“It’s bath time, baby. Mummy’s going to make you all nice and clean, won’t that be nice? And do you know what else mummy’s going to clean? Your mind! Mummy is going to scrub your mind nice and clean so you stay happy and subdued as mummy’s special boy. If you’re good mummy will even help you make a sticky in the bath…”
Earlier today I remembered snitching on a co-worker at my first job. My boss was a woman in her late 40’s or early 50’s called Irene. She usually wore heels and red lipstick and she had big boobs. Looking back she probably contributed to a number of fantasies I have now, and I know from certain things she’d say sometimes that she could sense my submissive nature. Extra impressive as it wasn’t even something I was aware of about myself at the time.
Anyway, I remember a guy about my age telling me he was planning to call in sick on an upcoming Saturday because it was his birthday and he wanted to go out. I laughed along, probably asked him where he’d go. Then as soon as he’d gone I told Irene what he was planning. It was such a weaselly narc thing to do… but I’d absolutely do it again now. And I realise looking back it was because I was desperate for Irene’s approval and for her to tell me I’d done well.
The guy ended up working the Saturday and asked me why I’d told Irene. I completely denied it. Irene was pleased with me so that’s all that matters.
I want a mummy who’ll get me drooling and staring at her boobies, my hungry little mouth open and ready to suckle. As I lay down and my head is pulled into her lap I babble with excitement only for mummy to pull out a bottle and tell me I’m not ready for her boobies yet ❤️
I want mummy to sweet talk me onto her lap, facing her with my legs splayed easing myself down onto her strap-on. Tell me I’m such a good boy for being so willing to bounce on mummy’s cock.
Sometimes, by which I mean quite often, I browse Tumblr at work and my manager walks by. I have a bit of a crush on her and fantasise about her softly telling me to give her my phone. I wouldn’t want to but I also wouldn’t put up much of a fight and would give in pretty much immediately and then stand there bashfully as she browsed through my phone discovering all my kinks.
I just want to be kept after work by my boss and used as her footstool. I don’t think this is too much to ask.
“Mummy’s very busy now, baby. She’s got to call her friends and then do some work, so you have to be gagged so you’re not a distraction. You can sit quietly and paint mummys toe nails for her so she looks good at the weekend. Do a good job and maybe I’ll let you hump my feet.”
Love the idea of being all weak and confused from brainwashing and drugs and knowing I want to fight mummy off but not being able to. Hearing “Hush now, mummy’s got something to keep you quiet” as I’m overpowered and forced down to my knees, where mummy’s cock is thrust into my mouth.
I want to be trained to worship and adore feet. To the point where my trainer/owner/any hot lady can approach me and when I make eye contact or slip up and goggle at her boobs she can say “My feet are down here, sweetie.” I want to hear that and immediately drop my eyes down to her feet, showing deference and respect and submission, and demonstrating how easily triggered I am.
Switch off my mind and give me a high heel to play with on the floor as you relax for the evening.
Take my mind away from me and make me a good slutty boy who begs passionately and desperately to perform housework and suck mummy’s strap-on.