Noel Fatale sat in her office, waiting patiently like a spider within a beautifully crafted web. She reclined in her plush chair, sinking comfortably into the soft leather, reveling in the scent of the leather mixed with her intoxicating perfume. Noel knew she had all the time in the world, and that her traps and clues would lead her prey right to her. She didn’t have to lift a finger because she’d already pressed her feet and toes in all the right places. She smiled at the thought of what she’d done to lure her prey to her. A tiny bit of patience and she’d see her experiment to its exciting conclusion.

Noel took a sip of the coffee one of her little girls had brought her before the offices closed for business. In the hour that passed since then, the coffee hadn’t cooled a bit. One of the advantages to being a Goddess was the ability to manipulate the physical world to suit your needs – and Noel was very good at it.

She looked down at the computer touch screen built into the top of her polished mahogany desk. A small icon jumped up and down on the dock as a surveillance program of her personal design activated. Noel tapped the screen with a perfectly manicured fingernail, painted a shiny blood red, and brought up a video window of the lobby twenty-nine stories below her. Her prey double-swiped his ID card in the electronic lock and entered the building. She saw him flash a charming smile at the female security guard at the reception desk and head to a bank of elevators reserved for the upper management of her company. One of her companies, that is – Noel was either outright owner or silent owner of at least a dozen highly successful businesses across the city she’d made her home over a year ago. This one, BioEngine, was a high-tech biological engineering/research endeavor that was starting to bear fruit on several fronts, which intrigued her enough to maintain a consistent presence in the office for the past few months.

Noel shifted from one hidden camera view to another, following her prey, a manager she’d had her eyes on since she first acquired the company. He was good at his job, efficient, protective of his staff, honest in all his dealings, loyal to the company, very hard working and just returning from a late meeting across town. And he was way too sexy for her not to possess him. A predatory gleam came into her eyes as she watched him board the elevator that would take him to his office on the twenty-fifth floor. She saw him lean into the corner of the box and wrinkle his nose a bit. It was the only thing about him that was wrinkled: from his immaculate pinstriped suit to his buffed and polished shoes, Carl Johnson was the epitome of “business formal.” The black fedora he held in his hand was the perfect complement to his outfit. Noel shook her head in amazement. Even after hours he was well put together.

She watched him carefully as the elevator made its slow ascent up the building. The air conditioning was off in most of the building, including the elevators, so she imagined Carl was starting to feel a bit stuffy in there. Noel had arranged both the slowing of the elevator car and the lack of air conditioning with a few taps on the environmental control program in her computer. A higher-than-normal ambient temperature was a key component in her plan.

The elevator finally reached the twenty-fifth floor and Noel switched video angles again to watch Carl exit the elevator car and make his way to his office. No one knew she’d installed such an elaborate surveillance system throughout the building; the video feed was routed to her computer alone and the cameras were so small as to be invisible to the naked eye. Her soft, sensuous red lips pursed together as she mentally French kissed the thrall who’d invented them. (Two thousand miles away, that very same inventor had a spontaneous and uncontrollable orgasm in his sleep and Noel felt a rush of energy.)

Carl entered his office and immediately started fanning his face with his hat. He sat at his desk and picked up the phone. Noel had made sure his office was five degrees hotter than the rest of the building; that was all she needed to activate her trap. She tapped the screen again to activate the microphone attached to the camera system.

“Maintenance? Carl Johnson, 25th floor. My office is hot and stuffy and there’s a kind of musty smell in here. Have you guys been working in here while I was away? No? Well, I don’t know what your thermostats are saying to you but they’re lying. It’s hot in here! Okay. Thanks for doing what you can.”

“Such a polite gentleman,” thought Noel. “We’ll see how long the gentleman part lasts. He should be getting another whiff soon.”

Sure enough, as Carl took off his suit jacket and hung it on a nearby coat rack, he sniffed the air again. “What is that smell?” he asked himself as he looked around the room.

Noel’s full lips curled into a smile. “That’s right, my little morsel. Find the clues. Come to me.

Carl wiped sweat from his brow and leaned over his desk. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though the smell was coming from his desktop. He leaned close and sniffed. Faint but strangely intense, the smell tickled his nose. He barely suppressed the shudder that went up his spine – there was something very familiar about that faint scent. It seemed to be stronger at one end of his desktop than the other and he followed the trail with his nose.

In her luxurious office, Noel let out a small chuckle. “The hook is set; he’s mine now.” She propped her long, lithe legs up on her desk and looked at her stocking-covered feet. Her feet were slender and beautifully shaped, with long toes, high arches and toenails painted to match her fingernails and her lips. They were the feet of a Goddess and the word irresistible only began to describe them. Noel’s excitement grew. She switched video cameras again, knowing just where Carl Johnson would be going next.

Carl stood at his open office door. He ran his hands across his short-cropped, bristly black hair. The deep mocha-colored skin on his finely-chiseled face glistened from small beads of sweat that increasingly had little to do with the heat of his office and more to do with something else, something more primal than he was aware of. Loosening his tie, he stepped from his office and wandered down the hall and into the executive lounge area. Noel’s camera kept pace with him. She could hear him taking little sniffs of the air and she chuckled when she heard him mutter under his breath: “What am I doing? This is nuts!”

“You’ll find out soon, little pet,” she responded to the video screen. Her mind traveled back to the first time she met Carl Johnson. It was earlier in the year, right after she bought BioEngine. She had a meeting with all the managers and was impressed with Carl’s preparation, insight and suggestions for budgeting and projects that gave the most bang for the buck in their research departments. A lot of the other managers openly expressed disdain for him, which was enough for Noel to make a mental note that he was someone to keep around…for more reasons than one. Wouldn’t he be surprised to find out how much his very ideas had helped put him in his current precarious position? She twirled her thick golden hair around her fingers absent-mindedly as she watched.

On the screen, Carl stood in the middle of the empty lounge, searching for something that seemed to elude him but was present enough to keep him searching. He slowly turned to face a reclining lounge chair; the elusive scent was drawing him towards it. The foot rest of the recliner was extended and he knelt down and took a good whiff. One word escaped his lips:

“Feet…” The unmistakable scent of a woman’s sweaty feet was smeared all over the footrest in front of him. He sniffed deeply now, as though identifying the smell that had been tickling his nose since the elevator ride broke through a layer of his calm façade. He was entering a kind of dream state without realizing it. He knew he shouldn’t be kneeling there, smelling the footrest, but he knew he had one fetish that he’d never been able to experience: worshipping a beautiful woman’s stinky feet. What he was smelling now was pure heaven, yet he knew that even this was only a pale remnant. He wondered which of the female managers had sat there after some intense gym session.

“And now, we change things up,” Noel said. She tapped the touchscreen and the environmental control program quickly lowered the temperature in the lounge by a few degrees.

Carl stood up suddenly, and the scent on the footrest faded almost immediately. He shook his head to clear it and caught his breath. “What the hell…?” He tried to collect himself and head back to his office. Leaving the lounge, though, he found the temperature on the rest of the floor to be as warm as his office. He walked back towards his office but his nose twitched and caught a whiff of the delicious foot scent again, stronger than what had led him into the lounge. Interestingly enough, though, the scent wasn’t on the floor: it was on the wall, about nose-high, and it was definitely stronger. His mind’s eye filled with an image of a beautiful pair of pale feet and he leaned his face into the wall to sniff. This time he couldn’t suppress the tingle that went up his spine and caused his knees to weaken. That his cock had suddenly stiffened didn’t register on his conscious mind, either. His feet moved on their own, and he followed the delicately smelly trail down the hall and through a door he hadn’t noticed before. It closed silently behind him and resumed its appearance as indistinguishable from the wall.

Carl found himself inside a pitch-dark room, disoriented and a bit worried. He took a breath to call out and immediately fell to his knees. The foot scent inside this black box was much more intense than in his office, the lounge and the hallway combined. It was deliciously pungent and his mouth began watering. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t speak and he couldn’t think straight. All he could do was kneel as the foot scent assaulted his nose and images of the beautiful feet assailed his mind’s eye. He was on the verge of passing out from what seemed like lack of air when a brilliant light flooded the darkened room and he recoiled in shock. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, his breath caught. He was face to sole with the very feet that had invaded his mind…the very feet that had produced the scent that was causing his mouth to drool and his cock to become even more erect.

“You may enter, pet,” Noel’s sultry voice called out. Carl made a move to rise to his feet but Noel stopped him cold. “Remain on your knees, pet.”

