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From When FemDom Dreams Come True

“How is your business, slave? Anything new?”

The question took me totally off guard, and for a second I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was naked, having spent most of the last few days being beaten and locked in a cage. I was her prisoner, with electric shockers around my neck and testicles. She had just fucked me with a strapon dildo even though we had agreed that was a hard limit. I had cried and peed on myself, and now she wanted small talk?

“It’s fine, Ma’am. No, nothing new.” I kept my eyes on my plate. After a few moments it was obvious she was staring at me.

“I could keep you gagged all the time, slave. But I don’t, because I find you moderately interesting. Mumble short answers to my questions and I’ll change my mind.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am, my business is at a stage where it’s running smoothly, but I’m considering releasing a new informational product to my list…” 

I told her what I was planning on doing and what it would entail. I was pretty excited about it, actually. I thought it could do well. As I talked, I got more comfortable speaking about my business while naked and wearing a collar. Amara listened attentively and asked questions; she even suggested something that would make it a better product. I had forgotten how smart she was. We then talked about her art and what she was planning on doing next.
“That’s better, slave. You may continue to speak in my presence when I tell you to.” 
I smiled, even though I didn’t want to. 
She stood.
“Do the dishes. Then sweep the floor and clean the refrigerator. Make sure you do a thorough job. Find me when you’re done.”
She dropped her napkin onto the table and walked out. 
I washed and dried the dishes, feeling that same weird excitement in my chest and groin. Then I swept the kitchen and cleaned out the refrigerator. I cleaned the shelves. I checked the dates of all the condiments to make sure nothing was expired. I dusted everything. Then I found Amara in the living room and kissed her feet.
“You’re sure everything is clean?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” 
“Crawl after me.”
She put down her book and walked to the kitchen. I followed at her heels. 
“Stay.” 
I watched as she inspected the stove and underneath the jars and bottles on the counter. She opened the refrigerator and looked at the shelves, then brought out a step stool and looked at the top of the fridge, which I’d anticipated. Then she pulled the fridge out a foot and pushed it to the side. Underneath the refrigerator was dusty and dirty. She looked at me. 

“I’m-I’m sorry Ma’am! I didn’t think- AAaaaahhhh!!!” 
I doubled over in pain. 
“Come here. Now!”

I crawled to her.
“Did I tell you to clean the kitchen?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Did I tell you to do a thorough job?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Is this thorough?”
“No, Ma’am”
The pain shot through my neck and balls. I guess saying no was still a crime.
“I-I’m s-sorry Ma’am.”
“Lick it.”
“What?”
“Lick the floor. Lick up the dust.”
I stared at her open-mouthed.
“AAAHHH”
“Do it now!”
I dove at the floor and began licking. After the first lick, my tongue was covered in dust. After the third lick, my chest heaved and I was positive I’d throw up.
“Stop. Head down.”
She let me wait there for about a minute. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time. My heart was racing. I could taste the dirt and grime on my tongue. I heaved but didn’t vomit.
“Over the kitchen table, head toward the window.”
I hurried over the kitchen table. Amara followed and reattached the collar chains and wrist cuffs from earlier. She left the room and returned a few moments later. She stood behind me. 
“Can you tell me what this is?”
“It’s a crop, Ma’am.”
“Good boy. Count.”
WHAP!
“ONE!”
WHAP!
“TWO!”
WHAP!
“THREE!”
WHAP!
“FOUR!”
WHAP!
“FIVE!”
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! 
TEN!!
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
“TWENTY!!!”
She came around the table and took my face in her hands. Her palms were cool. She lifted my eyes to meet hers. When she did, she clicked the shocker for my balls and a steady, barely manageable pain shot through me. I looked away quickly.
“Look at me, slave.”
She spoke slowly and calmly.
“When I tell you to clean. You do just that. Is that understood?”
“Yes Ma’am!! Yes! I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Am I going to have this trouble again?”
“No, Ma’am! No!”
“You may think this punishment is harsh, but tell me, are you going to forget to clean under the refrigerator ever again?”
“No Ma’am!”
“So punishment is necessary.”
“Yes, Ma’am! Please!”
“Please what?”
“Ma’am, please give me another chance to show you I can be a good slave!”
She lowered my head just a bit and the pain in my testicles stopped. She kissed me slowly on the forehead. 
“Of course I will, slave.”

She unchained me from the table, uncuffing my wrists and recuffing them behind my back. Then she undid my collar and attached a leash. 
“Come, slave. Upstairs.”
She kept a steady pull on the leash as I crawled behind her.
“Go to the bathroom and rinse out your mouth. Come to the bedroom when you’re done.”
I turned on the tap with my foot, then leaned forward and rinsed out my mouth. It felt wonderful to not have dust and dirt on my tongue.

In the bedroom, Amara sat at the edge of the bed. 
“Kneel between my legs, slave.”
She lifted her skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and she was already wet. 
“Worship me, slave.”
I did. In spite of everything she’d done to me, or maybe because of it, I was rock hard, and she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

From My Boyfriend, My Sissy

When I came back to bed, Colleen was holding a small plug. It had a cord that ran to a battery box.

