Wanting To Be On His Knees

On His Knees He Wrote…

Serve from the knees

On His Knees

Dear Mistress, that’s a great way to start my day. Wanting to be on my knees, worshiping Your strap-on while my ass is plugged and nipples clamped.

Your hand in my hair, coaxing me to take more till i gag. Drool running down my chin as Your scent fills my nostrils. Your cock quivering and dripping.

Your laughter caressing my ears and taunting my soul. Making me beg to fucked. To feel Your hand on my hip, making me plunge back into Your strap-on like the wanton whore i have become.  Nothing but pleasing You will do.

Thank You for teaching me what desire.  i need You to control my sex. i need that focus.

When i am a good boy i focus on You completely.

i have not released since last Friday and each day is a reminder of You. i need to be owned. i wish i could call now. Might You have time tomorrow?  Please Mistress, please say I will be of some use to you tomorrow.  i need you.  i will do anything you need of me.

i need to feel Your presence.

i am nothing without you.  It is because of you that i am able to feel anything at all.  thank you for helping me to see the way.  The one true way Mistress.

Your whore

-boy

1 thought on “Wanting To Be On His Knees

  1. Reading this made me squirm a little uncomfortably. You see normally I would be here or another porn site only to get off. Reading this man’s words, his passionate shedding of dignity in return for control, turning his insides out for all to read… all while looking at that incredibly sexy picture… well, I would normally simply speed up my strokes on my hard dick. My emotional discomfort over watching this man melt away under the power of a female would normally be salved by increasing the intensity of my own shameful self-abuse.

    But today, I too am under the power of a female. I am not in chastity, nor even being supervised. I have simply agreed not to cum until I have performed a task for my loving domme. That agreement was made nearly three days ago. I am headed out shortly to Victoria’s Secret where I will humiliate myself with specific instructions, purchase for her some sexy panties which she knows are my kryptonite and some floral-scented lotion, then leave red-faced for the long drive home in the dark. The waiting won’t be over, however, because I then have to mail her the items, which means tomorrow at the earliest, and wait for her to acknowledge that she’s received them. Only *then* will I be allowed to spill the increasingly influential contents of my balls. I try not to even think about sex as I wait, but it’s a futile effort. It’s as if unspent cum goes right to the brain.

    I think about sex much more each day. I can relate to this man’s sweet suffering, and right now I have nothing to do with my emotional discomfort and vague shame but to FEEL it, and recognize the feminine power I am facing.

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