Femdom: Ruins

This short female domination story contains ruined orgasms and humiliation. It is half fictional and half autobiographical, but is completely my own work.

Please DO NOT read any further if you do not enjoy fictional stories in which males submit to dominant females, either willingly, forcibly, or by coercion.

Please DO NOT read if you think that stories like this should end up with the male taking control and beating or fucking the female - If that's your bag, none of my stories are for you.

Please DO NOT read if you don't like stories in which men are frustrated or humiliated.

Please DO read further if you want to learn how I received my first ruined orgasms, and why I now love them so much.

If you like this story, please vote and comment - it helps to marginalise the votes and comments from Trolls, of which, sadly, there are many!

I hope you enjoy!

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Ruins

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The night I first met Gemma was just one of those nights... the pub was buzzing, the juke box never played a bad song, the beer was cold and the girls were hot. Something fun was just bound to happen.

I had been single for a month or two but wasn't really on the pull - I was just out with the lads to drink beer, play pool, joke about, and partake in some casual piss-taking. I totally expected to get drunk and wake up with a half-eaten doner kebab spilled across the bed beside me, wondering where and when I'd bought it. What I really didn't expect was to meet Gemma Asbo. No word of a lie - her surname really was 'Asbo', but this was the UK in the 1980's, and there was no such thing as an 'Anti-Social Behaviour Order' back then.

The evening started off as expected, with me and the lads sitting at a table in the pool room of the Railway Inn, drinking like thirsty fish. When it was my round, I stood at the bar and waited for Carol, the publican and barmaid, to get around to me. The bar was double-sided and effectively joined the saloon and the pool room together via a broad archway, so while I waited for my turn to be served, I looked through into the loud and lively saloon. There, sitting at a table with a gaggle of scantily-clad girls whom I'd never seen in this town before, was a pretty blonde. She had a full figure, and her face was so pretty that she was the stand-out girl in that group. She had a kind of honesty about her look - she hadn't tried too hard with her makeup, but her lips were glossy and her eyes sparkled. She looked at me for no more than two seconds, while one of her friends said something that was lost to me in the hubbub of other conversations, then returned to engage with her gang as they laughed raucously.

I didn't have to go to the bar again for a couple of hours, but when I did, I noticed the blonde girl again, still in the same place, still laughing loudly with her gang of girls. My attention wandered elsewhere, to the nude brunette on the KP nuts card, her boobs still covered by 8 packets is dry roasted, to the laminated A4 notice behind the bar which read 'We will not serve alcohol to anyone under the age of 18', and which everyone ignored.

I looked back towards the girls in the saloon, and saw that Gemma wasn't there. A second later, a sweet voice beside me asked, "Are you going to buy me a drink?"

It was Gemma, and she was even prettier close-up. Her face was pale, her cheeks makeup free. Her eyeshadow was light brown, her lips freshly painted in red. Her golden hair was slightly wavy, and styled with hairspray to make it large around her head. This was the '80's after all.

Despite the fact that she was looking directly into my eyes, it took me several seconds to realise that she was talking to me. She waited patiently, knowing that she had caught me off guard, smiling sweetly until I stammered, "Sure!"

We chatted briefly while Carol pulled my 4 pints and prepared Gemma's Archers and lemonade - just long enough for me to learn her name, and discover that she was a management apprentice at British Rail and was in town for a couple of weeks on a residential training course, then she gave me a sweet little wink, and left to join her friends.

To the left of the bar, a permanently-open door gave access to a broad corridor which led to the toilets, and the function room beyond. Opposite it, another permanently-open door gave access to the saloon. It was in that corridor, on the return leg of one of my increasingly frequent trips to the toilets, that I met Gemma again. She stood in my way to bring me to a halt then, tiptoeing to reach my ear, asked casually "would you like me to give you a hand job?"

I was taken aback, and was half-trying to think of an excuse for why I should NOT accept a hand job from a pretty blonde stranger, when she took me by the hand and led me up the corridor, past the toilets and away from the hurly-burly of the pub, and from there we took the fire escape stairs down in to the yard at the back of the inn. This exit route was familiar to anyone who had enjoyed a lock-in at the Railway, but it was only about half-past ten, the front doors were not yet locked, nor the curtains closed to hide the late-night drinkers from the police. We would not be disturbed here.