Carl tried to get to his feet but he found his legs wouldn’t work. He looked into the room just beyond the opened door and realized that he was staring into Noel Fatale’s office on the thirtieth floor! The dark room must have been some kind of secret elevator. He shuddered from embarrassment and more than a little fear, but he still couldn’t stand up. What was happening here?

Noel was the one to stand up. Her stocking-clad feet made no sound as she closed the short distance between them. Her dark gray pinstriped skirt clung to her hips and thighs and fell to just past her knees. Her white blouse was elegant but, with three buttons undone, it accentuated her breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. Carl couldn’t help but look up in awe of this blonde beauty towering over him.

“I guess I’ll have to help you along, pet,” Noel said with a voice that dripped power and sensuality. She quickly spun around and placed the sole of one of her feet against Carl’s face. The pungent aroma that had overcome him in the elevator was now smashed directly into his face and he gasped in surprise, taking in a deep lungful of her foot odor. Instantly his cock became rock hard, tenting out his pants obscenely, and he fell even further down into a crawling position. Pleased, Noel walked back to her desk, and if Carl had had the ability to look up, he would have seen her glorious ass sway back and forth with each enticing step.

As it was, all he could do was crawl behind Noel, his eyes fixated on her enchanting feet…literally the feet of his dreams. With each step Noel took, she left a patch of foot smell in her wake. Each patch pulled Carl deeper and deeper into her office and deeper and deeper under her control. Noel sat on a nearby black leather sofa and reclined with her feet facing Carl. He stopped crawling but couldn’t stop staring at them.

“I’m sure you’re a bit confused, even in your aroused state, Mr. Johnson. That’s okay. I’ll explain it to you but first you have to do something for me. Undress,” she said.

Carl hesitated, but Noel raised one foot, flexed it, then quickly pointed it at his face. Carl’s head snapped back as though he’d been hit by a crashing wave of water, but the wave was her foot smell. He was suddenly drowning in its sharp, tangy musk. Drool began to pool in one of the corners of his mouth. He felt his cock harden even more and his mind nearly broke. His suddenly realized that his hands were pulling off his shirt, even though he couldn’t remember unbuttoning it. He couldn’t stop them from unzipping and pulling down his pants either. He shuffled out of them without being able to take his eyes off Noel’s enticing and powerful feet. In seconds, his body was exposed to her, with his crotch being the only exception.

Noel looked her prize over: strong arms, powerful legs, wide shoulders, flawless brown skin and a cock that was threatening to rip open his underpants. She approved of all of it, especially his obedient cock.

“Remove these, too, pet,” Noel ordered and ever so lightly tapped the boxer briefs with her toes – right on the tip of his rock hard cock. Carl felt as though he’d been struck by lightning, the touch was so powerful. His heart was pounding so hard, forcing so much blood into his cock that he thought he might die. Before he knew it, he was kneeling before the crossed legs of the company president, stark naked with a raging hard-on the likes of which he’d never experienced in even his wildest dreams.

“Good boy,” Noel said. “Now for the explanation. You know we do genetic research here, Mr. Johnson. We explore the potentials of the human genetic code. We’ve already been able to establish methods of producing medicines that react in specific ways based on a patient’s genetic makeup. One thing you don’t know is that a small group of my private researchers has discovered how to use what we’re calling “genetic specificity” in other interesting ways. You’re a test subject for one of my experimental processes in control.”

As Noel spoke she slowly bounced her foot up and down, back and forth. Carl’s head moved in sync with her foot. Drool began dripping down his chin and his cock bobbed with each beat of his heart – which seemed to also synch itself to the movements of Noel’s foot. He wanted so badly to bury his nose in her stinky, delicious feet. He wanted so much to have her stroke his aching cock with her toes. A frustrated groan escaped his throat. Noel smiled down at him.

“I’m a Goddess, Mr. Johnson. Literally. I have exceptionally powerful pheromones and I love using them to entice men and women into being my pets. That’s always fun, but I wanted to start using them in a more targeted way – so that I could trap a specific person by leaving a trail that only he could sense, for example. By taking samples of your DNA, my little group was able to help me alter my foot smell in a way that only you could smell it. A little heated air was all that was needed to activate the pheromones and lead you from place to place, and eventually here. No one else in the world can smell this particular “wavelength” of my scent. You are a lucky, lucky boy, my pet.”

Noel leaned down and pulled off one of her stockings. She waved it in front of Carl’s nose and he inhaled deeply. “This smell is taking over your mind, my pet. It’s making you mine in every sense of the word. One whiff of this scent and you’ll come running to me no matter what. We’ll have lots of playtime, you and my feet. They’ll become your reason for living, your reason for working here, and your whole existence will be to please my feet in any way they demand of you. Here,” Noel balled up the stocking and popped it into Carl’s already-open mouth, “have a taste of your new owner, Mr. Johnson.”

The salty taste of Noel’s foot immediately hit his tongue and Carl couldn’t contain himself. He began chewing on the stocking as though he were eating manna from heaven. His cock got harder still! It was so stiff it was pointing straight up to the ceiling. Noel took her bare foot and placed it against his nose and mewling sounds came from his gagged mouth. His eyes rolled into up into the back of his head and he almost passed out.

“You’ve been dreaming of my feet over the last few nights, haven’t you my pet?”

Carl nodded his head as his eyes focused down his nose at the beautiful toes covering his face. He couldn’t move his body. He couldn’t do anything except taste her stockings, smell her feet, and silently pray to her for relief of his cock.

“I hear your prayer, my pet. Soon,” Noel smiled down at him. Her hook was set so deeply, he’d never escape her power. “The reason you’ve been dreaming of my feet is that I’ve been marking your office with my feet for days now, raising the temperature just enough for the pheromones to become mildly active so they could subconsciously begin to take control of you. You’re a prize, not only physically, but also for my business here. I value your work and that will not change. In fact, you won’t even remember this little episode. But every time I want to play with you, my foot pheromones will call you to me and you won’t be able to resist.” She removed her other stocking and quickly wrapped it around his steel hard shaft. “This,” she stroked his cock through the nylon stocking, “is also mine. I want a taste.”

Noel raised her skirt to reveal her trimmed pussy and quickly impaled herself on his cock, stocking and all. Carl’s mind nearly exploded with bliss as she forced him onto his back beneath her. She swung her feet around so that they were both covering his face and he bucked like a wild animal. She rode him until she decided he couldn’t take any more, then she raised one beautifully wrinkled sole and slapped his face with it. He came like a freight train and her pussy sucked up every drop of his orgasm. Then he passed out. Noel smiled and licked her blood red lips.

* * * **

Carl Johnson woke at his desk. He looked at the wall clock. It was late. He must have been more tired than he thought. That meeting had lasted much longer than anyone wanted. He straightened his tie, pulled on his suit coat, shut down his computer and left for the night, feeling very happy to be working for such an exciting company.

On the thirtieth floor, Noel Fatale tapped the touch-screen on her desk and switched off the video surveillance on her new pet. They were connected now in a way that technology could never match, nor explain. She wouldn’t have to keep tabs on him electronically. From now on, she’d know exactly where he was and what he was doing at all times. She smiled and stood looking out her window on the city she loved – and owned just a bit more of now.


She Catches The Eye

By Seedee Beetoo

(Storyteller Droid of the Old Republic)

She was a stunning woman. Not just because she was very tall. Not because she had hair that flamed like a house on fire. Not because her legs went on for days or that her breasts gave the word “full” a new meaning. Her physical attributes were all this and more. No. What caused the young man who stood in front of her to stop everything he was doing and stare at her with rapt attention were her eyes. Large, and with long lashes, they were so vibrant a green as to put to shame the finest jade. And they held him in a gaze that never wavered, never faltered. Never eased up. He felt his mouth go dry even as his mind began to spin.

“What’s my name?” Her voice was as cool as the mists on a Scottish moor and he felt his muscles start to relax for the first time since he’d found himself pinned by her stare. With the relaxing of his tense, and for some reason wary, muscles came an almost dizzying confusion in his mind that he couldn’t explain. He was in a restaurant booth with an incredibly beautiful woman who was obviously interested in him. Trouble was, he couldn’t remember how he got to the restaurant, let alone the booth. The last clear memory he had was of giving up his seat in a crowded subway car to a woman who’d caught his eye — this woman, in fact. Whose name he didn’t even know.

“Are you sure you don’t remember my name?” she asked with a smile.

“Of course I don’t know your name, Beitris Laing!” he protested and just as suddenly clapped his hands over his mouth in shock. That was no lucky guess, not with a name like that. It was as if a curtain in his mind briefly lifted and her name tumbled onto his lips.

“Good boy, Timothy Hudson,” said Beitris. “And what’s your name, Timothy Hudson?”

