I have to admit, there have been moments where I’ve thought about having sex with a sub. Though I’ve never acted on it, the sight of a man helpless in bondage, eagerly awaiting orders while his body throbs against his chastity cage is enough to send me into a frenzied spree of perversion, lust, and desire. It’s unlike me to be so out of control, so wanton, but the wetness between my thighs is undeniable. In extenuating circumstances, I reach for what’s familiar—mystrapon. I fumble with the harness, look at my manicured fingers and consider removing it. Releasing you from your bondage and revealing my soft, soaked lips. In my dreams, my hands are shifting towards the keys. In reality, I’ve already switched on my vibrator. Vanilla sex is for real men and unfortunately baby, you just don’t cut it.
There are plenty of men I’d like to have sex with, and even more that fantasize about having it with me. In short of becoming an escort I’ve had to learn to curb these desires. Or rather, how to satisfy them while continuing to taunt, tease, and deprive my partner. In so doing, cuckoldry has become a most beloved fetish. Think of how easy it is to emasculate a man whose closest contact to your cum is sucking it out of another man’s condom. How humiliating it must be to experience your Mistress’s orgasm only through the man you see delivering it. Perhaps most cutting, knowing that you financed the entire scene.
The pleasure that fills my face is maddeningly seductive. Not only does it flush my cheeks and quicken my breath, it confirms your inferiority. Though you may be envious or infuriated watching me make love to another man, my confidence and sexuality is irresistible, inspiring each stroke of jealousy to only further engorge your now bursting chastity device. As my body grinds in delight, the patterned rhythm of my hips mirrors your subservience; deep and all consuming. I could make you do anything, and for my Bull’s pleasure you’ll buy everything.
Monogramed Gucci tights conceal Provocateur panties accented by a Bordelle bra. I throw on a Burberry overcoat to complete the set. Today, after one of our many trips to the mall, you begged me for an opportunity to sniff and hump my dirty stockings; hoping that by smelling them it would give you the chance to experience what it’s actually like to be inside of me. I told you no and ordered you to wash them by hand instead. In the other room I can hear the faucet running and the soft splashing of soap over knuckles. In these moments, caught between deciding which pair of pantyhose my Bull will tear open next, which lingerie set he will wreck, which hole he will fill—I turn to you. “Baby, do you like this? Is it hot? Do you think he’ll want to fuck me while I wear this?”, I say to my submissive. You look up at me, red faced and embarrassed by the sharp erection just mentioning my date has given you. “Yes, Ms. Tasha. You look so sexy; he’d be a fool not to fuck you.” I laugh heartily, “Well baby, what does that make you?”