We stopped beside a large roll-top bin and began kissing passionately, her tongue invaded my mouth. She tasted of cherry lip gloss and sweet, peachy Archers. Everything about her was soft; her lips on mine, her nose as it rubbed against my own, her invading tongue. Even her hands felt soft as they began to grope my erection through my pants.

I reciprocated, gently groping her large boobs through her blouse, accidentally finding her stiffening nipples and brushing them softly. She moaned softly in response, her lips still pressed to mine, her moan reverberating in my mouth.

Then she broke away.

The extractor fans above our heads churned out chip and roast chicken smelling air from the kitchen.

"I want to be in control, ok?" she said.

I was a little confused. "How do you mean?" I asked, attempting to kiss her again.

She held me back.

"I want to give you a hand job, I mean I REALLY want to give you a hand job, but I want to be in control when I do it... I want your hands behind your back and I want you to do whatever I say."

I laughed awkwardly. "Ok," I said, not really knowing what I was agreeing to.

She kissed me again in a way that felt like raw lust and, as she did so, she gathered my hands and pushed them behind my back. I giggled awkwardly again, but immediately realized that this was turning me on.

I wanted to say something about her being feisty, but couldn't think of anything cool enough, so I went with the flow as she held my left arm behind my back with her left hand, trapping my right arm in the process, and freeing her right hand to resume stroking my erection through my pants.

Now it was my turn to moan into her mouth as her attention excited me further.

"You like that?" she whispered softly.

"Oh yes!" I admitted.

"Are you going to let me wank you?"

"Oh yes Gemma! Please will you wank me off?"

Gemma giggled, and as we resumed our wet, passionate snog, I felt her fingers unbuckle my belt and find my zip. She pulled it down, and slipped her hand into my jeans, feeling the length of my fat erection with her soft fingers. I moaned again, and caught myself as my knees weakened.

Gemma's hand was soon in my underpants, fetching my cock out so that it stood proudly before me. She broke from our kiss to take a look at it, her hand dwarfed by it's length and girth, then she gave a satisfied hum as she stroked it half a dozen times from root to tip, twisting gently as my bulbous bell end slipped into her palm.

Suddenly she let go of my cock, leaving it to bob around in the cold night air while she put both hands in my shoulders and turned me around so that I was facing the bin and had my back to her.

"What are you doing?" I protested, but Gemma continued to manhandle me, gathering my arms behind my back again, locking them in place with her left hand and arm, and sandwiching them between our bodies. With her free right hand she reached around my body and grabbed my erection again.

"I'm in control, remember?" she reminded me.

"Yes Gemma," I responded, still uncertain and awkward.

She stroked my cock gently for a few minutes, letting her fingers glide gently across my skin until my bell end exposed itself, then she spat in her palm and began to rub my shaft more firmly, dragging the skin back and forth with a firm pumping action. Occasionally she would let her hand slip entirely over my bulbous head, twisting it gently in her slippery hand before slipping it back down my shaft.

"Tell me you want to cum!" she cooed into my ear.

"Yes Gemma, I do! I do want to cum!"

"Ask nicely."

"Please will you make me cum Gemma? Please will you wank me off?"

She giggled, and leaned around to watch as she tossed me.

"Tell me when you're going to cum. I don't want you to go all silent and then suddenly pump cum everywhere, I want to know you're enjoying it... I want to know exactly when you start to cum ok?"

"Yes Gemma!" I moaned.

She wanked me between the roll-top bin and a stack of aluminium beer barrels for several more minutes. I tried hard to hold back for as long as possible, but I was no match for her relentless right hand. I moaned softly so that she could gauge my arousal, then, as I reached my peak I began to whisper to her; "I'm nearly there Gemma, that feels so good, I'm almost there..."

Gemma's breathing was hot and heavy in my ear. "Tell me you want it," she demanded.

"Oh god Gemma! I want it! I want it!"

The pitch of my voice escalated and my heels lifted from the ground. I felt myself pass the point of no return and I let Gemma know.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna... " I managed, before Gemma suddenly let go of my throbbing cock and grabbed my arms hard.