“This is a butt plug. Guess where it goes?”

“My ear.”

She laughed.

“It goes in your butt and it vibrates. It will stimulate your prostate and let me have both hands free, which I promise you'll be thankful for,” she leaned close and spoke into my ear. “Because I'm also great at hand jobs.”

She coated the plug in lube and, after a little difficulty, got it into my ass. She switched it on. I felt a tingling vibration that spread up and down my body. I laughed.

“What?”

“You’re amazing.”

She kissed me. She put lube on her hands and started slowly, softly rubbing my penis. She worked her hands up and down the shaft with such a light pressure that I thought I would go insane.

“Doesn't that feel good?”

“Oh my God! Yes it does.”

“My Michelle likes having things in her ass, doesn't she?”

I didn't respond. Colleen took her hands off my dick.

“Doesn't she?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Yes she does?”

“Yes, she does.”

Colleen put her hands back on me. She slowly, lightly, traced her fingers along the veins up and down my cock. She rubbed right below the head in a small circle. It felt like she was touching each and every nerve ending in my body. Colleen sensed I was getting close and slowed down.

“Not yet sweetie. I want this to last. Don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

She kept bringing me close to the edge and backing off just in time. The pleasure overloaded my senses and I just lay back and stared at the ceiling. I felt drool run down my cheek. I opened and closed my hands. I don’t know why, but I kept doing it.

“You're being such a good girl, aren't you?”

I didn't answer. Colleen stopped stroking.

“Yes. I am.”

“Yes you are what?”

“Yes, I'm being a good girl.”

My erection pulsed. She put her hands on me again and stroked slowly and delicately. But this time, she didn't stop when I got close to cumming.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, now!”

I exploded. For the first time in my life, I screamed while cumming.

Colleen kept stroking me as I bucked my hips and made strange moaning sounds, until the pleasure turned to pain. She kept stroking me.

“Ow, please Colleen, stop!”

She stopped.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes! It hurts!”

“I’m going to give you five more strokes. You’ll take that for me, won’t you?”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Ok?”

“Ok.”

She gave me five fast hard strokes. I jerked and writhed. Colleen laughed. When she was done she threw herself on me and kissed me all over my face.

“That was so nice! You really let go and allowed yourself to feel pleasure.”

“Oh my God, Colleen! You’re the best!”

“You get extra pleasure when you do what I say. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes…Colleen?”

“Good girl. Now don’t move. I’m going to get a washcloth.”

When she had wiped me clean, she turned me on my side and spooned me. She rubbed my chest and told me to go to sleep. As I lay there, I felt weird about letting her call me a girl. And why did I say I was a good girl? Just thinking about it made me blush. I thought maybe I should say something, but I decided it was best not to. It wasn’t a big deal: her calling me a girl in bed. I just wouldn’t let it go further.  

 
 

From Learning to Serve and Obey

At 7pm, I showered, then waited the longest 45 minutes of my life until I couldn’t stand it another minute. I walked to the study. Jane was already at her desk, reading a book. She was wearing a tight top and her hair was pulled into a tight bun. She was going to dominate me! I could feel it! I was giddy. Jane made no sign that she had seen me. I stood at attention, my hands clasped behind my back. Finally, she looked up.

         “You did well, Kevin. Good job.”

         My face fell. I choked down my disappointment. She had to know I hadn’t mown the lawn: she was so thorough. I looked at her, but she was immersed in her book.

         “You may go.”

         “Thank you, Ma’am.”

         Crestfallen, I walked toward the door. At the doorway, I looked back. She was still reading.

         “Kevin?” She spoke without looking up.

         “Yes”

         “Did you want to talk about something?”

         “I’m sorry, Ma’am?”

         “You seem like you want to talk about something.”

         “No Ma’am.”

         She put her book down and looked at me.

         “I thought maybe you wanted to talk about how you didn’t mow the lawn.”

         I stood very still. She let the tension build.

         “Come here, around the desk.”

         I walked slowly, carefully toward her.

         “Here. To my right. I told you that if you acted like a child you’d be punished like a child. I see that wasn’t enough to get you to behave. So now you get punished.” She waited.

         “Pull your pants down.”

         “What?”

         She didn’t repeat herself. She just stared at me. I felt like I was at the top of a rollercoaster, right before a huge drop. My hands were shaking. Part of me couldn’t believe this was happening. I was afraid that any sudden movement would break the spell and I’d wake up alone in a shitty room at the Crestview and realize this had all been a dream.

         I undid my belt and slid my pants down to my ankles.

         “Underwear, too.”

         I slid down my underwear. My erection raged with the power of a thousand suns.

         “Lean forward over my lap.”

         I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I had control of my body enough to get myself over her lap.

         “Kevin. Right now.”

