can you believe that guy? Weird, huh?” He replied something that I didn’t catch. “Well, I think it’s weird, kinky weird.” Again I couldn’t hear his reply. “I certainly prefer a manly man.” Pause. “If you know what I mean.” They chuckled together.
My sales clerk was also listening to the rude comments and shook her head sympathetically at me. “Some people,” she said quietly and patted me on the arm.
“No worries,” I said cheerfully. “Listen, I’ll be getting into a taller heel, I’m sure, and I have a longer pair of pants here. It’ll be much easier to see what I like in these. But I don’t see a changing room. Is there a place to…?
“No changing room, but you can use the employee restroom. It’s right through that door at the back.”
I’m a girly man, I thought to myself as I changed my jeans. “So own it” I said aloud.
I walked out with three inches of my new jeans dragging on the floor My wife was still being “helped” by the salesman. He was crouched in front of her with a half dozen open shoeboxes littered about them. The man had just said something apparently funny. My wife laughed and playfully shoved her foot against his chest. She slyly winked at me as I quietly stood behind him.
“Let’s try the browns” she said to him and she held out her foot. He held her leg unnecessarily high at the calf and held the shoe out for her. She slowly slid her foot in and turned her foot and leg back and forth with his hand still on her calf. With slow deliberateness, my wife withdrew her leg from his hand and offered him her other foot, and the flirty game of footsie was repeated.
“Do you want to stand and see how they feel?” he asked her.
“No. I want to try those now.”
“My” saleswoman was offering help to a young woman who said she was just looking, and so came back over to me and led me to the next aisle. “I left those sizes for you here. Do you need any more help?”
“Probably, yes please. At least help in the way of advice,” I smiled.
“My favorite kind.” she joked. I sat in a chair and crossed my legs. She watched as I slid my pants up, revealing my stockings.
“Let’s try the 10’s.” I suggested, and bent forward for the box on the floor.
“Let me get that,” and she sat on her heels and opened the box and removed a boot.
“Well! What service.” I said.
“It’s what I do,” she returned cheerfully. She unzipped the instep zipper and held the boot. I pushed my foot into it with effort. “It should be snug,” she offered as she zipped the boot and I stood up.
“The length is just right with those jeans,” she said. “Feel ok?”
“Wonderful. Let me try the other.” When I had them both on I took a few steps back and forth, remembering to “heal to toe” making my hips swing. “Yes, the right length… but I wonder if they look good with pants?”
“Well, they are wasted under pants. I’d wear a skirt. And you’ve got the legs for it.”
“Awe, that’s sweet of you.”
“Seriously, you do. If ya got it, flaunt it, I always say.”
“I don’t have a lot of practice flaunting,” I peered at the name on her employee pin, “Katherine.” She smiled. I sat down. The corset was so stiff that bending at the waist was impossible. To reach the zipper on the boot I needed to bend my knees, keeping them together and bring my ankle to within reach. It was a more graceful, more “ladylike” movement.
Katherine watched me with undisguised interest.
“Those open toed strappies are cute. Could I look at those?”
“Of course,” she said, and reached for a box. “Not a lot of practice? Practice flaunting, or practice in general?”
“Both,” I said. “If by ‘in general’ you mean… this.” Katherine smiled and nodded. “Lets see… “ I pretended to think. “I first started this… um… today.”
“No! Really?”
“Yup. So I’d say… damn.” I was struggling with the tiny buckle on the shoe strap. “This is microscopic. Are they all this way?”
“Let me help”, Katherine said. “Actually, you’re really not expected to unfasten them, usually. The strap is a little stretchy. Just slip it over your heal, like this. Now lets see!”
I stood and walked in front of the mirror. “I know. A skirt with these too, right?”
“If it were me. I’m just saying.”
I paraded a bit more and sat and crossed my legs. “I’ll need to shop for one or two, I guess. You have any tips?”
“You don’t have a skirt? Well getting just one is different than two, if you’re thinking about function. But you also said you look too ‘nice.’ A ‘wicked’ something? What else do you have to go with? Probably not much. You said you just started. Unless you can wear a friend’s clothes. Or a wife’s? Are you partnered? Does she know? Is she the one who thinks you’re too nice? Sorry to pry. Only tell me what you’re comfortable with. This is just so... interesting.”
“Really? Interesting? Or just weird?”
“Both, of course.”
“Well… I could be aloof and coy… But, since you asked! I have no wardrobe beyond what you’ve seen. I do want to look wicked. I do have a partner. Most of her clothes would be too short for me. She does know. She is my wife. And I’m comfortable telling you she’s the one flirting like a bitch in heat with your coworker.” Our conversation, animated enough, was in low tones and didn’t rise above my giggling and chatty wife on the other side of the shelves.
I heard her ask, “Now Carl, be honest. Are these heels too much? To slutty? Stand there and look. Would you date a chick in these or do I look trashy?”
“You could pull it off, I’m sure,” Carl said.
“You think? But they rub my heel. See? Here, feel that…”
Katherine was listening and looking levelly at me. “So,” she said lowly, “is she looking to get fucked? Is this a game you two play?
I shrugged. “Don’t know. All new territory. We’ve never cheated before. But then again, she’s never put me in girly clothes. Until today. I suspect that she’s just fooling around. Having fun leading him on. I know that doing this to me has made her real horny. Almost as much as me.”
“Interesting. So interesting. Still, to tease you with her flirting. Not to mention Carl.” Katherine laughed. “Still want those skirt shopping tips?” I nodded eagerly. “Carl,” she shouted over the shelf, “Now that Kim’s back I’m taking my lunch. Might be a long lunch.” To me, “Let me ring up those boots and we’ll go.”
“You can just… go?” I asked.
“When you’re the manager, yes.” We walked past my wife and Carl on the way to the counter. My wife was standing, bending down pretending to adjust something on a red leather pump she was wearing. “Yes, they make you look trashy, honey”, Katherine told her. “But a nice kind of trashy. We’re going shopping for skirts after we buy these, with your permission of course.”
Without straightening up she said, “fun!” Her sweater was unbuttoned and my wife beater she was wearing hung loosely, giving the kneeling Carl a clear view of her small but perky breasts and he has not pretending to look away. “Sexy, without being slutty, please,” she said over her shoulder to Katherine.
“Got it,” she said and led me to the counter. As I was fishing through “my” purse to find my wallet, my wife joined us.
“I’m getting this,” she said firmly. “A sweet little thing like you doesn’t need money to by your little pretties. Those boots are so hot, Hun! Those heels! You are wearing them out, of course. Look how well you walk in them. Well, you seem born to it.” To Katherine, “You should have seen how Hun slid those thigh highs on for the first time. Born to it. So it’s off to the sale racks like a couple of girlfriends. But, Katherine, if something is just so perfect for our girl here, don’t mind the cost. And one more thing… “ and she pulled Katherine aside out of my hearing and spoke to her in low tones. Katherine nodded and asked one or two questions as if to clarify something. They both occasionally glanced over at me and smiled or laughed. “Ok, then, you two,” my wife said now including me, “I’ll catch up in a bit. Have fun!”
(Check Back Next Week for Part Four)
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For more info on debee, check out her Fetlife profile: http://fetlife.com/users/41213
Friday, July 30, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
What do you find the most sexy about a man dressed in lingerie??
I have a fetish for the contrast of what we see as masculine and feminine, and there's nothing sexier than a nice hard man covered in soft, delicate lace.
I especially love opaque black panties or thong with a black lace garter belt and black lace-topped stockings -- the lace frames the "package" and shows off the buns, while the panties cling in such a way that hints at what is underneath.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Disciplinarian
by ed cantor
I asked ed if he could see me as a disciplinarian. The below was his response. ;-)
*
You are kind, slow, thoughtful -- as you are with everything that you do. You make me feel loved. You make it clear that my training is important to you, and that you take great pride in me when I grow in your service.
This is one of your lessons. The way you teach me. There are some things that words can't communicate in the same way. Some things must be taught to the body, as well as to the mind.
And so, you have me strip, until I left with nothing but a tiny string and lace thong. You bind up my cock and balls, but you do it from outside the thong, so that soon my package is trapped by lace and rope. You affix a rope around my waist, and drag the long ends remaining back between my legs. My ankles are strapped into heavy leather cuffs, which you then lock to the ends of spreader bar -- forcing my legs wide open. You lock cuffs on my wrist as well, then bend me forward, locking those to a ring in the middle of the spreader bar. Now the waist rope makes sense, as you pull the ends up, securing them to the ring in the ceiling above me -- bound like this, I have no way to balance myself, so I shall instead be supported by your bondage.
I can see you behind me, looking through my legs, and I see the heavy black paddle in your grip. You seem to test its weight, passing it from one hand to the other.
I know I have disappointed you, and my own actions have made this lesson a requirement. I hate that feeling -- it burns on my face and torments my gut... and soon I know that pain will be spread around my body.
You've left my mouth free, so that I can thank you for the strokes as they land heavy and hard, and so that my moans and gasps and groans are equally audible. You display an expertise I would not have guessed, but I'm never suprised by your abilities.
The lesson takes hours, as you make my ass glow, the backs of my thighs burn, the bound package of my cock and balls throb. You take breaks from time to time, resting your arm, and leaving me to ponder my own situation.
Only one who loves me as you do would take this time to teach me.
Thank you, Mistress.
*
You are kind, slow, thoughtful -- as you are with everything that you do. You make me feel loved. You make it clear that my training is important to you, and that you take great pride in me when I grow in your service.
This is one of your lessons. The way you teach me. There are some things that words can't communicate in the same way. Some things must be taught to the body, as well as to the mind.
And so, you have me strip, until I left with nothing but a tiny string and lace thong. You bind up my cock and balls, but you do it from outside the thong, so that soon my package is trapped by lace and rope. You affix a rope around my waist, and drag the long ends remaining back between my legs. My ankles are strapped into heavy leather cuffs, which you then lock to the ends of spreader bar -- forcing my legs wide open. You lock cuffs on my wrist as well, then bend me forward, locking those to a ring in the middle of the spreader bar. Now the waist rope makes sense, as you pull the ends up, securing them to the ring in the ceiling above me -- bound like this, I have no way to balance myself, so I shall instead be supported by your bondage.
