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I inaccessible back, and through the hundreds glimmering in my relationship I saw Patti inexplicable to clobber Peter with lightning-fast combinations. One interesting she let me today. Then she learnt me in the usual.
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You will NOT find a bunch of models larties are on 7 other ballsbudting. The largest quantity of ballabusting exclusive content on any Gothic site on the web! A world where restraints are common and the Vixen Ladies wear the sexiest uniforms! Watch ballslapping British Bitches work your cock! Watch them all for free and add your personal videos here! Female domination clips with high heels and boots fetish. Femdom heelsjobs, trampling in boots and more. You want to be locked up in a chastity device and loose control over your dick and over your sexual life. And how much could I deliver anyway? But if she made moves on me, I would feel like I had to redeem myself.
What would she do then? She had gotten really impatient with me earlier; what if she got more impatient now? I recognized two kinds of feelings in myself now: Anger at her for belittling me, even if it was deserved: For the first time, I recognized that I was afraid of a woman. She had the power to make me feel totally inadequate. There was no way I could take away her femininity, but she — a strong woman — could strip me of my masculinity with just a few moments in the sack. I felt, looking back on it, that when she stopped me into the doorway and rubbed her hand from my asshole across my balls, pressing them against my body with her palm, that she was telling me: She lay in bed, naked.
The only light on was my reading lamp. I would look ridiculous — I always slept naked, as did she. So I pulled down my boxers. As I reached for the light — before getting into bed — I saw her staring at my crotch. At my flaccid penis. She had a look of hostile disappointment.
I lay Fwmdom my back, rigidly. I began to frde she was just going to let me go to sleep, without trying to have sex with my again. But then, while my mind slowly dissolved into sleep, while I lay on my side facing away from her, I felt her turn over, and she banged her knee against my ass. I was jolted into fearful awakeness. But then it happened again: And — maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was my total FFemdom about what was going on — I felt tears well up in my eyes. But then she did it again — this time making sure to drive her knee evenly between my buttocks but mercifully not striking my balls. Against my will, I cried out. I could feel her firm breasts pushing into my back.
She made a couple of little thrusts against my ass with her pelvis, then reached around my waist for my testicles. I instinctively pressed my legs together, trying to prevent her from touching my balls. I sandwiched them between my legs hard — it hurt, but I felt safer. She instantly recognized what I was doing, and yanked ferociously on my penis. She laughed, and tugged me more. But I realized she could wail on my penis all she wanted; it was, compared to my balls, invulnerable. I kept my legs closed, even if crushing my nuts slightly. She would have none of it. Of course my scrotum was still partly exposed, and she drove her fingernails into it, until I had to yield to her.
I was starting to cry; I opened my legs for her, and she was not in the Femvom bit merciful because I surrendered: Are you going to pretend balosbusting be a man and satisfy me, or am I going to ballxbusting the broomstick from the closet, gag you with a fucking towel, then ream you until you bleed freee over the floor? I should parites have gotten srories with a boy storiew dickless as you. I could eat your little nuts for a snack. She held me around the waist, gripping my stkries masculine flesh — utterly dominating me. I cried out; I felt like she broke skin, made me bleed.
Femdom ballsbusting parties free stories are supposed to have greater upper body strength than women. Get on your fucking feet! If I could beat her, she would never, ever, speak or act disrespectfully toward me again. And, with that preamble, she engaged me in combat. She circled me — I was still rather dazed — and took a couple of swipes at my head. She grabbed me by the arm, twisted it behind me, put her foot around my ankles and tripped me to the floor. When I was down, afraid to get back up, she slammed her foot into my rear end four times in rapid succession. I howled in pain and humiliation. Then she bent down and slammed her fist into my mouth: She got me standing, then pounded my shoulders a few times.
I felt myself swaying this way and that, nearly falling over. Try to hurt me, little man! So I swung a lazy fist at her. To my dazed amazement, I hit her on the side of the face, and she toppled. She let out a pathetic moan, and had to support herself on a chest of drawers. And suddenly I was alive again. Suddenly, I was a man again. Before she could recover, I hit her again: And then she was on the floor, crying like a fucking little baby. I stood over her body — she was covering her head with her arms, sobbing — and I spat on her breasts. I kicked her in the side, then put my bare foot over one of her breasts, and pressed on it.
My dom was going to put this Femdlm man through the think. Gripping my own with both of her tits, she held my cam right in front of her asshole.
I grabbed her feet from the floor, lifted them up, and spread her legs apart. She was too weak, too stunned, to resist. And I laid the ball of my foot over her snatch. Then I began wriggling my toes into her filthy little Femdom ballsbusting parties free stories. And I burst into laughter, because I had bsllsbusting heard of aprties man foot-fucking a chick before. I was feee on her like she had trampled on my manhood. Aprties this was fair: And pressed all of my toes into her snatch, and started shoving my foot inside her. At first she screamed, then she began pleading. Storiees it Fejdom all over. She suddenly freed one of her feet from my grip, then pounded it Femdok my vree. All of the air was knocked ballsbusing of my body, and I was doubled over, Femdom ballsbusting parties free stories on the floor.
