Dominated By and Older CouplebyIcantthinkofone©
Author's note: This story is a fictional fantasy. I wasn't sure how to categorize it. There is gay male sex, although there is a female involved in the story. Since it's about submission, I thought I'd put it in the BDSM category.
I had been surfing the internet for weeks, looking for a dominant male or couple that wanted to play with a bi curious male. I would describe myself as average looking, in his mid thirties, about average height. I'm a bit overweight, but not hugely fat. I'm very submissive. I work in an office, and don't make a huge amount of money.
There seems to be cliché that all submissive men are powerful executives that turn to femdom to relieve themselves of the daily responsibilities they face. While there certainly are people like this, I believe that submissive men come from all occupations; BDSM may often blur sexual orientation. I'm into female domination, but I find myself attracted to shemales or fantasize about being with a dominant man, although I would consider myself straight. I know that I usually wanted a female involved in the domination, even with a man.
I found mostly just swingers who weren't into BDSM, or couples that wanted to play with submissive females only. I finally thought I lucked out when I read an ad from a magazine in an adult video store I often frequented.
Dominant Older Male will Play With Gay, Bisexual, or Bi curious men. Must Be Clean, Obedient, and Very Submissive. My Wife will Assist Me. Tribute Required.
I contacted them, and we began to exchange emails. They seemed quite friendly, and open in their emails. They asked a lot of questions about my experience, and had I ever been with a man before. I told them about my bi curiosity, and interest in femdom. They told me that they were very strict, and that if I agreed to a session, I had to obey all their rules, and not back out. I agreed and we made a date. I was a bit disappointed that it was an older man and woman, but realized that meant he was probably experienced. They set a date for the session.
I walked up to the door of the house with my heart pounding nervously. I didn't know what to expect. I was as excited as I was scared. I still didn't have to go through with it. But the truth was I was too horny to back out. I was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened, startling me. Before me stood a woman in her late fifties.
She had grey hair tied up in a tight bun, and wore thick plastic glasses. She was well over six feet tall, and a bit plump, but not fat. She wore a plain flower decorated blouse and a long skirt. Her breasts were large, and gravity was definitely taking over, as they sagged. She wore black, shiny pointed witch shoes with the buckles. She wore a stern look on her face. She reminded of a strict, older teacher I had in grade four. "I, uh," stammered, too scared and intimidated by this woman.
"I know who you are, and you're on time. That's good," she stated. She told me not to just stand there, but get my butt inside now.
"Yeah, right," I replied.
"No, not yeah right. It's yes ma'am when I tell you to do something."
"Yes ma'am," I corrected myself and hurriedly entered the house.
She closed and locked the door behind me.
"You're name in this house for the next little while is boy," she stated. I took my shoes and coat off, and before I could react, she grabbed my ear like a naughty schoolboy, and pulled me into her living room.
"You have the tribute we discussed?" I gave it to her, and she looked at me half-amused, half-contemptuous. "Strip off all your clothes, fold them neatly, and place them over there," she pointed to the couch. I stripped to my briefs, but stopped there. I was too unsure of the whole thing.
"I don't know about this. Where is he anyway?" I asked. Ma'am got annoyed and looked at me.
"He'll be here, and you'll both get what you need, and maybe more, if that's what we decide. It's too late to back out now, anyway. I may be older, but I'm still pretty strong. I could easily grab you, and throw you out the door naked. And how do you suppose the police would respond if they saw you? I could tell them anything, like you tried to attack, rob or rape me. I'm here to prepare you for him. Now stop asking questions, and take off those shorts, boy," she demanded.
"Yes ma'am," I responded. She was right. It was too late to back out now. I stripped off my briefs; she looked right at my small penis. I was fully erect, just less than four inches. She burst out laughing.
"You're cock is puny," she said. "No wonder you need to get buttfucked."
"It's not that small," I tried to defend myself. It was very humiliating, but my cock seemed to like it. It strained for relief already.
"By the time we're done with you, you'll realize how small you really are boy."She grabbed me by the ear, and pulled me along into the bathroom.
"Bend over the sink and stick your butt out. You'll be doing that later, so get used to it."
