Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

You’d best work hard to make sure I’m constantly satisfied if you ever want a release bitch

The look a beta gets when he’s been a good boy, done all the chores he was assigned, but then goes above and beyond, makes it all worth it - all the hard work, all the sacrifices, all the soul crushing humiliation. Her genuine smile is worth every bit of it. Sure, it still hurts when that smile is followed by a command like “okay Sissy, time for me to leave for my date- fetch my purse and car keys for me”, but you have that smile and the knowledge that you’ve pleased her to console you while you’re home alone all night, and for a submissive beta sissy simp like you, that’s enough.

Will chastity ruin my boy? (My experience)

My third boyfriend in college was the real deal. I did my undergrad at a well known UC school located very close the beach. Lots of people surfed and body boarded…but not like this guy. He looked the part and his character backed up those looks every wit.

The first time I ever saw him was at a surf contest. He came in second but caught the biggest wave of the event. The way he maneuvered and fearlessly dominated the roaring force of nature was enough to twitterpate this pre-med student.

I remember ogling him when he came out of the water after his run. His wavy  blond hair dripped water down his chest. It was curled and bleached from hours and hours spent in the salty sea. HIs deep aqua-blue eyes were confident and he had no problem meeting my stare. A girl can tell when a guy is totally wrong for her and sometimes a girl just doesn’t care.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to him until the luau. I maneuvered over to the table laden with pineapple drinks where he was stationed, chatting up another surfer. I watched him through the corner of my eye, willing him to approach me. He wasn’t a body builder but was incredibly fit. His golden tan skin seemed to glow at dusk. His left arm was completely covered in tattoos, and not the lame poser variety. They looked for all the world like authentic ancient Polynesian symbols of gods of sun and sea.

Like clockwork he approached me and offered me a pineapple. I don’t recall his opening line but I remember him laughing heartily when I said, “Nice job out there. A little too far ahead of the curl, though…” We chatted briefly before I was cut off by other girls trying to get their turn.

Shortly afterward I was walking on campus when I heard a bike behind me. It was our surfer friend. He had spotted me and recognized me and rode up next to me to offer me a ride to class. He was bare chested (his white “wife beater” was tucked into his pants) so of course I couldn’t say no. You know, he reminded me of a perpetually shirtless Heath Ledger. He lifted me right up on the handlebars of the big beach cruiser and whisked me through the warm air to class.

That was the beginning of our long dance. We would tell each other about parties and we’d sort of show up. His parties were pretty exclusive surfer gatherings that you had to be in the know to attend. The parties I was usually invited to were the geekier pot lucks that the biology and medical students over-organized.

I remember when he showed up to the first biology party. It was in a professor’s house near campus. When he walked in I could feel his presence change the tone in the room. His feet were only ever bare or shod in some ultra insider hand-made leather sandals that you can only buy in Hawaii. He had a shirt, thankfully, but compared to the rest of the tight-laced khaki-wearing attendees he stood out like a lion in a flock of sheep. And I wasn’t the only one smitten by his aura. I was talking to a girlfriend at the moment and I remember laughing aloud at her try to carry on our conversation while her eyes slowly tracked his movements around the room.

He made his way over to me, sampling a few of the hors-d'oeuvres and shooting smiles and head-bobs in the direction of people who seemed to recognize him. He reached me put his tan hand on my elbow and said, “Let’s go to a real party.”

To be continued…

writing ‘never a boy, always a toy’ till their hand is numb 🧸 ✨

LATEXnCHILL dominates Daisy in full latex catsuits

Full video: latexnchill-dominates-daisy-in-full-latex-catsuits

Part of the standard Asbethserilian training for slavegirls involves maintain the same submissive pose for long periods showing minimal to no motion at all.

Chains and leashes are placed on the slave not so much to prevent  an escape attempt (at this point of her training a slavegirl’s spirit is usually so broken that even thinking of being “set free” can cause her to faint from fear and despair) but rather to make sure the required pose is kept as the leads attached to the slave collar are connected to machinery registering any significant shift in the slavegirl balance or to a Governess’ wrist for the very same reason.