For a moment I couldn't comprehend what she'd done or why she'd done it. My cock spasmed and shot a rope of cum into the side of the roll-top bin, but I didn't get that euphoric feeling of climax. Instead, I felt desperately unfulfilled, suspended somehow in the pre-orgasmic hiatus. Gemma laughed with glee as I shook in her vice-like hold. My cock spasmed again, but without further stimulation the ejaculate splodged from the tip and splattered onto the grimy stone slabs. My final shot took an age to arrive - it built within my cock and balls, but my cock would not spasm to pump it out. I groaned loudly, begged Gemma desperately to stroke some more, and felt the wad of cum dribble through my turgid shaft. All the while, I could feel Gemma's body convulsing as she laughed, her tits pushed into my back, hands still gripping my arms firmly.

Finally I stopped shaking. I had orgasmed in a way, my pathetic ejaculation was over, I didn't feel horny any more, but nor did I feel sated. I felt angry and confused at what Gemma had just done to me, but at the same time amazed at how she had taken control and done something so cruel and domineering. The way she had laughed while I shuddered through the angst of a ruined orgasm was somehow erotic beyond comprehension. I wanted to lash out at her, verbally, but at the same time I actually wanted to thank her. I groaned softly. If Gemma had not been holding me steady, I would have been bent over with my hands on my shaking knees.

Gemma let me rest for five or ten seconds, then quickly let go of me and ran back up the fire escape. "Don't come back in for five minutes" she laughed back at me.

I shook my dribbling cock off, tucked it into my pants, and fastened my jeans up as quickly as possible, watching the crescent of spunk that I had sprayed onto the roll-top bin begin to dribble over the chip grease and yard dirt. I felt that Gemma and I had not finished for the night, so I checked that there were no stray deposits of cum anywhere on my jeans of tee shirt, then wasted no time in heading after Gemma.

As I topped the fire escape and entered the long hallway, I saw Gemma stepping through the doorway into the saloon. I hurried to catch her up, but just as I reached the saloon door, an explosion of female laughs stopped me dead. Peeking around the corner I saw Gemma, standing before her friends, her left arm across her tummy, her right fist pumping back and forth about a foot from her own crotch, clearly emulating what she had just done to me. The girls continued to laugh raucously, reaching a crescendo that drew the attention of the entire saloon when Gemma gesticulated the action of my pitiful ejaculation. I could only see the side of Gemma's pretty face, but I could tell that she was beaming, glowing with pride and amusement. At that moment, she was the centre of the universe.

I watched her for a while longer, captivated by her strength and beauty, until one of the locals shuffled past me, and the trance was broken.

I stayed late in the pub that night, avoiding Gemma and her friends at kicking-out time courtesy of one of Carol's lock-ins, to which non-locals were naturally not invited. I don't know what time I made it home, but as soon as I hit the bed I wanked myself long and hard, recalling Gemma's command of me, her grip on my arms, her soft hand on my cock, the way she laughed at the result of her cruelty, and the humiliation of her recounting the story to her friends. Most of all I recalled the ruined orgasm Gemma had inflicted upon me and that feeling of utter devastation at the hands of a woman, and I came hard at the thought of it.

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I spent most evenings down at the Railway Inn, but I had to wait a whole week before I saw Gemma again. She didn't notice me until she made her way to the toilet for the first time, and I ambushed her in the corridor.

She immediately looked defensive; angry or embarrassed somehow.

"You're not getting an apology..." she blurted.

Afraid I might lose her if she wished to make a scene, I blurted out the words that had been racing through my head all week, "Can we do it again?"

She took a moment to register this, but suddenly her rabbit-in-the-headlights look switched to something of momentary relief. She beamed her pretty smile, delighted by my perverse desire, then turned her eyes sultry and seductive. "Same rules apply, ok? I'm in control?"

'"Absolutely!"

"Later," she said, then she brought her lips to my ear. "I'll give you the best shitty orgasm of your life. Just wait until I say so."

I returned to my friends in the pool room, my cock tenting my pants. I tried to engage in the conversation, but my mind was elsewhere. Two hours passed before Gemma entered the pool room from the front hallway, breezed past the bar without casting me a single glance, then exited through the doorway into the back corridor. I immediately declared to my friends that I needed a piss, left my pint on a Robinson's Best Bitter beer mat, and headed for the corridor.