I can see you behind me, looking through my legs, and I see the heavy black paddle in your grip. You seem to test its weight, passing it from one hand to the other.
I know I have disappointed you, and my own actions have made this lesson a requirement. I hate that feeling -- it burns on my face and torments my gut... and soon I know that pain will be spread around my body.
You've left my mouth free, so that I can thank you for the strokes as they land heavy and hard, and so that my moans and gasps and groans are equally audible. You display an expertise I would not have guessed, but I'm never suprised by your abilities.
The lesson takes hours, as you make my ass glow, the backs of my thighs burn, the bound package of my cock and balls throb. You take breaks from time to time, resting your arm, and leaving me to ponder my own situation.
Only one who loves me as you do would take this time to teach me.
Thank you, Mistress.
Friday, July 23, 2010
One Day Sunday: Part 2
by debee
Sorry boys & gurls. I got distracted by ribbons and puppies, and forgot that we had not finished this one yet. There are five parts, so plenty more to go!
* * *
One Day Sunday: Part Two
I found myself standing is a fitting room moments later. There was nothing feminine about the space at all. Except that is was in a women’s clothing boutique, a tiny store common in malls. The “room” was really a cubicle among two or three others, with a large space between the floor and the bottom of the door. The top of the door was about at my eyes. There were two pairs of jeans draped on it. Another two pairs were lying on the small bench waiting for me to try them on.
As I slid down my Levis revealing my wife’s, or rather, my panties, as she referred to them since I put them on this morning, I heard her say, “remember, Hun, they should be quite long, you’ll need the length to wear a heel.”
“Yes,” I replied simply, noting her unapologetically loud voice. As I selected a pair and slid my foot into the leg, I assessed my excited emotions. This was happening! My wife was dressing me up in girls’ clothes. And rather in public. Did I mind that my wife didn’t keep her voice down? That she was including Julie in our “game?” Could other women in the little shop tell what was going on? Would anyone be disgusted? Amused? Would they care? Did I? I was certainly excited, and surprisingly, not overly embarrassed. I think I was having fun.
All these thoughts shot through me before I’d finished buttoning the girly jeans. The stretchy denim felt snug and satisfying over my thighs and ass. But this style was not going to work. The space between the crotch and waist was comically small. I zipped up the zipper that was not more than an inch long. I made a loud “hmmph!” noise.
“You’ve got those on?” my wife asked. “Let’s have a look at you.” I opened the small cubicle door and “presented” myself to her and Julie, who I was not surprised (pleased, actually?) to also be waiting there.
“The length is just right,” Julie observed as my wife turned me around. “How’s the waist fit?”
My wife lifted my shirttail that had been concealing my torso. “Oh, my,” my wife said. I’d had a difficult time squeezing my balls into that tiny space and my cock, still hard, had nowhere to go. I’d had to button the pants over it and an inch of my penis stuck out over the top of the waist. “Oh my” my wife repeated. Remembering my manners, I put my hand in front of the offending inch to screen Julie’s view.
“Well,” Julie said in a dead-pan voice that made us both laugh, “at least we know you’re having a good time. Maybe a different style? A looser fit?”
“No, we like these, don’t we Hun?”
“Well sure. But, Dear, there’s no place for it to go.”
She smiled to Julie and said, “Excuse us,” and shoved me back into the room and closed us both in. “Take those off,” she ordered. “And the panties,” again, not quietly. “We have to so something about this problem,” indicating my penis and without warning she grasped it with and iron grip, squeezing as hard as she could. I gave an involuntary gasp and she hushed me with a finger to her lip. I knew what she was doing.
Occasionally in love making, she’d used this method to soften me up to keep me from cumming too early. “Stubborn,” she said after squeezing for a half minute without effect. “Julie was apparently correct about your enjoying yourself,” and she squeezed even harder, this time digging in her fingernails. A tear welled up in my eye from the pain.
As I finally felt myself begin to shrink, my wife’s eyes brightened and she nodded with approval. “Reach down and grab that shoe,” she told me, indicating one of my black Converse high tops. Without her letting go we bent our knees together and I retrieved my shoe. We’d both worn our high tops today. Hers were pink. “We ought to switch colors one day. Now take the shoelace out.” I obeyed. By the time I’d finished, I was completely flaccid.
“Good. We need to be fast before your man clitty grows again” she said letting go finally. My wife took the lace and said, “watch how I tie this. You’ll want it to untie easily.” She made a kind of slipknot in the middle of the shoelace and then put it around my penis just below the circumcised head and pulled it snug. Then she turned me around so my back was toward her and instructed me to spread my legs. I obeyed, fascinated. Next she grabbed the dangling lace ends and firmly pulled my soft cock outward as far as it would stretch. With her other hand from behind, she reached between my legs and gripped the laces and pulled my still stretched penis back through my legs and snugged it into the crack of my ass. “How’re your testies?” she asked.
Where’d they go?” I ask, furtively feeling for them.
“Way up high. In you. Above the base of your cock. Should be one on each side?”
I felt for them. “Yeah, they’re there. Wow. They’re really high up.”
“Good.” And she continued to tug the lace back, through my crack and up until my “man clitty” was nearly to my anus. I winced with the rough treatment.
“Hurt?’” she asked. I nodded. “A good hurt or a bad hurt?”
“Both. Mostly good.”
“Perfect.” She took the two lace ends up my lower back and separated them taking each over a hip bone and had them meet in the front at my belly button, following the line that a skimpy thong might. There was just enough lace to tie a small bow, which she did.
I was amazed. “How’d you know how… to…”
“You aren’t the only one to check out kinky sites, Hun,” she laughed. “I’ve filed away a few tips. Now let’s try these on again,” she said, and left.
I reached down for my panties. The movement pulled on my “clitty” and made me wince again. I instead bent at my knees, keeping them together. Much less painful. “and more ladylike”, I mentally added, making myself smile.
I slid my panties on. I gasped. They FIT! I hadn’t realized how ill fitting they were until I felt them fit properly. I stared at the mirror. My “manhood” had just… vanished. I pulled my panties down a few inches and marveled the way my pubic hair formed a little womanly triangle. And a small trim to sharpen the edges would increase the effect, I mentally noted. I pulled my panties back up.
As I turned this way and that, I had another pleasant surprise. As the panty material rubbed against my clitty head, it still caused a wonderfully arousing feeling. Even with me being tied down and soft, my clitty felt wonderful. I buried my hand down into my panties, which to my delight nearly disappeared from view and stroked myself experimentally. The inclination to speed my fingertip’s movements was nearly overwhelming and I made the deliberate effort to stop and slip the jeans on.
The sensual sensation of snug, form-fitting women’s clothing actually feel like they FIT me repeated itself. I snugged the crotch seam up tightly against my crack and new “pussy.” It felt wonderful. I held up my shirt to check myself out this way and that. “Stop admiring yourself and give us a look!” I heard my wife say through the door. I laughed knowing I was doing just that.
When I opened the door I was pleased to see Julie’s mouth drop open in genuine surprise. “What’d you do? Surgery in there?”
“Something like that,” my wife replied. “Oh, so much better. Gawd, you’re a skinny mini, Hun. What you think, Julie? About perfect?”
Oh, these are sooo cuuuute on you, girlfriend! Oh, is that ok to call you that?”
“Call Hun anything you want, Julie. Right Hun? Now turn around… nice. Those sequins are so cute.”
“They really show off your booty, girl!” And Julie goosed me. “I wish I had a butt like that,” she said, slapping her own.
We stayed another half hour at this store with Julie, and eventually her co-worker Cara, who was equally friendly and helpful. Other customers came in and out, usually young women, but sometimes accompanied by a boyfriend or husband. The women usually gave us a neutral smile, the men most often smirked. No one commented, other than a wink and a “thumbs up” my wife received from another woman about her age.
After we chose the jeans that I’d tried on first, we selected another, more casual pair, shorter, so I could wear them with a flat sole. Next we looked at tops, my wife amusing herself by giving the word a little extra emphasis, reminding me that that was how we got into this game earlier this morning. While trying several colors and styles – dutifully draped over the door by the ladies – I followed my wife’s instructions to untie my clitty and let it “breath” is a normal position. “We’ll do that every so often and retie it in a slightly different spot so you don’t get too sore… until you get used to it. We don’t want it to fall off do we?”
The girls chose for me a long, satin camisole with spaghetti straps, a cotton tank, and a short simple v-neck with cap sleeves. They decided I wasn’t too old for a “layered top look” so the cami went on first, then the tank, and the v-neck was open enough to show “all the pretty straps underneath,’” they agreed.
“Now stay in there and tie yourself up nice and snug and I’ll pay for your things. I’ll bring them right back and you can wear them out. Isn’t this so fun?” she said excitedly as she left.
My heart went flip-flop. “Wear them out,” she’d said. Although I’d not really thought anything through, I’d imagined that we’d buy some items and take them home to play. Wear them out in the crowded mall hallways? But there was no internal debate. She didn’t really ask me. And I knew I wouldn’t say no.
I tied up my clitty quickly before it got hard from the idea that my spouse was feminizing me here and now and I was expected to be out in a broader public in a few moments. And no reservations that I had outweighed the fact that I was loving it.
My wife’s voice floated over to top of the door. “All paid for, Hun! All snug as a bug? Here’s your cami, and your tops, and your jeans. But first, ooh-la-la! Some black thigh-highs with lace elastic. I hope they stay up better for you than they do on me. Just hand me over those man clothes and I’ll carry them in this shopping bag. Thanks, Hun. I’ll wait for you up front at the door. See you in a jiff.”
Naturally, I couldn’t wait to put the stockings on. I must say I did it smoothly and quickly with much less trouble than I’d feared. They felt wonderful. I’d been in and out of so many tops and tight jeans they were beginning to feel familiar and comfortable. Lastly I removed the lace from my other shoe and turned down the tops like I’d seen a girl do once. I opened the cubicle door to find my wife. The store had gotten a bit busier over the last several minutes and I found two young women waiting for my room. I gave them my best smile and said, “free” breezily and walked away without turning.
