Amanda Grows Up – By James P.

Table of Contents:

Chapter One – Roger and Me

Chapter Two – My Aerobics Instructor and Her Hubby

Chapter Three – Supervising Eddie

Chapter Four – College

Chapter Five – Turning the Tables on Dan

Chapter Six – The Complete Enslavement of Dan

Epilogue – My Life Today

Disclaimer:  This is a fictitious tale intended solely for adults aged 18 or over.  The author does not necessarily advocate the events of this story as a lifestyle preference.  If you, or someone you know is in a truly abusive relationship, please seek professional assistance.  The author believes all relationships should be based on love and affection. Please do not reprint or republish this story without the express written consent of James P.  Thank you.

Author’s Note:  The below story was given to me by a woman wishes to hide her actual name.  This is her story, in her words, with my very minor and insignificant edits.  –James P.

Chapter One – Roger and Me

Hello, my name is Amanda Abigail Andrews and this is my story. I'm 27 years old and a strident believer in female supremacy.  It's not that I think women are superior to men.  I know they are.  Over the past ten years or so, my gal pals and I have proven this beyond a doubt.  Thanks in large part to my philosophy, I own real estate in Manhattan, Los Angeles, Miami Beach, the United Kingdom, and France.  I’m married to a rich “man.”  He works long hours while I don’t work.  Every penny he earns goes directly to my bank account.  It’s been a long and wonderful journey to reach this point, and that makes it a story worth telling. 

I’ll begin in one moment. First I need to emphasize to you, the reader, what makes me tick.  Here's a hint without giving it away:  It's the little mound that resides between my hips.  Need more clues, silly?  It's located in the middle of my body at the intersection of my thighs.  I think of it often when I'm turning men into stuttering, exploited fools because I know it's always foremost on their mind.  To them, it's a more powerful drug than heroin, crack, or whatever a junkie-loser can't help but indulge in.  To them, it’s the most delicious biscuit in the world, and it reduces them to slobbering dogs. 

In the world today, there are an increasing number of women like me.  Millions of us now know that we possess the ultimate power to enslave men, and that power is nestled comfortably between our legs.  What a stark contrast to the ridiculous-looking thing that resides between a male's legs - an organ that provides women with an easy and available conduit to a man’s body and soul.

Let me briefly describe myself.  I'm from an upper-class suburb.  I'm an only child.  My father is a brain surgeon and my mom is what you could call a "high society" lady. Growing up, we lived in a beautiful Victorian house in an exclusive suburb in the Northeastern United States.  In terms of interests, since my early teenage years, I’ve enjoyed aerobics, photography, graphic art, and women’s literature.  In high school, I was a straight ‘A’ student.  Outside of class, I was always popular enough and had plenty of girlfriends, but tended to avoid boys.  It wasn't that I lacked interest.  It's just I thought it wasn't a good time in my life to get involved because, quite simply, they didn't have the maturity level to meet my needs and/or expectations.  To get a better understanding of that, you probably need to know more about me - namely the way I look.

This might sound conceited, but I've never had a problem with attracting men.  I'm like a small version of a model.  Since I was about 15 years old, I've been five feet one inch tall and weighed between 95 and 99 pounds.  Never 100!  For a time, it bothered me that I was so tiny until I realized that my size has never stopped me from getting exactly what I want.  I came to learn, a lot of men are infatuated with petite women.  It's probably because they are all perverts at heart, and there's something precious about a little girl.  I should add that I have natural blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes, and high cheekbones.  Other than my eyes, my facial features are small.  I have a teensy little nose and ears, a narrow mouth.  Even my teeth are small.  In terms of body type, I've been told by more than one person I have an extraordinary figure.  I took ballet as a child.  I'm naturally thin, with a narrow waistline and high, somewhat prominent hipbones.  The one place on my body that might have some cushion is my ass.  Don't get me wrong - my pride and joy is small and firm.  But it's not flat.  I spend plenty of time in the gym making sure it stays in fashion.  As for my boobs, let's just say I wear an A-cup.  When I stretch out in the gym, you can hardly see them.  They are little and it's fine with me.  My nipples are tiny and pointy.  I have a high-pitched girlish voice, and that’s the way it’s always been.  I can lower it or be quite shrill when need be. 

So back to boys and high school.  As I said, I didn't date much back then.  I went to parties and flirted-a-plenty, but I developed a well-earned reputation for being a prude.  One time, one of the more popular boys who spent most of sophomore and junior year unsuccessfully trying to get into my panties called me a cock tease in front of his friends at a party, to which I replied, "you're fucking right I'm a cock tease and don't forget it."  I don't know why, but the exchange was the stuff of legend in the boys’ locker room at high school.  After that, none of them messed with me. 

I grew up expecting to be pampered by men.  It’s the way I was raised. Blame dad – he bought me a BMW M3 for my 16th birthday and that typified the way I was treated growing up.  But don’t think for a moment that I was prissy.  I was an all-state gymnast in high school.  Gymnastics are hard.  I probably could have tried to make the Olympic team as a 16 year old, but fuck that.  By then, I was burning out.  I didn’t like all the perverted boys and men in the stands eying my body.  Our coach was all broken up about it, but I didn’t really care.  I officially retired after my junior year and have no regrets.

In terms of dating in high school, there was only one exception to the rule.  Two weeks into my senior year, I began dating Roger.  He was a 19 year-old kid who went to the local Ivy League college.  I met him at a party.  At the time, he seemed more mature than the boys in my high school.  So I gave him a chance.  He was nice enough and we soon began fooling around.  I let him kiss me and even allowed him to fondle my nipples from outside my shirt.  It felt good.  Early on, I made it perfectly clear that I wouldn't be taking my pants off for him.  I was too young and not about to let him touch me there.  Still, he had a fair amount of charm and he treated me well - at least initially.

I had done enough reading and investigation on my own to develop a pretty good understanding of men and their silly anatomy.  My two best friends Debra, Kimberly and I used to talk about boys and how they would make absolute fools of themselves to get their rocks off.  It was at that time in my life where I was just beginning to scratch the surface of becoming the dominant, male-controlling woman I am today.  But I wasn't there yet.

In time, Roger began to get a little bit pushy about his needs.  He told me about his blue-balls and how just being around me, and smelling my perfume would get him all pent up.  He said that fondling my tiny nipples put him in a great deal of distress "down there," a detail I secretly found highly amusing.  I don't know when it happened, but eventually he convinced me to give him a hand job.  At first, I did it from the outside of his pants, but he complained that it made a terrible mess.  Writing this now makes me smile.  Eventually he convinced me to touch him directly.  We developed a routine.  He would provide lotion and then whip his floppy “stooge-stick” out.  It was quite uncivilized.  I would squirt some of his lotion on my tiny hands and pump his hard organ until he exploded.  The first time was quite a revelation.  After a minute of my careful ministrations, his eyes rolled back in his head.  He groaned and then proceeded to blow the contents of his balls all over his own shirt.  I couldn't help but laugh hysterically as he lost all control, and casually pumped him to a messy conclusion.   