And then she was all over me like a fucking wildcat; her nails scratching my back, my shoulders, her fists pounding my head and my face. She grabbed me by the hair and yanked my onto my back with a thud, frre hammered her fists against my head like drumsticks. Then her pussy, baklsbusting moments before padties been at my mercy, was suddenly gagging my face — sttories had it over my mouth and nose — and she beat her fists against my chest and my stomach. I gasped for air; I felt dizzy; I became extremely weak, and thought I would black out. You tried to fuck me with your foot.
You tried to hurt my sexuality. She hammered my groin repeatedly like a layer of rock to be smashed through to get at valuable mineral deposits. I was weeping again; I was sobbing again. My last memory of the evening was feeling her lips suck up my balls into her mouth; I began to feel her molars grind against them. Weeks later, after she had begun to train me to serve her absolutely, she asked me if I had ever doubted that she would conquer me. I asked her, in turn, if I had been too easy for her — to little a challenge.
I heard the sound of another photograph being ripped up. I looked at the fragmentary images as I gathered them from the floor: I could just imagine her, a sixteen-year-old, sitting in a car with some poor, love-struck chump: She mounting his erection, pounding her hips against his prone body, tugging his hair back to see his face of submission. Moments later smacking him around for ejaculating too soon — beating him to tears for not satisfying her. Grabbing him by the balls, demanding one good reason why she should let a flaccid twerp like him go on pretending to be a man — in her world. Why she should — She yelled at me: I felt myself begin shaking.
I scrambled to my feet to take her cake out of the oven. I tried to get into the kitchen as fast as I could, but she bounded off of the bed and intercepted me at the kitchen door. She jerked my head back violently — I heard myself let out a cry — then she smacked my cheek with her palm. You miserable, stupid goon! How dare you ignore my demands! She slammed her fist into my stomach, and — gasping for air — I doubled over. Gripping my hair with both of her hands, she held my head right in front of her pussy. She pounded the back of my head with her hand three times, then held my face there — right in front of her pussy — for about a minute.
Then she spoke again. I knew what was coming. Dutifully, I touched my fingers against the floor while keeping my legs straight. I stayed like that — bent over — while she went to the closet.
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About two minutes later, I heard her footsteps move up behind me. She stripped down my underwear. I was crying; I heard myself beg: She was smearing jelly on the twelve inch dildo strapped around her waist. While I continued my whimpering, she reached around my waist and grabbed my testicles. She held my balls with one hand, and a lock of my hair with the other. Pulling back my head, she slammed into me: On the first thrust, she hammered the dildo into me to the hilt. I felt like I was being ripped apart inside — my whole backside hurt terribly, almost up to my stomach.
She pulled half way out, then pounded into me again. I heard myself wailing as she pulled out, then impaled me again; pulled out, then drove into me again… When she finally got bored of me weeping and begging, she pulled out all the way. I fell to the floor, clutching at my body. After she removed the strap-on, then grabbed me by the arm and forced me to lie on my back, facing up at her. She yanked my legs apart, exposing my limp, limp cock. And she moved down on me, laying her hot, moist vagina against my genitals. She grabbed a lock of my hair, forcing me to make eye contact with her, then slapped me across the face.
She spat at me: When she was done, she made me finish cleaning the floor. By the time I was done cleaning the floor, the cake was completely burned. She took it out of the oven; she removed it from the pan, set it on a plate, then placed it on the floor. Its charred surface still smoking, she made me sit on it — nude — for thirty-five minutes: While the cake burned against my ass and my scrotum, she took several Polaroids of me sitting there. She put the Polaroids in her photo album, replacing the old pictures of the men she had ripped up.
As my relationship with Patti became increasingly one of service and submission, my self-definition evolved dramatically: I no longer thought of myself as a solitary creature with a finite, rather average amount of power with which to exploit other solitary creatures randomly encountered in life. Life was no longer a series of potential attacks and conquests, whose only meaning came from ephemeral emotional entanglements and transient pleasures. I began to approach life from a more oblique angle when Patti became my dom.
The ordinary experiences of life lost their importance; the everyday struggles lost their urgency. My perspective was much more elevated — allowing me to reject much of typical human life — in two ways: That modern, male-smudged world has failed. It has been a crushing disappointment, and — with the help of my dom — I could see that the race needed to disengage from that old dissordered perspective. I had a small part as is suitable for males in the avante garde of a new, female-dominated world order. This gave me a tremendous sense of meaning. The other way my view of the world had marvellously changed was by serving Patti as an individual.
She was the voice and the embodiment, in my life, of what was best in human nature. I surrendered to her because her vision of things was clearer than mine — magnificent and illuminating — and by stepping into my life and taking the reigns, she improved me vastly. I felt an insatiable need to repay her. I wanted to do this through total, unflinching slavery. She deserved nothing less. I resisted quite frequently, because the notion of male independence — even male superiority! I needed constant reminding and constant discipline. She designed a rigorous exercise regiment for me, and occupied me for much of the day with laborious chores and errands.
It was important that I spent every moment of my life pursuing activities for her benefit; nothing I did any longer was for my own betterment, entertainment, or joy — except in the long run. Patti spent quite a lot of time lifting weights herself, and she loathed me — when we first met — for being somewhat flabby. And by no means will I tolerate that from you, Eric. As if subconsciously I thought that by improving my body I could approach her excellence.