First, some backstory.
Alright, so after a month of not having a computer (alright, so more like a few days, but Jesus, it felt like a month), I’m so relieved to have a computer again.
Man, I do not like being that out of touch. And it’s only when I don’t have a computer that I realize what a pain in the ass trying to do anything on a smart phone can be.
And Sounder really became my knight in shining armor by letting me borrow his. In more ways than he realizes, he swooped in and saved the day.
When I first start talking to a potential sub, one of the things I ask is for him to write me an erotic story. There’s no word count minimum, there’s no subject requirement, there’s nothing like that. That’s the only direction I give. Just write me a story.
And there are a few reasons I do this. First of all, I’m fully aware that a great number of men, upon hearing that instruction, will think it’s dumb, or won’t see the point of doing it. That’s done intentionally. I want them to think that it’s a dumb request, because I want to see how they respond to a request they don’t understand or don’t see the point of.
I have a questionnaire (hopefully I still have it, assuming I can get it off my hard drive) that I also give to potential subs as soon as they message me that I ask them to fill out before moving any further. And again, one of the reasons I do that is because, if they think it’s dumb, I want to see how they respond. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten what appeared to be a well-constructed, genuine message from a sub, only for him to disappear when I send him the questionnaire and ask that he complete it.
The questionnaire also helps me very quickly see what sort of relationship he’s looking for, what his expectations are, what his general perception of a D/s relationship is, any limitations or triggers I need to be aware of, etc. It’s a lot of information, that would normally take weeks’ worth of conversations, all at once, all in one place. The answers from the questionnaire help me learn a lot about a potential sub early on.
The story serves a similar purpose. I want to see how seriously he takes a command, how quickly he gets it done (i.e., how big of a priority he chooses to make it), and how he responds to something he may not fully understand.
Aside from that, the story gives me a hint of what turns him on, where his head goes when given free reign, and which aspects of a session speak to him the most.
I gave Sounder that assignment, and he delivered an intriguing story that I thoroughly enjoyed reading (and read repeatedly). It was through reading that story that I realized a good mindfuck was a very effective tool to use with him, that it was something that would hit him deeply, that he would respond favorably (well, favorably for me, anyway) to.
I’ve been toying around with the idea of writing a story of my own, very loosely based on the one he wrote for me. The specific type of mindfuck he wrote about appealed to me from the very beginning, and the more I got to know him, the more my mind took that and ran with it.
As he very well knows, I can always make it worse.
My original plan was to take at least a few days, if not a week or two, to put the story together. There was no rush, and it wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities.
But now, I think I’ll write it here. It’ll give Sounder something “fun” (yeah, we’ll go with “fun“) to think about while he’s at work.
Oh, and just so you know, little sissy… I offer you no guarantees that this will remain completely in the realm of fiction…
A text message with an address and a command to show up at 7:00 pm was all the communication he’d received from his Domina that day. His questions had been answered with four short words; “Do as you’re told.”
So he pulled up to the large, unfamiliar house, his nervousness rising. But he took comfort in seeing his Domina’s car parked in the driveway.
He’d barely rung the doorbell when the front door swung open, revealing his Domina. The grin she wore was one he’d seen many times, and he felt his heart skip a beat. She was planning something evil, something sadistic and cruel, something she was barely able to contain her excitement about.
“Come on, hurry up,” she urged, taking his hand and pulling him inside. She led him through the house and into a guest bedroom, where he was surprised to see one of her Domme friends laying out a number of implements on the bed.
He stared down at the ominous array of toys, his pulse quickening.
His Domina didn’t waste any time. “Strip,” she commanded, stepping away from him to grab a pair of leather wrist cuffs from the bed.
His heart pounding, he did as he was told, removing his shirt and pants and setting them neatly in the corner of the room. He straightened up, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a pair of thigh-high stockings.
It’s all he had to wear, since she had tied him to the bed and made him watch as she went through his room, grabbing all of his men’s underwear and throwing them away. She’d made a point to sit in front of him with a pair of scissors, cutting up and completely destroying every pair he owned.
She’d replaced them with the panties, taking his spare key and promising that she would randomly come by unannounced to go through his clothes again, to make sure he hadn’t bought any more. Twice in the six months since then, she’d made good on that promise. And twice, she’d been satisfied to find that he’d submitted completely to her will, and obeyed her even when she wasn’t around.
