Month: June 2020

How To Find A Domme

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Ok! So you are into this, and you want to find a partner to experience your kinks with. You may have been inspired by the porn you’ve watched or seen, or maybe you had a few past experiences with someone that set you on the quest to replicate your discovery, and find a domme. Now what?

This post intends to be a comprehensive introduction to trying to find a woman to dominate you, and the bare bones of getting a femdom relationship to be more likely to happen. Long time readers might think this is all very basic but, it comes up over and over again in discussion forums dedicated to kink, and in my inbox. Should this information help, please share it- it’s a great way to help other kinky folks better get the help they need.

(I do warn that if it seems like I’m using the phrase “find a domme” over and over again, this is intentional. Search engines are dumb and will toss repetition higher in ranking, meaning it’s easier for people like you, the reader, to find this information even if you are stuck googling.)

And, of course, this isn’t the last word I have said or will say on the subject. For a short form version, here’s 8 things to help you find a femdom. I also did a link post on how to find a mistress, for other resources.

So, where to start, to find a domme?

Let’s assume you are the most basic of novices. You are currently a single adult…

You have two options that are fairly different: a professional domme (prodom and dominatrix are other common terms she might use) or the so called “lifestyle femdoms”. The latter are a lot closer to a wife, girlfriend or friend with benefits, as far as finding them, while the former means hiring a sex worker.

Finding A Domme By The Professional Route

[DISCLAIMER] I am a lifestyle only femdom so the information here is not based on being a primary source. There are many professionals who have written more nuanced, insider perspectives on their business.

The chief advantage of the professional route is that you can get the closest from-porn-to-demand experience, and the only strings tend to be basic human respect and a significant outlay of money on your part. Unfortunately most places stigmatize and/or criminalize sex work, so you and your provider both assume some risk. Note that of the various sex workers you could see, the prodom is less likely to offer explicitly sexual contact (touching your genitals, sometimes even pegging) than many other categories (such as escorts, massage parlours, etc…). Also, depending on the laws of you area, the conversation on how to try things like pegging can still be complicated.

Professional femdoms are usually extremely up front about their advertising, although they range on skill, experience and selectiveness.

You can expect her to ask for references or some sort of identity verification on your part, and a deposit is normal. It is ok to politely ask for references from her, and most professionals are extremely patient with the new and confused. She almost certainly has a website or clear guidelines on what she wants, and your ability to follow those are going to be part of how she screens to make sure you are not terrible.

Not ready for in person? There is also a whole host of remote services, from camgirls and phone sex (now voip enabled!), to women who work as a sort of adults only influencer, producing porn content through sites like OnlyFans or Clips4Sale, but allowing you to pay for more personalized fan access.

Do keep in mind that a prodom is probably is not looking for a full time relationship, and she vastly prefers if you read whatever pricelist, client requirement or menu she has published as a FAQ. Expect her to be extremely strict with her boundaries and time- she has to be.

I’ve already spoke exhaustively about the trade offs in other posts here and why I make a big deal about not being a pro femdom. However, speaking from a less me focused perspective: In your paid experience, expect her to be in the business of creating an immersive fantasy. She may be personally into what she is doing and a lot of pros value their vocation, but her connection with you is a lot closer to other forms of body work and emotional labour, like a barber, personal trainer, massage therapist, or a life coach. Don’t expect this to be the gateway into magic kink land where she lives as she does in a session, at all times.

Nonetheless, the connection you share might be intimate and meaningful. What she is offering is not fake, just that she’s deeply simplifying everything for you and taking a lot of the up front risks.

The Lifestyle Femdom Search

Here’s the illusion buster: a non-pro relationship means dealing with the whole woman. Much of the same challenges of heterosexual dating and hooking up exist here, except there’s the extra bonus that many dommes sincerely don’t realize what they are into could overlap with what you are into.

There are a vanishingly small number of women looking for pick-up-play with people, much like it’s hard to find women actively seeking a vanilla one night stand. I don’t personally feel women are less horny than men, but unless you are living under a rock, you know the social and physical risk, and the high chance of an unsatisfying experience generally favour being much more restrained, and hiding your interests, than it does for a man.