Timothy opened his mouth with a cocky assurance, ready to utter his name. But he suddenly couldn’t recall it. Try as he might he just couldn’t remember his own name. Worse yet, he knew Beitris had just said it twice and he still couldn’t remember it!

“What the hell have you done to me, you witch?”

“I would think that’s obvious, little boy. I’ve used my witch powers and made you forget your name, among other things,” Beitris replied.

Confusion contorted Timothy’s face almost painfully. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I can. Besides, you asked me to, that’s why! And before you tell me how crazy you think I am, let me show you something.” Beitris gazed deeply into his eyes and another curtain of memory parted. Timothy saw himself on his knees in front of Beitris on a deserted subway platform. He saw his mouth form the word “please” even as an ecstatic smile came over him.

“You see? I merely did as you asked. And you showed your appreciation by coming out with me.”

A thin layer of his confusion vanished but Timothy still couldn’t accept that he’d chucked aside his usual caution and shyness and dine with this hauntingly beautiful woman.

“Oh but you did, Timothy. Normally I don’t pick on strangers but you were just so cute with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes if yours and that kind smile of yours; I couldn’t help myself. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a proper date, or had a play toy worth my time.

Timothy’s eyes widened with a touch of fear. “Plaything? I’m no one’s…”

Beitris gestured with her right hand, a gentle flutter of her fingers that she punctuated with a “snap!” “Coig gach la,” she said. Timothy had never heard the language before but the effect of her words hit him like a freight train regardless. His hands gripped the table so hard he though he might snap the heavy wood into kindling. His cock sprang to hardness and he nearly choked on his own breath.

“What…what did you do…?” he stammered.

“Nothing much,” she replied with a throaty chuckle. “Just hypnotically induced five days of cum denial on you.”

Sure enough, Timothy felt as though he hadn’t ejaculated in nearly a week. Granted, that wasn’t a feeling with which he was terribly familiar but it was the only explanation for the heavy feeling in his balls and the ache in his cock. Hypnosis: something he had more than a passing interest in but this was way beyond anything he’d ever fantasized about.

“Also,” Beitris continued, “it’s five days of the most intense teasing you’ve ever had. I think you’ll find my hands are very talented, Timothy.” Beitris waved her hand again and another scene played in his mind’s eye: him writhing on his bed as Beitris’ beautifully manicured hands stroked his raging hard cock, running it up and down the scale of arousal and holding him mere instants from cumming. He thrashed and shuddered but couldn’t escape her; for every one of his actions she had an equal and opposite reaction that kept him in her grasp and on the edge. Non-stop. For five days and nights. The mental Timothy wailed in utter frustration.

In the here-and-now his tongue hung out of his mouth, his eyes crossed and his head slowly sank to the table. A helpless whimper crawled from his throat even as the drool began to puddle on the tablecloth. Beitris waved her hand “Caisg!” she commanded in her strange language. The image faded into the background of Timothy’s mind. The arousal, however, didn’t disappear; it still gripped him as hard as he was now gripping the table.

“To answer you question, no. That didn’t really happen; I just made you think it did through hypnosis. All we Celtic warrior witches can do that. It’s been a while, though, since I’ve chanced upon someone so…open. You like?” Beitris’ full, ruby-red lips curled into a salacious smile.

She caught his eye again and time seemed to slow. Celtic. Scottish. Gaelic. Back in the subway car, he noticed her eyes first but her musically accented voice back made his breath catch in his throat. He suddenly remembered literally freezing in place at the sound of her voice when she thanked him for giving up his seat to her.

“Such a proper gentleman!” she’d remarked.

“Well, not so proper and not so gentle.” Something possessed him and he had answered with an uncharacteristically swagger. “We’ll put that to the test.” Her lilting laughter should have been a warning but he wasn’t thinking too clearly.

And now here he was, in the grip of a hypnotic beauty the likes of which even Shakespeare couldn’t have known. Timothy slowly regained a little of his composure, lifted his head and wiped away the drool with as much dignity as he could muster. His eyes met hers again.

“So. You like?” Beitris asked again. Timothy instinctively understood what her question really meant. He needed to be very careful with his answer; the wrong words could be the end of him. Could he? More importantly, should he? Timothy thought long and hard while Beitris waited with an impatient hunger burning in those stunning eyes.

“Hell yes,” he finally replied. Beitris smiled down at him.

“Right answer. Cuir-a-mach!” she commanded.

And he did.

“Game Over”, a deep voice pronounced from the television. Johnny threw down the controller in frustration. ‘Can’t even win at video games, let alone anything else’, he thought to himself in disgust, ‘What a way to start winter break’.

He’d been home now for 3 days; already missed campus, his dorm room, and the constant business of schoolwork that could keep his mind off of how much his life sucked. At college he was useful at least. A smart guy, he always ended up helping classmates with work; it gave him a sense of purpose. The moment he came home for a break and had time off though, that feeling disappeared.

Johnny hadn’t been popular while growing up. With parents who were decent, but distant, he’d never had a great family, and visible signs of approval had been few and far between. As a consequence, he’d always struggled with depression and low self-esteem. Leaving for college had helped. It was a new world, and he did well in some senses. Excelled at classes; was involved in some clubs. But he was never able to make personal connections. The moment a meeting ended, the minute the study session was over, he was alone again. Coming back home just worsened it.


Johnny was startled out of his thoughts by his cellphone buzzing. ‘Who could be texting me at this time of night?’ he thought, confused.

He opened the phone, and looked at the message. It was from Traci, a girl who lived in his neighborhood. They’d been friends as children, but grew apart upon entering school. High school had been different. A cheerleader and popular with everyone, she’d not only turned him down when he finally got the courage to ask her out, but had done it publicly, laughing at him loudly in front of her friends. He hadn’t talked to her since, or heard anything about her in a couple years, though they were friends on Facebook … not that that mattered, he was friends with nearly his entire high school graduating class.

“Johnny, I saw you posted on FB you were back in town. Want to hang out?”

Johnny stared and then re-read the message. ‘What could she want with me‘, he wondered. He considered for a moment, debating ignoring it. Interest and, he had to be honest to himself, desire won out. Still a virgin, the chance to hang out with his high school crush was too much to resist. He texted back,

“Sure, I’ll drive over and pick you up.”

He got dressed and headed outside, then looked at his car and grimaced. A 13 year old Corolla, it wasn’t very impressive. Lacking a better option though, he gave a mental shrug, got in, and pulled into the street. Halfway to Traci’s house, he got another text saying, “Why don’t we just hang out at my place instead of going somewhere? It’s cold and snowy out”.

Only a block away, he refrained from responding. A minute later he pulled into her drive way, then killed the engine, walked to the door, and knocked.

Traci opened the door and smiled slightly. Johnny looked at her and froze, taking in the sight of this Goddess standing before him. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans with heels underneath and a halter top that showed just a hint of a lacy black bra. Her long brunette hair cascaded down past her shoulders, framing a face that could have easily have out shown Helen of Troy’s.

Johnny stood there without moving, staring, until Traci finally chuckled softly and motioned him in, for the second time, a remote part of his brain noticed.

“Ever going to come in, or are you just going to stand there staring at my tits”, she asked.

He shook himself mentally and looked down at her feet, blushing softly as he walked in quickly. He mumbled, “I’m sorry”, so quietly he didn’t think she even heard, but she laughed and replied that it was fine, she was used to it. She then motioned him towards the couch and moved off into an unseen room to the left.

He sat down gingerly on the edge of it, looking around the room slowly. He didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later Traci returned and sat down across the room from him. She looked him up and down.

“Hello, dear.”

Johnny opened his mouth, and then coughed; something he tended to do when nervous. He looked away, and managed a “Hi, Traci”

“Tell me, Johnny. Why do you think I asked you to come here?”, she asked quietly. She draped one leg lazily over the other, stretching out.

Johnny tried cracking a joke. “I don’t know, maybe you finally realized you couldn’t live without me, Traci.” He grinned … and then faltered as she stared at him, quite un-amused. “Err, sorry. I’m not sure I guess, Traci. Last time I talked to you, you were laughing about how pathetic I was. What did-” Johnny trailed off, his eyes following Traci’s legs as she rubbed then against each other slowly.

“Come sit by me, Johnny”, Traci said, motioning to the seat beside her. Johnny did as she said, resisting the wild urge to throw himself at her, intoxicated by her beauty. Traci placed an arm on his shoulder and pulled him closer, turning to place her lips against his ear.

She whispered, “I asked you over here, Johnny, because when I look at you, I don’t see a man. I see a worthless lump of clay, waiting to be molded by my expert hands.” As she spoke, she reached down, unbuttoning his pants.