Gemma was waiting for me, leaning on the wall just past the gents, with an amused and haughty look on her face. I stalled slightly as a local staggered out of the gents, then followed Gemma up the corridor towards the fire escape. She remained two yards ahead of me, leading the way to my destruction.

Once we were back between the roll-top bin and the stack of beer barrels, Gemma turned, draped her arms over my shoulders, and leaned up to snog me passionately. She tasted of sweet peaches again, her hair smelt of cigarette smoke from the foggy saloon bar, which only partially masked the familiar smell of roast chicken and chips that hung in the air.

Her lips were loose and wet as she devoured me, her tongue probing again, invading me to make me hers. Her crotch was pressed into mine, clamping my erection between us.

"I love your cock," she said, breaking off from our passionate kiss. Somehow it sounded deliciously vulgar as the word 'cock' fell from her beautiful lips.

"Thank you," I muttered, awkwardly.

We snogged again while Gemma's hand snaked between us to find the bulge in my pants and began to trace my length. I imagined how sexy it would be to have her wank me to completion through my jeans.

"So," she said, breaking from our kiss and stepping back to distance us by around a foot, "you liked what I did to you?"

"I hated it!" I said, "but I loved it at the same time."

"What did you hate?" she asked, unbuckling my belt.

"I don't know... not properly cumming... being all wound up but not getting to enjoy the release."

Gemma laughed. My flies were open by now and she bent down to push my jeans and underpants down to my knees. I felt the cool air on my naked cock and balls, and my fat hard-on sprung to attention between us, demanding attention.

"And what did you like?" she asked, taking my cock in both hands, holding me firmly with one hand at the base, and rolling the soft fingers of her other around my fat bell-end.

I moaned.

"I liked that you took control," I breathed, "I liked the way you were mean to me, and that you enjoyed it, I loved the way you held me firmly and wanked me, and I loved the way you laughed... Ioved the way you took pleasure in it."

Gemma giggled, and her amusement encouraged me to divulge more.

"I loved the way you laughed about it with your friends afterwards," I admitted as Gemma's hands massaged my aching knob, "It was kind of humiliating in a sexy way."

Gemma bit her lip and giggled more. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "you're really into this aren't you?!"

"I've thought about it every night... about you... about what you did to me," I admitted.

"Put your hands behind your back," she demanded, "if you move them even once, I'm out of here ok?"

"Yes Gemma," I said, crossing my arms and holding my elbows behind my back.

"Now," she continued, "let's see if we can give you something else to think about next week..."

She let a gob of spit drop from her mouth into one of her hands, rubbed it together with the other, then regained her grip on my cock. This time she moved both hands in synchronicity, wringing my cock gently as though it were a wet flannel. The light twisting of the skin around my shaft and the pressure on my bell end felt amazing, and my knees buckled slightly.

"Mmmm," she hummed, "I really do like your cock! It seems almost unfair to use it against you... are you sure you want me to ruin you again?"

She was teasing me, and the question was rhetorical of course, but I had to answer.

"Yes Gemma!" I said, breathily, "Please ruin my orgasm again."

Gemma switched from wringing my cock to stroking it slowly.

"You've got to let me know where you are ok? got to let me know when you're about to cum... don't you dare fuck with me..."

"Yes Gemma!" I breathed, "I'll let you know. I really want you to devastate it for me..."

Gemma began to stroke my shaft hard and fast, her warm fingers slipping over my exposed glans. She watched intently as she did it, fascinated by the sight of my long, fat, cock in her little hands. Occasionally her eyes would flit to mine so that she could be amused by the expressions on my face, and read my state of arousal for herself.

Every stroke of her hand edged me closer to my orgasm. The knowledge and excitement that she was going to ruin it for me only excited me more. I began to breathe faster, and soon I was nearing the point of no return.

"I'm really close!" I panted.

Gemma slowed. "Lift my skirt up," she told me.

I immediately brought my hands from behind my back and did as she asked, stooping to grab the hem of her short, black skirt, and pulling it up to her hips. She was wearing plain pink knickers with pink lace edging. The material hugged her large mons and gave a mere hint of a camel toe. Gemma held the head of my cock close to her hidden pussy.

"You wanna cum on my pussy?" she asked.

"God, yes Gemma!" I panted, "I'm so close!"