Put Me In Skimpy Panties And Objectify Me. Tell Me How Much You Like Seeing My Cheeks Jiggling, Like

“Hard cock and empty head, that’s how mummy likes her good boy.”

“‘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.”

“Please may I have a cummie this evening, mummy, please?”

“Oh baby, I was about to tell you you could have a cummie tonight but now you’ve asked I can’t. You know the rules. No asking for cummies ever. You’re going to have to wait at least another month now. But don’t worry, I’ll be here to help you cope.”

My favourite thing that I’ve ever posted on here was my story about N. I’ve tried writing a fourth part so many times but every time I do I end up getting carried away, humping and spurting ten losing interest until the next time.

I want to write it though. Because it’s a fun story to think about, but absolutely definitely really truly not something I’d want to happen IRL at all under any circumstances.

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

Just to be clear, I really liked the idea of being taken under by a hot hypnodomme that I completely trust and being convinced that what I want more than anything in life is to serve an ordinary-looking woman that the hypnodomme has sold me to. Of course it wouldn’t be presented as “selling” to me, it would be the chance to live my dream by serving this ordinary woman I inexplicably adore.

I’d love to wake up in a locked crib in a pink nursery, completely swaddled in a nappy and mittens, feeling groggy and not knowing how I got there. Then a demurely dressed woman who I’ve never seen before walks in and I hear myself say “Hello mummy, thank you for catching me.”

“No baby, don’t try and think. You know that always leads to trouble. Let mummy think for you. Just sit and play at my feet and I’ll take care of everything.”

Really like the idea of a woman telling me that being a prejac is a pro-feminist statement. Just twisting my mind around so that I think the greatest thing in the world is getting onto my knees and orgasming in thirty seconds to show that I’m a feminist.

I wish I had a mummy who was keeping me locked up “just for the weekend.”