Friday Femdom Fiction: Toys For Good Boys

sex toys for boys are the best“It’s too hot to fuck.” She was clad only in panties, sprawled so they just touched, arm to arm and her ankle layered over his. In her perception is body was radiating heat, and she’d broken off their kissing to escape it.

His boxers were covering about 3/4 of an erection, enough to keep her interested, predatory and playful, while the cuffs wrapped around his wrists and ankles held him, immobilized and spread, on display.  She had planned it out differently, tease herself and him until he was full-hard, then ride him, but three minutes of making out had put an end to that. Summer was getting in her way.

He looked disappointed, but not like he disagreed with her logic.  “Ok, Miss…”

“Hmmm.” Although the fun of denial had its merits, it wasn’t what she wanted this time. She screwed up her face, setting herself to a new course of action. “Do exactly what I say, and don’t move.”

She stooped over him, pulling the velcro loose from his right wrist, safety first. “Stay.”

She left the room knowing he was safe, getting herself a tall glass of ice water, adding a straw with a sense of whimsy. As her demand, when she returned, he was still lying in place, band of the cuff still neat under his wrist. She smirked, refastening him. “Good boy.”

A moment later an the toy box was dragged from beneath the bed. “I was thinking I was going to make you into my fuck toy, but instead I think I’ll fuck you with some toys instead.”

There was what she needed, and more she didn’t inside. The cuffs and straps always lived on the bed for when she wanted him bound, but the rest was a buffet she lingered over, picking just the right accessories: the lube in its plain packaging, the plug, tapering from blunt point to fat flare and then its skinny neck and second wide ring, all silicone, and the canister with its supple sleeve lining the barrel. There really wasn’t a good name for it. Pocket pussy, onnacup, fliphole. Flesh Light. This one was an offbrand, bought at a sex shop, plain white plastic outside, pale beige inside.

When she’d picked it out, she’d tested it with her finger, penetrating it, and imagining what it might feel like. It was so soft, yet the pliant sleeve inside had a strength she looked forward to testing.

He got a glance at what she’d picked, and lifted his shoulders a little off the bed, stretching to try to see more.

“Hey!”

He let his shoulders fall, looked guilty.

“I should punish you, I never said you could move.” She took a sip over her water. “Be good.”

“Sorry Mi…”

Casually she dripped her fingers into her water and flicked them at his torso, startling him with the sudden motion. He flinched. She grinned.

“Ha.”  She fished an ice cube from her drink and looked over her target. His skin was pale, blotched pink at the least pressure, his chest and stomach marked but not hidden by hair.  The line of his collarbone made an excellent target, playful, leaving a melt trail as she pressed it to his flesh and slid the ice along.

He gave a little sigh as she circled the ice around his chest, around and then the lightest nudge against his nipples.

“That’s better you’re staying put now.”

He was biting his lip, curious to see where she went next. The ice went quick, melted down into almost nothing and she flicked her tongue across the melt-trail, tasting salt and feeling the contrast of hot and cool skin. He whimpered.

“More?” Her other hand cupped his groin through the fabric over them, then tugged at the elastic, sliding them off his hips, only to realize her mistake.

She made a tsking noise at herself, stopped from further undressing him by his bound legs. “Ha. Didn’t plan everything.”

A quick rip noise and she freed his leg long enough to get him completely naked. “You’re in for a treat, slut. I want you full.”

Even in the summer heat the slick, clear lube was cool on her fingers, glossy and viscous. She squeezed the bottle to ease out a little more, then set it aside.

Her fingers hooked in a come-hither motion, the longest one pressing and coaxing him to relax, spreading the lube and pushing it inside him, then caressing the plug, rolling it in her hand to coat it. She didn’t force, instead using an insistent pressure to push it, until he yielded, swallowing it up, first the tip and then the widest point.

As the swell of it slipped inside him he gave a grunt of accommodation, and that yielding gave her a little thrill that traveled from her cunt up her core. “Do you know what happens next, slut?”

She’d played with him, with the toy before, but it was still a novelty for both of them as she popped the cap off the cup, feeling the petal softness of the inner sleeve before filling it with a generous helping of lube. With the same casual ownership she handled the toys she grabbed around the root of his cock, pumping her lube slick hand up and down, once, twice, three times, before guiding the head of his cock into the narrow constriction of the sleeve.

His reaction was instant, a sort of tension that jerked his hips up at the first hilting slide and squared his shoulders. At first she took her time, hearing the wet, sucking sounds as the sleeve-and-cup did its work, nubs and ribs hidden from view but teasing the length of his cock. “Just right, hm? Tight but not too tight so you can’t feel it?”

As he always did during sex he had gone almost non-verbal, but he managed a quick nod, albeit a little shakey.

“Well look at that,” she purred, enjoying the perspective that let her watch as she engulfed him again and again. “You get that extra kick of hard when I use this, don’t you? But the best part is that it stays.”

He had his eyes closed, but his hips were making little thrusts from below. To punish him, she lifted her arm up a little, pulling the strokes back out of his control, while her palm rested on his stomach. “Nope, you will come when I want you to.”

