Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Cock Locked

After T’s first cum out of his cage after 3 months locked, I was hooked on keeping T’s dick locked in a cage. T was so horny for me all the time and my women’s support group were teaching me a lot. Meg introduced me to a woman doctor who would become my best friend and sometime lover, Dr. Dora. (She has a great tasting pussy and seems to like mine too)  Dora became my advisor and soon she was helping me manage T’s poor locked dick. Dora had a bad marriage and she had developed an underground calling, castrations. She specialized in them for a fair amount of money. (more about that another time) I learned that all chastity cages are not equal. Some of the plastic ones are nothing but toys but so are several steel ones. A man needs one that has openings around the sides for long term wear to be kept clean in the shower. It is also important that the space between the end of the cage, (not the tip) and the ball ring be smaller than his balls or he can pull it out when it’s soft. His balls shouldn’t fit through the space or it can be pulled off. Also the tip can’t allow him too much stimulation or he can get off with his fingers. We settled on a thimble type that covers most of the head. It’s open on the sides except for bars so it can be kept clean. It also had to be somewhat snug and no longer than his soft dick. I ordered a special made one for T and it fit perfect. T was unable to get any stimulation unless I provided it. (Keep all you vibrators locked up too) Within 6 months T was attending our girl (Dom) parties naked as one of the servants. I was so proud of his pussy eating skills that I allowed him to show several of the other women. At one of these parties I made him bend over, grease up his ass, and let another woman fuck him for our entertainment. At that time all we could get up him was a nice fat 8 inch strap on but I’m happy to report that within a year I was able to peg his ass regularly with 10 inches, just the size I use on my pussy. Don’t you think your man should be able to take up his ass what you take up yours? By the time I was 52 I had totally stopped T from fucking me too. At first I would let him out every 2 or 3 months to climb on me but he would come within seconds of putting it up me. I was so stretched out from my big bulls dicks by then I couldn’t feel a thing. So I just started cuffing his hands behind him, unlocking his little dick and having him squirt in my hand. Then of course he licked it off my hands. (The poor dear hasn’t been in a pussy in close to 10 years now. The cage works. It’s shrunk his dick until he barely gets hard now.) Sometimes I would let T come after edging him for hours or I would ruin an orgasm for him. I enjoy that because a man is still so horny afterwards. I had many other men to fuck me then, (and now) with huge equipment so I didn’t need his tiny dick for fucking anymore. After having T locked for a couple years I began to wonder what it would be like to watch T suck a dick and get fucked by a real man. I watched one of my friend’s husband get fucked by a gay man at a party. He was so embarrassed but his wife snapped her fingers and he did it for us. We nearly rubbed our clits off watching him and hearing him moan. I wanted T to do that but T was terribly against it. You see, he’s very heterosexual, he loves women. But I wanted to see him suck a dick and take one up his ass. T was about to learn how painful his decision not to suck cock for me could be. A man’s balls are very tender and vulnerable. Maybe Dora and I could change his mind.

Hope you have a great time while I’m out dancing Fifi.  Just remember if you don’t drop that quarter I’ll let you have a little squirt tomorrow, careful not to squirm or you might drop it, the way you’re tied I doubt you’ll be able to get it between the wall and your nose again.  Wish me luck, hopefully I can find a good man tonight.  Oh I forgot let my set the plug to random vibrate.  

Good luck Fifi, I’ll be rooting for you. 

What a Girl Wants

Your best friend smiles sweetly at you as you waddle to her, grateful the music is loud enough to drown out the crinkling of your diaper.

Your loaded diaper.

You wonder if she saw you squatting down behind the bar, filling your diaper. You had been so careful finding a secluded space to do your business.

It wasn’t easy—the bar was busy as ever for a Saturday afternoon. But you’d even managed to slip away from Daddy! Surely nobody saw you!

Yet, as you approached Jen, you weren’t so sure.

Does she know?

“Hey, cutie!” Jen said happily over the Kesha song in the background, “You hear the song? This used to be our jam!”

It had been your jam, back in college. When you two were inseparable. All those memories came flooding back.

Those were the days.

Back when you wore bikinis, drank cheap vodka, and closed bars together. Back when you used to compete to see who could get the most numbers from boys, laughing at their desperate, pathetic attempts to hook up with you.

People say it’s time to grow up after you graduate college. Jen did—but not you.

“Sweetie?” Jen asked, “Earth to Emmy?”

You snapped out of your reverie—back to reality and your messy diaper.

“What? Oh, yeah!” you answered, “Gosh, this song reminds me of Spring Break! I miss it!”

Jen smiled again. You tried to hide your jealousy. Jen looked so beautiful in her bikini—and there you were, hoping to hide your bulging, messy diaper.

She takes a breath. “Emmy…come here,” she says seriously, “What’s going on? You’re hiding something…”

You take a tentative step forward. “A-am not!” you say too quickly, sounding more like a toddler than adult.

Jen laughs. “Oh? You’re not, are you? Then I see no reason why you’d be nervous for me to check that diaper of yours.”