After waving and giving a “thank-you” to Julie and Cara, I rejoined my wife at the front. She kissed me passionately. “You handled your “exit” so “mater-of-factly” Hun! I thought you might get flustered, especially with those girls standing there waiting.
“I wonder how long they were there.”
“Since I left you. I told them you’d be right out,” she giggled. “You know that door’s quite high off the ground. We watched you roll your stockings on. You’re pretty good at that. There! That’s the blush I knew you had in you. The taller gal thought you’d had practice. I’ve got these bags, so hold my purse.” And we started down the crowded hall.
If I expected people stop in their tracks, gawk and point, I was mistaken. A few smiles, a few glances that lingered longer than normal, that was all.
“Pretend you’re walking on a line,” my wife offered, “heel to toe. It’ll make your hips swing more.”
“It feels good to walk in these pants, “ I said suddenly. “The crotch rubs against my dick head and -”
“Clit,” she interrupted.
“Rubs against my clit,” I continued, “and in the fitting room when you first tied my clitty up…” and I described how I briefly fingered myself and how girly and sexy it looked and felt.
She stopped walking. “Really? That’s fantastic. I kind of assumed that if you were kept soft and all tied up you wouldn’t be… responsive... to much.”
“Well you assumed wrong.”
Come over here and sit.” We walked over to an out of the way bench and sat down. “So tell me, if you sit on your clit just right and kind of squirm and think horny thoughts while I kiss you, you can get yourself off?” and she held my face and shoved her tongue in my mouth. I was thinking horny thoughts. I squirmed. She put her hand inside my two tops and rubbed my satin cami against my nipple. I kept squirming on my clit.
My wife whispered in my ear, “Could you cum? Could you cum this way, my little bitch? My horny, slutty bitch, could you cum for me, little slut? Huh, bitch?” Oh my God, I was hot. But suddenly she stopped cold, sat up straight and straightened our clothes. “Well? Could you?”
I thought seriously. “I was close to orgasm there, I think. But the full deal? I’m not sure. Certainly not much could come out, if that’s what you mean by cum. I think I’d be kind of… suspended. Or maybe I’d just explode,” I laughed.
“Perfect! That’s so perfect. Now,” she said standing up, “I’m tired of you scuffing in those shoes, so new shoes is on the list, but first…”
She pulled me along several stores down. “Here.” We entered a store that specialized in raunchy, risqué, somewhat deviant clothing. Studded leather, latex, vinyl, and chains were everywhere. “I’ve thought about getting myself something sexy and fun here for ages and surprising you. But buying for you is even better!”
We waded in among the tables and racks. The lighting was dark and lurid for a store. Loud industrial music was playing. My wife headed to a rack of bustiers and cinchers. “Our culture’s changed so much. Used to only see this kind of stuff in adult lingerie stores. Now it’s in the mall and kids wear it to school.” I looked at the other customers and we were clearly the only ones over 20 in the store, including the staff.
My wife quickly searched through cinchers and corsets. “No… no… no… maybe, no… no… “
“Can I help you?” This was from a sales girl in goth attire, not older than seventeen.
“Yes, please. We’re looking for a good corset or cincher. All the ones I’ve seen are too… foo-fooey. I’m looking for one that really works”
“Um, yeah… these are pretty much for looks… we don’t really carry the heavy duty ones. How much do you want to cinch down? How many inches you want to lose?”
“It’s not for me.” My wife turned toward me.
“It’s for me,” I said, trying not to sound shy.
She just said “awesome,” to me without batting an eye. “So…?”
“Uh… well… I’m not really sure…”
“From around a 28 down to a 24 or so,” my wife said crisply.
“Hmmm… that’s quite a bit… Like I said, we don’t really… well, wait, we do have this one…” She led us over to another rack. “It’s an under-bust one. Is that ok? It doesn’t have any boning or anything, but it’s real tough vinyl so it has no give at all… “ She pulled a black corset off the hanger and handed to me “See? Real heavy zipper in front. The cords and grommets in back are real tough. Something like this work for you guys? We got it in red too, which is pretty hot.”
“We like the black,” my wife said. “We’ll try the small and the medium. Where…? oh, there are the fitting rooms. I think I’ll need to help with it.”
“Awesome,” the goth girl blandly said again.
In the cubicle my wife decided to put the corset over my cami. She stood behind me with the corset laces firmly in hand. “Exhale again.”
Cinch. “Again.” Cinch. “Can you breath?”
“Barely.” She chuckled. “Really. Barely,” I said.
“Price of fashion, Hun. Exhale.” Cinch. “This really is a rather nice one. You can cinch and tie off from the top, waist and the bottom. We’ll mostly cinch the waist and let the bottom flair to give you some hips. Hopefully these will still fit around them,” she said, indicating my low rider jeans. The corset extended just below my hip bones and I’d had to unbutton and lower them while I was being cinched up. “Exhale one more time.”
Cinch. Tie.
I could only use about the top forth of my lungs and I felt lightheaded, but when I turned to the mirror, I thought, “worth it.”
“Pull your pants up, girl! You look so hot!” I did too. I had and hourglass figure, The extra flair at my hips was further contrasted by my cinched down waist. Only the stretch of the stretch denim allowed me to button my girly jeans over the vinyl on my hips. I zipped up my one inch zipper, still marveling at my lack of any bulge.
Following my gaze, my wife reached down behind me and stroked my clit through my jeans. “So… here? Like this? This feels good?” I began squirming in my pants again, trying to lower myself and gain purchase against her teasing fingers. I reached down and pulled her hand harder against my clit.
“No, no. Bad girl,” she admonished. If we make out here, they’ll throw us in jail. And you are not dressed for a night in jail. Or maybe you are,” she teased. “Now let’s go buy this. I hope she can get the sensor off with you in it, ‘cause I’d hate to have to redo this.”
* * *
For more info on debee, check out her Fetlife profile: http://fetlife.com/users/41213
* * *
One Day Sunday: Part Two
I found myself standing is a fitting room moments later. There was nothing feminine about the space at all. Except that is was in a women’s clothing boutique, a tiny store common in malls. The “room” was really a cubicle among two or three others, with a large space between the floor and the bottom of the door. The top of the door was about at my eyes. There were two pairs of jeans draped on it. Another two pairs were lying on the small bench waiting for me to try them on.
As I slid down my Levis revealing my wife’s, or rather, my panties, as she referred to them since I put them on this morning, I heard her say, “remember, Hun, they should be quite long, you’ll need the length to wear a heel.”
“Yes,” I replied simply, noting her unapologetically loud voice. As I selected a pair and slid my foot into the leg, I assessed my excited emotions. This was happening! My wife was dressing me up in girls’ clothes. And rather in public. Did I mind that my wife didn’t keep her voice down? That she was including Julie in our “game?” Could other women in the little shop tell what was going on? Would anyone be disgusted? Amused? Would they care? Did I? I was certainly excited, and surprisingly, not overly embarrassed. I think I was having fun.
All these thoughts shot through me before I’d finished buttoning the girly jeans. The stretchy denim felt snug and satisfying over my thighs and ass. But this style was not going to work. The space between the crotch and waist was comically small. I zipped up the zipper that was not more than an inch long. I made a loud “hmmph!” noise.
“You’ve got those on?” my wife asked. “Let’s have a look at you.” I opened the small cubicle door and “presented” myself to her and Julie, who I was not surprised (pleased, actually?) to also be waiting there.
“The length is just right,” Julie observed as my wife turned me around. “How’s the waist fit?”
My wife lifted my shirttail that had been concealing my torso. “Oh, my,” my wife said. I’d had a difficult time squeezing my balls into that tiny space and my cock, still hard, had nowhere to go. I’d had to button the pants over it and an inch of my penis stuck out over the top of the waist. “Oh my” my wife repeated. Remembering my manners, I put my hand in front of the offending inch to screen Julie’s view.
“Well,” Julie said in a dead-pan voice that made us both laugh, “at least we know you’re having a good time. Maybe a different style? A looser fit?”
“No, we like these, don’t we Hun?”
“Well sure. But, Dear, there’s no place for it to go.”
She smiled to Julie and said, “Excuse us,” and shoved me back into the room and closed us both in. “Take those off,” she ordered. “And the panties,” again, not quietly. “We have to so something about this problem,” indicating my penis and without warning she grasped it with and iron grip, squeezing as hard as she could. I gave an involuntary gasp and she hushed me with a finger to her lip. I knew what she was doing.
Occasionally in love making, she’d used this method to soften me up to keep me from cumming too early. “Stubborn,” she said after squeezing for a half minute without effect. “Julie was apparently correct about your enjoying yourself,” and she squeezed even harder, this time digging in her fingernails. A tear welled up in my eye from the pain.
As I finally felt myself begin to shrink, my wife’s eyes brightened and she nodded with approval. “Reach down and grab that shoe,” she told me, indicating one of my black Converse high tops. Without her letting go we bent our knees together and I retrieved my shoe. We’d both worn our high tops today. Hers were pink. “We ought to switch colors one day. Now take the shoelace out.” I obeyed. By the time I’d finished, I was completely flaccid.
“Good. We need to be fast before your man clitty grows again” she said letting go finally. My wife took the lace and said, “watch how I tie this. You’ll want it to untie easily.” She made a kind of slipknot in the middle of the shoelace and then put it around my penis just below the circumcised head and pulled it snug. Then she turned me around so my back was toward her and instructed me to spread my legs. I obeyed, fascinated. Next she grabbed the dangling lace ends and firmly pulled my soft cock outward as far as it would stretch. With her other hand from behind, she reached between my legs and gripped the laces and pulled my still stretched penis back through my legs and snugged it into the crack of my ass. “How’re your testies?” she asked.
Where’d they go?” I ask, furtively feeling for them.
“Way up high. In you. Above the base of your cock. Should be one on each side?”
I felt for them. “Yeah, they’re there. Wow. They’re really high up.”