In a short amount of time I became quite the expert.  I remember feeling a sense of power over what I could do to him.  He would become a panting, groaning mess as I stroked him.  I developed a keen understanding of his biorhythms.  I knew when he was getting close to orgasm and I would drag things out by pumping him lightly, or stroking the back of his over-sensitive little head.  He begged me to "do it right," to which I told him to "let me do it my way or forget it."  I remember how quickly he complied with my demand. 

Then, one day, I made him beg me to come.  I got him right to the edge and then I teased his stinky penis and whispered, "Beg me, Roger.  C'mon, beg me to let you cum."  Looking back, it was totally natural, the way I gravitated to that teasing style.  I remember Roger begged me and I immediately acquiesced and pleasured him the way I knew he wanted me to.  The resulting orgasm was even more intense than his previous ones.  His whole body heaved and convulsed due to nothing more than the encouragement of my little right hand. 

I marveled at how easy it had been.  Unfortunately, things changed between us that day.  During our next date, Roger was sullen and confrontational with me.  I felt uncomfortable the entire date.  At some point we went back to his place.  His parents were out.  Roger had a nice house.  It's not quite the mansion I grew up in, but it was suitable enough.  We sat on the couch and began to kiss as we often did.  I could see Roger's unruly groin-area begin to protrude up against his pants.  Suddenly, he reached beneath my skirt and began trying to grope my crotch.  I shoved him away.  "Roger, what the fuck?  You know that's off limits for you," I said.

"But Amanda, please, you have such a hot little body.  Just let me touch you down there. C'mon."

I got up to leave.  Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled me down on the couch, muttering "c'mon you little prude."  I think it was pure instinct, but I flailed with my free arm, making a fist and swinging my arm around.  It smashed down onto his lap and I felt it make contact with his stiff organ through his pants.  I think the way I punched him almost caused his pole to snap like a twig.  He immediately doubled over in agony.

"Oh my gawd," I said, suppressing a smile.  "I'd say I'm sorry, but you deserve it." 

He groaned in pain.  I decided it was time to leave.  I walked to the door.

"Wait, Amanda," he yelled.  "I'm so sorry.  It will never happen again.  Please, come here."

I stopped at the door and considered my options.  I was furious.  But I decided to play along.  Looking back, I think I knew I had the upper hand.

"Look," he said. "You're right, I deserved it.  I'll never try and touch you again.  Now please Amanda, I'm begging you, I need relief."

Can you believe it?  The jerk was asking for a hand job after all that?  I've always found it amazing what men will do in order get a girl to give their penis some attention.  That ugly, dangling piece of flesh is the root of all male stupidity.  On this night, it would cause Roger a considerable amount of pain and suffering. 

Once again, I decided to play along.  "Okay Roger.  Let me just go to the bathroom and get the hand cream."

I went to the bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet.  There were various creams, all of which would do the trick.  Then I noticed the tube of sports cream, the type of stuff that heats and loosens muscle.  In my mind, I formed a devious plan.

When I returned, Roger stood waiting with his pants down around his knees.  His silly appendage popped out and flopped around as he sat down.  Did he realize how foolish he looked?  He waited eagerly for me to begin.

By then I had learned exactly how to push his buttons.  As I have come to know since then, the learning curve for a young woman is sinfully easy.  And once you learn it, it applies to almost all men.  It didn't matter that Roger was older than me, and a college boy.  I knew I had the upper hand - no pun intended.  I squirted a healthy amount of lotion on my right hand and prepared to rub it in, acting as if everything was normal and I was willing to let Roger's recent transgressions go unpunished. 

I gripped his balls with my left hand.  I breathed through my nose, not my mouth, so I wouldn't be forced to smell Roger's disgusting pig-like odor.  With my right hand, I embraced his cock, and stroked it rapidly up and down, rubbing a copious amount of cream into his boner.

Roger reacted as though he'd been poked with a cattle prod.  In reality, the cattle prod may have been preferable for him.  I was watching his face for a reaction and he did not disappoint.  His eyes grew momentarily huge and then he recoiled back and then doubled over.  He reached for my hand but it was too late.  I had pulled away.  Then he bounced off the back of the couch and sprawled onto the floor.

I moved immediately toward the door, but I couldn't resist a couple of parting shots.  "Finish it yourself, jackass," I said.  "And consider yourself officially dumped."

To my comments, Roger had no response.  I believe he was busy racing into the bathroom and trying to find a way to cool off his burning penis.  Understandable.

I guess I should have felt bad, or guilty for what I did.  But I couldn't summon up those emotions.  The only feelings I came away with were a sense of power and purpose.  When I thought about what I'd done that night as I lay in bed, snugly dressed in my little jammies, I said, "That was for all the women out there who have been abused or hurt by male lust."  I slept with a smile on my face that night. 

Chapter Two – My Aerobics Instructor and her Hubby

Senior year in high school was a wonderful time of awakening for me, thanks primarily to my 29 year old Aerobics instructor Roxanne Marlow.

After the Roger incident, I decided to keep a low profile with boys at least until college.  I did well on my SATs and got early admission to a prominent Ivy League school.  I wasn't necessarily sure it was the best school out there, but I knew it had the name recognition.  This meant I'd never have a hard time getting a job and being in a position of authority, both of which were important to me.  Nowadays I don't give a fuck about the former, but live the latter on a daily basis.

Now that I was accepted to a good college, I had a chance to focus more on my hobbies.  I spent a lot of time on my photography.  In fact, I began selling some art on line and had a nice little side business at the tender age of 18.  Daddy helped with his contacts.  I also spent two hours a day at the gym.  I loved staying in shape and making sure my body was strong on the inside and outside.  I took an advanced aerobics class that met three times a week.  The instructor’s name was Roxanne, and she was an amazing woman.  The class was brutal.  Only women were in this class - all of them older than me - but nobody older than 35 or so.  Most everyone was in exquisite shape.  I think I was the youngest.  Roxanne had short, dark hair, a super-tight body, and a great sense of humor.  She liked to crack jokes when we were doing the hardest exercises.  The jokes usually revolved around men.  She would say stuff like, "You get through this exercise, men will drool over your bottom!"  Or, "Girls - with a body like that you can turn a man into a slobbering dog."  Her comments made me think back to my experiences with Roger.

One day, after a particularly difficult class, I was in an adjoining cafe, drinking a smoothie, when Roxanne walked in and noticed me sitting there.  She asked if she could join and I said, "of course."

We ended up getting into a conversation about our lives and our interests.  I told her I was a senior in high school.  She said she had noticed me and was impressed with my dedication and ability.  "Most women your age would be completely overwhelmed by my class," she said.  I beamed with pride. 

