The Idea Of Being Made To Get A Tramp Stamp, And It Being Referred To As A Tramp Stamp, So That A Mummy

I’ve got a date tomorrow with an older woman who has big boobs. I hope she decides to keep me and make me her humpy pet.

I’d really like a mummydom to teach me how to go down on her strap-on with lots of soft encouragement and telling me how proud she is of me, followed by a pegging where I’m told what a good, slutty boy I’m being. Of course I’d say thank you for the kind treatment afterwards.

I just want a motherly woman who fills out a low cut cardigan to ruin me for other women just because it amuses her.

I just want a kind, pretty woman to mother me, dress me up in panties, and tell me how pretty and trapped my peenie looks. Is that really too much to ask?

“‘Flaccid, of part of the body, soft and hanging loosely or limply, especially so as to look or feel unpleasant.’

That sounds pretty accurate to me. How about a second definition, just to be sure?

‘Flaccid, lacking vigour or effectiveness.’

That sounds right too, doesn’t it? I still love you. I don’t need you to have a big dick, or even a dick that can get an erection. But I do need you to accept you have a flaccid peeny and that you’re never going to put it in me. Because you physically can’t… and because I wouldn’t want it there even if you could.

If you can’t accept it maybe I should start thinking about chastity again.”

Collar me, attach a leash, and slip the handle around your ankle so I have to crawl around after you and can only see your feet. Nothing more arousing for a leashed, chaste puppy slave.

I want to be teased by a hot dom in a cocktail dress until I can’t take it anymore and have to grab her and bend her over and plunge my cock into her ass and make her MINE… until she says the trigger word and I realise I’m actually the one who’s being bent over and fucked and I cum realising how submissive I am and how inside my head my dom is.

It’s my birthday next Friday and the present I want most is for my boss to ban me from masturbating for this coming week and then grant permission on the evening of my birthday, texting or voicenoting me to say what a good boy I’ve been for keeping all my naughty compulsions under control for her.

“Mummy’s busy working, baby. She has to work to earn money to give you treats and toys. We can play later but for now why doesn’t mummy slip off her heels and let you under her desk. Humping mummy’s bare feet will keep you quiet for a while, won’t it? Are you going to say thank you to mummy? Good boy!”

“Don’t be silly, baby. Mummy loves your soft little penis. It’s very cute and so useful for controlling how you think. It’s just not good for sex, that’s all. You’re still mummy’s best boy.”