“Good.” And she continued to tug the lace back, through my crack and up until my “man clitty” was nearly to my anus. I winced with the rough treatment.
“Hurt?’” she asked. I nodded. “A good hurt or a bad hurt?”
“Both. Mostly good.”
“Perfect.” She took the two lace ends up my lower back and separated them taking each over a hip bone and had them meet in the front at my belly button, following the line that a skimpy thong might. There was just enough lace to tie a small bow, which she did.
I was amazed. “How’d you know how… to…”
“You aren’t the only one to check out kinky sites, Hun,” she laughed. “I’ve filed away a few tips. Now let’s try these on again,” she said, and left.
I reached down for my panties. The movement pulled on my “clitty” and made me wince again. I instead bent at my knees, keeping them together. Much less painful. “and more ladylike”, I mentally added, making myself smile.
I slid my panties on. I gasped. They FIT! I hadn’t realized how ill fitting they were until I felt them fit properly. I stared at the mirror. My “manhood” had just… vanished. I pulled my panties down a few inches and marveled the way my pubic hair formed a little womanly triangle. And a small trim to sharpen the edges would increase the effect, I mentally noted. I pulled my panties back up.
As I turned this way and that, I had another pleasant surprise. As the panty material rubbed against my clitty head, it still caused a wonderfully arousing feeling. Even with me being tied down and soft, my clitty felt wonderful. I buried my hand down into my panties, which to my delight nearly disappeared from view and stroked myself experimentally. The inclination to speed my fingertip’s movements was nearly overwhelming and I made the deliberate effort to stop and slip the jeans on.
The sensual sensation of snug, form-fitting women’s clothing actually feel like they FIT me repeated itself. I snugged the crotch seam up tightly against my crack and new “pussy.” It felt wonderful. I held up my shirt to check myself out this way and that. “Stop admiring yourself and give us a look!” I heard my wife say through the door. I laughed knowing I was doing just that.
When I opened the door I was pleased to see Julie’s mouth drop open in genuine surprise. “What’d you do? Surgery in there?”
“Something like that,” my wife replied. “Oh, so much better. Gawd, you’re a skinny mini, Hun. What you think, Julie? About perfect?”
Oh, these are sooo cuuuute on you, girlfriend! Oh, is that ok to call you that?”
“Call Hun anything you want, Julie. Right Hun? Now turn around… nice. Those sequins are so cute.”
“They really show off your booty, girl!” And Julie goosed me. “I wish I had a butt like that,” she said, slapping her own.
We stayed another half hour at this store with Julie, and eventually her co-worker Cara, who was equally friendly and helpful. Other customers came in and out, usually young women, but sometimes accompanied by a boyfriend or husband. The women usually gave us a neutral smile, the men most often smirked. No one commented, other than a wink and a “thumbs up” my wife received from another woman about her age.
After we chose the jeans that I’d tried on first, we selected another, more casual pair, shorter, so I could wear them with a flat sole. Next we looked at tops, my wife amusing herself by giving the word a little extra emphasis, reminding me that that was how we got into this game earlier this morning. While trying several colors and styles – dutifully draped over the door by the ladies – I followed my wife’s instructions to untie my clitty and let it “breath” is a normal position. “We’ll do that every so often and retie it in a slightly different spot so you don’t get too sore… until you get used to it. We don’t want it to fall off do we?”
The girls chose for me a long, satin camisole with spaghetti straps, a cotton tank, and a short simple v-neck with cap sleeves. They decided I wasn’t too old for a “layered top look” so the cami went on first, then the tank, and the v-neck was open enough to show “all the pretty straps underneath,’” they agreed.
“Now stay in there and tie yourself up nice and snug and I’ll pay for your things. I’ll bring them right back and you can wear them out. Isn’t this so fun?” she said excitedly as she left.
My heart went flip-flop. “Wear them out,” she’d said. Although I’d not really thought anything through, I’d imagined that we’d buy some items and take them home to play. Wear them out in the crowded mall hallways? But there was no internal debate. She didn’t really ask me. And I knew I wouldn’t say no.
I tied up my clitty quickly before it got hard from the idea that my spouse was feminizing me here and now and I was expected to be out in a broader public in a few moments. And no reservations that I had outweighed the fact that I was loving it.
My wife’s voice floated over to top of the door. “All paid for, Hun! All snug as a bug? Here’s your cami, and your tops, and your jeans. But first, ooh-la-la! Some black thigh-highs with lace elastic. I hope they stay up better for you than they do on me. Just hand me over those man clothes and I’ll carry them in this shopping bag. Thanks, Hun. I’ll wait for you up front at the door. See you in a jiff.”
Naturally, I couldn’t wait to put the stockings on. I must say I did it smoothly and quickly with much less trouble than I’d feared. They felt wonderful. I’d been in and out of so many tops and tight jeans they were beginning to feel familiar and comfortable. Lastly I removed the lace from my other shoe and turned down the tops like I’d seen a girl do once. I opened the cubicle door to find my wife. The store had gotten a bit busier over the last several minutes and I found two young women waiting for my room. I gave them my best smile and said, “free” breezily and walked away without turning.
After waving and giving a “thank-you” to Julie and Cara, I rejoined my wife at the front. She kissed me passionately. “You handled your “exit” so “mater-of-factly” Hun! I thought you might get flustered, especially with those girls standing there waiting.
“I wonder how long they were there.”
“Since I left you. I told them you’d be right out,” she giggled. “You know that door’s quite high off the ground. We watched you roll your stockings on. You’re pretty good at that. There! That’s the blush I knew you had in you. The taller gal thought you’d had practice. I’ve got these bags, so hold my purse.” And we started down the crowded hall.
If I expected people stop in their tracks, gawk and point, I was mistaken. A few smiles, a few glances that lingered longer than normal, that was all.
“Pretend you’re walking on a line,” my wife offered, “heel to toe. It’ll make your hips swing more.”
“It feels good to walk in these pants, “ I said suddenly. “The crotch rubs against my dick head and -”
“Clit,” she interrupted.
“Rubs against my clit,” I continued, “and in the fitting room when you first tied my clitty up…” and I described how I briefly fingered myself and how girly and sexy it looked and felt.
She stopped walking. “Really? That’s fantastic. I kind of assumed that if you were kept soft and all tied up you wouldn’t be… responsive... to much.”
“Well you assumed wrong.”
Come over here and sit.” We walked over to an out of the way bench and sat down. “So tell me, if you sit on your clit just right and kind of squirm and think horny thoughts while I kiss you, you can get yourself off?” and she held my face and shoved her tongue in my mouth. I was thinking horny thoughts. I squirmed. She put her hand inside my two tops and rubbed my satin cami against my nipple. I kept squirming on my clit.
My wife whispered in my ear, “Could you cum? Could you cum this way, my little bitch? My horny, slutty bitch, could you cum for me, little slut? Huh, bitch?” Oh my God, I was hot. But suddenly she stopped cold, sat up straight and straightened our clothes. “Well? Could you?”
I thought seriously. “I was close to orgasm there, I think. But the full deal? I’m not sure. Certainly not much could come out, if that’s what you mean by cum. I think I’d be kind of… suspended. Or maybe I’d just explode,” I laughed.
“Perfect! That’s so perfect. Now,” she said standing up, “I’m tired of you scuffing in those shoes, so new shoes is on the list, but first…”
She pulled me along several stores down. “Here.” We entered a store that specialized in raunchy, risqué, somewhat deviant clothing. Studded leather, latex, vinyl, and chains were everywhere. “I’ve thought about getting myself something sexy and fun here for ages and surprising you. But buying for you is even better!”
We waded in among the tables and racks. The lighting was dark and lurid for a store. Loud industrial music was playing. My wife headed to a rack of bustiers and cinchers. “Our culture’s changed so much. Used to only see this kind of stuff in adult lingerie stores. Now it’s in the mall and kids wear it to school.” I looked at the other customers and we were clearly the only ones over 20 in the store, including the staff.
My wife quickly searched through cinchers and corsets. “No… no… no… maybe, no… no… “
“Can I help you?” This was from a sales girl in goth attire, not older than seventeen.
“Yes, please. We’re looking for a good corset or cincher. All the ones I’ve seen are too… foo-fooey. I’m looking for one that really works”
“Um, yeah… these are pretty much for looks… we don’t really carry the heavy duty ones. How much do you want to cinch down? How many inches you want to lose?”
“It’s not for me.” My wife turned toward me.
“It’s for me,” I said, trying not to sound shy.
She just said “awesome,” to me without batting an eye. “So…?”
“Uh… well… I’m not really sure…”
“From around a 28 down to a 24 or so,” my wife said crisply.
“Hmmm… that’s quite a bit… Like I said, we don’t really… well, wait, we do have this one…” She led us over to another rack. “It’s an under-bust one. Is that ok? It doesn’t have any boning or anything, but it’s real tough vinyl so it has no give at all… “ She pulled a black corset off the hanger and handed to me “See? Real heavy zipper in front. The cords and grommets in back are real tough. Something like this work for you guys? We got it in red too, which is pretty hot.”
“We like the black,” my wife said. “We’ll try the small and the medium. Where…? oh, there are the fitting rooms. I think I’ll need to help with it.”
“Awesome,” the goth girl blandly said again.
In the cubicle my wife decided to put the corset over my cami. She stood behind me with the corset laces firmly in hand. “Exhale again.”
Cinch. “Again.” Cinch. “Can you breath?”
“Barely.” She chuckled. “Really. Barely,” I said.
“Price of fashion, Hun. Exhale.” Cinch. “This really is a rather nice one. You can cinch and tie off from the top, waist and the bottom. We’ll mostly cinch the waist and let the bottom flair to give you some hips. Hopefully these will still fit around them,” she said, indicating my low rider jeans. The corset extended just below my hip bones and I’d had to unbutton and lower them while I was being cinched up. “Exhale one more time.”
Cinch. Tie.
I could only use about the top forth of my lungs and I felt lightheaded, but when I turned to the mirror, I thought, “worth it.”
