Latest Posts by knowmewell - Page 4

Fantasy idea: there’s another lockdown (I don’t want this in reality but let’s work with it in this fantasy world). My boss asks me if I’d like to stay with her and her partner. She tells me she knows I just want to be a mindless pet and that’s how she’ll keep me. She puts me in a chastity cage, takes my phone and all my clothes away, puts a gag in my mouth, and shows me the new clothes she’ll be giving me to wear.

New clothes are frilly knickers and small, too-short T-shirts that ride up as I wear them, exposing my belly for that extra feeling of vulnerability. Maybe some mittens and ankle socks or booties too, just to make me feeling that bit more childish and subdued.

I then spend my days curled up at my boss’s feet, sometimes kissing and massaging them. Maybe occasionally I’m allowed to snuggle under a blanket with her. At meal times I eat from a bowl on the floor as my boss and her partner eat at a table or on the couch with me at their feet. At nighttime I curl up to sleep in a big pile of pillows and blankets, or maybe a big quilty basket. Occasionally, or maybe often, my gag is removed and I have normal chats about our shared interests with my boss, as if me kneeling before her dressed in such an embarrassing fashion and completely at her mercy is the most normal situation in the world.

Fantasy idea: a performance appraisal at work. My boss tells me she’s very pleased with my work and that I’m a valued team member and she really enjoys working with me… but she’s noticing lapses in focus due to me looking at my phone too often. She suggests keeping me in chastity and authorising and-or overseeing any releases I have for “the foreseeable future.”

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.

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’d really like a mummydom to teach me how to go down on her strap-on with lots of soft encouragement and telling me how proud she is of me, followed by a pegging where I’m told what a good, slutty boy I’m being. Of course I’d say thank you for the kind treatment afterwards.

I want my boss to make me her chaste little pet who lives to adore and obey her and make her very happy. Short of that maybe I could just be kept in chastity by her and let out for masturbation over authorised images once or twice a month.

“Baby, you told me that you never really liked sex. You said you only ever wanted it because you thought you should, as a man. But then mummy helped you realise you’re not a man, you’re just a baby boy. And baby boys don’t have sex do they? No. Can you remember what they do have? That’s right, humpies! What a clever boy! Why don’t you have humpies with the corner of the couch here. You’ll have a lovely view of mummy’s legs as she watches television.”

Seduce me into writing out a list of my kinks then use it to break me and make obsessed with you. I want to be completely besotted with a mummy mistress, always thinking about her and how I can please her.

“If you want to have sex with me all you have to do is say so. I know you’re wearing a ballgag but that wouldn’t stand in your way if you wanted it that badly…”

I love Bailey Jay and want to suck her cock as mummy whispers instructions into my ear.

Brainwash me into identifying as Tinkerbell from the Disney Peter Pan, complete with very short dress and inability to speak but without the sassy attitude. Make me loyal to you and compliant and desperate to serve you with magic… and maybe convince me giving blowjobs to strap-ons is “magic.”

I don’t want to be a grown-up making decisions. I want to sit at mummy’s feet staring up at her adoringly as she makes all my decisions for me.

I want to be on my knees sleepily tugging on mummy’s skirt. “Think for me please, mummy…”

I’d love to wake up in a locked crib in a pink nursery, completely swaddled in a nappy and mittens, feeling groggy and not knowing how I got there. Then a demurely dressed woman who I’ve never seen before walks in and I hear myself say “Hello mummy, thank you for catching me.”

Tell me how happy and honoured I feel to be going down on you as I’m going down on you.

I want mummy to sweet talk me onto her lap, facing her with my legs splayed easing myself down onto her strap-on. Tell me I’m such a good boy for being so willing to bounce on mummy’s cock.

I’m feeling sleepy. Could really do with laying down my head in someone’s lap and having instructions whispered into my ear as I drift off for a nap right about now.

Really like the idea of a woman telling me that being a prejac is a pro-feminist statement. Just twisting my mind around so that I think the greatest thing in the world is getting onto my knees and orgasming in thirty seconds to show that I’m a feminist.

“I know you think you want to suck mummy’s boobies and put your little penis in mummys vagina but what you actually want is to ask mummy to put on her strap-on and throat fuck you. Be a good boy and ask mummy now.”

Sometimes, by which I mean quite often, I browse Tumblr at work and my manager walks by. I have a bit of a crush on her and fantasise about her softly telling me to give her my phone. I wouldn’t want to but I also wouldn’t put up much of a fight and would give in pretty much immediately and then stand there bashfully as she browsed through my phone discovering all my kinks.

Hold my hand in a leading manner and tell me to watch your bum sway as we walk. I’m not clever enough to lead, I’m mummy’s little follower and watching that swaying is my reward.

Give me a woman with feet she’s not taken care of. Hard skin, cracked nails, whatever. Let me work diligently every night to make her skin soft and smooth and kissable, get her nails beautifully painted. Let me just work on her feet as she reclines and watches TV and reads. Then let me worship those feet on nights when she’s not going out with her friends or hot guys.

I really like being sexually denied. Like, a mummydom getting me all hard and needy and leading me into asking to make squirties and then being told of course I can, but mummy would prefer me not to… that’s where it’s at.

“Mummy would prefer you not to. Mummy likes you needy, with your little peeny all hard and making you stupid for me.”

This morning I was looking at upskirt panties pics in bed (it was a really fun time). I’d forgotten this when I sat down on the tube to work. When I pulled out my phone and unlocked it it was still on a close up shot of a woman bending over. I’m not sure the woman next to me saw but I kind of hope she did. I spent several minutes daydreaming about her publicly shaming me for my filthy perversions.

“Are you going to thank mummy for making your peeny permanently soft and little and pink? Good boy. You’re very welcome. Now take two fingers and make some quick tug-tugs for mummy before she leaves for her date.”

What I want right this moment is a dommy mummy with big fake boobs, a spray tan, hoop earrings, loads of pink lip gloss and a love of spiky stiletto heels and short, tight, low cut leopard print dresses. Someone like this calmly brainwashing me to understand that being a chastity maid for her would be absolutely perfect.

I want to be put in a nappy and dressed in very childish clothing, then taken by the hand and led down the street by a mummydom. When she finds a nice-looking woman (or, even better, a group of women) she asks me if I think they’re attractive. When I say yes I’m asked for specifics. “She’s got a nice bottom, mummy” etc. Then mummy tells me, kindly but firmly, to go over and tell the nice lady that I think she’s got a nice bottom.

“Don’t be silly, baby. Mummy loves your soft little penis. It’s very cute and so useful for controlling how you think. It’s just not good for sex, that’s all. You’re still mummy’s best boy.”

Please can a hot mummy hypnotise me and get me to kneel in front of her to stare at her feet and tell me I’m mummy’s happy little boy and staring at feet is all I want?

I just want a kind, pretty woman to mother me, dress me up in panties, and tell me how pretty and trapped my peenie looks. Is that really too much to ask?