Inevitably the conversation turned to men.  She asked me, quite forwardly in retrospect, about my experience with boys.  At first I was hesitant to share, but for some reason Roxanne was the type of woman I felt comfortable with.  I ended up telling her about Roger.  She seemed to perk up when I told her about him.  Eventually I gave her the entire story, of how he tried to move on me - how I taught him a lesson with sports cream - and then promptly dumped him.

She thought the whole thing was just a hoot.  "You are a natural born femdom," she said, smiling brightly.

I gave her a quizzical look.  She explained that a "femdom" was short for dominant female.  She explained how most men were born to serve women and though I didn't fully realize it, I could use my natural feminine powers to have a life of complete luxury and total power in my relationships with all men.

"Tell me more," I said, sipping on my smoothie, and not flinching.

"You have no idea yet, Amanda," she said, smiling confidently.  "How would you like to visit my house?  My husband, Eddie, is very well trained.  I'm the boss of the relationship.  He lives a life of total servitude and does exactly whatever I tell him to do or he is severely punished."

I couldn't believe this!  At some point, I had heard there were relationships like this but I thought they all revolved around weird dungeons with leather and handcuffs.

Roxanne set me straight.  "Femdom is about women dominating men, nothing more.  It's best practiced in the home without any of that bullshit.  A nice skirt, or a tight pair of feminine pants is just as effective as a leather dominatrix outfit, if not more.  If you're around this Saturday, you should come over for a demonstration."

We agreed to meet at her place Saturday afternoon.  I could hardly wait.  Roxanne told me to dress in "confident feminine attire."  I wore a nice colorful blouse, a sexy miniskirt – just above the knee - along with some comfortable knee-high boots.  I always loved wearing boots for the feeling of power they gave me.  Even when I was 13, I knew how men loved them.  I liked to wear them at family functions and was not ignorant to the stares they would get from Daddy's doctor friends. 

Roxanne lived in a nice neighborhood, probably not as exclusive as my own, but nice nonetheless.  I rang the doorbell and I'll never forget what greeted me.  The door opened and there on his knees was Amanda's husband, Eddie.  He wasn't a bad-looking guy at all.  He appeared to be in his mid 30s, was fairly lean and still had all his jet-black hair.  He was a decent size, maybe six feet tall, just under 200 pounds.  He looked like a man, but it was clear from one look that Roxanne had reduced him to her sissy slave. 

At the time, I was unaware of that term, but that's the best way to describe Eddie.  He wore nothing other than frilly pink panties.  He had a special leash that connected his neck and his groin.  It prevented him from sitting up straight.  Roxanne held an extension of his leash..  She stood behind him proudly with one hand on his head.  Eddie held his hands out in submissive posture to me.  He said, "Welcome to Miss Roxanne's home, Miss Amanda.  I'm slave Eddie and I'll do whatever you, a supreme female, order me to do."

The only thing I could do was burst out laughing and say, "oh my gawd."

"Pretty amazing, huh?" said Roxanne.  Then turning to Eddie, she said, "get down on the floor and make Miss Amanda feel more welcome."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and then to my further astonishment, he crawled to my boots and kissed each one.  Then he said "Please forgive me, Miss Amanda," for not making you feel more welcome."

"Oh that's ok, I suppose," I said, not completely sure how to react.

"Just ignore him, and come in, dear," said Roxanne.  She wore a tight white outfit, and black boots.  Her body was incredible.  She was taller than me by half a foot.  The boots made her even taller.  The outfit was something you might see in an equestrian magazine.  She looked exquisite.

"Eddie, go get us some beverages," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," he replied and immediately crawled off to the kitchen while we sat down in front of her coffee table.

While Eddie served us, Roxanne proceeded to tell me how the relationship worked.  Even though Eddie was in the room, we talked as though he wasn't there and he did not make a peep.  Roxanne told us these were the rules.  In her world, men were never to speak unless they were spoken to first by a woman.  Eddie was her husband and full-time 24/7 panty slave.  He did whatever she told him to do immediately, without any question or backtalk.  Eddie worked full-time as a lawyer, 60 hours a week, while Roxanne lived a life of luxury and leisure.  She worked less than 10 hours per week as an aerobics instructor.  The rest of the time she found creative uses for Eddie's money.  Even though he was the bread-earner in the family, his salary was immediately deposited directly into her bank account.  He received a very small weekly allowance only after good behavior.

"That's amazing," I said, clapping my hands while Eddie kneeled silently next to his female owner, waiting for instructions.  "But doesn't he get resentful about not having any money?"

"He doesn't have a choice, sweetie," Roxanne replied.  "You see, I control his penis and his orgasms.  So I control him.  What he thinks about it is irrelevant, but I can assure you he's comfortable with the arrangement.  Eddie, show Miss Amanda your imprisoned little penis."

"Yes ma'am," he said.  His face turned red.  While I watched astonished, he crawled in front of me and pulled down the front of his panties.  His penis appeared to be encased in some kind of hard plastic.  It was obvious from one look that the plastic case prevented him from getting hard.

"Oh, wow!" I said, clapping my hands again.  "Roxanne, you are an absolute goddess.  This is incredible," I said enthusiastically.

"You have no idea how easy it is.  When I met Eddie, he was a typical macho guy with a big ego.  But I was able to outsmart him and eventually bend him to my will.  Isn't that right, Eddie?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," he said, eyes downcast.

"Yes ma'am WHAT," Roxanne said intently.

"Yes ma'am, you outsmarted me and bent me to your will," he said, resigned.

Incredible, Roxanne!" I said again. 

"No actually, it was easy," Roxanne said proudly.  "He was five years older than me, and I was just a naive 22 year old girl out of state college.  But I knew about the power of the pussy and it's ability to enslave men.  Right, Eddie?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, eyes downcast again.

I thought I could detect a bit of frustration on Eddie's part and Roxanne must have picked up on it.  "Eddie, I sense you are being a bit fresh with me.  Is that the case?"

Eddie suddenly became animated, "No, ma'am.  Please no.  You are my mistress - superior in every way to me."

"That’s right.  Don’t forget it," she said proudly.  Then turning to me, "you probably picked up on that too.  Occasionally, even with the type of hard training Eddie experienced, their male ego tries to rise up in subtle ways.  Don't worry, we'll take care of that later."

Eddie cringed.  "Yes ma'am."

Roxanne smiled triumphantly.  "He knows.  Now crawl to your corner," she pointed to the corner of the room. "The ladies need to finish their conversation."

Eddie crawled away and kneeled obediently in the corner.  I continued to smile in complete joyous amazement.

"So as I was saying," Roxanne continued with me, "Amanda, you have all the power you will ever need nestled right in between your thighs.  Forgive me for being crude, but I've seen it in the gym.  I've seen it in the way you carry yourself.  You know you have it.  You just haven't been taught the ways of the world yet.  Fortunately you have me," she smiled.