Johnny’s breath grew ragged. Not fully understanding what she meant, his mind was far too clouded anyway by the touch of her hands to reply.

Traci ran her tongue along his cheek as her warm slender fingers wrapped around his hardening cock, pulling it from his boxers.

“Would you like to fuck me tonight, dear?” she asked.

“ye yes, god yes, Traci”, he stammered back.

“Well…” She broke off, stifling a giggle, “Too fucking bad”, she finished, standing up abruptly. “You think you are man enough to touch a goddess like myself?”

Johnny stared up at her, his mind still reeling from her touch. “I uh, no, I ” … “no”, he stammered, lowering my eyes. A wave of humiliation washed through him as he realized how utterly stupid the idea was, him of all people making love to her.

Traci smirked, “My boyfriend has a 9 inch cock. You think I would leave him for you and you’re little clit?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking”, Johnny mumbled out, starting to rise. She caught his shoulder, pushing him back down.

“If he found out you were here, he’d have your balls in a jar on his bed side table. Do I need to call him and tell him about your… attempt on me?”

Johnny, alarmed, looked up at her pleadingly. “No, please, please don’t. I’m sorry”

“Just a poor, innocent girl, and a dirty old man like you comes in here, waving your cock at me? He will NOT like this.”

“Please don’t, Traci, I’ll do anything! I’m so sorry”

Traci smirked again. “Strip. Now. Everything.”

Johnny froze. “Str- strip?”

“You heard me, sissy. It’s nothing worth looking at, so don’t be ashamed.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then paused, closed it, and began to strip off his clothing, keeping his eyes lowered. After a few moments he stepped to the side, away from the pile of clothing.

“Damn it, sissy. Don’t just leaving your dirty clothes all over the floor. Pick them up and follow me”, she snapped, before turning and walking up the stairs.

Johnny grabbed his clothes and hurried after her, cringing inside as he realized how silly and pathetic he must look, hurrying naked after a goddess like her. He followed her into her room, even now experiencing a moment of awe at even being allowed in. He was brought back to reality as Traci turned and grabbed his clothing. She sat it on the bed and without even glancing at him, cut it piece by piece and threw the remains into a trashcan.

Johnny’s mouth dropped open, but then sight of her long fingers holding the scissors and snipping away froze him. In a moment the clothing was a memory, and he was naked and at her mercy. She turned to him.

“Sissy. Top drawer, on the left. Open it.”

He resigned himself and quickly went to it, opening and looking inside at what turned out to be her panty drawer, filled with a multitude of thongs.

“It’s like a dream come true, isn’t it, sissy. Go on, pick your favorite pair”, she said.

Johnny gulped loudly, and grabbed a lacy black thong.

“Racy choice, sissy! Put them on.”

He glanced at her, “Put them on?”

She twirled the razor sharp scissors in her hand. “You heard me”

Johnny breathed in sharply and quickly pulled on the thong. His tiny cock barely jutted out, even though rock hard.

“Damn, sissy, you look cute!”, Traci mocked, “You sure you don’t want me to do some snipping, so they fit better?” She winked.

“Please no, Traci!” Johnny pleaded, alarmed.

Traci pursed her lips. “Shame, sissy.” She sighed. “Well, what are you waiting for? Strut around a bit, give me a show! I know all you sissies dream about being sluts, so show it off!”

Johnny lowered my eyes in shame and walk around slowly, not really strutting but almost shuffling, unable to believe that in 15 minutes he’d gone from thinking he might have had a chance with her to this.

“That doesn’t look like dancing, sissy”, Traci snapped, “Maybe I should call my boyfriend, ask him what he thinks of a boy in my room, playing in my panties?”

“I’m sorry, please don’t, I’ll do better, I promise”, he stammered fearfully. I started trying to dance in earnest, knowing how bad he was at dancing but figuring that at least he’d be following orders.

“Mmm, such a cutie! You looking to score a man with those moves, sissy?”, Traci asked.

He blushed again, unable to meet her mocking eyes.

Traci stood up. “Come here.”

Johnny walked over, standing in front of her and instinctively putting his hands behind him.

Traci wrapped her arms around his waist, stepped forward, and kissed him fully on the lips. He froze completely for a moment, before his lips pressed back against her gently. He felt his lips being parted as she invaded his mouth with her expert tongue for a few minutes, exploring him thoroughly before pulling back a bit.

She looked into his eyes deeply, then grinned evilly. “Sissy, there are two security cameras in this room. You fuck up, even once, and I show my boyfriend everything that goes on tonight. Understand?”

The words take a moment to penetrate Johnny’s mind, still reeling from the long kiss. He stiffened, looking around for a moment before looking back at her. Suddenly he understood why she kissed him and his spirits fall sharply. He gave a jerky nod.

Traci fell back on the bed. She looked up at him. “First rule, sissy. Always be kneeling in my presence unless told otherwise.”

He dropped quickly to his knees, mumbling, “okay”.

She frowned. “Second rule, you’re not my equal, obviously. You’re really not even a person as far as I’m concerned, and definitely inferior to me. As such, you will address me as either Mistress or Goddess, understand?”

He looked up at her and replied, “Yes, Mistress”, hoping for a smile or sign of approval. Instead, she frowned and leaned forward, delivering a hard slap to his face.

“And another thing. Keep your fucking eyes DOWN, always, sissy. You are NOT worthy to look up at me, ever. You keep your dirty eyes at my feet at all times, because even my feet are more important and significant than you”

She slapped him again on his other cheek, and then giggled. “See what a caring Mistress I am, sissy? I made sure both your cheeks are equally red and cheery”. She leaned back again, wiggling into the bed.

“Sissy, I have been barefoot all afternoon, preparing for your arrival. Clean my feet for me”, she said, bringing her left foot to his mouth.

Johnny looked at her dirty foot, the darkened from walking around all day, yet still shapely and beautiful. Realizing he didn’t have much of a choice though, he leaned in, flicking out his tongue. He started to lick up the sole of your foot, closing his eyes and ignoring the taste.

Traci giggled maliciously above him. “You have quite the tongue on you, sissy! You’ll make a man very happy someday, I’m sure.”

He continued to lick, trying to ignore the words that sent chills of humiliation through him. Slowly though, the disgust and even foul taste began to fade. He was struck suddenly by the realization that he was touching Traci; and she was talking to him. Spending her time with him. He shouldn’t even be allowed in her presence, and yet here he was. He quickly finished cleaning her foot, sliding his tongue in between her toes and cleaning them, sucking on each one gently before leaning back slightly.

Traci pulled away, running her spit covered foot down his bare chest. “Other foot, sissy.” She slide her right foot up tapped it against his cheek.

Johnny was much quicker this time, licking all all over her foot, finding a strange comfort in the idea of keeping the dirt and filth away from her. He licked between her toes, and along the sides of her foot as well. As he did so, Traci laid back. She slid her shirt off and tossed it away, revealing her full breasts, barely contained in a lacy black bra.

Johnny didn’t notice at first, totally focused on his task, but the sight of her bra caught the top of his eye. He paused for just a moment, looking up, before remembering her earlier words and looking back down.

“I think that is clean enough, sissy”, Traci said, seemingly ignoring his glance. She stretched a little and looked down at him. “These shorts are SO tight. Pull them off of me, sweetie.”

“Yes, Mistress”, Johnny replied, reaching up and grabbing them on the sides. She arched her back and he pulled them down her legs, careful to avoid touching her as much as possible.

“Good boy…” she murmured, and kicked her shorts away. She looked down without saying anything and Johnny did his best to keep still, kneeling before her.

“I want a massage, sissy”, Traci said. She rolled onto her stomach. “Make it count”.

Johnny felt a shiver rung down his spine at the thought of touching her. His cock, already as hard and straining, grew harder yet. He leaned over her, his hands reaching down to the middle of her back. They pressed down slightly, then moved upwards, kneading with his fingers and applying a light pressure before releasing. He continued until he reached her shoulders, and then reached along them, massaging a little more firmly.

“Go ahead and unclip my bra, sissy”, Traci murmured, her eyes closed.

Johnny replied “yes, Mistress”, and unclipped it, setting the straps on the bed beside them. He moved his hands along her skin where the bra had been, touching only with his fingertips.

“Move down lower, sissy.”

He followed her orders, moving lower along her tight body until he reached the small of her back. His fingers kneaded lightly for a moment, then he moved his hands out and down her sides, trailing down her hips and then back up, cupping her ass cheeks gently.

“Mmmm, I know how much you gay boys love butts. Show me what you can do!”