Find a Domme By Meeting A Lot of Women

Sorry, part of this is a numbers game. I wish I could tell you that you could easily follow a quick flow chart of steps 1 through 37, but you, the human have to do all the stuff that makes humans generally attractive (good health, a passing awareness of fashion and what looks good on you, learning how to carry on a conversation) and talk to people.

I can give you some tips to make your search more efficient, but this is still not going to be fair or necessarily easy. You could be a nervous virgin or the local Lothario, but the path to finding a partner doesn’t especially change just because you have particular needs.

Looking in the Kink Community to Find a Domme

Your nearest BDSM community has a few openly dominant women, either switches or not, and some of these women are more casual about who they play with. This is not a bad port of call to start with, but absolutely go into this not with the desire to bag a girl right away and skip off into the sunset, but put yourself in the proximity of kinky women and to learn stuff.

And… don’t just try to learn from the dominant women. Talk to the other male subs. Talk to the male doms. Talk to the female subs. Talk to the switches. Talk to the plethora of nonbinary humans who may fall anywhere on the spectrum of kink interest. Think of it as your chance to sponge up information about anything from safe play, where to buy or how to make gear, and new kinks to try, through to watching other people’s drama as educational bad examples.

Vanilla Places to Find a Domme

Your next best place to find a femdom is in alternative or nerdy communities. Goths, pagans, LARPers, tabletop RPGs, polyamory support groups, the burlesque scene and so on tend to favour women who are more open minded and imaginative, and this tends to extend further to their approach to the bedroom. Again, this isn’t a slam dunk scenario where you can order a dominant out of a catalog, but if you find someone you have mutual attraction to, the conversation is likely to go a lot more smoothly.

More on flirting and asking for what you need later, because the third best place to look is your immediate pool of who you would normally date. The trick, when you want to find a domme in your own pool of typical matches (co-workers, friends of your friends people who share your hobby, religion or ethnicity, even people on dating sites) is knowing how to get that conversation open without embarrassing or scaring either of you.

Asking For What You Want

Tell the average woman you want to be dominated, and she will not know specifically what you mean by that. She probably has some pop culture ideas of the gothy, harsh mistress in a corset who doesn’t particularly like men. She probably also has some equally terrible stereotypes about what sub guys look and act like. Unfortunately, parallel to your quest to find a Domme, femdoms have their own barriers to self discovery. Therefore, how you frame the subject will go a long way to how it comes across and one of your main goals is avoiding getting you both stuck in unappetizing stereotypes.

This is not because all women want a hyper dominant alpha bull god who is 6’11” and counter balances his enormous penis by stuffing his back pockets with thick wads of cash. This is because the commonly understood idea of what a dominatrix is, outside of those with much real experience with kink, is a service job meets every negative stereotype about women. Even if you absolutely positively mean that when you want to find a domme you want just the fetish mistress in the leather uniform who hates acts like they don’t like you, you will still need to break down what you want, and what boundaries that will happen in.

You need to answer what it means to you, personally, to find a Domme, before you can communicate that to a partner.

Do you just like her being the ultimate arbiter of things in your relationship at large? Do you like nurturing and pampering? Do you get aroused from feeling jealous? Do you like the sense of humiliation? Or is it being helpless? Or both? Or is it being extremely looked after and cherished?

Do you have specific fetishes like feet, or being spanked? Do you want things in your butt? Do you want a plastic or metal thing on your genitals she carries the key to? Wear lingerie?

If you can’t answer those questions, she won’t be able to figure out what makes your cock throb. If she likes sex and she likes you, she probably wants to know more. But, if your plan is to just go supine at her feet and say you want to be dominated, expect your quest to find a domme to be a disaster. You need self knowledge.

Of course, if you have no practical experience, your likes and dislikes are theoretical. Nonetheless, you can still probably break down your porn to particular aesthetics, acts, etc…

Flirting Like a Sub and Being Attractive to Women

If you haven’t noped out by this point, and are still reading… Let’s talk about advertising yourself. I already told you to play the numbers game, now you optimize.