With that, we clinked glasses proudly, as young and old(er) dominant women, secure in knowing we had formed a wonderful new friendship.

*****

The rest of that afternoon was a revelation.  Roxanne told me about how she enslaved Eddie.  The key, so to speak, was gaining control of his penis and orgasms.  She told me about male chastity and how she managed to convince Eddie that he was best off in a chastity belt.  It made him a much more productive member of society.  Roxanne reached into her purse and showed me the key she held which unlocked Eddie's penis.  "It's as though I've turned his cock and balls into little trinkets that fit conveniently in my little purse," she said. 

I could not stop laughing at the imagery.  "That is absolutely glorious," I said.  I had heard of women in chastity belts in the middle ages, but never men.  I was enthralled by the implications.

"It's easy," she said.  "Most men with smaller penises are naturally submissive.  I'm talking about any man with a unit smaller than seven inches, like Eddie's teensy little wiener," she raised her voice so he could hear her humiliating words.  I giggled again.

"You see, you're a petite young lady," Roxanne said, "but I suspect even a cute little thing like you needs a solid seven to feel like you've been with a real man."

I confessed to her that I was a virgin and proud of it.  But I planned on doing it with the right man when I was ready.

"Make sure he's at least a solid seven," she said.  "If he's not, he's probably a little sissy at heart and you're best off enslaving him and taking control of his finances." 

Later in the afternoon, Roxanne ordered Eddie to take out a hula-hoop.  Then, while I watched, she had Eddie jump through the hoop over and over again for our entertainment.  The whole time, she sat comfortably in a high-backed chair holding out the hoop and barking out instructions.  She badgered him constantly and made him repeat the exercise again and again.  Once when he failed, she ordered him to get her whip.  Then she pulled on his leash in such a way that forced him to lean forward and exposed his balls from beneath his ass.  She then lashed him five times with the whip, causing him to groan.  But he still counted them out, as I watched with fascination.  She ordered him to jump back and forth through the hoop again.  After being disciplined, he showed renewed vigor.  I could see him begin to breathe harder and sweat.  This was a workout!

A few minutes later, he again failed to get through the hoop, tripping and falling to his knees.  This time she offered me the opportunity to punish his balls.  She made him lean forward and then pulled up on his leash so his balls again splayed back crudely between his open legs.  They made an inviting target.  For some reason, I didn’t hesitate for a moment.  It felt perfectly natural to me.  I loved watching him suffer as I tapped his trapped balls steadily with the end of the whip. 

“That’s it,” Roxanne said.  “Give him steady discipline, just enough to make him suffer for us.”  Eddie groaned each time I tapped him.  Every so often I would hit him with a harder shot and he would cry out.   “Wonderful job,” added Roxanne.  “It amazes me how this comes so natural to your generation of fit, attractive women.”

Do you like the story?  Please visit the following link for the full 34,500 novella - http://stores.lulu.com/jmplays   

Note:  This is the last segment of “Amanda Grows Up” that I will be posting for all the great folks at Bdsmlibrary.com.  If you enjoyed the first 11,000 words of the story, feel free to visit my website at http://stores.lulu.com/jmplays   - There you will find the entire 34,500 word Novella “Amanda Grows Up.”  Also, check out the full 33,000 word Novella “The Intern.”  If you like Femdom, you’ll love these stories.  Coming Soon:  “The Johnson Family.”  It’s another enjoyable tale of Female Domination and Male Humiliation.  Cheers!

A feeling of power came over me as I disciplined Eddie.  I could feel my nipples grow rigid through my shirt and even some wetness creep into my thighs.  I was becoming drunk with power.  And wow did it feel good!

“Take that,” I said.  “Ooo, that looks like it hurt a little bit.  I got you good there, didn’t I?”

“Y-yes m- ma’am,” he stuttered like the fool that he was as I lightly batted his prized jewels around.

“That’s what girl power is all about, Eddie.  Don’t forget it,” said Roxanne.

We let him go and Roxanne ordered him to resume the hoop exercise.

After 15 minutes of jumping thru hoops at his wife's insistence, Eddie was spent.  As tough as Roxanne was on her aerobics class, it was nothing compared to how tough she was on her husband.  For one thing, the leash that connected his neck and scrotum restricted his movement.  He wasn't able to stand straight, which meant he was on his bare knees a lot.  And Roxanne had hardwood floors.  Plus, Roxanne made it a point to rush him around the room.  Just as he finished getting through the hoop, she was already urging him to reverse course and jump back through the hoop again.  It was brutal. 

Roxanne's complete dominance over Eddie simply amazed me.  Here he was scrambling around making a complete fool of himself while his wife sat in total clothed comfort on the chair ordering him around.  He was completely flustered.  Plus, it amused me that he would have no choice but to allow a little 18 year old girl like to me humiliate his dumb ass.  Were there other men like this one?  According to Roxy, they were everywhere.

"It's amusing, isn't it?" Roxanne asked me.  "To control a big stupid man this way."

"It's wonderful, Roxy," I said. 

"You can do this too, Amanda.  With your looks and your tight body, men everywhere will fall all over themselves to worship you.  Isn't that right, Eddie?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Show Amanda the respect she deserves as a superior female.  Crawl to her and beg to clean her boots with your tongue."

Eddie scrambled on his stomach to my feet and began kissing my boots.  "Please Miss Amanda, ma'am.  Give me the honor of cleaning off your boots."

I looked down between my little knees in absolute amazement.  "Sure, go ahead, idiot.  Lick my boots," I said.

With that, Eddie stuck his tongue out and began licking.

Suddenly, Roxanne's whip came slashing down on Eddie's ass.  "Amanda doesn't want your saliva on her boots, stupid.  Clean the soles, dummy."

Eddie immediately lowered his face to the floor.  I decided to make it easier on him by lifting my boots up.  Incredibly, he began cleaning the dirt off the underside of my boots with his tongue.

"Wow," I said, "You totally own him, Roxanne.  I'm impressed."

"Power of the pussy," she said again.  "It's that simple.  RIGHT, Eddie?"

"Yes ma'am," he said and then resumed cleaning my boots.

Once Eddie had completed the demeaning task, Roxanne said, "Eddie, you've been a very good boy today for our guest, as I would expect.  I'd like to reward you for your good behavior.  How would you like some release?"

Eddie immediately perked up.  He excitedly got up on his knees and put his hands out in a submissive posture.  He stuck his tongue out.  What control Roxanne had over him!

She turned to me, "Every couple of weeks I let Eddie's penis out of its cage and allow him to, shall we say, 'relieve' himself."

I frowned. "You mean jerk off?"

"Precisely," she smiled.  "You see, Eddie's not a real man, so he doesn't ever get any pussy.  It's only fitting that his controlled releases should be conducted in the most humiliating fashion possible and that means whacking off under female supervision.  Isn't that right, Eddie?"

