“Baby, You Told Me That You Never Really Liked Sex. You Said You Only Ever Wanted It Because You Thought

“Grown up men like getting their dicks sucked, don’t they baby? That’s right, they do. I think there’s something really sexy about seeing a pair of lips wrapped around a cock. Why don’t you come and kneel down in front of me and put your lips around my strap-on. No? You don’t want to? Don’t you want to look sexy for mummy? Yes, of course you do! You did just say that lips wrapped around a cock are sexy so put your mouth round my strap-on to show me how sexy you can be. Good boy!”

Give me a mummy who uses leaps of twisted logic to make me agree with whatever she says.

I met Shon Faye yesterday. She was wearing a really tight pale blue dress with an incredibly high slit, lots of cleavage, and some absolutely amazing high heels that showed off her feet and their perfectly applied red nail polish.

I fell in love immediately.

“Remember baby, little-dicked boys don’t need a brain. Let’s keep you locked up and shrinking for just one more week…”

Fantasy idea: there’s another lockdown (I don’t want this in reality but let’s work with it in this fantasy world). My boss asks me if I’d like to stay with her and her partner. She tells me she knows I just want to be a mindless pet and that’s how she’ll keep me. She puts me in a chastity cage, takes my phone and all my clothes away, puts a gag in my mouth, and shows me the new clothes she’ll be giving me to wear.

New clothes are frilly knickers and small, too-short T-shirts that ride up as I wear them, exposing my belly for that extra feeling of vulnerability. Maybe some mittens and ankle socks or booties too, just to make me feeling that bit more childish and subdued.

I then spend my days curled up at my boss’s feet, sometimes kissing and massaging them. Maybe occasionally I’m allowed to snuggle under a blanket with her. At meal times I eat from a bowl on the floor as my boss and her partner eat at a table or on the couch with me at their feet. At nighttime I curl up to sleep in a big pile of pillows and blankets, or maybe a big quilty basket. Occasionally, or maybe often, my gag is removed and I have normal chats about our shared interests with my boss, as if me kneeling before her dressed in such an embarrassing fashion and completely at her mercy is the most normal situation in the world.

I want to eat out of mummy’s hand like I’m her little puppy dog. She could tousle my hair and call me a good boy. Maybe she could lower her hand as I meekly go to take another mouthful, to the point where I’m practically eating off the floor. And then mummy could gently remind me that I’d be eating off the floor if not for her great kindness, making me love her even more.

I’m feeling sleepy. Could really do with laying down my head in someone’s lap and having instructions whispered into my ear as I drift off for a nap right about now.

“You know you love being mummy’s hypnotised good boy. You know you can’t resist. Give in to mummy, baby. It’ll feel so good…”

Small, tight, frilly, lacey panties would make me feel so small and dumb and exposed.

Recently I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about lying on my back naked looking up lovingly at my boss standing over me as she finger fucks my mouth with one hand and teases my butthole with the other. She’d tell me how well behaved and slutty I am as I moan around her probing fingers and thank her for guiding me and making me her good boy.

“You see that man over there? He has a four inch cock! I bet you wish you were hung with a monster like that, don’t you baby?”