“Those, too,” she said, gesturing to the panties and the stockings.
He obeyed, slowly removing the last of his clothing and standing before them completely naked.
His Domina approached him with the cuffs and buckled one around each wrist. She and her friend occasionally spoke to each other, but neither of them spoke to him as they fastened the wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs, followed by a thick leather harness that went over his shoulders to buckle at his waist.
She surprised him then, when she removed the chastity cage he always wore.
She only took that off when she wanted to tease him, to edge him, to hurt him, or to clean him. What did she have planned?
The next thing she grabbed made his heart rate double.
It was a sensory deprivation hood, made of thick, padded leather. He’d never worn one before. One of the things he loved most was watching her prepare to use him, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop what she was about to do to him.
She knew this, and often used it to her advantage, so she very rarely ever blindfolded him. Much less remove his hearing, as well.
He was very still as she pulled it over his head and buckled it, effectively removing his sight. Once she’d completely fastened and tightened it, the soft leather pressed against his ears, and he couldn’t hear a thing.
There was a hole at his mouth and two smaller ones at his nose for him to breathe through, but with the hood fitting so snugly against his face, even those holes didn’t allow him the ability to hear what was going on around him.
He felt her clip a padlock onto the strap that buckled around his neck, then she took his hand and moved it up to let him feel for himself that indeed, he was locked into the hood, and could not get it off.
She moved to his side, standing close to him, her left hand going to his arm and her right hand around his waist. With firm, steady pressure, she urged him forward.
Oh, god, she expected him to walk? He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, he felt completely isolated and out of touch with his surroundings. Trying to walk like that was unnerving, to say the least.
But he trusted her, and hesitantly allowed her to lead him wherever she wanted.
He was very aware of the fact that he was completely naked, completely helpless, in unfamiliar surroundings, and had no idea what was going on. The realization was as terrifying as it was exhilarating, and he couldn’t hide his erect, dripping cock.
Progress was slow, but her touch was constant, patient, and gentle. It helped ease his nerves a bit. Following her lead was familiar. Doing what she wanted was calming. She’d always taken care of him. He knew that whatever she had planned, she would make sure nothing bad happened.
Those thoughts helped, but did little to calm his racing heart as she continued leading him slowly through the house.
Finally, she stopped, and stepped away.
And the sudden lack of touch brought all the nervousness and anxiety back. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and had no idea where he was, or where she was. That isolation began pressing down on him. He stood still, waiting for her to come back. It was all he could do.
He didn’t have to wait long. He felt the familiar touch on his shoulder, then down his arm. Gently, she lifted his arm up and clipped his wrist cuff to something that kept his arm in place. She did the same thing with his other arm, then urged him to spread his legs, and clipped his ankles.
When she was done, he was standing upright, spread-eagle, his legs and arms spread wide and held in place.
He felt extremely vulnerable as she trailed her fingertips down his chest and stomach, stopping just short of his throbbing cock.
In the next moment, she slapped his cock lightly, causing him to jump and flinch. Another slap, harder this time, brought a gasp and a grunt of pain.
But he was acutely aware that there was nowhere he could go. He was completely immobilized, completely exposed, completely at her mercy.
Her touch became gentle again, caressing his thighs and stomach. She brought both hands up and rested them against his chest just as he felt another pair of hands behind him, starting at his shoulders and moving down toward his butt.
Another hand came from the side, starting at his hip and running lightly across his lower stomach. Yet another came from the other side, moving up the inside of his thigh, brushing lightly against his cock.
His Domina’s hands disappeared, and were quickly replaced by unfamiliar fingers teasing his nipples.
He gasped, squirming, as he was touched all over. The part of his mind still capable of coherent thought tried desperately to count the pairs of hands, but he couldn’t. It had to be at least three, probably four.
And his ability to form a coherent thought was completely obliterated when he felt a slick, wet finger reach down between his legs, lightly rubbing against his hole. He squirmed, gasping, chills running down his spine.
The finger teased him for just a moment before slowly entering him, eliciting a shuddering moan.
It was quickly joined by a second wet finger, and he knew that it was from a different hand.