“Pull your pants up, girl! You look so hot!” I did too. I had and hourglass figure, The extra flair at my hips was further contrasted by my cinched down waist. Only the stretch of the stretch denim allowed me to button my girly jeans over the vinyl on my hips. I zipped up my one inch zipper, still marveling at my lack of any bulge.
Following my gaze, my wife reached down behind me and stroked my clit through my jeans. “So… here? Like this? This feels good?” I began squirming in my pants again, trying to lower myself and gain purchase against her teasing fingers. I reached down and pulled her hand harder against my clit.
“No, no. Bad girl,” she admonished. If we make out here, they’ll throw us in jail. And you are not dressed for a night in jail. Or maybe you are,” she teased. “Now let’s go buy this. I hope she can get the sensor off with you in it, ‘cause I’d hate to have to redo this.”
* * *
For more info on debee, check out her Fetlife profile: http://fetlife.com/users/41213
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
ed cantor's First Ribbon Reports & Training
St. Patrick's Day 2010
I know that many of you wonder what to put into a report, and what training with me is like... especially when I'm in "tease and denial" mode. Below are my boy, ed cantor's, first ribbon reports to me, along with some of the relevant emails back and forth between us that day.
One of the nicest things is that he let me know early that he was in fact wearing my ribbon so that I could really get into enjoying the thought of him secretly be-ribboned for me as I went about my day. That, and his naughtiness and writing skill, along with jezi and others wearing ribbons as well, made for one of my hottest St. Patrick's Days yet!
The Shopping Report
2010-03-16
Mistress Magick,
I was able to find the ribbon -- basic satin ribbon -- at the sewing section of the Walmart, as you suggested. It is 3/8" wide, and I purchased two lengths of 1m each, just to be sure I had enough or [if I] made a mistake. They didn't have any patterned ribbon, so I got a bright and festive green. The closest match i could find was something called Kiwi Green.
The woman helping me, a delightful middle-aged woman who seemed to come from Italian village of 100 years ago, was very sweet and helpful, and even commented that it was just in time for St. Patrick’s Day. She asked me if I was going to trim out a hat or something. I just kind of blushed, and said yes, something like that....
thanks again, Mistress Magick
yours,
edward
My Feedback
Very good. And I'm glad that you enjoyed the shopping trip. I am betting that the Walmart wasn't as disorienting as a fabric shop/craft store would have been.
With two lengths, you should try using both to make it double thick, thereby also adding more loops to the bow.
I have to admit that I'm tempted to tell you about [name removed]'s shopping trip, but I probably shouldn't. I will say that he actually purchased two ribbons because he couldn't decide between them... and he made use of both of them. (I let him do his assignment early, so I already have his full report.) I do love it when you guys go "above & beyond" to make sure that you're covered rather chance falling short. :-) It's a very good sign.
I will expect to see something ticked off my wishlist as well. I could really use an Amazon gift certificate and it would still arrive on time... although I have to admit I keep thinking of the silk scarf from Jen Delyth.
M.
His Response
thank you so much, yet again, Mistress Magick. It will be a joy and a constant pleasure and tease, I am sure, to do this for you. All the more so since I am still in my now self-enforced chastity[...] I know this ribbon will tease me and keep me tingling and hard for a very pleasurable day.
yours,
edward
And Mine
And I'm looking forward to a juicy report that will make me warm in return... knowing how it teased you and that you still behaved yourself.
Comfirmatiom That He is Wearing the Ribbon
2010-03-17
Already the experience is making for a wonderful day.. it is a lovely weather here today, but i know that is not the reason i am tingling... you and your ribbon are, Mistress Magick... I will send you a full report, after the day is done, but I also wanted to give you the early update as to my teased self.
thank you again, Mistress Magick. my irish eyes are smilin'
Knowing that He was Already Squirming, I Decided to Tease Him a Bit
As are mine.
Imagine me reaching down to inspect the ribbon: checking to make sure that the bow is tight, but that the loop isn't too much so...sliding a finger between the loop and your cock to test it...lifting the ends of the bow to pull it snug... enjoying your reaction as I brush the ribbon against you, taking my time and drawing it out, brushing against you again and again, teasing...
And His Response
I can imagine it all too well, Mistress Magick... being told to present myself to you, my hands perhaps behind my back after lowering my trousers for you... myself all bound in ribbon, presented to you for your inspection. Your subtle touch, testing and prodding, adjusting and tightening, making me tingle, making me stiffen in reaction... making the ribbon even tighter as a result. You smile and my tingle and trembling, before packing me back up, to feel this more, to serve more.
yours in ribbon,
Edward
And Mine
Continuing to tease before packing you away... Looking in your eyes...watching it on your face...hearing it in your breath... My own intense expression highlighted by an evil grin...
Warm... Wet...
M
I was enjoying his emails so much that I asked him to chat with me over lunch. When he heard my delight at the fact that jezi was wearing her ribbon without underwesr, he decided to follow suit.
i've removed my boxers, Mistress, so i now wear only the ribbon around my cock, or should i say yours?, and it there is nothing else between my and pants. it is, of course, only making more tingly, more aware of myself, more likely to have my erection grow and throb, more and more wanting to just be begging to be unwrapped like a st. patrick's day present you could open personally.
yours,
Edward
We discussed chatting more after work however he couldn't escape going out with friends to celebrate, which lead to a new line of teasing
Visions of you using the urinal in the bar... still be-ribboned.
M
Being the Imaginative Boy That He Is, He decided to run with it... although perhaps a bit too far
I can see the picture in my mind.
The perfect end to this St. Patrick's day would be to meet you at busy pub. You would know that I was wrapped in a bow and I would know. I would feel its grip, only tighter thanks to the inspiration of being near you.
We'd take a seat. You would have me keep my hands on the table or holding my pint, while yours tormented me, sliding over the obvious bulge. You'd have me throbbing and aching, my balls blue and needy in their green wrapping. Without boxers, I know there would even be a risk of my precum soaking a spot in my trousers.
The drink would be delicious, but it would also be another tease, as i would know you were just making me wait, making me wait for the real ordeal that would be just beginning when you took me out of there.
Of Course, I Made a Few Corrections
In some dark corner, perhaps even sneaking a peek of the top of the bow
...oh, but I think it would be dinner, far away from the cheap, green beer, and you would slowly feed me dessert.
Since he was out late, I didn't hear from him again until I received his report the next day.
Final St. Patrick’s Day Report
Written 2010-03-18
I awoke early, before my alarm – no doubt my body was as eager as I to start. I trimmed myself, making sure that I was presentable, then took a steamy shower, making sure I was crisp and clean.
Out of the shower and dry, I began to wrap myself up. With the extra length, I was able to wrap around myself a couple times, with plenty of ribbon for a large bow and for dangling ends. I placed the middle of the ribbon under my balls, drawing the ends up and around me, over my cock then back down again. Then I looped around again to encircle my shaft alone, then back around to get all of me again. I closed it all off with a largish bow, then trimmed the remaining ends as you had instructed.
I dressed and went out to work. Of course I could feel the ribbon and its slight grip at every movement. It was like a tickle sometimes and a hug others. The increased thought of myself within it, especially for someone else, made me tingle. I was probably at least half erect all day long.
Talking to you via twitter and email and chat (wonderful!!) was intense and only inspired my imagination more, making me throb. There were times, thinking of you, that I would sneak my hand down and grind against myself, reveling in the desire and lust and want. Of course, fantasizing about being presented to you for an unwrapping was even more wonderful.
After our chat, as I mentioned, I went and removed my boxers, tucking them away. I felt even more sensitized, feeling myself freer, but also sliding against the fabric of my pants, feeling even more exposed. Yes, I was even harder, for longer stretches at a time. I had to really concentrate to try and think about ANYTHING else.
And of course, when what I might have wanted was just to get home and get privacy, there was no avoiding pints. We had a great time, actually. We drank and laughed and drank and told stories. There was one or two women with us, and they were getting happy and silly too. They were laughing and flirting and enjoying themselves, and nothing is as sexy as a happy, smiling woman. It was making the ribbon tighter… LOL.
Yes, there were at least two occasions that I had to relieve myself, and had to be quite careful, especially on a busy night, to try to avoid showing just how much I was celebrating the day!
It was a wonderful day, Mistress, feeling your ribbon hold me all day long. I felt like I was in your embrace and control, and it was such a pleasure and gift.
I made sure that the ribbon was not too tight, and I slept last night wearing it and nothing else. That way, I woke with the memories and a wide smile to go along with a raging reminder of my lusts and desires.
Thank you Mistress
Yours,
edward
One of the nicest things is that he let me know early that he was in fact wearing my ribbon so that I could really get into enjoying the thought of him secretly be-ribboned for me as I went about my day. That, and his naughtiness and writing skill, along with jezi and others wearing ribbons as well, made for one of my hottest St. Patrick's Days yet!
The Shopping Report
2010-03-16
Mistress Magick,
I was able to find the ribbon -- basic satin ribbon -- at the sewing section of the Walmart, as you suggested. It is 3/8" wide, and I purchased two lengths of 1m each, just to be sure I had enough or [if I] made a mistake. They didn't have any patterned ribbon, so I got a bright and festive green. The closest match i could find was something called Kiwi Green.
The woman helping me, a delightful middle-aged woman who seemed to come from Italian village of 100 years ago, was very sweet and helpful, and even commented that it was just in time for St. Patrick’s Day. She asked me if I was going to trim out a hat or something. I just kind of blushed, and said yes, something like that....
thanks again, Mistress Magick
yours,
edward
My Feedback
Very good. And I'm glad that you enjoyed the shopping trip. I am betting that the Walmart wasn't as disorienting as a fabric shop/craft store would have been.
With two lengths, you should try using both to make it double thick, thereby also adding more loops to the bow.
I have to admit that I'm tempted to tell you about [name removed]'s shopping trip, but I probably shouldn't. I will say that he actually purchased two ribbons because he couldn't decide between them... and he made use of both of them. (I let him do his assignment early, so I already have his full report.) I do love it when you guys go "above & beyond" to make sure that you're covered rather chance falling short. :-) It's a very good sign.