Her words broke into his trance, his face flushing red on hearing them. He realized though that he might as well really be gay for all that he could be with her. He swallowed any remaining pride, continuing to massage her perfectly formed ass, gently rubbing it. Unable to resist, he leaned in, kissing it gently—

“Keep moving, sissy!”, Traci snapped.

Johnny moved further down, one hand rubbing each or your tanned thighs. His fingers pressed up and down gently. He reached her knees, and then down her calfs, massaging and rubbing, his fingers never unmoving.

Traci moaned softly. “Sissy, stop and come lay down next to me.”

Johnny quickly slid over and lay down beside her, feeling her warm body next to his. His cock was harder and larger than he’d ever seen it before, actually visibly bulging through the thong.

“Close your eyes.” Traci ordered softly.

Johnny closed his eyes, feeling her slowly pulling his panties down. She started to jerk him off, one hand resting on the head of his cock. His breath quickened as her warm fingers slide up and down, squeezing expertly.

“If you open your eyes, you will wish you hadn’t”, she said.

Johnny kept them firmly shut but was unable to keep a soft grunting moan from escaping his lips

“If it helps, imagine it’s your boyfriend jerking you off, faggot”, Traci said nastily. She giggled.

Johnny let out another groan, his cock on fire between her fingers, nearing the edge. Her soft thigh rubbed against his as she sped up suddenly keeping her hands in the same positions. “Cum for me, sissy, cum for me NOW”, she ordered.

Her words pushed him over the end and he let out another moan. His body arched and he came hard, spewing out, yes clenched tight. Her fingers stopped moving, milking him as he shot out several times.

“Ooh, guess that did the trick!” Traci giggled, “You can open your eyes, now”

He opened them, freezing. Her left arm was draped over her naked chest, her right hand in his face, palm full of his cum. “Eat up”, she ordered.

He looked up at her. “Eat that?” He shied slightly away.

Traci frowned. “You didn’t just think you’d get to cum for free, did you? Swallow every last drop, sissy. Now.”

He shuddered and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head forward slowly, licking his cum off of her hand. He tried to ignore how sticky and slimy it was, quickly swallowing, then licked again to get the rest of it.

“Mm, Gooood boy,” Traci said and smiled. She fell silent for a moment, looking at him, and then said, “It’s late, sissy. Almost two in the morning. I think it’s time for you to head home.”

He shook himself, surprised by how much time had passed, “Err, yes, Mistress”, he mumbled.

“You can keep those, panties. They fit you much better know that your little baby boner has gone!” She giggled.

His face flushed with shame again, and he kept his eyes on the floor as he rose. “th thank you, Mistress”, he replied. She walked downstairs with him, and opened the door. “Have a nice walk home.”

He looked at her in alarm. “With just this, Mistress?”, he asked, voice rising higher pitched in panic.

“What else would a sissy wear, silly?” she asked.

“But … but .. ” he stammered and fell silent, unsure what else he could really do. “Yes, Mistress”, he said. He walked through the door and then paused, turning around to face her. “Will you, err, be needing me again?” he asked.

“Maybe. My boyfriend certainly will not be happy with you, but you can sneak in sometime when he isn’t around. Expect a visit from him soon, by the way.”

“From .. him?” he asked, momentarily stunned enough that he forgot to address her properly.

“My boyfriend, silly. He will be coming to kick your sissy ass”, she explained patiently.

“But, I did everything you ordered, Mistress!”

Her voice grew flat. “You hesitated when I asked you to eat cum. Big mistake.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Please please, Mistress, don’t tell him. I’m so sorry, I’ll never hesitate again, I swear!” he begged.

Traci smiled evilly “We’ll see, sissy. See you soon.” She closed the door, leaving him out in the cold.

Chapter 1: Session

Mistress, this is my report from the assignment you gave to me to find a “do-me sub” and attempt to turn him into a real sub. As you likely anticipated, this assignment was extremely enlightening to me and led me in directions I did not dream it could go.

Since you will be posting this on your web page I will add some explanation for its readers. A “do-me sub” is, from the perspective of some female dominants such as Mistress and me, a male who labels himself as a submissive and has a specific list of things he would want a female dominant to do to him. Typically, though not always, a do-me sub considers himself to be a real sub but in the view of Mistress and me he is not a sub at all since he does not submit to anything other than the specific acts he desires.

A do-me sub’s approach is similar to going to a restaurant and ordering specific items and this to Mistress and me has nothing to do with submission which is about transferring power from the submissive to the dominant. Just as an example, if a male requests to be whipped with a particular implement then that is a top/bottom situation and generally not a dominant/submissive interaction unless there is power exchange in some other way. However, if a male requests to be tortured within certain limits and the method is open to the determination of the torturer, then that is more in the realm of submission, although there is typically much more to submission than just torture and pain does not even need to be involved for submission. That said, I require the application of pain, as does Mistress.

A do-me sub often misleads a dominant into thinking that he would submit by indicating desires such as “I want you to dominate me” when in reality he does not want to be dominated at all and only wants to be topped. This creates frustration for some dominants such as Mistress and me because the mis-communication often causes us to spend time getting to know the potential sub only to find that the time was wasted. By contrast, when a bottom tells us up front that he is a bottom, Mistress and I respect this as may quickly move on and not waste time and effort.

There is nothing wrong with a male wanting specific things done to him and nothing wrong with calling himself a sub, even though in our view he is not submitting, but this is not the type of sub Mistress and I enjoy dominating and since in our view he is not submitting at all we do not consider him to be a “real” sub. We understand that “real” means different things to different people and we only use the word from our own perspective and opinion.

With the disclaimers out of the way, Mistress, I want to let you know that I was reluctant at first to follow through with this assignment. There was never a time when I felt that I wouldn’t do as you indicated but I did not initially think that it would be an enjoyable experience. While at first I figured that it might be fun to break down a male into true submission or at least teach him a painful lesson, I did not think that it would realistically occur. Fortunately, I was wrong, very very wrong.

It was not an easy assignment, Mistress. We both receive plenty of messages from do-me subs and other males who are even less appealing so I had no shortage of potential candidates for this assignment. I began to look in detail at the messages and user profiles to attempt to identify my subject but I became numb and each male seemed similar to each other. I decided to choose the most outlandish male I could find who appeared to be a do-me sub and that was a mistake.

The male I chose named slave256225 sent me a picture of his cock. This is not unusual, Mistress, as you know, but what was particularly outlandish is that he spliced together a picture of an attractive woman making it appear that she was giving him a blowjob. Also, the shaft of his cock had a discontinuity and when I looked closer it appeared as though he had made his cock appear longer by doctoring the picture. What sealed it for me was his profile picture in which he had a look on his face attempting to be a debonair and mysterious figure but instead looked like he was acting in a comedy play, an effect which was clearly unintentional. I couldn’t help but laugh.

I envisioned laughing at his face and making him feel very bad about himself but the reality of that thought did not appeal to me because I am not a mean person. Many subs, both do-me and real subs, ask me to be mean but that is not who I am. Still, the fantasy of completely humiliating the ridiculously outlandish slave256225 was exciting to me and I figured that since his presentation was so over the top there was a chance that he was a legitimately interesting person. I was wrong.

I quickly learned that slave256225 was about as boring as it gets. He was very clearly a do-me sub in my view but would not make a good subject because I needed to have at least some fun and I could never have any fun with slave256225. To get to know him I responded to his initial seven-word message, which he had included with the picture of his cock, with the message “Hi slave256225, you seem interesting, please tell me about yourself and feel free to go into detail.”

I guess detail to slave256225 meant that he would expand his thoughts to a message of a whopping 31 words with almost all of them listing acts he would like done to his body. I didn’t want to write him off completely so I wrote back asking him if there was anything else he could tell me about himself such as how much experience he had and whether or not he was looking for a long term relationship and the response I received told me all I needed to know. He wrote “No, nothing.”

Back to the drawing board, I selected another male and found that he had the same problem with a lack of communication skills and I became discouraged. My next potential subject did not have that problem and he quickly opened up about many of the emotional problems he has had in his life. It was certainly too much information and I did not want to get involved with someone who apparently needed a significant amount of professional help so I politely indicated to him my hope that he gets help and his situation improves.

My next potential subject with the name HowAreYouDoing lasted longer than the first three. His responses were actually interesting and covered a wide range of subjects. He was very opinionated on many topics and while I did not agree with several of his views and I felt that he blew some issues out of proportion, his messages were interesting to read. He also was a do-me sub although he knew that that he was not a real sub.

