#Cum on Command

Ever since I can remember, I've been wired for submission, drawn to humiliation and shame more than physical pain. It hit me hard when I was about 14, at a local pool, when a friend named Sarah yanked my towel away while I was changing. Two other girls saw my half-hard dick and burst into giggles, pointing and mocking me. That moment stuck with me - fueling my fantasies for months. At 20, I fell head over heels for a girl named Chloe from a nearby town. She was everything I'd dreamed of: sharp-witted and stunning. We dated for about seven months, but our sex life was tame - vanilla to a fault. I craved something darker, though I never dared say it. I could tell Chloe had her own wild streak, but we were too young, too shy, to explore it. Eventually, she met someone else and moved to a city 200 miles away. I was gutted. Now, at 29, I've been with my partner, Lauren, for six years. We dabble in some light kink, which keeps things exciting. But with her blessing, I've also got a Mistress, Vanessa, who takes my humiliation to another level - tormenting me with jealousy and exposure until I'm a wreck of arousal. Lauren and Vanessa even team up sometimes, weaving my submissive urges into their game. They grill me separately, comparing notes to see if I'm baring my soul truthfully. It's intense. For my last birthday, I had no clue what they'd cooked up. They'd already dug out my deepest secrets - like how I still pine for Chloe, imagining her as a cruel domme in my private moments. Once, Vanessa tied me naked to a tree in the woods, blindfolded, and left me there. Lauren showed up soon after, teasing me until I confessed - under her relentless touch - that I picture Chloe slapping me in public, making me wet myself in front of strangers, or edging me with a remote toy while she screws other guys as I watch, helpless. Those fantasies used to be mine alone, but not anymore. Solo jerking's off-limits now - if I'm horny and Lauren's not in the mood, she just says, "Call Vanessa and beg." Their control leaves me drowning in shame and powerlessness, which only fuels me more. I exist to amuse them, and I love it. Anyway, back to that birthday surprise. We'd planned a dinner party at our place - 15 friends, starting at 7 p.m. Around 5: 30, I was soaking in the tub, getting ready, when the doorbell rang. Lauren answered, and I heard muffled voices. Then the bathroom door flew open - Vanessa stood there, eyes glinting. "Open your mouth, " she barked. I knew better than to argue, so I did. She shoved a rag in, gagging me, then blindfolded me. Hauling me out dripping wet, she sat me on the toilet. "Stroke that pathetic little thing, " she ordered. Her mocking laugh echoed as I obeyed, shame and uncertainty making me hard in seconds. Lauren's voice cut in next. She bound my hands behind my back, tying them to the toilet base. I tried to mumble protests - the guests were due soon - but the gag silenced me. Then came the moment that broke me open. Lauren whispered in my left ear, "We're about to rip your heart out, you little pig." Vanessa purred in my right, "You'll feel what it's like to have your slave brain fucked - not just in your head, but for real." My pulse hammered; my cock throbbed. Fear and arousal fried my nerves. A hand - I couldn't tell whose - grazed my aching erection, teasing the tip agonizingly slow. Another scratched lightly at my balls, the kind of touch that unravels me. It was torture - every second felt like I'd explode, but I couldn't, not yet. The buildup was unbearable, a wildfire in my groin, all stoked by their words and the scene they'd trapped me in. I stayed silent, desperate to please, terrified of screwing up with guests so close. Lauren murmured, "Imagine Chloe's here, watching this." Vanessa added, "We told her how you still love her - how you cast her as your twisted domme when you're alone." "Picture her laughing at you, " Lauren said. "We know that wrecks you, you filthy mess." They kept at it, piling on taunts until tears welled up. "Cry, you disgusting perv, " Lauren snapped. "We're squeezing out your tears and your cum together." Vanessa chimed in, "You'll die emotionally for us - melt from lust, choke on shame. It's your gift from your goddesses." "Piss yourself too, " Lauren growled. "We know you're scared enough to - do it now, you vile thing! " I wasn't used to her like this, but I couldn't resist - sobbing, imagining Chloe's mocking stare, I let go. The stench hit fast, and their laughter rang out. Hands returned to my cock, stroking me to the brink. Lauren yelled, "I'm counting down from 10. We'll keep you burning. You cum exactly at zero - smell your mess, cry harder, picture Chloe saying you were never man enough for her. But if you blow early, I'm gone - today." I bawled, wrecked. Vanessa hissed, "When you cum, we'll rip off the blindfold. You'll face your shame in the flesh while your pathetic soul fries." I was losing it, desperate to obey. Lauren started, "Ten... nine... eight..." Vanessa took over, "Seven - six - five, " rapid-fire. I couldn't think. "Four, " Lauren drawled, the stroking turning divine. "Three - two - one, " Vanessa purred. "You know what to do at zero - let it all go, you pig! " Lauren snarled. "Open your eyes and die of shame, " Vanessa roared, yanking my balls hard. At "zero, " the blindfold fell, and I erupted - screaming, cum blasting out as my body convulsed. I forced my eyes open mid-orgasm, still spurting, and froze. My guests - all 15 - stood there, silent, staring. No laughs, just wide eyes. Each gaze stretched my climax, shame and ecstasy twisting together. It lasted forever, a heavenly hell. When I finally crashed back to reality, I knew I'd give my life to these women - every second of my submissive existence theirs to command.

