You want it all, don’t you?

Well FUCK YOU, pig boy. You don’t get it all.

If anybody gets it all, it’s the wife. Hopefully she’ll figure you out someday and she won’t leave.  She won’t leave …  but will stay and use your cock-stupid behavior to her advantage.

She will cuckold your ass like there’s no tomorrow.   She will rub her behavior and her well-fucked cunt into your face.

She will remind you that you weren’t man enough to be a good spouse when you had everything and anything a man could dream of.  The perfect trophy wife:  beautiful, blonde, smart, successful.  She will remind you of all the men who hit on her, yet she remained faithful.  She will remind you that you married up … and should have been kissing her ass and kowtowing to her right from the beginning.  She’ll remind you how she trusted you and believed you were a good man.

Reminders.  At least at first.

Then, later, once she’s gotten you used to regularly sitting on the sofa or sleeping in the guest room while she’s getting it on with her latest lover, once she has you trained as a low-rent cuck-a-hubby and begins really enjoying it and …

… once you realize you are so FUCKED. That your fantasies have come true and your wife is the ultimate wicked princess and loving every minute of it.

Then she will tell you.

She will tell you that she knew all along … about your twisted antics at NiteFlirt, your filthy thoughts, your dangerous and sick games.  About Angela St. Lawrence.

She will tell you that long before she finally “pretended” to catch you and turn the tables and make you her subby cucky …  she was already craving huge cocks and had been sampling more than a few here and there.

She will tell you that she fucked one of your supervisors when you were on a business trip.

She will boast about doing two of your best friends in your marital bed, the night you passed out drunk after the Super Bowl party you’d hosted.

She will smirk and tell you that your other friends watched and beat off.

She will laugh, explaining that often when she told you she was too tired or had a headache, she knew she was getting a big dick the next day and didn’t want to spoil that fun with a piddling, unsatisfying encounter with you.

She will tell you that even when she fucked you she was thinking about other men … how big they were, how they knew so much more about how to please a woman than you ever could or will.

BUT …

She will say to you …

What are you going to do about it? What in the hell do you think you can do about it, you gutless worm?

Be grateful you still have me, because you and I both know I’ve had better and can get better any fucking time I want. Be grateful that I don’t have my latest squeeze move in with us and make you serve both of us.

Because, you piece-of-shit snake of a husband, you and I both know that I can.  We both know that you could never ever get someone as hot as me again and you are fucking lucky I am till here.

The bottom line, my funny little faggy valentine?

While you were busy doing your convoluted version of phone sex with Angela? I was getting the real deal. I was getting banged by super studs with monster cocks.

And you were too stupid and too fucked up to know.

So go call Angela and wank on that worthless pin dick of yours.

Because from now on: that’s your poor pathetic sex life.

__________________

I wrote this as a Pay-To-View for a very fun and kinky guy.  Hope you like it.  You can even masturbate to it.

Um.  You do know I’m a nice girl, right?

Unless, of course, you’re a testosterone-challenged wanna-be man.

*wink*

You know who you are.

Forced Bi ❤ Queer Romance ❤ Faggot Discipline

1-800-863-5478 ext: 0413043

(Thanks to Mr. C for sending me this pic with his idea for a fantasy … that we then acted out.)

Albeit, an erudite worm.

An email:

I am just part of the coterie of obsequious sycophants … a cog in the grist mill.  Only Masa Harina tortilla corn flour for you, Miss Angela St. Lawrence.

Stomp me like grapes for the Must.

I ferment for you!

Sincerely, Tiny Wee Wee

I do love a smart boy who knows how to grovel with such flamboyance.

ingratiating, kowtowing,  bondservant  =  Deliriously Happy Mistress

It’s been a very good day.

Goodnight, Darlings.

You Can Keep Good Man Down

At least sometimes.

While we will be getting to Romantic Humiliation presently, let’s start here: If you’re not familiar with Erotic Humiliation as a subdivision of Female Domination, well you just might be missing something. Remember the Golden Rule of Kink: He who fucks with glass condoms shouldn’t throw stones. (Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. Or even if you have.)

Before you get yourself worked into some superior kink-tizzy, let me tell you something: I did not come to Erotic Humiliation easily nor with any willingness to even learn about it. Even lil’ me has been rejected by a lover or two and I just couldn’t get my head or heart around inflicting (what I perceived as) emotional pain upon another human being. This was not domination to my then way of thinking–this was some warped version of meritless and pointless abuse; a bizarre, convoluted circumstance of reverse misogyny.

But a most interesting thing began happening with my gentlemen submissives. Their fantasies were evolving. For while they still craved and appreciated my tried and true verbal counsel to take my strap-on up their asses, worship my cunt, suck large cocks, wear my panties, submit to cuckolding, and so much more, they now wanted me to escalate the rush with name calling, sneering, spitting and even public embarrassment. They wanted to HEAR their domination and many times even yearned for others to witness it.