I was considering taking on HowAreYouDoing as the subject of my assignment when I realized that his name was the opposite of his reality. He never cared for any of my opinions and usually did not even acknowledge that I had made a point. I didn’t think much of it at first because his messages were interesting but after a few messages I felt more like a sounding board rather than a person and when I asked him whether he had read one of my sentences expressing my view he gave me a snippy response as if I had said something to anger him. With that red flag flying high, I ended our association.

I was discouraged to say the least, Mistress. I wanted to fulfill your assignment but I almost gave up because I didn’t want to spend weeks communicating with males who would lead me down a garden path only to leave me empty-handed. Then I received a message from Peter10 “I want to be your slave, no limits.”

Mistress, you and I have talked about the “no limit” males who just don’t have a clue. It is just too easy to respond “If you have no limits then cut off your arm and send me a picture” but we both know that those males never learn and it only makes them think of us as mean. We don’t want to be fodder for their fantasies and it’s just best to ignore those messages completely.

I decided to take a different approach. I wrote back “Hi Peter10. If you would like to tell me something about yourself, maybe we could enjoy some time together. Please let me know. Take care.” I expected to get no response or to get a response which didn’t appreciate my non-dominant style but instead Peter10 wrote “Thank you, Ma’am, for writing back. I apologize for the impersonal first message. I am not sure where to start but I enjoy the following things” and he proceeded to give me his grocery list of things he would like done to him. He was personable and polite and was definitely a do-me sub, thinking that being a sub meant having these specific things done to him, so he seemed to be a good candidate as a subject for my assignment.

Mistress, I will fast forward past our exchanging personal photos, our long nice phone call in which we both agreed that we were looking for an ongoing play partnership but not a romantic or long term relationship or a one-time session, and our meeting at a coffee shop although I want to make it clear that I was up front about wanting a male who submitted to my authority and I would accommodate his needs as a compromise. At first he didn’t understand the distinction I was trying to make between experiencing sensations such as whipping and real submission but it didn’t take him long to get it and he understood that I was going away from my usual preference when I top him. I did not say that I would not dominate him in my own way so I did not lie to him, although I admit to withholding my main purpose for wanting to interact with him.

Peter also told me that he had some experience as a sub but when I asked for details he admitted that all of his experience was online only. I started to explain to him that there is a big difference between typing about what will occur, which is how he experienced online BDSM, and actually feeling it with your body and mind but I figured that it might hurt his confidence so I did not continue that discussion.

I decided that the best approach would be a slow one, first providing for all of his needs and desires and then later integrating my own desires. In part this was due to my own caution at the potential dishonesty of withholding my purpose from him and also due to my concern that I might lose him if I became dominant too quickly. So for our first brief playful encounter I played the role of a good do-me top and gave him a few of the things he wanted in the list he gave me. He wanted a longer session but I didn’t want to top for long without any of the domination I enjoy so we agreed on a 30-minute session in his home. Mistress, I am sure that you do not want to know the details I had set up for what turned out to be an unnecessary safe call.

Peter did not own a flogger even though it was on his list of wanted activities so I brought my own pair of floggers. When I first brought out the heavy flogger I often use to begin a session, due to its being almost more of a massage than torture, Peter almost freaked out and I had to start with the smaller stinging sensation flogger instead. After just a minute of light warm-up flogging I started to put a bit more force into the blows, though not even more than one-half strength, and Peter began to squirm and groan as if we had been going for at least 5 minutes. Just about 10 seconds later he began yelling and then took his hands off the wall and moved away, unable to take more of the so-called pain. I shouldn’t belittle Peter’s pain threshold, it is not his fault and I wouldn’t want someone to pretend to take more pain than they could, but I found it strange and somewhat frustrating that he specifically said that he wanted to be flogged on his back and yet he could barely take any of it.

If I did not have ulterior motives of completing this assignment, I might have ended the session but I forged on to the next activity on Peter’s list. I picked up the light paddle he had set on a nearby table and as he lay face down on his bed and slid his underwear down, I paddled his cute little butt. Mistress, I neglected to mention earlier that one of the reasons I chose Peter is that he is a good-looking man, not a stud or outstanding, but he is my type from a physical standpoint. I was glad to learn that his butt was as cute as it seemed through his pants and took advantage by mixing in some bare hand spanks along with the paddling he had requested. Peter did not protest and seemed to enjoy the light spanking on his butt with the paddle and my hand.

I increased the amount of force and whacked his butt with increasing rapidity and while he squirmed and groaned in pain, he enjoyed it and did not move away. I decided to go outside of the playbook a bit again, this time whacking the back of one of his thighs a once with the paddle. All of the sudden, he acted as though I had placed electrodes inside his ass and he screamed and jumped up towards the front of the bed, facing me in fear but with his groin covered in modesty by blankets.

My first inclination was to laugh at how ridiculous this was, literally 1 whack from a flimsy paddle on his thigh caused him to jump as though he had been shot out of a cannon. And on top of that he was covering his groin as if he had never been seen before in his life. It was actually kind of cute. There is that word again, cute. I wanted to laugh and pinch his cheeks even though he is the same age as I am, 29.

But I didn’t laugh. At times a person may have a trigger which might be from some memory from childhood or might just be a reaction for no reason. A trigger can cause a person to react with a great deal of unexpected emotion such as fear or anger. And that is no laughing matter whatsoever.

I didn’t think I had any triggers, and Mistress I hope you forgive me for not telling you about this earlier but I just remembered it now, five years ago when I was in an amusement park there was an attraction which was pitch black inside and there was the noise of a monster approaching. I do not have any fear of darkness, noises, or monsters but for a few seconds I had a sudden fear and wanted to run away screaming. I suppressed my reaction and it passed after a few seconds but from the time you warned us about triggers I always took it to heart in part because I take everything you say to heart but also because triggers seemed scary from a philosophical standpoint.

Mistress, I don’t know why I wanted to write about triggers in this report. Peter had not suffered a trigger. He had just suffered more pain than he wanted.

As Peter was backed up to the headboard of his bed, I said “What’s wrong?” without a hint of a laugh. He replied “That hurt!” with some anguish in his voice. Now that really tested my ability to avoid laughing. I contained myself and said “I thought you wanted pain?” and he replied “Yes but that really hurt bad.”

I was in the wrong because I had diverted from his script. On the one hand I was very disappointed because I wanted to transition to something fun but on the other hand I knew that Peter was the right male for this assignment. It would be a challenge to get Peter to submit to me the way I wanted and I was ready to accept the challenge.

I said to Peter “I am sorry. I really apologize. Are you okay?” Peter calmed down and allowed me to resume the session which I did exactly as he wanted. When we were done he thanked me for dominating him and asked me when we could next meet.

Mistress, at this point I learned why we truly do not like do-me subs. I felt used. Peter had little or no thought about what I might enjoy and it was not fun being a top without dominating, even topping a cute bottom on a cute bottom. I’m sure that Peter felt the illusion of being dominated because he used the words dominance and submission regarding his desires, but I did not feel dominant. In fact, I felt submissive because he told me what to do ahead of time and I did that. As you know, Mistress, I do not feel comfortable being submissive to anyone let alone to a male.

I felt used but I knew that the first session was a means to an end. I just hoped that the end would occur sooner rather than later.

Chapter 2: Scene

Before our second session I called Peter and asked if he would be okay with a role-playing scenario in which I would perform the acts he enjoyed. He liked this idea and we agreed upon a scene I suggested in which I was a teaching assistant where he used to go to college and his grade would depend upon my satisfaction. The scene still didn’t seem appealing to me because I would be limited to exactly the narrow range of activities he wanted but at least it would be an improvement over the first session.

I ended up enjoying the scene somewhat and I enjoyed our third time together in which we role-played nurse and patient relying on me to release him from the hospital, a scene I suggested and Peter agreed to. I realized that due to Peter’s inability to take more than a small amount of pain, in each scene there were a couple of times when the pain got too much and he lost control whether he screamed, jumped out of the way, or both. I got a real kick out of reaching that point and always stopped whatever was causing the pain. Plus Peter was an okay male, despite being self-centered, so I got some pleasure out of giving him what he wanted.

Before our fourth time together I asked Peter to come up with a role-playing scene he would enjoy and just from his reaction I could tell that this pleased him greatly. I realized that he had been shy earlier about telling me his fantasies even though he was not shy about telling me what was on his do-me list. Males are tough to understand sometimes but the effort is often very rewarding.

Over the phone Peter told me an elaborate story which would serve as our next role-playing scene. He clearly had thought of this before and I figured that he probably had many of these types of fantasies. I enjoyed talking with him about it and I added to what he had thought of. The stories seemed somewhat realistic. Also, I felt a tinge of power in that I had begun to break through his surface and was getting him to open up to me.