"Yes ma'am," I replied, meekly embarrassed. I had never been exposed like this before. The fact that she was almost old enough to be my mother added to my embarrassment. I heard her snap on rubber gloves. Without warning, she thrust her finger in my rosebud. I grunted and groaned and she pushed in further. She twisted her finger around, like she was trying to dig the final pickle out of a jar.
"You're really tight. My husband will like that. He'll enjoy you," she said smugly. She withdrew her finger, and before I could relax a bit, replaced it with something else. It felt warm, and wet. "I'm giving you two fleet enemas. Normally, I'd give you a soapy water one, but my water bag burst from overfilling it last time." I knew that soon I was going to feel like I would burst. I had to give myself a fleet enema once before when I had a colonoscopy. They were very effective. How was I going to take two? They could have asked me to do this myself, before I came over, but I realized she was doing it because it humiliated me and she enjoyed it.
As I felt the second one begin to cramp my bowels, I muttered out, "Uh fuck, I can't hold it." That was a big mistake. She became furious.
"What did you say, boy?! How dare you use foul language in this house, and in my presence? I'm going to teach you some respect. You're getting your filthy mouth washed out with soap." She grabbed my hair, and pulled me toward the sink. My bowels were aching for relief. She grabbed a bar of ivory soap out of the drawer, placed it under the running water, and lathered it up. "Open up your filthy mouth, boy," she commanded. I obeyed and she shoved the bar in my mouth, and moved it all over my tongue and teeth. It tasted so awful that I temporarily forgot about my desperate need to empty my bowels. She did this for about a whole agonizing minute. Then she stopped, and pulled the bar out. She let me spit out the remaining soap, but the awful taste lingered. I thought I might vomit. I wanted to rinse my mouth out, but Ma'am wanted me to suffer.
"I'm going to leave you for five minutes to hold your enemas and think about how wrong it was of you to swear in my house. And to make sure you don't rinse your filthy mouth out, I'm going to tape it up," she informed me as she reached inside a drawer under the sink, and pulled out a heavy roll of industrial strength silver duck tape. She tore off a piece and plastered it over my mouth, pressing it down firm with her hand. "I'll be back in five minutes, and don't you dare take the tape off your mouth."
"Mephmmam," was all that could come out of my taped mouth, and my attempt to say 'yes ma'am.'
I clenched my butt cheeks to hold in the mess that churned in my guts. I stared at the clock on the bathroom counter. Five minutes felt like five hours. The wretched soapy taste lingered, as I couldn't open my mouth for air or water to rinse it out.
Finally she returned, and told me, "You can poop out your enemas, but make sure you get it all out. My husband wants you clean inside for his cock. Oh, and leave the duck tape on. I like you better this way. No more annoying questions," she said. I nodded my head. I had no intentions of disobeying or angering this dominant, cruel older woman.
I sat on the toilet and relieved my aching bowels. Now if I could just get this taste out of my mouth. I'd be getting something else in my mouth soon, but it wouldn't be soap. Despite my suffering, my little dick was still rock hard. After I had finished in the toilet, Ma'am dragged me naked by the ear into the shower stall, and ripped the tape off my stinging mouth. "All right, I want you to shower now, and wash yourself good. Pay special attention to your butthole, and tiny dick and balls. When you're done, dry yourself really well." She pulled out the roll of duck tape from the drawer and left it on the sink. Tear off a piece of the tape and put it over your mouth, before you come to the living room. I'm still angry over your foul language, and I like you better quiet."
"Yes ma'am," I said. I couldn't believe how humiliating it all was, and how turned on I was. I scrubbed myself good in the shower. I took some water in my mouth, and tried to get the soapy taste out, but it lingered. Then I dried myself and put the tape over my mouth. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt ridiculous. I cautiously walked into the living room. Ma'am held a leather collar in one hand, and what looked like a butt plug in the other.
"I know you think I'm cruel, boy, but I'm preparing you for my husband. He's much meaner than me. If he hears you swearing, he'll tan your hide until you cry. I'm still angry over what you did, but I'm merciful. I wasn't going to give you this butt plug, but I've reconsidered. After all, you didn't know how much we hate our boys swearing. This plug will make it easier when my husband does you in your butt. So bend over, and spread your cheeks for me."