And guess what? Once I tried it, I was hooked. I fell in love with the entire game of it. After all I am and always have been since I was knee high to a grasshopper, first and foremost, a woman of words. So I jumped right into the filthy world of FemDom Mud Slinging, where the Goddess, interestingly enough, always stays spotless. Since then, I’ve been–with that specialized group of callers–dishing out verbal venom in spades and even clubs, hearts and diamonds.

In fact, I’ve been so enthusiastic and defensive in regard to these particular fantasies that I was tapped by Gracie Passette to write about them (Erotic Humiliation is not an Oxymoron) for Sex Kitten Presents the BDSM Issue.

So there I was, business as usual, dragging those (small … always small) dicks through the mud when a new species of humiliation junkies began emerging from the primordial swill. Evolution, once again, dontcha know?

First a smattering: one here or there, then two, then three, four…Then more: Showing up on the doorstep of my virtual dungeon with their submissive tails between their legs, BUT with their hearts on their sleeves, stars in their eyes and bearing chocolates, flower bouquets, diamond rings and even wedding bands. They wanted to be loved and adored and treasured and cherished by–and many times even married to–the very same girl who was going to kick their psychological asses.

And who better for the task? Giggle.

Make no mistake about it: Erotic Humiliation and Romantic Humiliation are not one and the same. Erotic humiliation is edgier, crueler and inflicted in a cold, even haughty, manner. The Mistress or Princess or Goddess usually exhibits very little emotional connection to her victim. If she does reveal any affection, it is more along the lines of what someone would show toward a favorite pet. This occurs more often with the Princess type of Erotic Humiliation fantasies, which is perfectly understandable if you consider the obvious dynamics involved when an oft-times older man is obeisant to a young and usually immature but charmingly bratty Princess.

With Romantic Humiliation there is commonly a deep love and respect shared by the Dominant and Submissive. The wife or girlfriend values and even cherishes her loved one’s intelligence, sense of humor, devotion and other redeeming, even desired, qualities. Unfortunately, despite their emotional commitment to each other, the man just cannot deliver the goods when it comes to the sexual part of their relationship.

And being his best buddy and soul mate, this woman has no choice but to continually, yet very gently and lovingly, remind him of his inadequacy. Otherwise he might forget or pretend differently, which could cause him all sorts of problems. And, after all, honesty is the best policy–particularly between two people who love each other. Right?

Ahem.

Some examples? Sure, why not?

• Darling Frank. Please Honey. Don’t try to rub that flaccid thing on me. You know you can’t sustain an erection for any length of time and you’ll just end up frustrated. And I hate seeing you like that.. Why don’t you put it away for now?
• Now what are you doing? Looking at pornography again? Baby, what do you plan on doing with that little hard-on? There is no possible way you can satisfy me or any woman with your little wee wee. We’ve discussed it time an again, Aaron. Why look at those huge cocks servicing all those beautiful girls? It will just upset you. Now come over to the chair and I’ll let you rub it on my foot for a little bit. That will make you feel better.
• Carl, darling. Come sit by me; I have something to talk to you about. This isn’t going to be easy, Angel, and I want you to know that I say it because I love you with all of my heart. Remember when the pool boy was here the other day? And he had on those tight spandex shorts? You were watching him through the window and all of a sudden you got an erection. And I have to say, my love, that it was stiffer than any erection you’ve ever had when you were fucking me. You do know that, don’t you? You wanted to suck his cock, didn’t you?
• Oh, Joseph, do you need to ejaculate again? How can those little peanuts of yours fill up so fast? I guess because they’re so tiny. When I think about Tyson and how full and hard those big black balls get right before he pumps his load into me… Well, there simply is no comparison. Go get your cum cup and I’ll jerk you off into it. Okay? Would you like that, sweetie? Then we can go out to dinner and a movie.
• Honey, you can hump me through my panties, but hurry up. You know that Sarah and I are going shopping for shoes. It’s so cute when you squirt your little goo goo on them. While you are doing that, I am going to call Sarah. You just go right ahead. Hello, Sarah? Of course you can come over now. Robert was just, well, you know! I’ll hurry him up. It never takes him long anyway. Just a little squirt and he’s done.

So, do you kinda-sorta get the picture?

If you’re an intrigued female just dying to give this a whirl, I would advise that you don’t try this at home, unless your lover/husband/boyfriend has been forewarned–because while it can be extremely hot, all parties need to know the game rules. And guess what? I do believe there is a very real chance that said loved one might actually surprise you with his enthusiasm.

And if you’re a guy reading this who’s suddenly found the room sweltering and you had to loosen your collar? Silly Wabbit, what are you waiting for? Give me a call, why dontcha?

xo, Angela