Many real subs have difficulty revealing their fantasies. Years ago I didn’t understand why but the reason is clear to me now that subs and many others do not want to impose on someone to feel an obligation to do something so they are inhibited from revealing what they want. For example, if a sub wanted me to humiliate him with my feet and mentioned that to me, and much later I humiliated him with my feet, then the sub might feel as though I was under an obligation to humiliate him and the sub might feel guilty about it which would not be fun. That doesn’t particularly apply to me, if I’ve been given consent to do something and if I want to do it then I’ll do it or if I don’t want to do it then I won’t but the point is that the some subs don’t want to impose their wishes on another. I wish the issue were not that complicated but for many subs I have encountered, it is an inhibiting factor in expressing their desires.

With that in mind I wanted to make sure to have fun with the fantasy. When I arrived in Peter’s home I believe that my appearance exceeded his expectations. As you know, Mistress, I enjoy shopping and exotic clothes and this experience was a good combination of both. I found a woman who specialized in exotic belly-dancer outfits and she had in stock all of the pieces we needed to construct what Peter had described in detail.

Peter’s mouth almost hung open as he gazed upon the “slave” he had won in a writing contest, as depicted in our role-playing enactment of his fantasy. Mistress, before the shock of surprise causes you to become worried, I was in no way submissive or a slave to this male and it was only at the start of the night that I played the role of slave. I started dancing for Peter and I admit that I was not very good at it, but as per the scene Peter had described I brought out a cloth and lunged at him, covering his face while holding his head in my arms.

In Peter’s fantasy, his newly won slave would drug him and I am certain that in our discussion about role-playing he figured that I would bring an untreated cloth and pretend that it had a drug on it. But I added my own twist. This is why I had asked you for a recommendation on the substance and technique a few weeks ago. In any case it worked like a charm and he was legitimately rendered unconscious for a couple of minutes.

When he awoke he was tied spread eagled and face up on his bed with his clothing removed, just as he had described to me, although I am sure that he thought he would have been awake during our role-playing. After his cobwebs cleared I noticed that he was gazing at me in awe though it was unclear if that was awe or fear. Either way, I enjoyed it. For the first time Peter actually looked submissive. The expression on his face was very cute.

Mistress, I had a strong yearning to reach for my implements of torture but they were not part of the scene and I had left them at home. I thought about finding something like a heavy wooden spoon in his kitchen but I stuck with the script.

I won’t describe in detail the hand job I gave him. I wasn’t feeling the “against his will” vibe which Peter was fantasizing about but it was clear that he enjoyed himself greatly. Mistress, being true to what you have told me, I do not hide from you my feelings so I admit that I enjoyed providing pure pleasure to Peter despite the discussions you and I have had about it, even though it would have pleased me much more had I been able to include legitimate pain and humiliation in the scene.

Afterwards, Peter was ecstatic and very appreciative of what I had done for him. That made me feel good, and not only because I felt that next time I would be able to integrate more of my own control into the situation.

Before our next encounter I talked on the phone with Peter about having more freedom while he is tied down to the bed. Mistress, having just typed that sentence I see that it seems strange. I was asking for more freedom as if I was a slave. I blush to think of that because as you know I am not a slave and especially not to any male. But perhaps I was initially acting as a sort of servant to Peter’s needs.

Peter and I agreed that I would have more latitude for our next encounter. I had expected resistance to this idea but Peter said that at our most recent encounter that he had what he described as a very unusual and exciting feeling when I made him pass out for real and had a very sadistic look in my eyes. I had been thinking very sadistic thoughts at the time but my expression was one of pleasure so it was encouraging to me that I did not have to act for Peter to feel the submissive feelings we enjoy.

I felt that soon I would have him in the palm of my hands.

Our next encounter was very different from any of our previous scenes. I tied him down spread-eagled, naked, and face down to his bed and had at my disposal a few different instruments, any of which Peter had indicated is fine for me to use as long as the sensation was mild. I could sense that Peter went a long way emotionally to trust that I would not abuse him beyond his comfort level, notwithstanding the safe words we had previously agreed upon.

Mistress, as you know, I am an angel during a scene and would never dream of pushing anyone’s limits . I do not dream, I take action!

I must say that I was very excited during this encounter. I frequently see males in helpless situations but Peter’s situation of strong reluctance overcome with my own weeks of patience made his predicament very exciting to me. He was scared! As soon as I stepped back a bit from having tied down his last limb his breathing was accelerated, his head was turned so he could look at me and his eyes were following every move I made, and I could just sense that he was terrified.

I am sadistic but I have a heart. It felt like weakness on my part at the time as I showed mercy by caressing his back a bit. You taught me that it is not weakness, though, to do what I want to do to a helpless male whether that is torture, tickling, making love, caressing, or anything else I want to do. I should have remembered it at this time because I felt a moment of weakness.

Peter calmed down somewhat so I ventured to tease him by whispering in his ear “You will be screaming in agony” before I went to retrieve the first implement. Peter must have recognized that I was playing with him as his rate of breathing only slightly increased.

His breathing quickened much more over the next minute as I started stroking him lightly with the lighter of my two floggers I brought. I wanted to start off mostly on his butt with a familiar implement even though the other time I used it caused too much pain, but then before there was enough force behind the strokes to cause much if any pain I switched to the heavy paddle I brought and whacked him on the butt.

Peter yelped and his body jerked. I paused after the one whack to give him time to react and to my relief he did not panic and seemed ready for more. I felt almost drunk with freedom, considering all of our past encounters. Peter turned his head with fear to watch me stroll from one side of the bed to the other and his body tensed as I slowly raised the paddle for him to see. I brought the paddle down with a huge amount of apparent windup and force and he jerked his body but the blow I delivered was light and not painful, causing him to exhale in relief.

It was so delicious to watch Peter’s cute butt tense and relax as he lay there at my mercy. I almost wanted to simply continue to tease and not hurt him but that would go too much against my sadistic nature and given the freedom to apply pain I did not want to waste the opportunity.

So I let him have it, albeit slowly. From his perspective I wailed away on his butt rotating among the two different paddles and the crop but there wasn’t much force behind the blows and I decreased the force even further whenever he started groaning in pain. It was in reality a very light scene but it was fun because I was able to adjust the level of pain at my whim and I could feel the power transfer. Peter was a lot of fun, too. He seemed to be enjoying himself the entire 20 minutes and the times between blows when I was just stalking him or purring threats in his ear elicited some good begging for mercy, clear indications of his enjoyment. Mistress, you know that I enjoy good male groveling!

When the scene was over and I untied him, Peter lunged at me and we hugged for a long time. He was so grateful that I felt certain he would continue to loosen the restrictions we had on our playtime for future scenes. I wanted to throw him on the bed and use him for my own pleasure but I held off until a future encounter. In retrospect, I probably could have taken my pleasure from him but at that time I did not want to go beyond what we had agreed upon because I was concerned about pushing him too far.

Chapter 3: Submission

In our next encounter Peter allowed me increased freedom and we experimented with something which scared him. I brought my violet wand and at first he was almost freaked out. It was adorable to see him sweating and nervous just from the thought of electricity but I assured him that it was very safe and the settings I would use caused little pain. He was shaking like a leaf as I applied static electricity to his arm but his entire body relaxed as he realized that there was no pain, only a tingling sensation. I increased the intensity and still he was fine with it.

Then Peter surprised me and asked if I would tie him up and use the violet wand on him. At my whim!

This was a big moment between us because it not only told me that he trusted me with a very scary device which was new to him, even though we had the safe words in place, but also that he actively wanted to submit to me. I almost had a tear in my eye but managed not to reveal too much of myself to this male.

I tied him down face up spread-eagled on the bed, naked of course, and he looked at me with sincere terror and pleading in his eyes. What a lovely sight! I just sat on the bed and smiled at him for a minute, taking in the pleasure of his submission and the sight of his obvious fear. I moved a bit suddenly to turn towards him and his body jerked in fear. He tried to laugh off his needlessly fearful reaction but he was clearly embarrassed about it.

At this point I was tempted to caress his body to calm him down but I went in the other direction. I smiled and, brandishing the wand, I looked at him as a torturer looks at her victim. I moved closer and could feel the fear emanating from his body as he strained against the rope. I powered on the electricity and Peter whimpered at the buzzing sound. I slowly moved the wand towards the side of his upper torso and his eyes followed the wand’s every movement while his breathing was very erratic.