"Yes ma'am," he said.

I loved it!  To have a man totally debase himself like this was too good to be true.  I would have felt bad for Eddie, but I took great thrill in watching him get humiliated.  Plus, as Roxanne told me, he wanted this!  If men like Eddie truly wanted to be debased in every way imaginable, I was only too happy to do it to them.  I would take great joy in devising ways of tormenting them to near levels of submission.  I would make them bow down to my beauty, my perfection, and reduce them to objects for my extreme amusement.  What could be more fun than that? 

Returning from my thoughts, I noticed Eddie looked slightly downcast, so I said, "I think your words have humiliated him, Roxy."

"Of course they have,” she said, turning to him.  "Would you rather I DENY you release, Eddie?"

He got animated "No ma'am, please, I'm thrilled for the privilege of whacking off for you and Miss Amanda."

That was too much for me.  I laughed out loud.

Smiling, Roxanne said, "If you want to shoot one of your pathetic loads for us, then you need to beg Miss Amanda.  I'm putting the decision in her hands."

Again, Eddie supplicated himself before me and began to beg me - little 95 pound Amanda - for my permission to allow him the right to masturbate.  Can you even imagine?

I suppose I could have been coy and been bitchy about the whole thing.  Over the years, I've gotten a lot stricter about male orgasms.  But at the time I was just a budding woman who wanted to watch a man humiliate himself for my amusement.  So I said, "Sure, go ahead, masturbate for us."

Eddie then excitedly crawled over to his wife/master and she removed the key from her purse.  "Sometimes I wear this around my neck," she said, "as a constant reminder to Eddie of who controls his penis."

She reached down and unlocked him.  His offensive dangling tool finally had freedom!  It immediately sprang to life, to which Roxanne commented, "see, Amanda, how little control he has over that thing?"

He then positioned himself at the feet of his wife, spread-legged, while she sat with her boots nestled right next to his groin.  He began furiously masturbating himself while we watched.  Roxanne was used to this, but I was enthralled.  Roxanne, evil controlling woman that she was, took the opportunity to jab lightly at his balls with her pointy tipped black leather boots.  It seemed to slow his progress a bit, as she said with great pleasure, "C'mon, don't let a few kicks in your balls stop you, you bad little boy.  Show Amanda what a pussy-whipped pervert you are."

Was she ever right!  He was a pervert, and then some.  Suddenly he began groaning that pathetic male groan men emit when they are about to blow their load.  It's a groan I've become intimately familiar with over the years - the admission of pure defeat in the face of female superiority. 

He began shooting great fountains of semen at the feet of his female master.  His balls must have been full from weeks of denial.  He continued his groan of defeat as he emptied out the contents of his bruised ball sack at the feet of his superior wife.  His cum splattered on Roxanne's boots, but some landed on the floor. 

Back then I was young.  My response was a lot of giggling and a prolonged, "oh.....my......gawwwwwd!" 

But that was nothing compared to what I witnessed next.

"Get down on your stomach and eat every last drop of your disgusting pervert juice!" ordered Roxanne.

And without hesitation, Eddie supplicated himself at Roxanne’s feet and proceeded to lap up every last drop of his discharge.  As he did, Roxanne encouraged him in demeaning fashion: "You had better not miss a drop, bitch, or you know what will happen.  Eat!"

This was amazing!  Here we were in a world with so much pornography focused on women giving blowjobs and swallowing semen - something I would never do in a billion years - and here was Roxanne turning the tables on her husband and making him do the eating.  This was rich!  I noticed a spot that Eddie had missed and decided to do my part for womankind. 

"Right there, slave boy," I pointed, "Don't miss that drop."

He immediately complied with my command.

"Good job, Amanda," said a very proud Roxanne. "I knew you were a natural."

"I didn’t want to see you miss out on any of your snack," I said to Eddie, which caused Roxy to laugh out loud.

She then made Eddie once again get in submissive posture and thank us ladies for putting him in his place.

"Thank you ma'am, and Miss Amanda for forcing me to eat my load!"

"You see," Roxanne said, "I think the forced cum-eating thing is essential.  It's the ultimate form of female dominance.  You see, ‘A’ (short for Amanda) once they shoot their load, they lose interest in sex for a few minutes.  They get lazy.  It's at that point where you want to reinforce the notion of female supremacy.  And there's no better way than making them snack on their own gunk, right Eddie?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I could not agree more with your philosophy," I said.  "I can't wait to try it myself."

"Oh, you'll have ample opportunity," she said.

The rest of the day was more female triumph.  Roxanne locked Eddie's penis back in its proper place.  Then she made him fetch a paddle that hung ominously over the fireplace.  I could immediately tell from the look on Eddie's face that he wasn't at all happy with this development.  Roxanne ordered him over his lap as though he was a child.  Without hesitation, she rudely yanked down his sissy panties to his knees so his bare ass was now fully exposed for us.  Then she proceeded to blister - and I mean BLISTER - his bottom. 

I found the whole episode to be poetic justice.  Here was a woman, a wife, in a typical domestic scene, taking it upon herself to enforce her superiority in the relationship.  It seemed so perfect to me, so fitting. 

As she paddled him, she explained to me the importance of giving men regular spankings.  "Eddie needs this," she said, between smacks.  "It keeps him in line." 

To me, it didn't look like he needed it at all.  His ass turned bright red.  He howled and cried and begged for her to stop.  But his pleas fell on deaf ears.  Maybe I should have felt bad for the poor guy, but for some reason I didn't.  LOL!

Roxanne offered me the opportunity to spank Eddie and this was not an offer I could possibly say no to.  I smoothed my skirt while Eddie stood waiting, tears already pouring down his face.  Then I motioned to my lap.  He obediently climbed over it.  I was on the couch, so I didn't have to bear his full weight.  Then Roxanne handed me the paddle and I gleefully began to smack his already well-spanked bottom.  He pleaded and cried, but I took my cue from Roxanne.

"Cry all you want, sissy bitch," I said.  "This is the first time I've ever spanked a man and I'm not going to stop until I'm completely satisfied." 

Roxanne clapped her hands and said, "You're a natural, Amanda!  A total natural!" 

I hate to sound like a sadist, because I don't consider myself a violent person.  That said, the sound of the paddle whomping down on Eddie's inflamed rear end was immensely satisfying to me.  I considered each blow to be one small step for womankind, effectively helping to even the score for past male misdoings.

When I was done putting Eddie in his place, he hopped around the room like a little boy. The fire us ladies had set in his tender bottom was overwhelming to him.  Roxanne ordered him on his knees in front of me to thank me for disciplining him, which I thought was an exquisite touch. 