I nodded my head, wondering how much more humiliating preparation I needed for her husband. I bent over, and she spread lube into my ass, without saying anything further. She pushed it into my ass, and I grunted loudly. "Relax, and push out, or it will hurt," she explained. I did as she ordered, and it slid in. My butt cheeks clamped around it, holing it tight. It felt great, as it rubbed up against my prostate. "Now stand up, boy," she said. She held out the leather collar, and showed it to me. It had the words 'Slave Boy,' engraved on it. She fastened it tightly. Then she pulled out a thick, black permanent marker, and wrote the words 'Small, Useless, Penis' on my belly, with an arrow pointing straight towards my crotch. She said she wanted everyone to know I was a pindick if they saw me nude. I wouldn't be going swimming, or to the gym anytime soon.
"Since you told me your cock isn't too small, I've got an exercise that will help you realize it is. You're going to write lines for me." I looked at the table. There was large pad of paper and a pen. Sit your ass down, and write out this sentence." 'I have a tiny, puny pindick, and I need to get buttfucked by a real man.' She broke her own rule about swearing. I didn't dare mention it though. I wrote out the sentence, and looked at her. "Good, now write it another 499 times," she ordered, and laughed. "I'm going to relax, and watch TV while you toil away. Have fun," she chuckled and went to sit on the couch.
I still had the gag over my mouth so I just nodded my head and got to work. I was submissive and wanted to please her. Besides, I was afraid she might punish me. I was frightened of her. After about half an hour she came over to make sure I was still working. She glanced over my shoulder, and I got so nervous I felt like I was in the first grade again. My hand ached from all the humiliating line writing. She was about to say something when her phone rang. "Hello? Yeah, Hon, I got him here, waiting for ya. I'm having lots of fun getting him ready. He's a real sissy boy. You'll have lots of fun with him. Oh really? Damn. I'll come get you. I'll take care of the boy," she said, then hung up. All right boy, here's the situation. My husband's car just died on him. I have to go pick him up, but I don't know what to do with you. I can't leave you here unattended," she said. I mumbled gibberish though the tape. Ma'am ripped the duck tape off my mouth. "What are you mumbling?" she asked. She ripped the tape off, stinging may face.
"I can stay here and wait by myself ma'am," I suggested.
"No boy. That's no good. You might try to leave, or steal from us. I've gone through all the trouble to prepare you for my husband, and he wants you. I better restrain you, before I leave. Get up, and march into the basement." I did as ordered, and Ma'am followed me into the basement. "Stay here, and don't move. I'll be right back," she ordered.
"Yes ma'am," I responded. She came back into the room, her big boobs bobbing up and down as she descended the stairs.
"You like my tits don't you boy? Well you're never going to see them or play with them. My husband and I like to swing, and play with real men, but you're just a pindicked boy. You're his plaything. So stop staring, and put your hands behind your back," she said. She was carrying metal handcuffs, and leg shackles.
"Yes ma'am," I responded, and immediately placed my hands behind me.
"These are police issue handcuffs, and prisoner leg restraints. You'll never get free without the key. My brother in law used to be a cop." Her big boobs rubbed up against me, and I felt the cold metal on my wrists, and heard the click of the cuffs restraining me. Then she kneeled down, and snapped leg shackles on my ankles, hobbling me. "I should gag you again, but there's no need. I won't be here to listen to your annoying voice. Besides, this room is soundproof, so if you decide to yell nobody will hear you. I don't think you will anyway. I know you want this. You're really a cocksucker aren't you, boy?"
"Yes ma'am," I confessed my hidden gay desires.
"I knew it the moment you and your puny dick responded to our ad," she laughed. With that said, she covered my eyes with a thick leather blindfold, like a sleep mask. "There. You won't be wandering around our house now. We'll be back in about half an hour and the real fun begins." She pushed me, and I fell back into what must have been a couch. "Stay still, and don't try to wander around or you'll hurt yourself.
"Yes ma'am," I responded.
"Good. When I get back with my husband, you better be nice and respectful to him. It's 'yes sir', and 'no sir,' when you respond to him. Remember, you're just a boy, and not a real man. He is your superior, and so am I."