I will expect to see something ticked off my wishlist as well. I could really use an Amazon gift certificate and it would still arrive on time... although I have to admit I keep thinking of the silk scarf from Jen Delyth.
M.
His Response
thank you so much, yet again, Mistress Magick. It will be a joy and a constant pleasure and tease, I am sure, to do this for you. All the more so since I am still in my now self-enforced chastity[...] I know this ribbon will tease me and keep me tingling and hard for a very pleasurable day.
yours,
edward
And Mine
And I'm looking forward to a juicy report that will make me warm in return... knowing how it teased you and that you still behaved yourself.
Comfirmatiom That He is Wearing the Ribbon
2010-03-17
Already the experience is making for a wonderful day.. it is a lovely weather here today, but i know that is not the reason i am tingling... you and your ribbon are, Mistress Magick... I will send you a full report, after the day is done, but I also wanted to give you the early update as to my teased self.
thank you again, Mistress Magick. my irish eyes are smilin'
Knowing that He was Already Squirming, I Decided to Tease Him a Bit
As are mine.
Imagine me reaching down to inspect the ribbon: checking to make sure that the bow is tight, but that the loop isn't too much so...sliding a finger between the loop and your cock to test it...lifting the ends of the bow to pull it snug... enjoying your reaction as I brush the ribbon against you, taking my time and drawing it out, brushing against you again and again, teasing...
And His Response
I can imagine it all too well, Mistress Magick... being told to present myself to you, my hands perhaps behind my back after lowering my trousers for you... myself all bound in ribbon, presented to you for your inspection. Your subtle touch, testing and prodding, adjusting and tightening, making me tingle, making me stiffen in reaction... making the ribbon even tighter as a result. You smile and my tingle and trembling, before packing me back up, to feel this more, to serve more.
yours in ribbon,
Edward
And Mine
Continuing to tease before packing you away... Looking in your eyes...watching it on your face...hearing it in your breath... My own intense expression highlighted by an evil grin...
Warm... Wet...
M
I was enjoying his emails so much that I asked him to chat with me over lunch. When he heard my delight at the fact that jezi was wearing her ribbon without underwesr, he decided to follow suit.
i've removed my boxers, Mistress, so i now wear only the ribbon around my cock, or should i say yours?, and it there is nothing else between my and pants. it is, of course, only making more tingly, more aware of myself, more likely to have my erection grow and throb, more and more wanting to just be begging to be unwrapped like a st. patrick's day present you could open personally.
yours,
Edward
We discussed chatting more after work however he couldn't escape going out with friends to celebrate, which lead to a new line of teasing
Visions of you using the urinal in the bar... still be-ribboned.
M
Being the Imaginative Boy That He Is, He decided to run with it... although perhaps a bit too far
I can see the picture in my mind.
The perfect end to this St. Patrick's day would be to meet you at busy pub. You would know that I was wrapped in a bow and I would know. I would feel its grip, only tighter thanks to the inspiration of being near you.
We'd take a seat. You would have me keep my hands on the table or holding my pint, while yours tormented me, sliding over the obvious bulge. You'd have me throbbing and aching, my balls blue and needy in their green wrapping. Without boxers, I know there would even be a risk of my precum soaking a spot in my trousers.
The drink would be delicious, but it would also be another tease, as i would know you were just making me wait, making me wait for the real ordeal that would be just beginning when you took me out of there.
Of Course, I Made a Few Corrections
In some dark corner, perhaps even sneaking a peek of the top of the bow
...oh, but I think it would be dinner, far away from the cheap, green beer, and you would slowly feed me dessert.
Since he was out late, I didn't hear from him again until I received his report the next day.
Final St. Patrick’s Day Report
Written 2010-03-18
I awoke early, before my alarm – no doubt my body was as eager as I to start. I trimmed myself, making sure that I was presentable, then took a steamy shower, making sure I was crisp and clean.
Out of the shower and dry, I began to wrap myself up. With the extra length, I was able to wrap around myself a couple times, with plenty of ribbon for a large bow and for dangling ends. I placed the middle of the ribbon under my balls, drawing the ends up and around me, over my cock then back down again. Then I looped around again to encircle my shaft alone, then back around to get all of me again. I closed it all off with a largish bow, then trimmed the remaining ends as you had instructed.
I dressed and went out to work. Of course I could feel the ribbon and its slight grip at every movement. It was like a tickle sometimes and a hug others. The increased thought of myself within it, especially for someone else, made me tingle. I was probably at least half erect all day long.
Talking to you via twitter and email and chat (wonderful!!) was intense and only inspired my imagination more, making me throb. There were times, thinking of you, that I would sneak my hand down and grind against myself, reveling in the desire and lust and want. Of course, fantasizing about being presented to you for an unwrapping was even more wonderful.
After our chat, as I mentioned, I went and removed my boxers, tucking them away. I felt even more sensitized, feeling myself freer, but also sliding against the fabric of my pants, feeling even more exposed. Yes, I was even harder, for longer stretches at a time. I had to really concentrate to try and think about ANYTHING else.
And of course, when what I might have wanted was just to get home and get privacy, there was no avoiding pints. We had a great time, actually. We drank and laughed and drank and told stories. There was one or two women with us, and they were getting happy and silly too. They were laughing and flirting and enjoying themselves, and nothing is as sexy as a happy, smiling woman. It was making the ribbon tighter… LOL.
Yes, there were at least two occasions that I had to relieve myself, and had to be quite careful, especially on a busy night, to try to avoid showing just how much I was celebrating the day!
It was a wonderful day, Mistress, feeling your ribbon hold me all day long. I felt like I was in your embrace and control, and it was such a pleasure and gift.
I made sure that the ribbon was not too tight, and I slept last night wearing it and nothing else. That way, I woke with the memories and a wide smile to go along with a raging reminder of my lusts and desires.
Thank you Mistress
Yours,
edward
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sunday 7/18/10 #MMDay Report
from ed cantor
Edited slightly from Ed's blog at:
http://mind-effing.tumblr.com/post/833085069/a-weekend-mmday-for-mistress-magick
It was an inpromptu and amazing #MMDay made possible by my catching ed in his office on a Sunday. After he fully and completely pleasured me, I had him change into his lacy black thong. Then I instructed him to masturbate at work, in a small conference room where he has previously served me, following my prescribed ritual of devotion. However, first he had to actually do the work that had brought him to the office in the first place. After all, we can't have him getting behind just because I enjoyed having my way with him for a couple hours!
* * *
A lovely weekend MMDay for, and at the instruction of, my Mistress Magick. (http://twitter.com/Mistress_Magick)
(http://www.male-service.com)
Mistress let me serve her today, in a number of blissful ways.
A couple that I must joyfully share are here.
I was at work today, nearly alone in the office, but in the office on a Sunday. It makes for a quiet place, but it never quite loses the aspect that works on the mind. If you are naughty here, there is that chance of exposure, however slight. Plus it just adds to the delightful feeling of wickedness. That there is nowhere I wouldn’t serve you.
Imagine my delight then, when your command was given to change into the sexy black lace thong that I keep in the drawer for your use. Even nearly alone here, it is a strange journey to the washroom to change. To slide out of my boxers and to redress in the panties. Feeling them pull tight over the erection you had inspired. The tautness, stretching over my hardness, only pulls the thong back deeper between my cheeks.
Your words in my mind always make me alive with sensation and imagination - an arousal that is physical and emotional, even spiritual. A high.
Dress on the weekends in the office is casual, but those others here would never guess that beneath my shorts and t-shirt I was expressing your control and desire with these panties. I, of course, could think of little else - how they gripped your package tight, how the thong back teased my ass.
There was more you wanted, more I could do for you, but it had to wait, I could not complete my service until my work was done. My real work, here in the office.
You are so wonderful, knowing that this is the perfect torment - making me try to think of my day-to-day concerns, while I’m tormented by thoughts of you and teased by the myriad of sensations with which the panties constantly bombard me.
Finishing up the work, while still forcing myself to concentrate, I could feel the bliss at my doorstep. Oddly, as the day got later, things got busier, with more people stopping by to get some last bit of weekend readiness in advance of Monday.
But as I getting my work done, it grew quiet again - the pulse of business only made me feel more yours, more exposed, more aware of my submissive secret.
Finally I was done. I made myself double-check my work - I know you wanted things done well - all things. Satisfied, I grabbed my coffee mug and went out. I found the small, quiet, nearly forgotten conference room. I went in, closing the door behind me. I didn’t turn on the light, as the light from the window was sufficient, and I didn’t want to advertise my presence there.
I took my place on the floor - on my knees. I pushed down my shorts and then my panties, to my knees. I started repeating my mantra, in a soft whisper, speaking to myself and to you.
“Your boy, Mistress. Your cock, Mistress. Your pleasure, Mistress.”
My cock in my hand, I stroked while I imagined serving you in the steamy warmth of your shower. Assisting you as you washed, as you simply enjoyed the presence of serving hands. My mind raced, as it so often does, thinking of you. I could place myself right there. I could feel the water flowing over me.
And so, with the priming I’d been given, mentally and physically, I was trembling in no time. I got my mug in place just in time, and spurted my thick offering into it, cumming hard, still repeating my mantra, my worship.
“Your boy, Mistress. Your cock, Mistress. Your pleasure, Mistress.”
When I felt my heart pounding just a little less, I put the mug to my lips, tilted it back, and swallowed the full load of my cum. It was slippery feeling, strong tasting - a taste I can never get used to, one I’d never want to lose its effect on my mind.
Finally, I pulled myself together, re-covered myself, and went back to my desk to gather my things and go home. It was a longer day at the office that I had planned for, but it could not have been better.
Thank you, Mistress!
http://mind-effing.tumblr.com/post/833085069/a-weekend-mmday-for-mistress-magick
It was an inpromptu and amazing #MMDay made possible by my catching ed in his office on a Sunday. After he fully and completely pleasured me, I had him change into his lacy black thong. Then I instructed him to masturbate at work, in a small conference room where he has previously served me, following my prescribed ritual of devotion. However, first he had to actually do the work that had brought him to the office in the first place. After all, we can't have him getting behind just because I enjoyed having my way with him for a couple hours!