I'll never forget that first trip to Roxanne's.  We spent the next few Saturdays at her house, amusing ourselves with her husband.  It was an education for me, at Eddie's expense of course.  Over time, I became comfortable dominating Eddies, though Roxanne would say I was comfortable from the start.   

Chapter Three – Supervising Eddie

After a few months, Roxanne and I began to have sexual encounters with one another.  We spent many an afternoon exploring each other's intimate areas.  I won't get into too many details for all you male perverts out there reading my story, but let's just say it was amazing.  Nobody knows more about a woman's body than another woman.  She absolutely rocked my world.  Meanwhile, her sad sap of a husband was locked into the bedroom closet where he could hear every sigh, shriek, and moan of pleasure from our woman on woman interactions.  Given his pitiful predicament, it must have been hard on him.  I wondered what he must feel like, being all locked away in a hard cage beneath his frilly panties, completely denied like that.  Neither of us cared that much though.  We were having too much fun.

One weeknight in the winter, after aerobics class, Roxanne asked me if I might want to "baby-sit" Eddie for her that upcoming Saturday.  I perked up.  What a cool idea!  Anything I could do to help further a male’s submission was a splendid proposition in my book.  I was happy to help out my good friend.  And I welcomed the opportunity to take Eddie in hand.

Roxanne was thrilled at my willingness to help out.  "You won't have a problem," she said.  "Eddie is completely transfixed by you.  When I told him of my plans, I could tell he was turned on by the idea.  I made him confess his attraction to you.  He's completely unable to hide his emotions from me."

I decided to dress up for the occasion, since I knew it would enhance Eddie's frustration.  That morning, I took an extra long shower.  I basked in the warm water, watching it run between my breasts and flow between the indentation formed by my hips.  Then it ran down into the tuft of perfectly manicured blonde hair just below my belly button.  I grabbed a soft brush and lathered it up with special soap.  I was feeling sexual that morning, knowing I'd be crushing the male spirit in a couple of hours, so I pushed the brush down between my legs.  I spread them slightly, allowing the lips of my vulva to open like the petals of a flower.  I braced myself by placing my free hand against the tile wall.  Then I commenced rhythmically scrubbing my vadge with the brush.  Even back then, I prided myself on my cleanliness.  I sighed as the soft bristles began to work their magic on my clit.  It occurred to me that I was doing something Eddie wasn't allowed to do without female permission.  If it was up to me, all men would require the consent of a woman.  Imagine what a better place the world would be?  These random thoughts ran through my head as I finished carefully scrubbing the source of my control over the male species.  I moaned as I felt intense waves of pleasure come over me.

It occurred to me as I dried myself off and pulled my panties snug over my hips that I was seven days away from my period.  That made me pre-menstrual.  Bad news for Eddie.

I showed up late morning wearing a black leather miniskirt, black silk stockings and five inch pumps.  Eddie was in his customary position - on his knees at his wife's feet.  I noticed he was naked today other than his chastity belt and leashes.  In addition, Roxanne had attached the spanking paddle to a harness that extended around Eddie's waist.

"That way, you can easily spank him at the slightest provocation," she said.  "And remember," she added, "you never know when male pride can rear its ugly head, so don't hesitate to discipline him at the drop of a hat.  That's my philosophy."

"Don't worry, Roxy," I said, speaking as though Eddie wasn't there.  "I plan on being a very strict babysitter.  If he thinks he's getting a break from you, he's in for a rude awakening."

"Wonderful," she said.  "Today is Eddie's normal day to be released from chastity, so if he behaves, feel free to reward him.  Just make sure it's in the most humiliating fashion possible."  She handed me a key to his chastity belt.  "Oh, and there's a handy hairbrush in the bathroom upstairs if you prefer to use that to discipline him," she said.   

"Thanks, Roxy," I said.  "I'm sure there won't be a problem."  Then I turned to him, "We won't have a problem, will we?"

"No ma'am," he said.

“If Amanda gives me a poor report on your behavior, I'll see to it that you aren’t released from you chastity belt for six months," Roxy said.  We both laughed.  She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  "I feel so much better knowing he's being properly supervised by a young woman."  Then, she was off.  I was now alone with Eddie!

I stretched out on the couch and cracked my knuckles.  Eddie kneeled at my side waiting for instruction.  "Hmm, what to do with you?" I said.  "I think I want to ride you like a horse."

Eddie immediately got down on his hands and knees and I climbed aboard.  I grabbed the "reigns," that being his various leashes and gave them a tug.  "Giddiyap!" I said.  "I want a tour of every room in this house."

Eddie moved easily on his hands and knees.  I don't weigh much.  I sat straight up on his back.  Once upon a time I had taken riding lessons and knew how to ride high in the saddle.  I felt a spark of joy having him under my control between my thighs.  My bottom bounced up and down on his strong back as he moved. 

I spent the next several minutes bossing him around, ordering him from room to room.  When he didn't go where I wanted him to go, I hooked a leg beneath his nether regions and gently kicked his sheathed penis as a reminder of who was in charge.  As if he needed it!  He was the picture of obedience.  Roxanne had done a fine job with him. 

At one point, in an upstairs room, I noticed a thin yellow plastic whiffle ball bat.  Thinking it might come in handy, I ordered him to hand it to me.

After a while, I got tired of riding him, and ordered him to drop me off on the couch downstairs. 

I read for an hour, ignoring him, while his back acted as a supporting footstool for me.  I'm sure his knees must have been hurting him because I could hear him straining after a while.  But to his credit he remained quiet in observance of the edict his wife handed down to him:  "Don't speak to a woman unless spoken to first." 

"How would you like some freedom?" I asked.

He immediately perked up under my feet.  "Oh yes ma'am.  Thank you for considering it, Miss Amanda."

"Lie on your back and spread your legs," I ordered.  He did as told.

I got up off the couch and sat on his chest, facing his feet.  I grabbed him by his miserable cage and unlocked him.  He thanked me profusely, to which I had no reply.  Once he was temporarily free, I batted him around with my hands a bit.  "Ewww, you stink," I said.  "I suppose you can't help it.  You must have gotten sweated up when I rode you around like a farm animal."

"I'm very sorry for offending you, ma'am," he said.  "Please have mercy on me."  I noticed his penis immediately grew hard as the pungent odor filled the room.

"Wow, an instant boner!" I laughed.  "You really don't have any control, do you?"

"No ma'am."

"No wonder your female master keeps you locked away."

"Yes ma'am."

I got up and picked up the wiffle ball bat.  "We're going to play a little game.  It's a game I call 'femdom wiffleball.'  Stand up!"

He complied.

"Spread your legs."

Again, total obedience.

"Good boy.  Now, here are the rules.  I'm going to punish your balls, and your stupid penis.  If you can remain standing, I'll let you cum.  If you can't, I'm going to lock you up again – this time for good.  Are you ready?"

"Yes ma'am," he gulped.