"Yes ma'am. I'll be good." I really wanted to please her.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I've got something for you. I'll be right back," she said excitedly I felt her come close to me. I could smell her lavender smell. Despite her cruelty and age, I was sexually attracted to her. I though maybe she would take pity on me, or do something nice like stroke my cock, but I was wrong. I felt her warm hand on my prick, and then felt her sprinkle something on my little cock, pubic crotch hairs, and balls. "In case you're wondering, I'm sprinkling something onto your little pindick and pubic area. It's itching powder. I made it myself, and I've tested it on other boys. Believe me that it works. You'll be in agony in a few minutes. You're going to itch, and itch, and itch," she said in an amused and satisfactory tone.
My crotch began to tingle immediately. "Please ma'am. I've tried to be good," I begged and pleaded. "Don't leave me like this."
"I'm not doing this to punish you, boy. I'm doing it because I enjoy it. I soaped your mouth as punishment for swearing, but this is just for fun—well, my fun, not yours. Try not to think about the itching, and burning. Try to think about how good it'll feel to get your ass cherry popped."
I heard her walk up the stairs, and the basement door close. She left me in agony. The itching started immediately. My balls tingled, and cried out to be scratched, but of course I was handcuffed and had no way to relieve it. I tried to concentrate like she told me, and stay still, but it was next to impossible. The itching intensified as the minutes dragged on. Finally, I couldn't sit still, and turned over on my belly on the couch. I must have looked like a fish flopping out of water, because it was so hard to maneuver with my restraints, and blindfold. I rubbed vigorously against the couch with my crotch and balls in an attempt to gain relief. It didn't help much. I tried hard to remain still, but only lasted for a few minutes, before returning to rubbing against the couch.
I repeated this pattern, over and over again for what seemed like and eternity, until I heard foot steps on the stairs, and a strong male voice, "What the hell are you doing?"
I forgot about the rules, and replied, "I'm so itchy, I can't stand it." I felt a strong hand grab my hair and yank it back.
"What did you say bitch?" a strong male voice demanded. It was her husband.
"I'm sorry," I pleaded. "I'm just so itchy, sir," remembering his wife's instructions. He released my hair.
"She used the powder on you, didn't she," he said laughing. "Believe it or not, that means she likes you."
"If you say so sir," I responded, but had a hard time believing it.
"Why are you here, boy?" he demanded.
"I have a tiny, puny pindick, and I need to get buttfucked by a real man, sir," I responded without even thinking. His wife's line writing had really sunk in effectively.
"Good. I'm glad you know why you are here, but I have to punish you for failing to call me by my proper title and swearing. I'm going to give you a strapping," he announced matter of factly. My pounding heart sank, and I became afraid. Part of me wished I had never come to this cruel, dominant couple, yet another part was so aroused that my cock hurt and dripped precum. The fear over the punishment made me forget the itching. Sir returned and had me hobble over to a table. He told me to put my chest on the table and hold still.
"Wow, she really does like you," he said noticing the plug in my butt. "If she doesn't like you, she won't plug you. I'm going to give you 15 whacks—ten for not remembering to call me sir and swearing, and five for my own pleasure."
I didn't know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut. I had never been strapped before. I had fooled around with a girl once who had playfully spanked me, but I had never been strapped, especially not by a man. I was still blindfolded, so I wondered what Sir looked like. My thoughts were interrupted very quickly.
Whack! The strap hit my butt hard, making me cringe. It hurt, but I was sure I could take more, not that he was giving me a choice.
"This is what you get for not remembering that I'm your superior," he said. Whack! Whack! Each one seemed to come down harder than the next. It hurt so bad, I couldn't believe it. He strapped my butt relentlessly. All I wanted was for it to stop. Tears began to stream down my eyes. Ma'am was right. He was much meaner than her. Finally, he stopped at number ten. I had lost count in my misery, so I thought it was over.
"Aren't you going to thank me for punishing you?" he asked.
I mumbled out, "Thank you for punishing me, sir." I was so relieved it was over, but I was wrong.
"Now you'll get the final five straps for my pleasure," he announced.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The last five were even harder than the last ten. I was in near shock from the pain. My cock had softened during the intense pain, but now it began to rise up again. I needed and wanted more humiliation, no matter how hard I tried to deny it. My male superior wasted no time in providing it.
"Get on your knees boy," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," I obeyed, although it was awkward to kneel. I still had the blindfold on. I smelled something musky near my face. Then I felt something being dragged all over my face. It felt moist, and he slapped it all over my face. It was his cock.