Being attractive. Every human has the potential to improve on what they were born with. Maybe you look like an emaciated toe after the scurvy set in, but someone fucked your ancestors. Knock out the low hanging fruit (hygiene, fit of your clothing, any health problem you can afford to treat, cardiovascular fitness and enough muscle to hold your body upright).

What do the women you find attractive generally go for? Ok, take “Creep” off your stereo. There’s all sorts of personal, subculture specific sorting people do. Beyond that, what media do these women consume? What do advertisers try to sell them as far as men? This is how to human 101, but I am writing this assuming you got the masculine upbringing that specifically punished you, explicitly or implicitly from showing an interest in girly things, so if you are a normal fellow I am giving you valuable recon information.

Playful surrender and alluring teasing. Ok, fine, now the good stuff. Your teeth are brushed. Your shirt fits. You realized the kind of $blonde you like generally prefer hangs out with guys who affect a surfer look. Whatever. The nice part about kink is it is actually surprisingly polite to take public. Flirting as a sub is all about sending out test balloons.

No, obviously you can’t ask your coworker flat out to be your keyholder as the first word go. Flirting is about building up a slowly escalating rapport which, because humans are so notoriously bad at judging, lets either of you safely exit the process at any time

I have a pet theory that the ability to navigate social nuance is the true peacock display, swollen rump or stag horn grapple of the human species, but leaving off the pet evolutionary biology theories of the author, and back to helping you…

The three things you need in your would be domme are the enjoyment of being in a one up position, a degree of open mindedness and/or a creative but romantic streak, and an attraction to male vulnerability.

Your best flirting tactics to open the conversation and test the ground is to see how she reacts to you casting her as in charge (eg “you’re the boss, yes ma’am, I know who’s the queen of the office, I know my place around you”). To see about how likely kink is going to go poorly, check how she responds to what if scenarios (eg if she has a great deal of scorn for non-conformity in her peer and an assumption people only work a particular way in gender roles, she probably won’t respond well to the idea of pegging you). Lastly, check how she sees men in distress, pain, etc. Empathy is the twin of sadism, so being very caretaker-y or liking comedy where the victim suffers could both be examples of tells. Your job is to not escalate too fast, and both give you room to step off, if you need to show her no harm done, or segue back into just friends.

Lastly I want you remember that every relationship is unique to the people involved. It’s probably going to be a fusion of your aesthetics, tastes, kinks, things that you mutually create and discover, and the exact same for hers. Your functional femdom will probably not look off the rack, straight from the porn or otherwise be by the numbers. Embrace the custom fit.

Thus, I am not promising you a magic bullet, but you will end up a fair lot closer to your goal than if you just set out to find a domme cold. And hey, I pay for my own hosting, toss a Kofi to your blogger?

Covert Kink, Desperation, and Crossborder Femdom in Covid19

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I don’t want to make a spectacle. Regardless of my personal politics of wanting a world where collars are as welcome as wedding rings, we want to go some place private and fuck, not have our covert kink in a national park.

I want him chained to my bed, instead I am picking a goth lite outfit, and a cream and blue picnic tablecloth, while refreshing the weather report over and over again.

We definitely do not want to make our way through the neatly manicured lawns of the park, and past every other couple doing the same thing to find this relative privacy. I have to throw a blanket over our laps because my nibbling on his ear gets him rock hard, and all our twining up together causes my skirt to ride up to my waist.

From time to time there is a pause as passerbys stray too close. We are mindful of the fact that this is a “family” park. I think there was even a wedding going on at one point.

Fuck. I want to practice the glide of a strapon in and out of his ass, and instead we are discovering an advanced form of footsie.

A boomer grandpa, local, notes we have been there almost long enough “to pay taxes”. Silver deflect politely would that jocular kind of conflict prevention Midwest politeness that he seems to manage to keep everyone at arm’s length with. 

I really, really don’t want any of these people involved in my love life, but here we are, like a couple of teenagers dodging our parents, sighing with a sticky yearning that glues our gaze to each other. This is time two, last time was for my birthday, covertly hypnotizing my submissive at the park.