I stood in front of him, twirling the bat in my hands.  This was going to be a lot of fun.  Because he had the leash around the base of his cock and balls, it gave his nuts less "escapability" when they were under assault, like they were now.  I stuck the bat under his chin.  Then in one smooth motion, I brought the bat down and back up between his legs.  THWACK!  The bat registered a glancing blow off his left nut before crashing into the intersection of his thigh and ass.  "Oof!" he said, emitting the sound of male defeat, although he was only bent, not yet broken.  He put his hands to his groin.

"Keep your hands away from your crotch," I ordered, haughtily.  “Don’t make me warn you again.” 

Even before he could stand back up, I nailed him again.  This time I overcompensated and delivered a glancing blow off his right nut. "oof!" again.  Oh well, at least each nut had now received a good racking.

"Stick your crotch out," I ordered, standing to his side.  He began to comply, but I wasn't happy with his progress and I let him know it.  "Stick your hips all the way out and lean back so those balls are completely exposed!" I said.

He strained to obey.  I then took a stance as though I was a real baseball player.  I even stuck my ass out and gave it a good wiggle.  I put the bat against my intended target, aiming carefully.  Then I took a ferocious cut.  I always was coordinated.  This time, I made a direct hit with the head of the bat!  Both nuts received the full impact.  "Owww!" he yelled and stumbled forward.  He almost fell to his knees but he avoided doing it.

"That looks like it hurt!" I said, giggling.  "You must really be horny to withstand this kind of punishment from me."

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled.

"What a typical male STOOGE you are," I said, walking behind him.  “Stand back at attention!”

This time I ordered him to bend at the waist and lean forward for me.  I held the bat up against his exposed gonads.  Then I took it away.  I paused.  Because I was out of view, he had no idea of knowing when the blow would come.  It was time to win this game.

I came up with a clever idea.  If I held my top hand over the very end of the bat, and put my other hand down a few inches and below the bat, I could create a mechanical advantage by pulling the bat rapidly up with my lower hand and pushing down with the upper hand.  I was confident this would put him on the floor where he belonged.  With that, I snapped my hands in opposite directions.  The bat whipped through the air and came flying up toward my intended target with fantastic speed.

The bat shot up between his legs and crashed with ferocity into his sad sack. THWWWACCCCCCK!   A direct hit!  "Uhhhhhhhhh!" he yelled in utter defeat.  His hands shot to his groin in an instinctual, albeit late reaction to my assault.  His legs immediately gave way as he collapsed on the floor. I couldn't help but issue a little squeal of sheer joy as I watched his latest demise unfold before my eyes.

As I stood over him, I felt a spark of pleasure reverberate from deep within my vagina.  I busted him really fucking good.  Just thinking back to that moment gives me a twinge of satisfaction.

"Looks like I win, you lose.  What else is new?" I said laughing at him.  Then I ordered him to look up at me. "No or-gasms for lo-sers," I sang tauntingly.

The look of anguish on his face as he realized I was serious about denying him was priceless.

"Oh, please, supreme Miss Amanda.  I need relief," he said, still holding his groin.

"Haven’t you learned by now?  Begging will get you nowhere.  In fact, I see I need to take you in hand again.  Get across my lap.  Face up.  NOW!" I ordered, looking down at him.

He scrambled to his feet.  I could see his eyes filled with tears. 

"Crying won't help either," I said, sitting down on the couch.  “I’m completely immune to male tears.”  I pointed down to my lap.  He lay across my legs, his ass resting on my thighs.

"Spread your legs," I commanded.  "Make it as easy as possible for me to take you by the balls."

I wanted his back arched more, so I ordered him to move the top part of his torso off the couch and brace himself on the floor with his outside hand.  Now he was properly exposed.  I reached in and took firm hold of his scrotum.  His penis had begun throbbing, and it pulsated against his stomach.  Clear liquid oozed from the tip. 

"There," I said, shifting slightly, the picture of female dignity in stark contrast to the disheveled and defeated male splayed lewdly across my lap.  "I'm going to interrogate you now and if I'm satisfied with your answers, you might just get a chance to splooge."

"Yes ma'am, thank you Miss Amanda," he grunted with a degree of hope.

I loved the feeling of being in complete charge of his emotions.  Roxanne was right - there was no substitute for the chastity belt.  Its effect on men was amazing.  I pulled his balls away from his body in such a manner that his penis was forced away from his stomach.  It stood not so proudly at attention.  It occurred to me it was saluting its female master.  As it rose from his stomach, it brought with it a gooey line of pre-cum.  When exposed, men are such slobs.

"You seem to be awfully excited," I said.  "Why is that?" 

"It's you, ma'am," he said.  "Your perfect little body does it to me."

"Continue," I said.

"I, I, I'm infatuated by the way you smell.  The way you move.  The way you so easily control me."

"You mean like this?" I said.  And with that I took my free hand and casually backhanded his penis.  A 'FWAP' broke the silence of the room.  His penis slapped against his stomach, but I pulled it back to unwilling attention with a simple yank on his balls.  Again I gave him a good backhanded 'FWAP.'  He groaned.

"This is too much fun," I said.  "How does it feel to be the puppet of a 95 pound girl?" I asked, giving him another good fwapping.

"Humiliating, ma'am," he said.  "But, but, you make me feel safe, be-, because I'm under the control of a superior being." 

"Wow," I said.  "You brown-noser," I slapped him again.  "I think you're just saying that so I'll let you cum." Again, ‘FWAP.’

"No ma'am, I mean it," he whined.  Our eyes made contact and I could tell he was being genuine.  It's impossible for a man to lie when he's taken properly in hand. 

Ever since I first saw Roxanne force Eddie to eat his own load, I had been conjuring up ways of enhancing the humiliation factor of forced cum-eating.  Even at that early age, I felt that forcing a man to eat his own ejaculate was the most cathartic experience in womankind.  I had an idea I was now going to put into play.

"I’ve decided to let you cum, but it's going to be on my terms," I said.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you, ma’am,” he said pathetically.

"Okay, calm down, retard.  Go to the kitchen and get a saucer," I instructed.  He started to go, but I ordered him to stop. "I want you to put some ingredients on the saucer:  a tablespoon of flower, and dash of salt and pepper.  Then hurry back to me."

He moved incredibly fast.  It's amazing what a chastised man will do when given the rare opportunity to orgasm.

I heard him rummaging around in the kitchen.  "Hurry up!" I yelled in the bitchiest tone I could summon up.  It wasn’t that I was in a rush.  I just enjoyed being bossy.

He came rambling back in with the plate and got on his knees in front of me.

"I'm going to hold the plate," I said.  "You know what to do.  I'm sure you've done it many times before."

He began pumping away.  "Here, let me give you some lubrication," I said, clearing my throat.  I hacked up a big wad of spit.  "Stick your dipstick out, jackass!" I commanded.  He thrust himself toward me and I responded by spitting on his face.  It was beautiful.  "There's your lube," I said.  And wouldn't you know it, dog that he was, he used my spit  to massage his boner. 