* * *
A lovely weekend MMDay for, and at the instruction of, my Mistress Magick. (http://twitter.com/Mistress_Magick)
(http://www.male-service.com)
Mistress let me serve her today, in a number of blissful ways.
A couple that I must joyfully share are here.
I was at work today, nearly alone in the office, but in the office on a Sunday. It makes for a quiet place, but it never quite loses the aspect that works on the mind. If you are naughty here, there is that chance of exposure, however slight. Plus it just adds to the delightful feeling of wickedness. That there is nowhere I wouldn’t serve you.
Imagine my delight then, when your command was given to change into the sexy black lace thong that I keep in the drawer for your use. Even nearly alone here, it is a strange journey to the washroom to change. To slide out of my boxers and to redress in the panties. Feeling them pull tight over the erection you had inspired. The tautness, stretching over my hardness, only pulls the thong back deeper between my cheeks.
Your words in my mind always make me alive with sensation and imagination - an arousal that is physical and emotional, even spiritual. A high.
Dress on the weekends in the office is casual, but those others here would never guess that beneath my shorts and t-shirt I was expressing your control and desire with these panties. I, of course, could think of little else - how they gripped your package tight, how the thong back teased my ass.
There was more you wanted, more I could do for you, but it had to wait, I could not complete my service until my work was done. My real work, here in the office.
You are so wonderful, knowing that this is the perfect torment - making me try to think of my day-to-day concerns, while I’m tormented by thoughts of you and teased by the myriad of sensations with which the panties constantly bombard me.
Finishing up the work, while still forcing myself to concentrate, I could feel the bliss at my doorstep. Oddly, as the day got later, things got busier, with more people stopping by to get some last bit of weekend readiness in advance of Monday.
But as I getting my work done, it grew quiet again - the pulse of business only made me feel more yours, more exposed, more aware of my submissive secret.
Finally I was done. I made myself double-check my work - I know you wanted things done well - all things. Satisfied, I grabbed my coffee mug and went out. I found the small, quiet, nearly forgotten conference room. I went in, closing the door behind me. I didn’t turn on the light, as the light from the window was sufficient, and I didn’t want to advertise my presence there.
I took my place on the floor - on my knees. I pushed down my shorts and then my panties, to my knees. I started repeating my mantra, in a soft whisper, speaking to myself and to you.
“Your boy, Mistress. Your cock, Mistress. Your pleasure, Mistress.”
My cock in my hand, I stroked while I imagined serving you in the steamy warmth of your shower. Assisting you as you washed, as you simply enjoyed the presence of serving hands. My mind raced, as it so often does, thinking of you. I could place myself right there. I could feel the water flowing over me.
And so, with the priming I’d been given, mentally and physically, I was trembling in no time. I got my mug in place just in time, and spurted my thick offering into it, cumming hard, still repeating my mantra, my worship.
“Your boy, Mistress. Your cock, Mistress. Your pleasure, Mistress.”
When I felt my heart pounding just a little less, I put the mug to my lips, tilted it back, and swallowed the full load of my cum. It was slippery feeling, strong tasting - a taste I can never get used to, one I’d never want to lose its effect on my mind.
Finally, I pulled myself together, re-covered myself, and went back to my desk to gather my things and go home. It was a longer day at the office that I had planned for, but it could not have been better.
Thank you, Mistress!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
4th of July Flagpole Decorating
(Final Report)
from Cap Slight
The below report is from a new online trainee and cyberlover who just took part in my 4th of July assignment, with his official ribbon-wearing time stretching into the day on July 5th. It was so incredibly hot that I had to ask his permission to share it. He did request that I keep the pictures private, so I am doing so, but I left the notations in, as I think they will help you better visualize the action.
After doing a delightful job of serving me online, I instructed him to add the ritual at the end, which I am sure some of you will recognize. Some those who know me better than he does at this point may notice some things in his writing that I wouldn't do or say in exactly the way described, and yes, he took some liberties, but only ones I feel more than inclined to allow. All-in-all it's a wonderfully yummy report, and one which I'm enjoying reading over and over and over again. ;-)
* * *
I have just finished the assignment a short while ago. This e-mail is long because there is much for me to tell you so I have split it into three easily found 'chapters' so you can search ahead and find if you so desire: "DURING THE NIGHT" describing my pleasant waking torments last night, "DURING THE DAY" about another day at the office, and "FINISHING THE ASSIGNMENT", with release and my tasting the cum which flowed from your boy's cock.
DURING THE NIGHT
In the night I awoke, your cock half swollen, and swelling more as I tried and failed to get back to sleep as I imagine other ways you might have of using me for your pleasure...
I imagine that you have released my cock from its wrappings but tied my ankles and wrists to the bed so I lie spreadeagle on my back as you pleasure youself above me, kneeling astraddle my face and rubbing your gorgeous hot wet sex into me, rubbing your clit on my nose as you grasp my hair. Sometimes you pause to let my tongue explore inside you. Juices leak from within you; sometimes slowly, sometimes in a glistening stream. When finally you are satisfied you wipe the precum from your cockhole and feed it to me, kiss me, then fall deeply asleep beside me as I remain restrained, the taste and feel of you in my mouth and all over my face, your cock yearning for a release it does not deserve.
I imagine you are holding a dinner party for your closest girlfriends where I will be serving at table. You have dressed your cock tightly in the prettiest ribbons and supervised me showering and made me rub lotion into myself so your boy is fragrant, then you attach extra decorations. Stick-on stars on your cock's shaft and in the pubic hair, and pink hearts on your ballsack. The touch of your hands as you make these improvements to your cock makes me strain against the unyielding ribbons and sets your balls alive in their prettified sack. These decorations are all I am to wear during your party. Your guests arrive and compliment you on your work and examine every inch of my nakedness, which I find utterly humiliating and enormously arousing. Much of the party conversation is about boys and I nearly whimper when one of your friends describes in detail how her new boyfriend's cock feels when she's sucking it, when it's inside her pussy, when it's pumping semen into her. I walk back into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine and hear gales of girly laughter after someone says something I can't quite make out. I have to remind myself that Mistress doesn't suck my cock and doesn't let it into her pussy because that's how Mistress likes it and that's more important. After dinner is over I am put to work in other ways you command me. Maybe pleasuring you or one or more of your guests in any way you command, maybe allowing them to redecorate your cock, maybe having me wank myself into a cup and drink the cum in front of them all.
I imagine you call me to you and I find you sittimg in an armchair with a glass on the floor a few feet in front of you. You have me kneel in front of the glass, facing you. On your command I undo the restraints on your package and you lean forward for a better view, your chin resting on your hand as if gazing at a curious zoo specimen. You say "wank for me, boy" and I start. My view fixates sometimes on your crotch, sometimes on your cleavage, sometimes on your eyes. You tell me to stop, and appear to be thinking deeply as you gaze into the pleading eyes of your boy. My heart leaps as you finally give me permission to release and we keep looking into each other's eyes as I squirt the pent-up jizz into the glass and utter cries of thanks and obedience.
I imagine you lie naked face down on the bed as I firmly massage your shoulders, then your arms, then your back, your gorgeous round buttocks, your shapely legs, until you gleam all over with the oil. You roll over and have me massage my way back up your body. I pay plenty of attention to your inner thighs and loiter gently on your pubic mound and oil your already-moist lips. You mutter "yes" softly and a smile flickers across your face as I slip one finger briefly inside. I massage my way up your belly and you moan as I start to oil and caress your breasts. With one hand you reach into a bedside drawer, take out first one then another vibrator, pass one to me and tell me to slide it into you and "Fuck me with it". I oil the vibe, switch it on and slowly press it deep into you, an ooze of your juice escaping as your lips part. I stoop my head down and lick at it. You tell me to get on all fours, my head between your legs and my ass high up in the air above your face, so your toy's tormented bound cock and balls are in front of you. I hold the gleaming end of the vibe and move it in and out of your sweetly oozing vagina, and work on your clit and lips with my mouth and tongue and you switch on the other vibe. You play it across your breasts and touch it to me to further tease my - or rather *your* - already straining cock and balls, making me gasp when you reach up with thumb and finger to pull the foreskin back and then rub the buzzing vibe all round the now unbearably sensitive edge of the cockhead. The strain in me builds so far that I start to panic, thinking I might cum despite the restraints (you, my Mistress, haven't told me I can cum, you'll be rightly angry with me, you will be disappointed with your boy and, my lack of control will spoil your pleasure!) you take the vibe away from your boytoys and return it to your breasts.
It is not easy to sleep while imagining these things.
DURING THE DAY
The constriction and tickling were a constant reminder to me of [who I belong to]. I had to be careful when standing up and sitting down because my - *your* - nuts were so sensitive. This added a real buzz to an otherwise regular day at the office. During a dull meeting I thought of your ownership of my bound cock and I swelled. Trying to keep a straight face as my - *your* - cock strained in my pants and not blurt out something like "Mistress tied ribbons round my cock!" to the others around the table when I was asked what my opinion was an interesting moment :) And every minute that your package was bound up and squeezed by the ribbons was a minute closer to the final tasks you had ordered me to perform and I was so so looking forward to.
FINISHING THE ASSIGNMENT
After getting home and having a hurried dinner I undressed and knelt down to finish the assignment at 8 o'clock (3pm your time, I was wondering what you were doing then). I took one last long look at your decorated cock (pic 1) then undid the ribbons around the shaft. They left marks where they had been digging into your cock when it was hard (pictures 2 and 3) but those are gone now. I untied the cockring ribbons around the base and held them up to my nose, sniffing along their whole length. They smelt of sex and sweat, desire and frustration, and hope. Then I took hold of your shaft and started to play with it while imagining you sat watching me, imagining you standing over me with your legs apart and me licking your pussy.
Three times I managed to stop just short of cumming, and watched as a thin stream of milky precum dribbled from your cockhole and into the glass in front of me. The first time this happened (picture 4) I drank the precum from the glass to taste what I was making for you. A sharp aroma and an almost sweetened salty taste, it was good and it made we want more. The other two times I edged I kept the precum in the glass so that there would be as much as possible when I finished (pictures 5 and 6 after one of the later edgings).