The two fingers slid in and out of him, exploring him, sometimes moving together, sometimes not. After a few moments, a third finger entered him, and he had no idea whether it was from a different hand or not. He couldn’t tell anymore.
It seemed like he was being touched everywhere, every inch of his body. Hands stroked his cock, fondled his balls, caressed his thighs, teased his nipples. He couldn’t count them anymore, and he didn’t want to. He was lost in the sensations.
Suddenly, he felt the restraints holding his arms lower and move forward, pulling him over. He had no choice but to follow, and was relieved to find that someone had put some sort of stool or bench or small padded table in front of him. As he was forced to bend over, he rested on the table.
And he felt more vulnerable than he had when he’d been standing up. His legs were still spread wide, his ass still exposed and full of fingers, his cock still teased and stroked.
Then, the fingers inside him abruptly left, and he was surprised to find himself disappointed. He wanted the feeling of being filled and stuffed.
He wasn’t disappointed for long, though. A moment later, he gasped and tensed as a strap-on dildo was thrust smoothly into him, all the way to the hilt. It was bigger than he was expecting, and his muscles throbbed as they stretched to accommodate it.
More hands teased and stroked his cock, lightly tapping his balls, making him clench his muscles around the dildo that fucked him.
He moaned, pushing his weight back on his heels to meet each thrust, wanting to be fucked deeper, harder. Strong hands gripped his hips as the cock was pounded into him again and again. The hands on his cock continued the endless tease, keeping him hard, but not giving him enough to reach an edge.
Then, the thrusting got quicker, harder, more animalistic. The hands holding his hips dug into him with strong, big fingers. And then, there was one final, deep thrust, as the cock was pushed as far into him as it would go. Once again, his muscles throbbed around it.
It wasn’t his muscles that were throbbing.
The cock inside him was throbbing.
The cock inside him was real.
He’d been fucked by a man. And that man had just cum inside him.
He cried out, struggling, pulling desperately against the restraints, but they were too tight. He couldn’t move.
The cock inside him was pulled out and immediately replaced with another one. Another real one. Before he could react, he felt his head pushed down, and a cock was shoved through the hole in his hood and into his mouth.
He gagged, sputtering, trying to pull away. But the hands that held him were firm, and kept him in place.
He struggled for a moment longer before the sensations began to overwhelm him again, and his mind once again grew fuzzy.
Practically since they’d met, his Domina had talked about wanting him gangbanged, wanting both his holes stuffed. Her words had always turned him on, and a big part of him looked forward to it, but he’d never been fucked by a man before.
He hadn’t expected his first time to be like this.
But after a moment, he let go and surrendered to her will, drifting in subspace, fueled by his humiliation and objectification as both his holes were violated for a man’s cheap thrill. Without his sense of sight or hearing, the sensations seemed to become more intense, and he found himself overwhelmed and unable to put a clear thought together.
The man in his mouth came first. It surprised him, and he gagged once before swallowing, knowing his Domina well enough to know that she was somewhere nearby, watching, and that’s what she would want him to do.
The cock in his mouth was replaced by another one, and once again, his face was brutally and mercilessly fucked.
Time seemed to get blurry after that. He had no idea how long he was kept there, bent over a bench or a stool, completely violated and humiliated, completely exposed and open for anyone who wanted to use him.
He had no idea how many men had fucked him. He knew he swallowed at least two more loads of cum. Trying to keep track of how many had cum in his ass was harder.
It seemed like hours had passed. His ass was raw and throbbing, his jaw was sore and stiff, and he had no way of knowing how much longer this would continue.
But finally, the cock in his mouth came, but wasn’t replaced with another one. Shortly after, the cock in his ass quivered and throbbed as it came inside him. It wasn’t replaced with another one, either.
Was it finally over?
For what seemed like a long time, he stayed there, bent over, alone.
Then, he felt the cuffs on his ankles removed, allowing him to move his legs. Familiar, gentle hands moved up his back, to his arms, and unbuckled the wrist cuffs.
Finally released, he collapsed, lowering himself to the carpeted floor, completely exhausted, completely degraded.
She was there, pulling him into her lap, running her hands soothingly over his body as he lied against her. He took a deep breath and sighed, relaxing. He couldn’t see her, he couldn’t hear her, but he knew that she was proud of him.