It had been nearly two years since I first started chatting with Ethan. Our conversations were sporadic at first, little sparks of connection flickering across the digital void. Back then, I lived halfway across the world, and meeting in person wasn't even a possibility. But life has a way of shifting plans - six months ago, I relocated to his city, settling into a new rhythm. Over time, our chats grew deeper, more intentional. We explored our desires, tested boundaries, and discovered just how well we clicked in this dance of dominance and submission. The talks were always easy, playful, and often steamy. We exchanged real details - names, photos, little proofs of authenticity - building trust brick by brick. Eventually, we agreed to meet face-to-face, somewhere public for my peace of mind. Coffee turned into hours of conversation, laughter, and a chemistry that hummed between us. He was earnest, kind, and surprisingly grounded. I liked him. A lot. So, we planned our first real session. This was my first plunge into dominance in the flesh. I'd dabbled online - enough to know it set my pulse racing - and Ethan, with his years of experience as a submissive, promised to guide me where he could. "Take your time, " he'd said. "I've got you." His reassurance loosened the knot of nerves in my chest. We skipped the preamble of a public meetup this time, heading straight to a boutique hotel downtown. When I arrived, he was already there, lingering near the entrance, his dark brown hair catching the light. He approached, shy but eager, and I leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek. Then, close to his ear, I whispered, "Kneel. Kiss my shoes." His body stiffened, eyes darting around the empty lobby. No one was watching. Slowly, he sank to his knees, pressing his lips to the leather of my ankle boots with a reverence that sent a thrill up my spine. As he moved to lift his head, I planted my foot on it, pinning him down. The pressure was firm, deliberate, and I savored the sight of him humbled beneath me. His breath hitched - nervous, maybe, about being seen - but he softened into it, surrendering bit by bit. "You lift your head when I say so, not before. Got it? " My voice was steady, commanding. "Yes, Mistress, " he murmured. I pressed harder, grinding the sole against his scalp. "This is your punishment for hesitating. When I give an order, you obey. No second-guessing. Understood? " "Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." His tone was thick with remorse. "Up now. Let's go." I released him and strode toward the elevator, not looking back. He scrambled to follow, and when I glanced at him, I caught the flush creeping up his neck, the bulge straining against his jeans. His eyes dropped when they met mine, and I smirked, heat pooling low in my belly. In the room - a sleek space with a plush sofa and a king-sized bed - I didn't waste time. "Strip. Kneel in the center." He moved fast, shedding his clothes and dropping to his knees, gaze fixed on the floor. I paced around him, taking him in. Ethan was striking - broad shoulders from hours at the gym, lean muscle without the bulk, dark hair swept back, and hazel eyes that hinted at a quiet confidence. No one would guess this poised, handsome man craved submission behind closed doors. His arousal was obvious, standing proud, but I wasn't here for that - not yet. "Legs apart, hands behind your back, eyes down, " I instructed. "This is how I want you when you're with me. Clear? " "Yes, Mistress, " he said, adjusting instantly. His voice trembled slightly, desire lacing every syllable. "And no touching yourself or cum without my say so. Your pleasure belongs to me now. Understood? " "Yes, Mistress. At your command." I stepped closer, tilting his chin up with my fingers. His skin was warm, and I traced a slow path across his forehead, down his cheekbones, lingering at his lips. A soft moan escaped him. I slipped a finger into his mouth, and he sucked eagerly, eyes fluttering shut. Two fingers, then three, and I worked them in and out, watching him melt. Then, abruptly, I pulled them free - and slapped him hard across the face. His eyes snapped open, startled. I hit him again, then again, a series of sharp, stinging blows - ten in all, just because I felt like it. "Problem with me slapping you, pup? " I asked, voice cool. "No, Mistress. You're in charge. Do whatever you want with me." "Good boy." I delivered three more slaps, hard enough to rock him sideways. His cheeks blazed red, and I was buzzing with excitement. I held my hands to his lips. "Kiss them. Thank the hands that discipline you." "Thank you, Mistress. Thank you so much. It's an honor." He kissed each knuckle with fervor, his breath ragged, a slick puddle forming beneath him. "Sometimes I'll slap you to punish you, sometimes just because I feel like it. And you'll take it because you want to please me, don't you, pup? " "Yes, Mistress. Anything you want. I just want to make you happy." I grinned, ruffling his hair like he was a pet. "Good boy." He beamed, despite the sting. "Follow me to the sofa. Crawl." "Yes, Mistress." I sank into the cushions, watching him shuffle across the floor on all fours. He stopped at my feet, head bowed, waiting. I let the silence stretch, relishing his submission, the power coursing through