After half an hour of wanking I went a little too far and rather than edging again and dribbling, at 3:30 your time, I tipped *over* the edge and as I gasped "Your cock, Mistress, your boy, Mistress, yourgggggggggh pleasurggghhhhh, Misssstressssssss" I shook as it felt like all the muscles in my lower half contracted at once and two hard squirts of jizz shot out (picture 7; I just got lucky with the timing!) as a pleasure-bomb went off in my brain. After the two big squirts there was a third more gentle one and then I just knelt, trembling and panting. A little more cum oozed out out me and a tingling sensation swept in waves from my fingertips up to my forehead, from my chest down as far as my knees, as if ripples of tingly joy were running over me. It was, Mistress, one of the finest and strongest orgasms I have *ever* had and it was entirely thanks to you and your wonderful instructions and coaxing through the assignment.
After five minutes I had stopped shaking and had one more job to do for you. The glass (picture 8) had about 5cc of cum in it. It had an aroma I can't describe as being quite like anything else except perhaps "hot glistening cockhead, with a hint of fresh sweat". I drank it all, in two sips. It tasted *great* as I swilled it around my mouth with my tounge to get the most of it. A sweet salty sour meaty taste... with... mushroom? That's the best I can describe the taste of the cum you made me produce. It took a long time before my trembling stopped and I felt able to stand up to walk to the computer and write this report.
As I sit here typing this some hours later I am still buzzing with the warmth you, my mistress, put into me by having me bind her cock and please her. I hope I have served you adequately and that you might consider me as worthy of serving you in the future. Tonight I am sure I will have no problem sleeping, but I expect interesting dreams.
Wishing you many warm and lingering kisses and tongue caresses wherever you ask of me,
Your boy,
Cap
After doing a delightful job of serving me online, I instructed him to add the ritual at the end, which I am sure some of you will recognize. Some those who know me better than he does at this point may notice some things in his writing that I wouldn't do or say in exactly the way described, and yes, he took some liberties, but only ones I feel more than inclined to allow. All-in-all it's a wonderfully yummy report, and one which I'm enjoying reading over and over and over again. ;-)
* * *
I have just finished the assignment a short while ago. This e-mail is long because there is much for me to tell you so I have split it into three easily found 'chapters' so you can search ahead and find if you so desire: "DURING THE NIGHT" describing my pleasant waking torments last night, "DURING THE DAY" about another day at the office, and "FINISHING THE ASSIGNMENT", with release and my tasting the cum which flowed from your boy's cock.
DURING THE NIGHT
In the night I awoke, your cock half swollen, and swelling more as I tried and failed to get back to sleep as I imagine other ways you might have of using me for your pleasure...
I imagine that you have released my cock from its wrappings but tied my ankles and wrists to the bed so I lie spreadeagle on my back as you pleasure youself above me, kneeling astraddle my face and rubbing your gorgeous hot wet sex into me, rubbing your clit on my nose as you grasp my hair. Sometimes you pause to let my tongue explore inside you. Juices leak from within you; sometimes slowly, sometimes in a glistening stream. When finally you are satisfied you wipe the precum from your cockhole and feed it to me, kiss me, then fall deeply asleep beside me as I remain restrained, the taste and feel of you in my mouth and all over my face, your cock yearning for a release it does not deserve.
I imagine you are holding a dinner party for your closest girlfriends where I will be serving at table. You have dressed your cock tightly in the prettiest ribbons and supervised me showering and made me rub lotion into myself so your boy is fragrant, then you attach extra decorations. Stick-on stars on your cock's shaft and in the pubic hair, and pink hearts on your ballsack. The touch of your hands as you make these improvements to your cock makes me strain against the unyielding ribbons and sets your balls alive in their prettified sack. These decorations are all I am to wear during your party. Your guests arrive and compliment you on your work and examine every inch of my nakedness, which I find utterly humiliating and enormously arousing. Much of the party conversation is about boys and I nearly whimper when one of your friends describes in detail how her new boyfriend's cock feels when she's sucking it, when it's inside her pussy, when it's pumping semen into her. I walk back into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine and hear gales of girly laughter after someone says something I can't quite make out. I have to remind myself that Mistress doesn't suck my cock and doesn't let it into her pussy because that's how Mistress likes it and that's more important. After dinner is over I am put to work in other ways you command me. Maybe pleasuring you or one or more of your guests in any way you command, maybe allowing them to redecorate your cock, maybe having me wank myself into a cup and drink the cum in front of them all.
I imagine you call me to you and I find you sittimg in an armchair with a glass on the floor a few feet in front of you. You have me kneel in front of the glass, facing you. On your command I undo the restraints on your package and you lean forward for a better view, your chin resting on your hand as if gazing at a curious zoo specimen. You say "wank for me, boy" and I start. My view fixates sometimes on your crotch, sometimes on your cleavage, sometimes on your eyes. You tell me to stop, and appear to be thinking deeply as you gaze into the pleading eyes of your boy. My heart leaps as you finally give me permission to release and we keep looking into each other's eyes as I squirt the pent-up jizz into the glass and utter cries of thanks and obedience.
I imagine you lie naked face down on the bed as I firmly massage your shoulders, then your arms, then your back, your gorgeous round buttocks, your shapely legs, until you gleam all over with the oil. You roll over and have me massage my way back up your body. I pay plenty of attention to your inner thighs and loiter gently on your pubic mound and oil your already-moist lips. You mutter "yes" softly and a smile flickers across your face as I slip one finger briefly inside. I massage my way up your belly and you moan as I start to oil and caress your breasts. With one hand you reach into a bedside drawer, take out first one then another vibrator, pass one to me and tell me to slide it into you and "Fuck me with it". I oil the vibe, switch it on and slowly press it deep into you, an ooze of your juice escaping as your lips part. I stoop my head down and lick at it. You tell me to get on all fours, my head between your legs and my ass high up in the air above your face, so your toy's tormented bound cock and balls are in front of you. I hold the gleaming end of the vibe and move it in and out of your sweetly oozing vagina, and work on your clit and lips with my mouth and tongue and you switch on the other vibe. You play it across your breasts and touch it to me to further tease my - or rather *your* - already straining cock and balls, making me gasp when you reach up with thumb and finger to pull the foreskin back and then rub the buzzing vibe all round the now unbearably sensitive edge of the cockhead. The strain in me builds so far that I start to panic, thinking I might cum despite the restraints (you, my Mistress, haven't told me I can cum, you'll be rightly angry with me, you will be disappointed with your boy and, my lack of control will spoil your pleasure!) you take the vibe away from your boytoys and return it to your breasts.
It is not easy to sleep while imagining these things.
DURING THE DAY
The constriction and tickling were a constant reminder to me of [who I belong to]. I had to be careful when standing up and sitting down because my - *your* - nuts were so sensitive. This added a real buzz to an otherwise regular day at the office. During a dull meeting I thought of your ownership of my bound cock and I swelled. Trying to keep a straight face as my - *your* - cock strained in my pants and not blurt out something like "Mistress tied ribbons round my cock!" to the others around the table when I was asked what my opinion was an interesting moment :) And every minute that your package was bound up and squeezed by the ribbons was a minute closer to the final tasks you had ordered me to perform and I was so so looking forward to.
FINISHING THE ASSIGNMENT
After getting home and having a hurried dinner I undressed and knelt down to finish the assignment at 8 o'clock (3pm your time, I was wondering what you were doing then). I took one last long look at your decorated cock (pic 1) then undid the ribbons around the shaft. They left marks where they had been digging into your cock when it was hard (pictures 2 and 3) but those are gone now. I untied the cockring ribbons around the base and held them up to my nose, sniffing along their whole length. They smelt of sex and sweat, desire and frustration, and hope. Then I took hold of your shaft and started to play with it while imagining you sat watching me, imagining you standing over me with your legs apart and me licking your pussy.
Three times I managed to stop just short of cumming, and watched as a thin stream of milky precum dribbled from your cockhole and into the glass in front of me. The first time this happened (picture 4) I drank the precum from the glass to taste what I was making for you. A sharp aroma and an almost sweetened salty taste, it was good and it made we want more. The other two times I edged I kept the precum in the glass so that there would be as much as possible when I finished (pictures 5 and 6 after one of the later edgings).
After half an hour of wanking I went a little too far and rather than edging again and dribbling, at 3:30 your time, I tipped *over* the edge and as I gasped "Your cock, Mistress, your boy, Mistress, yourgggggggggh pleasurggghhhhh, Misssstressssssss" I shook as it felt like all the muscles in my lower half contracted at once and two hard squirts of jizz shot out (picture 7; I just got lucky with the timing!) as a pleasure-bomb went off in my brain. After the two big squirts there was a third more gentle one and then I just knelt, trembling and panting. A little more cum oozed out out me and a tingling sensation swept in waves from my fingertips up to my forehead, from my chest down as far as my knees, as if ripples of tingly joy were running over me. It was, Mistress, one of the finest and strongest orgasms I have *ever* had and it was entirely thanks to you and your wonderful instructions and coaxing through the assignment.
After five minutes I had stopped shaking and had one more job to do for you. The glass (picture 8) had about 5cc of cum in it. It had an aroma I can't describe as being quite like anything else except perhaps "hot glistening cockhead, with a hint of fresh sweat". I drank it all, in two sips. It tasted *great* as I swilled it around my mouth with my tounge to get the most of it. A sweet salty sour meaty taste... with... mushroom? That's the best I can describe the taste of the cum you made me produce. It took a long time before my trembling stopped and I felt able to stand up to walk to the computer and write this report.
As I sit here typing this some hours later I am still buzzing with the warmth you, my mistress, put into me by having me bind her cock and please her. I hope I have served you adequately and that you might consider me as worthy of serving you in the future. Tonight I am sure I will have no problem sleeping, but I expect interesting dreams.
Wishing you many warm and lingering kisses and tongue caresses wherever you ask of me,
Your boy,
Cap
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