But it’s a date, and I have taken care with my makeup, although the humidity pulls my dark hair into curls. A halo of short pieces standing up about my scalp, while the first hints of my grey hair peek where I will brush dye this week to turn it back dark. Nonetheless, I feel content that I look pretty, and feel myself. The only real hint of sexuality is black thigh highs, opaque and fixed to my pale skin with sock glue.

Silver’s dressed casually too, just like last time. Fabric soft to my touch, tasteful, and if you didn’t know there was a pattern, rather camouflaged by maleness to appear invisible. I guess the word is Normcore? I like it. He makes me feel safe in a way I haven’t figured out how to articulate completely yet.

He also brings other supplies in a black duffel bag, and a slightly imperfect latte order, which he handles getting wrong with an acceptance I prefer. The picnic lunch for me is berries, olives, cherries and smoked salmon, and for him a simple wrap.

I meet him where the path leads off into the American parking, hopping the edge of a decorative flower bed to get closer quicker to kiss him. Over the course of this long quarantine he’s lost a little bit of weight, and I feel it when we press together. As usual he has almost no scent other than the imperceptible pheromones that I suppose you can’t really put a smell label to, but there is that warmth in aliveness of another human, and that presence that I love.

By now in our relationship I’ve learned the density of his body the stiffness so well, I could recognize him by touch. It’s an exploration that started the first time I pushed him down onto his carpet. I can’t be so bold, here in the park.

But femdom isn’t about the obvious costumes, and it isn’t about needing elaborate furniture. It’s not even about sweeping gestures you can see from a mile away. I can be subtle and I can be so appropriate I could carry on in the front pews of a church. I fit our dynamic into this space, where it belongs.

The only hint of what we’ve done so far is like an inside joke only we get: a pocket watch that hangs around my neck on a long brass tinted chain. It doesn’t look naughty, and if you weren’t a hypnosis fetishist or you didn’t know what we did together, you wouldn’t know what it implied. When I show it to him, after we’re cuddled up together, he ends up with his hand wrapped around. 

It’s less what I do, this time, but what it means.

It means I love him. It means that I see the idea of swinging a watch and speaking in a trance pulling sing-song sexy. It means that I meet him half-way on any perversion, not out of indulgence but because it makes me wet.

So much of kink really is just elaborately overwrought romantic gestures with a fig leaf of harshness. All the business of collars and promises of obedience, and the other ridiculous backstage scaffold to make power exchange work, ridiculous romantic drama. I swear half the attraction to this is your ability to go over the top and keep your street cred.

Take our little bit of sneaky bondage: binding Silver’s wrists with a hand dyed grey silk ribbon. The gesture is covert kink again and not so obviously in bondagey anyone can tell what we are doing. Later, the ribbon ends up around his neck as an eccentric accessory.

Who specifically obsesses for weeks over finding ribbon soft and perfect enough to be suitable? The poor etsy purveyor who expected to sell it to decorate bridal bouquets contends with a lower star rating because I think it frays too much for the aesthetic I wanted.

I care so darn much about these things.

Meanwhile, his urge to serve means he has yet again brought me flowers, this time pink lilies, with almost tiger like stripes. He wants to give more to me. I can tell he really does.

Normal relationships don’t let you do that kind of thing. You would come across as weird and obsessive. Maybe on special ritual occasions it would be permitted, but things like him automatically bringing me a bouquet just for this casual little hangout (at least for white educated, middle class leftie nerds), would otherwise be seen as a bit much. Here? Perfect.

I think as much as people focus on kink as whips, leather and giving yourself as an object, kink is just as much about the permission to transgress social boundaries without transgressing personal boundaries. It’s the meaning we assign to symbols, not the symbols themselves that have the power.

And some covert kink is more physically hidden.

It’s funny, even with hours of the spooning up together, for the first half we talked about very little. I suppose that’s why they call it sweet nothings; coming up with a dozen synonyms to say that you love someone.

He discovered a new cruelty in this situation. Because we do not want this to be shared with the public, when I touch him, I command him not to move. Not one wriggle, hump or thrust. Nothing to get more sensation than what I give him, and the moment that unavoidable biological programming makes him break, I stop.