He made another moan, but she took her time, building and reducing, until she could smell the mix of sweat and lust in the humid air. “Ready?”

A slight twist, skillful and a speed up were all it took to finish building. With a certain degree of satisfaction in her craft, she saw his breath catch and his balls tighten, getting him just about to the point of no return before her verbal consent sent him over.

“UNGH.”

She gave a chuckle. The sheets were soaked and his hair was glued to his forehead. Even the exertion of working the toy had left her fanning herself in the aftermath. He panted, open mouth, at the last little spasm.

“Shower time. Then my turn.”


 

Once again, a friendly fan offered to support a post to make sure that you guys get some extra smut. I’m usually overly busy on stuff that pays the bills,  but they meet all the criteria for a good relationship. In this case they are purveyors of blowjob machines, and I think I’ve been pretty upfront about how much I support men getting to enjoy sex toys.

Me, I took the time to write something as realistic as it was erotic. There’s not enough examples of normal people sex, with those pauses, unplanned oops and extra details like lubing it up or rolling on a condom.

Why Kinkshaming Ruins Christmas

Snowy gif used to illustrate conversation on kinkshamingOk, ok that was shameless clickbait. I’m sorry. It’s not that bad. What I am talking about is actually the conversation around “Baby It’s Cold Outside“. There are two camps around this popular carol, one that observes that it is a festive version of Blurred Lines only worse, and a counter point  that it is totally not an ACTUAL date rape in progress, just an old timey courtship that looks like a date rape by modern standards.

The latter is going the rounds of my Vanilla-ish facebook, which I think misses the point completely of the first camp not enjoying hearing a woman playfully plead about not wanting to be there. It argues that “Mouse” (the woman) and “Wolf” the (the man) in the duet are consenting but playing out the script of the era, so to relax. Other versions mention it is a husband and wife team that wrote and originally performed it as if this was relevant.

I have things I can say on facebook- I can say it is problematic because it’s about the expectations of predation, a celebration of an era before enthusiastic consent, the mere fact that the duet parts are named after specific animals tells you the expected power dynamic and so on. I can rebut the fact that trying to defend it because she softens her no to blame other people is bullshit that doesn’t understand how women diffuse rejection to protect themselves.

And sharing it uncritically as old timey fun is how we end up with this rather gag worthy video where Bublé uses child actors to show how cute it is to push past a woman showing she’s not interested. This is probably a more accurate version from Funny or Die.

But… then I also write horrifying kink porn for fun and profit.

The thing that frustrates me is that there is no space to step in and tell people it’s ok to fetishize sexual violence, but you have to acknowledge it as sexual violence. Romance and erotica have always had a scope of displaying everything from full consent to outright rape, and the ability to label things dub-con (dubious or questionable) or non-con (sexual assault) in contemporary porn is part of developing a healthier conversation around it.

It is ok to be titillated or warm and fuzzy about a holiday song of  light M/f.  It’s ok to want someone to ‘force’ you into spending the night with them while pretending innocence, provided you also have the framework of free consent protecting you. The point it becomes dangerous is when you romantasize that being just how normal sexuality works or worked.

And it’s not like this was the distant past- people who fucked in the fifties according to these standards of conduct are still out having sex. Harrison Ford’s Deckard was assaulting Rachel Replicant in 1982 and having it be told as a straight if stormy love story (and his Indiana Jones was paired with someone he first boinked when she was 15 to his character’s 27 to which he blames on her). 80s era romances are notoriously rape-y, hence the perpetuation of the idea of the bodice ripper. The recent spate of sexual assault scandals are all built on the same idea that the enthusiasm of one of the partners doesn’t need to be present either at first or at all.

You, the reader, probably knows that real reluctance or real resistance is a flat out hard stop. If you permit either you have a global dynamic that means that “real” still gives your partners and out.

A safer world means one where we can explicitly say that Baby It’s Cold Outside is about as icky as He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss).  It also means one where we look to why we feel the need to use historicals to tell stories about sexual assault or statutory rape (in the two 80s movies I cited, one is in faux 40s  future noire and the other is set in the 30s, continuing the trend of).

But…

I am turned on by fucked up shit. I also have dealt with harassment and violence, and I don’t ever want to do or experience that shit for real again, and harp on consent so much to stop this from being an issue.  But as far as the complete picture, people like me are left out of the conversation because we can’t be honest about the reason why we are clinging to excuses to share and enjoy unhealthy relationships.

As the various people share that defensive tumblr post on facebook I can’t point out that what they want is a rape fantasy. The fact that talking about getting turned on by consent violations is taboo leads to a really unfortunate, lopsided conversation. The middle path here that lets people enjoy the idea of people ignoring their No while still having it respected for real is missing. Kinkshaming ruins everything and is forcing people who like a lil violence in theirf fantasy life into uncomfortable company with the people who like a lil violence in their real life. Since the latter should catch fire and fall into the sea, this sucks.

If we had a healthier conversation about the role that stealth kink plays in people’s idea of the romantic, we’d all have a happier Christmas.


The art is taken from here.