         I placed myself over her knees so that my cock fell between her thighs. She held me around the waist and moved me up her thighs. Everything started to go fuzzy around the corners of my vision and I thought I might pass out. I realized I hadn’t been breathing. Jane put her left hand on the small of my back.

         “You may cry out, but don’t move off of me or I’ll start at the beginning and you’ll get twice as many.”

         She spanked me. Hard. Alternating cheeks. First the left, then the right. I hadn’t been spanked since I was a little kid, and I was shocked at how much it hurt. But the pain was secondary. My brain was on overload, and all I could see was the picture in my mind of what it looked like: me over Jane’s lap. Her hand rising and falling. The stern look on her face. Was she as turned on as I was? My erection was pulsing between her legs. I was glad it wasn’t pushing against her thighs or I would have cum.

         She didn’t speak. She just kept up a steady pace as the blows continued. At 20, she stopped alternating and stayed on my right cheek, hitting the same spot for 7, 8, 9, 10 blows in a row. I was bucking and trying to keep from twisting away. I didn’t want to cry out, but I started grunting as she neared the end. Then it was over.

         “On your knees, face me.”

         I quickly got to my knees between her feet. My erection was pulsing up and down.

         “Hands behind your head.”

         She reached down and held my chin tightly.

         “This was light punishment. The next time will be much worse.”

         I tried to say something, but the words got caught. I cleared my throat and in a whisper thanked her. I started to stand.

         “What do you think you’re doing?”

         I froze.

         “Did I say you could stand? Get back on your knees. You can move when I tell you.”

         “Sorry Ma’am.”

         Jane looked me over. She took my shirt and pulled it off of me. She didn’t say anything. I kept my arms behind my head. Everything was moving so fast. Jane had an expectant look on her face, but I didn’t know what to do. I searched her eyes, and she nodded at her boots. I leaned forward and kissed each one.

         When I straightened up, Jane put the tip of her boot against my balls. With the top of her foot, she made my penis bob up and down. A string of precum stuck to her boot.

         “You know what to do.”

         I did. I leaned forward and licked it off.

         “Good boy.”

         Jane turned toward her desk, picked up her book and started reading.

From Training My Professor

She ran her hand around my stomach and up to my right nipple, drawing small circles around it with the tip of her index finger. She pinched it lightly, then leaned over a blew on it. It felt wonderful. She pulled out a metal clothespin, pinched the bottom and clamped it over my now erect nipple. 

"Oh come on, it doesn't hurt that bad. From what I've heard it even feels good. Right, slave!"

"Yes Master!"

She repeated the process with my left nipple. Then she straddled my stomach and leaned over and kissed me. Her hair fell over and tickled my cheeks.

"Let me guess," she said. "You're rock hard right now."

She reached back to confirm it.

"I've known guys who were into this stuff before, slave, but no one who loved it as much as you do. What do you think about that?"

"I don't, Master."

"You don't what?"

"I don't love it."

She brought her hands to the tips of the clothespins and squeezed. I gasped.

"After all I've done to you: all the humiliation and pain, the emotional distress, all the chores and beatings, and your dick still gets hard as a rock whenever I touch you. That means one of two things: either your dick is controlled by someone else, or you get off on being my slave but just don't want to admit it up here."

She tapped her finger against my forehead.

"Don't pout. You're not the first guy to love being a slave. Here, I'll make it feel good."

She turned around and traced her fingers up and down my cock. I sank back and gave in to the feeling. Fighting it wasn't going to do any good.

"Who owns you slave?" She whispered.

"Ohhhh, you do, Master."

"Who do you want to control you, my sweet slave?"

"You Master."

"Anyone else?"

"No, Master, just you."

"Just me what?"

"Just you controlling me, Master."

"That's right slave."

I was going to cum. I could feel it building. It would just take a few more strokes.

Bryn took her hand off my cock.

"Not so fast. We've got a full afternoon ahead of us."

She turned around and removed the clothespins from my nipples. Pain shot through my chest.

"Hurts coming off, huh?"

Bryn smiled. She turned around.

"Your dick is still hard."

"Yes, Master."

"How close were you to cumming a moment ago?"

"Very close, Master."

"And do you know what would have happened if you'd cum without permission?"

"Something bad, Master."

"That's right, so shouldn't you be thanking me for not making you cum?"

"Thank you, Master."

She tilted her head.

"I don't think you meant that."

She picked up the clothespins and reapplied them. I bucked as pain tore through my chest. She turned around and stuck her ass in my face.

"Kiss my ass. Don't lick it. Just kisses."

She took me in her hand. My dick grew to full mast after just a few strokes. Bryn worked me expertly: she gave a couple strokes, then lightly ran the tips of her fingers up my shaft until I felt ready to burst, only to pull her hand away at the last moment. When I calmed down she started all over again. She knew exactly when to stop to deny my orgasm. I lay my head back against the pillow and moaned. Bryn turned and lay next to me. She put her lips near my ear as she kept lightly stroking my cock.

"Slave, do you want to cum?"

"Oh, Master, please! Please may I cum?"

She licked my ear and whispered:

"No."