And then he collects himself and, when I know I won’t violate anyone else’s comfort, I start again.

He says I have ruined him in a dreamy sort of voice, before flopping off to the side. It’s terribly butterflies inside producing for me, making him this helpless.

The worst, for him, is when he is kneeling in front of me, just about the length of my legs, far enough to have to lean to kiss me. My dextrous feet find the outline of his cock through his pants and up between his leg, pressing that spot where that length of his cock tucks back into his body. Silver is built so it is uniquely close to the surface, and that grab between the legs turns him into a submissive puddle. This is barely a pat, but because we have that shared memory, if I can’t just handle him like we do in private, I can take him close to that place.

I have long toes, and a fair amount of flexibility in my feet. This is easy, sitting sock footed, grinding and stroking his cock with the ball and arch of my left foot, while my right keeps up the pressure on his perineum. All this is concealed away under a blanket and his palms, by my command, stay flat on the ground. It’s also memories of being a silly dumb teenager in a park with another virgin, doing way too much PDA. He’s “middle aged”, I am almost there. I see what people mean when they say love makes you feel young again.

Remember: No moving. No hints. Keep it hidden. Keep it tasteful.

At one point he gets so overwhelmed that he reveals another quirk: his natural tendency to bite.

The poor thing is self conscious about it. I had my suspicions when he out of the blue suggested biting my breasts the first time he got his mouth on them. He swore he was simply anticipating my masochism.

Silly man, your secrets are all mine eventually. I know what you crave even before you have learned to articulate it.

The next round of teasing my hand is in his mouth, ordering him to bite down. I am much too aroused to find this painful and I enjoy forcing him into what he likes.

It’s a fun kind of dehumanizing. After, each time I have matched prints and realize some upper middle class dental requirements of his childhood took a couple of the front teeth, to give him that perfect white, even American smile.

He seems perplexed at the tooth imprints  even as I admire them, and kisses them at my command. He says he feels like he should apologise and I tell him if he does that I will slap him.

I watch his mind process that, until a smile of complete content smugness washes over his face. He realized the game is rigged: He always wins, exactly the way I want him to.

One apology later and I deliver a pop-slap from a short distance, discreetly but with a sting. That’s the least covert kink activity the whole time, very careful.

The real and heavy.

The last hour gets oddly serious because I talk about my trauma. We are discussing the general operation of our brains- him navigating not wanting to insult me by saying that had our connection via pastimes ceased, prior to the revelation of my interest in him and my kinks he would have continued merrily along in bachelor isolation.

Nerd love. He is an island unto himself, I described myself as having a personal affect like the Prince Ali number midway through Aladdin. I am not an open book, I am an animated billboard spelling out my seemingly innermost thoughts.

You, reader, cannot hurt me as you have no access to this vulnerability: that I could be made happy in a way that made me care if I got more. Silver and I have managed to mutually catch each other by something we deeply need.

So it takes more courage to gently let him know just how insecure I am. That my initial refusal of random acts of delivery soup when I am ill, or being doted on with material things is a particular kind of lengthy damage.

There’s that Hozier song “It will come back”.

I know who I am when I’m alone/

Something else when I see you/

You don’t understand, you should never know/

How easy you are to need/

Hozier

The kind of damage you give a child by alternatively depriving and smothering them. Where they learn to be wary in love, because that’s how you get got.

It’s not a kink thing, where I dominate because my mother abused me and my father abandoned me. My desires exist separate to that. On the contrary the predation of my kinks get tangled up in the gunshy vulnerability of a serial abuse victim- I don’t feel submissive in this vulnerability, but I feel more cautious because to let someone submit to me is to open myself to joy.

It’s always been easy to love someone, and never been easy to be loved properly.

Last week, as well as enduring seventeen days of migraine, I examined my history in the context of past relationship choices. Brain weasels skip about. I feel incredibly embarrassed about this.

But it is who I am and what I feel.

Canada will later extend the border closure, surprising neither of us. By the time this is written, the park will be closed again on the Canadian side, citing that the sheer parking overflow was causing issues, even if the meetings themselves were safe. A petition to reopen the park is at over 2500 signatures now, and ticking up, but who knows when or if I will hold him in my arms again?

