What I Want Right This Moment Is A Dommy Mummy With Big Fake Boobs, A Spray Tan, Hoop Earrings, Loads

“Mummy’s very busy now, baby. She’s got to call her friends and then do some work, so you have to be gagged so you’re not a distraction. You can sit quietly and paint mummys toe nails for her so she looks good at the weekend. Do a good job and maybe I’ll let you hump my feet.”

Brainwash me to be a premature ejaculator who cries with relief and thanks you every time I cum.

Just saw a picture of a woman in hot pants and it triggered me into ordering some French knickers for myself.

Fantasy idea: dress me up in a onesie or a little sailor suit. Cuff my wrists together and my ankles together and then cuff those sets of cuffs together. Put a gag in my mouth. Leave me to awkwardly crawl around on the floor all weekend. Tell me I have to do my best to always be in your view and then, of course, find lots of reasons to keep moving around the house. When you do settle somewhere make it somewhere awkward for me to sit. Go for long stretches of barely acknowledging me and then occasionally overload me with praise and maybe some touching.

Watch me become yours.

I want to paint mummy’s toenails for her before she goes out on a date then kiss her feet goodbye and thank her for dating other guys.

Earlier today I remembered snitching on a co-worker at my first job. My boss was a woman in her late 40’s or early 50’s called Irene. She usually wore heels and red lipstick and she had big boobs. Looking back she probably contributed to a number of fantasies I have now, and I know from certain things she’d say sometimes that she could sense my submissive nature. Extra impressive as it wasn’t even something I was aware of about myself at the time.

Anyway, I remember a guy about my age telling me he was planning to call in sick on an upcoming Saturday because it was his birthday and he wanted to go out. I laughed along, probably asked him where he’d go. Then as soon as he’d gone I told Irene what he was planning. It was such a weaselly narc thing to do… but I’d absolutely do it again now. And I realise looking back it was because I was desperate for Irene’s approval and for her to tell me I’d done well.

The guy ended up working the Saturday and asked me why I’d told Irene. I completely denied it. Irene was pleased with me so that’s all that matters.

I’ve not mentioned it before but the whole CFNM thing is massively appealing. The man is exposed and humiliated, the situation encouraging meekness. The woman is in complete control, able to humiliate and tease with such incredible ease.

I’d really like to experience it. Be told to strip and kneel down on the floor in front of a woman who’s seated. Given some instructions for cleaning her home, maybe handed some cleaning supplies. But nothing about her tone is gloating or draws attention to the fact I’m naked. Why would she draw attention to it? It’s the most natural thing in the world for a servant to be naked, right?

Then I’d get up and clean and maybe after a while there would be a few comments designed to lightly tease, gently humiliate. Perhaps she’d take pity on me and provide me with a uniform to stop things flopping about. Of course it would be an impractical uniform, just a pair of French knickers or a short maid outfit or something. But I’d still be thankful, and I’d still want to do such a good job of cleaning so that I impress the nice lady and I get to do this again. It’s only right that I clean up, she’s so much cleverer than me and has very important, complicated work to be doing while I’m tidying.

I want a relationship where a dominant woman cuts me off from all friends and family and gradually makes me more and more reliant on her until I’m totally broken and subservient and reliant on her.

I want to be turned into a stupid, obedient premature ejaculator so much. Make me so far gone that I’m proud of how quickly I spurt for you. Have me come in and perform for your friends then thank you for the privilege. I want to be ruined and happy about it.

Fantasy idea: you’re relaxing in a warm, soapy bath when you get a voicenote from your crush. You reach a steaming hand out of the bath, suds dripping down to the floor below, grab your phone and press play.

“Knock knock,” says your crush.

And just like that you’re triggered. You find yourself stepping out of the bath and walking, pink, wet, and naked, to the front door. You open it to find your crush looking hot and in charge and so absolutely fuckable and you find yourself sinking to your knees as they step past you into your home, completely in control of your feeble little mind.

You’re cold and naked and vulnerable, totally unable to move without being told. And you’ve never been more turned on.