“Jen!” you shriek, looking around nervously to see if anyone heard, “No!”

“I’m not gonna ask again, Emmy. Turn around. Now.”

Red-faced and near tears, you obey your best friend. You stand in front of her and move to turn around so she could check your diaper.

Before you do, Jen puts both hands on your shoulders, a stern, yet maternal look on her face.

“Honey, I’m not trying to embarrass you, okay? Your Daddy asked me to keep an eye on you. And that’s what I’m doing. Don’t think I didn’t see you at the bar. Were you making pushies?”

You summon all your strength to not cry. You can’t believe your best friend in the world now treats no differently than a toddler. And ask you—in public—if you made “pushies.”

“Y-yes, Jan,” you sigh.

“Thank you for being honest, honey,” Jen says turning you around, “I need to see if you’re about to have a blowout, though.”

Your face burns as you feel Jen lifting the back of your skirt with one hand, prodding at it with the other. It’s too much. You cover your face, unwilling to see if your infantile display has an audience.

“Looks like you’re fine for now, Emmy,” Jen said, playfully tapping your diaper, “But we should find your Daddy before you stink up the bar!”

“O-okay….,” you whisper, still covering your face.

“Oh, stop being so embarrassed, Emmy. This what you wanted!”

“I-I…I didn’t want…this!” you squeal, losing the battle against your tears.

“Emmy, come on. You asked Brad—I mean your Daddy—to wear diapers! You loved being his little princess! What changed?”

“Everything,” you thought to yourself.

Jen wasn’t wrong about that. But it wasn’t supposed to end like this. You didn’t mean to go this far.

“Everyone just treats me like a big baby now!” you scream, tears flowing down your cheeks, diaper swaying as you stomp your feet.

“Do you hear yourself, Emmy?” Jen said softly, “You’re throwing a tantrum at a bar in a poopy diaper while everyone watches! And you expect us to treat you any different?”

“Not a tantrum! I don’t want to wear diapers!”

Jen sighed, genuine sadness in her eyes. “Sweetie. Your diapers aren’t for fun anymore. You need them. You did this to yourself! What did you expect?”

“But! But!” you continue to sob, “Not a ba—mpgh.”

A pacifier is placed in your mouth, silencing you.

“Sounds like someone needs a nap,” Daddy says, “Sorry, Jen. I should’ve known she was due for a tantrum.”

Jen laughs, “I think she needs a new diaper first, Brad. Poor thing loaded her diaper a few minutes ago.”

Daddy lifts your skirt before you can react. Your diaper is unceremoniously checked for the second time in minutes.

“Pee-yew, Peanut!” Daddy says, “We better clean that tush, pronto!”

Jen stops Daddy. “I don’t know about the men’s room, but the women’s bathroom has a dedicated changing pad. It’ll be tight, but Emmy can fit. I don’t mind changing her!”

“Are you sure, Jen?” Daddy asks skeptically, “That diaper is full of her poopy!”

“Really, Brad, it’s no big deal! She’s my best friend! We’ve been friend since we were in diapers! I guess some things never change, huh Emmy?”

You’re startled back into focus. “I..ummm….”

“Here’s her diaper bag. Be generous with the cream, something tells me this won’t be her last stinky today.”

Jen grabs your diaper bag from Daddy, reaching her hand out for you. “Grab my hand, cutie. Don’t want you getting lost with a poopy diaper!”

You sheepishly take her hand, ignoring the laughing of the crowd.

“Don’t mind them, Emmy,” Jen coos, “They just think you’re adorable with your diaper dropping below your skirt. You’re still as popular as you were in college!”

Pirates of the sea…

It was a band of ruthless pirates unlike any the peaceful seaside villages had seen before…..

Seductive, merciless, predatory women sailing the seas in search of their treasures.

But, for these alluring women of the sea it was not buried treasures, glittering jewels, or shiny coins that they sought. No, no….. for these women, the only treasures they set their sights upon were…. men.

Men who would become their helpless captives…. sexual playthings to be preyed upon…. used to satisfy the insatiable carnal lusts of these provocative abductresses.

No man would be safe as long as their reign of sexual dominance continued. Once they had selected their target he would have no hope of evading his fate.

His capture would be inevitable whether on land or sea… rendered helpless…. soon little more than bound and shackled male cargo on a ship destined for deep waters where no one would hear his pleas for mercy…. his begging for relief.

Perhaps he would be bound to the mast for their amusement…. helpless male flesh made to quiver with arousal…. his steely hard cock weeping pitifully with its need for relief… his agonizing desperation the source of their exquisite pleasures and taunting laughter….

Or, taken down below… deep in to the hull of the ship ….. where the mere sight of the wicked bondage devices was so intimidating it has been known to cause even the strongest of men to crumble weakly to their knees in helpless submission.

Eventually, the relentless sexual torments would render their bodies and minds useless to their captors. Mercifully, these men would then be returned to their villages…. spent, exhausted and broken… and their search for their next captive would begin anew for these vixens of the sea.

I enjoy wearing your key…