But, we endure. What other choice do we have, for now?

Image provided with permission, by Pen & Kink

Friday Femdom Fiction: Small Penis Humiliation

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Small penis allusion via calla lily

“Dominant? No baby, we both know you can’t satisfy me that way. Your cock is just so little and soft, like that.”

“I am not being mean, baby. I am laughing because you think I want a rough, tough alpha man, and all you can provide is a small penis on a blushing little boy.”

“I just can’t take you seriously in charge. Your body doesn’t lie, baby. You can strut and posture and smack my ass, but the only thing that actually makes you stir is my pleasure. Otherwise, it’s all big commanding words with a wee little shy dick.”

“Isn’t it funny the more bossy you try to be the easier I can slip the cage onto your cock? It’s only after to feel that little lock click you start getting big.”

“And then your cock is just straining to be free. You know you weren’t meant to have control. Your body knows. Think about it! Imagine how unsatisfied I would be if you tried to fuck me with that squishy little thing! It’s the size of my thumb and nowhere near as firm.”

“See how even my voice gets you going? See how you can feel the more I tease and rub your face in it the harder you get? You could tie me up, smack me around and do those alpha growls and all you would be is a little boy playing pretend. As sexless and unable to fuck me as a eunuch!”

“Why waste both our time when you can give in. Let your true, submissive self bring you to your knees and feel your pants get tight as you swell. Feel my slap sting your face and get thick. Feel my hands roughly strip you and get all pent up.”

“Drop the act, baby. Call you Master? That’s the funniest thing ever. You weren’t made to be in charge, you were made to struggle to be a good boy with your cock so hard it hurts and the whole length so swollen it’s curving up back towards your belly on its own.”

“You see my pretty tits, you don’t want to tie them up, you want to press your face there and worship and feel me stroke your hair and call you a good boy.”

“And my slick, pink cunt? Haha to think you imagined you could ravage me with your dick so small and soft? Put your collar back on, baby. The only way you can fill me up is with my voice in your ear reminding you that you are property.”

“It’s ok baby, sometimes you get confused and forget your place. But isn’t it better to give in, to beg for me to pump and stroke you, to tease and edge you?”

“I thought so, the minute I said that your hand strayed between your legs. You wanted to touch. It’s okay baby, show me what really gets you hard.”

“Being reminded you are property makes you thick. Being told who you belong to is the only way you get long for me. And look at that, I give you permission to jerk for me and you are already having more fun than if you tried to take what you think you wanted.”

“Say it, baby. Say who you belong to. Who owns your cock. Admit that trying to be in charge makes you soft and tiny and useless.”

“There now, isn’t that better? Your cock is do hard I can see you are already drooling precum. Dripping for me. Now, ask me nicely to fuck me and serve me with your thick submissive cock, and maybe I will consider letting you empty some of that pent up cum.”

“Yeah, give in and it makes you a man for me. Now show me what you can do with your cock, now I have reminded you who owns you.”

Hypnotising My Submissive At The Park

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“The more you desire me, the more obedient you become. The more obedient you become, the more you desire me.”

Initially, the syllables don’t flow easily, but the loop pleases me. After I’ve taken him down with simple breathing exercises, timed with counting, I make him repeat them until they come out in a smooth mantra.

He is so relaxed in my arms, I am cradling his head, controlling how he flops back onto the bright gingham checked picnic cloth. It’s about two in the afternoon and we are both making the best of things on international territory, a park that lets us be together in person while a border is mostly shut.

To anyone observing, we are one of the many couples here, in their invisible bubbles, slithered up to one degree of intimacy or another. We are not the most bold, that point goes to the wriggling pair who brought a blanket, nor as practical as the two or three who brought a tent. I don’t think anyone could be brought up on a public indecency charge, but it’s a common state of shared longing.

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Making My Submissive Fuck A Fleshlight For Me

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Caption: making my submissive fuck a fleshlight for fun.

The Fleshlight is mounted to the glass surface of the desk, in an improvised hold with tape, and I am watching the pink length of my sub’s cock slide into the clear barrel of it. Making my submissive fuck a fleshlight is a mutual fantasy realized from one of my Friday Femdom Fiction stories.