me. He didn't flinch, didn't question - just waited. "Kiss my shoes again. Then lick them clean. They're a little dirty." "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, thank you! " He dove in, lips brushing the leather before his tongue darted out, lapping at every inch. I leaned back, smug, as he worked. My boots gleamed under his care, and I lifted one, pressing the sole to his mouth. He licked without hesitation, groaning softly. I dragged the tread across his tongue, using him like a rag, then smeared it over his face. His moans grew louder, desperate. "Please, Mistress, " he gasped. "Please let me touch myself. I'm losing it." "No, pup. Not yet. Keep licking." My tone brooked no argument. "Please, I'm begging you..." He licked harder, voice breaking as I pressed my sole against his cheek. "Earn it, and maybe I'll consider it. No promises." "As you command, Mistress, " he said, resigned, moving to the other boot. A small pool of pre-cum glistened on the floor. I stepped in it, smearing it across his face. "Clean it up." He obeyed, tongue sweeping the mess with devotion. I rested my foot on his head as he worked, pinning him down until the floor shone. Then I yanked his hair, spat in his face, and watched him shudder. "Go wash your mouth and face with soap, you filthy mutt. I'm going to use you, and I want you spotless. Move." He bolted to the bathroom, returning damp and kneeling before me. I grabbed his hair, dragging his face between my thighs. He went limp, dazed, utterly mine. I could feel how soaked I was, and it fueled me. "See how wet you've made me, slut? " "Yes, Mistress. Please, let me taste you. Please..." I tugged his hair harder, slapping him repeatedly. "You want it that bad? " I rubbed myself against his face, loving his helpless, adoring expression. "Yes, Mistress. I want it so much. Please." Another slap. "Say it again." "Please, Mistress, let me have the honor of pleasing you. I've dreamed of you for so long. I'm begging." "Humiliate yourself more. Bark." "Woof, woof." "Louder." "Woof, woof! " "Crawl around." He did, clumsily eager. "Give me your paw and stick out your tongue." He complied, panting. I was unraveling. "Now take off my shoes and lick my feet. Beg while you do it." He pried off my boots, tongue tracing my soles, my arches, between my toes, pleading all the while. "Please, Mistress, let me please you..." I touched myself, teetering on the edge, his desperation pushing me closer. I shoved my foot in his mouth, silencing his pleas, and we both moaned. Laughing, I pulled it out, smacking his face with it, then offered it back for more licking. He was a wreck, and I was soaked. Finally, I stood, shoving him back with my foot. I hiked up my skirt, revealing lace panties, and beckoned him closer. "Smell me. Get used to your Mistress's scent. No licking, no kissing - just smell." He inhaled deeply, eyes glazed, trembling with need. I ground against his face, letting him stew in it, then stepped back. He whined, and I laughed, peeling off the panties. His jaw dropped, hunger etched into every line of his face. I sprawled on the sofa, legs spread. "Come here, pup. Your reward - eat me out." "Thank you, Mistress! Thank you a million times, my Queen! " He dove in, tongue everywhere - lips, clit, deeper - driving me wild. I came hard, gripping his hair, smearing my release across his face. I spat on him, slapped him, then shoved him back down for more. "Hands behind you. I'm using your mouth, your tongue - they're mine now." "Yes, Mistress. All yours. Use me however you want." I rode his face, controlling every move, climaxing again and again - four, maybe five times. He begged to cum, and I denied him, slapping him harder, relishing his frantic devotion. "Lick my feet and thank me for using you." "Thank you, Mistress, for letting me taste you, for using me." He lapped at my feet as I reclined, sated. "Get me wine and a snack, " I ordered. He fetched a bottle of red and some cheese, setting it up neatly. "Now, head on the chair. You're my throne." He positioned himself, face up on the seat, and I settled onto him, eating casually. His breathing was ragged beneath me, and I lifted occasionally to let him gasp, then sank back down. I came twice more, ignoring his muffled pleas. "Please, Mistress, let me cum, " he whimpered. "Beg again." "Please, I'm begging -" I smothered him mid-sentence, laughing. "No. Focus on my pleasure. That's all that matters." "Yes, Mistress." A pause. "Thank you? " I sat harder, grinning. When I finished eating, I sipped wine, scrolling my phone, treating him like furniture. Eventually, I stood. He kissed my feet, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you, " and I softened, stroking his back. Then I kissed him - soft, surprising him. He lit up. "Eat my ass now." He attacked with gusto, tongue relentless, my grip on his hair unyielding. I lost count of my orgasms. When he begged again, I dragged him to the sofa, sat on his face, and said, "Make me come more, and I'll let you." "Thank you, Mistress! " he cried, diving back in. I rode him hard, and when I was ready, I growled, "Come for me, slut." He erupted, and so did I, collapsing onto him. I stayed there, catching my breath, then stood. He dropped to the floor, kissing my feet, thanking me endlessly. I knew then - he was mine.