Femdom: Ruins

"You want me to ruin you? are you really ready for the best shitty orgasm you'll ever have?"

"Yes Gemma!"

"You want me to ruin you onto my pretty pink panties?"

"Oh god, yes Gemma..."

"Are you going to be a dirty boy for me?"

Her filthy words tipped me over the edge.

"I'm cumming!" I blurted.

Gemma stopped stroking me immediately. She held the base of my cock and pointed me at her pink knickers. I felt the first gush of my orgasm fill my urethra and spurt from my bell end. We both watched in fascination as a rope of slippery white mess splashed onto her crotch and clung to the pink material that covered it. I shuddered, but remained in a state of pre-orgasmic frustration, wound up like a coiled spring, excruciatingly unsatisfied.

"Give me more, dirty boy!" she demanded.

My second attempt was feeble in comparison. My poor cock spat a small glob of spunk onto it's predecessor. The spasming of my cock was stimulating, but agonisingly insufficient to bring me to a full orgasm.

Gemma began to laugh gleefully.

"Oh baby!" she mocked, "Don't you want to give me more?"

I desperately did, and would have put a hand to my own cock and wanked myself dry onto her glorious mons in tribute to her dominance of me, had the thrill of being ruined by this lovely, cruel woman not been the best experience of my life.

I spasmed twice more but could muster no more spunk for her. Gemma continued to laugh joyfully, the sound of her pretty laugh music to my ears.

We stayed in position for what seemed like minutes, my whole body shaking, my hands still holding her skirt around her waist, hers around the base of my cock as it fruitlessly throbbed and slowly softened, the paltry tribute I deposited on her lovely pink panties soaking in, and dribbling towards the cleft of her little camel toe.

"Is that all you've got?" she asked, playfully.

"Oh god Gemma!" I panted, "my balls are still full, but that's all I could get out!"

"Oh no! Did Gemma spoil your little moment?"

"Oh yes Gemma, totally! you really destroyed it for me!"

"Well then, what have toy got to say?"

"Thank you Gemma, thank you for ruining my orgasm again."

Gemma beamed. She looked radiant - like a cruel angel against the backdrop of brick, bins and barrels, or like a succubus somehow, who grew in strength by subjecting a willing victim to this mean and perverse sexual act. Ruining my sexual enjoyment at the peak of my passion seemed to make her shine. Her eyes twinkled, reflecting the light of a galvanized wall light in the dusky evening light.

Finally, Gemma let go of my wasted cock and I released her skirt. "Follow me," she said as she smoothed it down over her hips and thighs. "When we get to the saloon, go to the bar and try to listen to me talking with my friends... and try to breathe... your face is all red!"

In the saloon room I found a spot at the end of the bar where I could not only hear Gemma and her friends, but see them too.

They continued clucking at first, until they realised that Gemma had remained standing.

"Guess what I just did," Gemma quizzed.

This elicited an excited cackle from her friends. "Who with?" they enquired, guessing already that Gemma had taken another poor lad out into the yard to waste another orgasm. I froze.

"I'm not telling," Gemma laughed, "but look!"

She lifted up the front of her skirt so that only her friends at their table in the corner of the room could see, and showed them my spunk. The girls erupted into a cacophony of laughs, yelps and squeals. They feigned looks of disgust, but inspected the sloppy patch on Gammas knickers with absolute fascination. I felt my cheeks reddening further - six girls were looking and laughing at MY spunk... my private gift to Gemma, my pathetic little spurts, the evidence of Gemma's superiority, and of my own pitiful inferiority.

'Oh my god Gemma," one of the girls laughed, "it's every fucking Friday with you!"

"Who was it?! who was it?!" the other girls demanded, continuing to laugh heartily as Gemma finally let go of her skirt to cover my shame.

Gemma laughed. She had her back to me but I knew that she would be beaming and beautiful, proud of her conquest, fulfilled by her dominance, smug with her achievement.

I saw that I was right as she turned around to face me. "It was that lad at the bar," she said, pointing at me and laughing gleefully.