He’s standing to angle a bit up as the height of his desk is ergonomic for typing, not sex. This only adds an extra frisson of sexy for me as to fuck the fleshlight means a struggle.

I am doing this to make him practice fucking for me. Some of this is to make do in the pandemic enforced distance, but I would also do it with him aa well. Today was no frills #SundayWorship, our weekly webcam date, anticipated all week around jobs and volunteering and other adult concerns. The only prop on my side was an old timey pocket watch necklace that sways in my hand while I repeat commands for him to follow. 

That gets him in an already autonomous drone head state, although he was smiling ear to ear when I called him.

As a toy, Fleshlight really goes out of it’s way to market itself with women holding the product. Maybe to make it less lonely or fight the current stigma, a real difference between the vibrators and dildoes for women which make no pretense of being for private masturbation first. It really feels like femdom porn is the only place I have found where I see fleshlights deployed as a couple thing, which is a crying shame.

Because of this stigma, there is an aspect of possible humiliation in what I am doing to him, but it doesn’t feel like I am degrading him. I think it’s fucking hot, all the voyeuristic glee of watching the line of his body undulate to thrust. He’s learning to fuck for me.

It’s so much harder for himthan edging with his hand because the sensations are all new, different, less in his control and he is focusing on a rhythm and also on me and my voice and reactions. Which is a good metaphor for sex: overwhelming and intimate.

That’s the purpose of this operation, other than pure gratification: training him to fuck before we do it for real, so he learns other sensations than the buzz of a vibrators or the excessive firmness of his hand. It isn’t because I think our first time will be crap. I actually want that awkward moment of him learning the intimacy of being inside me and having little idea of what the hell he is doing.

But I also want him to have a degree of readiness, because my objectification isn’t humiliation, it’s programming a prized possession.

The tape creaks and the desk bumps, the lube making a wet sucking sound. I see him get the hang of judging depth quickly, only one mis-thrust that throws him off, and he’s back at it. A good boy. I tell him that, calling him my fucking machine.

After I get him to pump away for a while from standing, I decide to make him change positions and hold the fleshlight so he is first half, than ¾ in and then keep it steady, thrusting up while I watch on camera.

Every time I instruct him to go deeper for me and hilt for me he gives a yelping kind of whimper and we have to take a break, a fact that owes at least a little to his up and down seated thrusts pushing a buttplug I had him fit himself with in and out as he presses back against the chair. I think the other part is the mental connection of being commanded to please me that way is just all too much.

Whike this happens, I am pressing and rubbing my clit in its hood, slick enough my panties are soaked through, black cotton with lace edges. I always dress up for these webcam dates, all stockings with bows and garters, seeing myself as well as him.

Each whimper and abrupt stop after a few strokes is like a mini, pop off orgasm in my chest, something between romantic butterflies and lust.

I look amazing, with my loose dark wavy hair, pale as milk skin and dark eyes. I did my eyes with light wings, and my lips on an almost black purple I know he finds visually compelling. It’s nice to feel powerful from something so simple and natural to my personal style.

He’s naked, but for a collar. He started on pyjamas, which had such a sweet weekend vibe I left him dressed for longer than I usually do. I crave that mix of kinky, raw filth and mundane normal.

Fleshlight had to send the wrong sleeve to make it on time for my birthday last month, but they did manage the clear model I wanted, so this too is letting me see the engulfed outline when he pushes his cock into the toy all the way. I like to imagine what it feels like, with the slick of lube and the soft tightness.

Unlike my cunt, the suction really kicks on the more he fucks it for me. It’s not a perfect pussy replacement, it’s a pussy compliment, a facsimile that puts me to mind of making a stud breed for you.

Some day in the absurdity of double income, no kids, I want a dream dungeon set up so I can auto milk him that way, but for now this is endless edging, over and over, struggling to please.

In all, a good purchase in our collection, and a favourite to use on him. Maybe I will upgrade later to the featureless, no fake orifice sleeve later, but for now, he will fuck this one to please me.