"Make sure you get my permission to cum," I ordered.  Goodness, was I a total bitch.  And I loved it.

Within 30 seconds, he indicated he was ready to shoot.  He asked for permission, but I would not grant it to him.  "Uh uh, not yet," I said.  "Stay on edge though in case I change my mind."

He stayed on edge while I lectured him.  "You do realize, I can come whenever I want.  As can Roxanne.  We don’t need anyone’s permission like you, you pussywhipped cum-eating wimp."  I laughed at the insult I had just delivered.  I swore I could see his teeth chatter as I taunted him.  I stuck my foot out and jiggled his balls.  "Keep at it.  I’m not ready to give you my permission yet."  He groaned.

I looked at my watch.  “Five more minutes, and maybe I'll show some mercy on you.” 

Finally, the five minutes were up.  Eddie was totally consumed by his desire.  I was getting bored and felt like finishing him off.  I positioned the saucer below his pulsating universe and said, "Go ahead.  You have my permission to relieve yourself.  But if you get a drop on Roxanne's floor, you'll be sorry."  I had positioned the saucer at an awkward angle for him.  It forced him to bend his cock down and lean forward to avoid spraying his junk all over the place.   

Soon he began moaning in submissive pleasure and then began spurting his goo into the saucer.  Due to the force of his orgasm and the way I positioned the saucer, splash-over was inevitable.  A drop or two hit the floor.  He groaned and as he did I mimicked his stupid male orgasm noises.  I told him he was a stupid wanker and a monkey spanking imbecile.  It was fantastic.  I could feel the heat between my thighs as I berated him.

His impressive load mixed with the flour/salt/pepper on the saucer.  He panted with relief.  "Thank you mistress," was all he said.

"You can show your appreciation by being a good boy and gobbling up your mess," I said.  He looked down forlornly at the task in front of him.

"That's right.  You know the rules around here.  Enjoy.”  I handed him the saucer.  "Be sure to mix it in with the flour.  Make it a more appreciable meal," I said, laughing and staring deep into his eyes.

I slid one of my pumps under his balls to help remind him of his place.  At the same time, I reached out and grabbed his ears, pulling him down toward the plate.  "C’mon, I’ll tolerate no hesitation whatsoever.  Look your female superior in the eyes when you eat your sperm," I said.  We locked eyes.  “Now…eat your thick custard,” I said, triumphantly.

He immediately stuck his tongue out and began ingesting his discharge.  He knew from the look in my eyes that it wasn’t a choice for him.  Victor (me) and Vanquished (him) connected so beautifully at the point of conquest.  Suddenly he began gagging and having trouble cleaning his mess.  I laughed and said, "finish it up."  He paused for a moment as he tried to gather himself.  I didn't like it.  So I let go of his ears and dropped down beside him on the floor.  I reached my hand down and scooped up his deflated ball-sack, immediately putting it in a vice-grip.

"Finish your disgusting meal," I cooed in his ear.  "C’mon, you shouldn’t need my encouragement.  Obey me, now!" I snapped, looking deep into his eyes, almost hypnotically, in total control.

After he ate every drop, actually chewing on some of the flowery portions, I pointed toward the floor.  He lapped up the drops he missed.  I pushed down on the back of his  head for emphasis.  Then I stood and ordered him to look up at me again.  For reasons I could never completely understand, I felt it necessary to be a complete bitch in my handling of Eddie.  It felt so fucking good!  Cunt power was a beautiful thing.  As I stood over him, I could feel myself thrusting my hips forward ever so slightly.  Putting my femininity proudly on display in the face of a cowering defeated male.  I was conscious of the smooth hump of female power as I thrust my midsection out over my inferior and looked down on him while pondering his next humiliation.

“ Time for your spanking,” I said.  He looked up at me, totally deflated.  “That’s right,” I said. “It’s clear you need another lesson in respect for women.  In light of that, I’ve decided to spank you in every room in the house.  That way, wherever you go you’ll have memories of a girl half your age and half your size making you sob.”

Rather than put this silly man over my lap in each and every room.  I came up with a better idea.  I had him stand on his tip-toes in each room, while I took the paddle by his side and gave him five good whaps.  Each time I dished out punishment, he would stumble forward and I would order him back on his tiptoes.  By doing it this way, I effectively spanked him from one side of the room to the other.  H e could not escape me.  By the second room, he was crying as I promised he would be, but I didn't care.  Roxanne told me to ignore the tears and that's just what I did.  When I finally covered the seven rooms of the house, his bottom was bright crimson and he was a very sorry male animal.  I capped things off by seating myself comfortably on a dining room chair, then ordering him to get the hairbrush and a mirror (Roxanne's suggestion).  I then proceeded to just plain blister the most tender region of his bottom from one side to the other as he kicked and screamed and begged and sobbed.  Once again, it was a thing of beauty.  I was completely unsympathetic to his plight as I spanked him again and again.  I was in a zone.  The mirror enabled me to witness the agonized look on his face, and it forced him to watch the composed face of his female supervisor as I made him the object of my ridicule.

“Pleeeeease stop, ma’am,” he begged between sobs.

I just laughed and said, “shut up – you’re only making it worse for yourself.”  Then I spanked him some more.

When it was over, his penis had been reduced to a two-inch gherkin.  He lay at my feet on his side, crying loudly.  I grabbed his chastity belt and locked him away without the slightest resistance.  Then I stood over him, hands on my once-again thrust-out hips.  "There.  Now that's what I call a well-spanked man."  His response to that was more tears.  I decided to take pity on him.  I took him by his leash to the bathroom and had him stand in front of the mirror while I rubbed lotion on his red-hot ass.  He continued to sob, so I reached around his body and began teasing his nipples with my slender fingers and long nails.  This got him preoccupied with pain in his penis, which again began to strain against his chastity tube.  He put his hands to his crotch and groaned in pain. “There,” I taunted him in the mirror.  “Look at the bright side.  At least I made you forget about your well-spanked ass for the moment.”  I grabbed his chin and laughed in his face.  Then I reached back with my hand and gave his sore ass one last smack for emphasis.  He was so sensitive that he thrust his hips forward and banged his caged penis on the edge of the bathroom sink.  LOL!

When Roxanne got home, we sat together on the couch.  I gave her a full report of the afternoon's festivities, while she forced Eddie's head between her thighs, so he could smell the object of his destruction.  She laughed when she heard the details.  When I told her of my method for forced male cum-eating, she said it was a great idea and she loved the fact that Eddie had gagged.

She then forced Eddie back onto his knees and made him clean the bottom of my heels and then her own while we sipped tea.

By the time the year was over, I headed into Freshman Year of college well versed in the art of female domination.