Mistress, at this point I gave in to my primal instincts. Typically that would mean applying extra pain because you know how much I enjoy that but this time it meant lunging at him and covering his mouth in a long kiss. At first Peter pulled back in fear that I was going to hurt him but he quickly adjusted and it was a wonderful kiss. When I ended the kiss he clearly wanted more.

Then my typical primal instincts activated and with the violet wand I zapped the hell out of his fully erect dick. His screaming and thrashing was delicious! I should have been more reserved because after all Peter was new to submission, not counting what he used to call submission, and he was not a pain slut at all. He didn’t safe word and remained erect so I allowed myself to keep going, although I gave him breaks between zaps and did not zap him for more than a half-second at a time. I was proud of him for taking the pain and not using the safe word.

When I was done with him in that area I caressed him there and his thrashing and screaming in pain turned into thrusts and moans of pleasure. I used the wand on other areas of his skin while continuing the hand job. I could see the conflict in Peter’s facial expression between the pain and fear from the wand’s zap on his skin and the utter joy he felt from the hand job. I enjoyed the moaning and groaning sounds he was making.

In Peter’s mind I believe that he was certain I would continue this mixture of pain and pleasure to climax but, Mistress, I learned from the best. Thank you for your tutelage. I set the wand aside and he was getting closer and closer to a happy ending but I stopped all contact and his moans turned into whining and whimpering, thrusting himself into empty air. I stepped off the bed and Peter begged me but I paid him no apparent mind and went into the kitchen.

I returned with a bag of a few ice cubes and applied one directly to the underside of his package. He made that cute breathy sound males often make when ice is applied there, not just from the physical pain of the sudden temperature change but from the emotional dismay of going from heaven to hell. I love it!

After a minute his manhood was reduced to a flaccid state and poor Peter was whimpering. I hovered over his face and asked him if the baby would like a pacifier while he cried, then he did actually cry after I put the pacifier in his mouth and told him to suck on it. As you know, Mistress, I love to reduce a male to tears with a binky in his mouth.

Having satisfied myself at Peter’s expense I rewarded him with the hand job he craved and deserved. I could not help but laugh at him as he continued to weep and suck on the pacifier as he moaned in pleasure. Probably for the first time in his life his emotions were out of control and I felt great satisfaction and pleasure as though I had deflowered a virgin. But that would actually be for our next session.

Afterwards, I allowed Peter to bask in the afterglow before I removed his pacifier and untied his hands and feet. He did not move at first and I wasn’t certain whether or not he wanted help sitting up but he looked at me with an expression of, well, I can’t describe it except as an expression of love. Or perhaps it was an expression of gratitude. I opened my arms as an invitation and he sat up and then hugged me as he laid his head against my breast.

Mistress, I know that some males might do this as a way to access my breast but that was not the case here. Peter was emotionally devastated in a way and needed comforting, which I was very happy to provide. Indeed, he cried and sobbed as I hugged him to my chest.

We stayed in our aftercare embrace for 15 minutes which is almost a record for me and usually only needed after the most extreme torture scenes. In truth, I believe that Peter was fine after a few minutes as he had stopped crying and his breathing had returned to normal but his soft purring of pleasure made me want to hold him and pet his head forever.

Once our embrace ended and I asked Peter if he was okay, he and I talked for at least a half hour about the scene, his new feelings of submission, and life in general. As I mentioned earlier, Peter is wonderful to talk with. He told me that this was the best day in his life by far and that really warmed my heart.

Mistress, I am going to send this assignment report to you now even though I am not finished with my subject. If you see any errors or issues, please do not hesitate to let me know. I greatly value your input and could not dream of having a better mentor. Thank you.

Chapter 4: Respect

Mistress, as you know I have the highest respect for you. You are beyond just being an expert. You are truly a Goddess whom I admire and trust.

However, in this case I humbly submit that you are mistaken in your judgment and I place the blame for that squarely on my shoulders.

I am not falling in love with this male. I know that my writing makes it seem as though my emotions are out of control at times but it is just that I am not used to working with someone as raw and new as this male. This is my first time attempting to convert a do-me sub and it has been an enlightening experience for both of us. But it is not love I feel, only pleasure and satisfaction.

My work is not complete. The male has made great progress but it remains to be seen whether or not he could be a true submissive for more than just one or two scenes.

Thank you for your concern and for not ending my assignment prematurely. I will be vigilant for what you suggest and will continue to maintain control of my emotions at all times. I very much appreciate your continued guidance and wisdom. I will be careful.

Chapter 5: Work

Mistress, I did remain vigilant for what you cautioned against. In my next encounter with the male I wanted to focus on emasculation which I felt would be difficult for the male, Peter, who had made it clear in our previous conversations that he was not turned on by the thought of wearing women’s clothing or other male ego endangering activities. This was my game, though, and I was in charge as Peter allowed me freedom to lead him with surprises.

Peter agreed to set aside several hours for our next encounter. When I arrived and opened the large bag of goodies I had brought, Peter positively blushed. He seemed close to objecting but after his face showed initial protest it then gradually transformed into submission, a look which I know very well.

This time when I told Peter to strip he was hesitant but compliant. I started out by putting a small bra on him. His face was a very cute shade of red and I couldn’t help but laugh at him which added a bit more color to his face.

When I pulled out from my bag bright red nail polish, Peter was visibly shaken and his face turned somewhat white. Trying to avoid protesting, he instead gave a small whimper and then pulled back his hands and asked if we could skip this part. Really, his voice was a whine which was exciting for me to hear compared to his usual deep voice because it re-affirmed his acknowledgment of the power I had to show or deny him mercy. Mercy was not on the agenda! I gave him a stern look and he quickly reached out his hand for me to apply his paint of torment.

Peter’s facial expression was priceless, like a puppy which had lost his Master. As I applied bright red polish to his fingernails I could feel the power being drained from poor Peter’s psyche. It was a delicious feeling.

And when I knelt and started to paint his toenails he did not move an inch. His legs were slack with resignation as I moved his feet around to complete my work. Peter was not able to meet my gaze as I applied base, blush, eye liner, eye shadow, and mascara to his beautifully humiliated face and it looked like he was holding back from crying at times.

I always enjoy applying makeup to males, especially if it is emotionally difficult on them. I gave Peter words of encouragement – or humiliation as he likely interpreted it – such as how good he is beginning to look and how he will get so used to it that he will want this done every day. When I used the word cute it seemed to perk him up and he gave me a shy smile before he quickly looked away. That lightened his mood and I could see that the application of makeup became more bearable. Once his toes were dry I had Peter put on black fishnet stockings and a pair of my pink panties. I had decided not to risk ruining his attractive hair.

I pretended that we were done and Peter seemed relieved. We then moved on to the main event.

I helped him step into bright red high heels. As I wrapped the extra straps and began to apply padlocks Peter nervously asked what I am doing. With two pronounced clicks I felt the satisfaction of ownership and told my feminine male to walk around inside the room. His balance was poor and a couple of times he needed help to retain his balance. As he passed by the bed for the fifth time around I made my move.

I lunged at him and roughly threw him on the bed. I sat on his stomach and slapped his face, chest, and arms several times as he feebly tried to protect himself. During this time I yelled at him “Bitch you can’t fuck with me! I’m going to hurt you bad you fucker! You’re my bitch and I’m going to fuck your brains out!” Then I grabbed his wrists together and handcuffed them to a loop in the headboard. Once he was secured I pulled his ankles up and cuffed them to the headboard one at a time, which was not difficult as he had stopped struggling once the handcuffs had clicked into place. I stepped back and watched his cute ass held in position and ready for me as he was lying on his back with his body was folded in two with his wrists and ankles cuffed to the headboard above his head.

Mistress, I want to thank you again for helping me see that bigger is better, regardless of the level of discomfort. A dildo does not need to represent a real male’s cock and the one you helped me choose works great, thin at the end, ridged with those unusual shapes along the shaft, wide at the base, and 10″ long. I stepped into the strap-on and lubed it up.

I fucked my feminine male. I pulled his panties down and fucked him long and hard and it was great.

When Peter first saw the dildo his eyes popped wide and he started struggling again but he could barely move. All during our encounter so far he had resisted attempting any real protest because he was trying to please me and instead would simply whine and beg, acknowledging my authority. But the site of the dildo moving closer to his virgin ass broke his resolve and he used all of his vocal skills to convince me not to violate him.

It’s too big. It will hurt. I can’t handle that. How dare you. You don’t have the right. I respect his persuasion skills and allowed him time to attempt to change my mind but it was of course to no avail. He was sweating and shaking in fear so I reached through his legs and caressed his head which calmed him down as he pressed his cheek against my hand. His protests turned into just some whimpering as I pulled my hand back and prepared to enter him.

September 2018
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