Femdom
- 1 year ago
- 30
- 0
Femdom - The Next Stage free porn video
At the end of my first episode, I was looking forward to further naked exposures and masturbation with Pat watching. However progress was put on hold for a while. Firstly, Pat finished her secretarial course, and got a job, meaning that it was no longer possible to repeat these "showings" after school, during the week, and usually I was not alone at home over the weekend. For my part, my final exams had just about arrived, and I needed to try to concentrate on these, which were, in fact, competitive with respect to University qualification. Then, when exams were out of the way, I needed to get a temporary job, so as to accumulate some funds to tide me through Uni. We saw each other occasionally during this time, but only for chats, and only on the weekend.
The job I got was for the six weeks up until Christmas, at a shoe factory, to operate a newly installed machine from Germany that glued shoe parts together, and to help with the greater load of work leading up to Christmas. The factory then closed completely for January, and then I was due to work in my father's business, which I had been doing during school holidays for the last few years. Incidentally, my parents were divorced.
This was my first ever experience with factory workers, and to them I was a new experience also. Young, looking even younger, fresh-faced, clean and pressed clothes, extremely shy, and preparing to go to Uni. To make matters worse, it was deemed that the gluing machine was to be located on the mezzanine floor, otherwise devoted entirely to the female sewing machine operators. The machine-cut leather was delivered from the male machinists on the ground floor to me for gluing, and then I distributed them to the female operators on the mezzanine. My only time with men, was the thirty minute male lunch break, which preceded the thirty minute female break. The guys gave me a bit of a wind-up, but nowhere near the way the women teased me.
"Pretty boy" soon became "Virgil", as I was called, to highlight my assumed virginity. They said they were running a guessing competition as to the dimensions of my cock, to be settled on Christmas eve. They egged each other on as to who would "take my cherry". Thirty-odd women, of all ages, tried their best to embarrass me, not in a hurtful way, but so as to entertain themselves with my embarrassment, but also to bring me out of my shell. After about two weeks I started to give some lip back, and I started to feel more comfortable, but the teasing never abated.
Many of the women, the older ones in particular, worked only in under garments, bra and panties, with a petticoat on top. It did not bother them at all for me, or others, to see them like this. After all, it was very hot - the Australian summer, top floor under a corrugated iron roof, no air-conditioning, machines throwing off heat. On the few occasions we met, I told Pat all this, and she related some of her work experiences.
All this time I fantasized about Christmas Eve, that the women would be true to their words, strip me, and measure me, and otherwise humiliate me in my vulnerability. I guess I knew it would not happen, but I hoped it would. When the day came, they made some small attempt to hold me down, and tell me that "the time had come", and as I struggled a little, they laughed a lot, then let me go - to my disappointment. The whole team, men and women, then had a small Christmas party, before closing down a little after lunch. The lady, probably in her sixties,who sat nearest to me, presented me with a bunch of flowers for being "such a good sport", and they all wished me a successful University experience. And so ended my factory career.
Some time soon afterwards, I met Pat, who was eager to know what had happened. As an act of bravado, I exaggerated everything. The women had held me down and stripped me, took the measurements of my cock as threatened, and forced me to work naked the rest of the morning, to continue to walk among them, naked, delivering their work, and even to endure some slaps across my bottom as I passed - all the things I had fantasized. Pat took it all in, delighted with each piece of fiction.
My mother, meantime, had decided to take my sister and herself on a boat trip to the other side of the country after Christmas, leaving me alone in the house, but still to work with my father. I was now a man, and could be trusted to look after myself for four to five weeks. Of course I told Pat this, and absent-mindedly, she mumbled that this would be nice. A day or two later, when we met, she was full of excitement.
"You were obviously stoked that the women had gone through with their threat," she challenged.
"It was fabulous," I replied. Then came the shock. She had relayed my "experience" to some of her girlfriends, and they would love to do something similar.
"And your house being empty, means we can do this easily. We're all working, so how about Sunday afternoon?"
It hit me like a bullet. This is what my fiction had caused. I was not ready for this, but I could hardly back down. What excuse could I make? I was genuinely worried about the consequences. I knew Pat, and being naked, just with her, was vulnerable enough, as exciting as it had been - but extending this to a group of females, none of whom I knew, and over whom I had no control in terms of telling the whole world, was a huge step to take, even though I had fantasized the very same thing with the women at the factory. I was speechless, but Pat ignored this and, assuming I would jump at the chance, started to plan the whole thing. And not knowing how to curb her enthusiasm, I allowed the thing to proceed.
About one pm on Sunday, Pat came to my house with some cakes she had made, some wine, and a couple of bottles of beer. Her friends were expected as a group around three pm. This was the first time Pat had been in the house. She wanted to have a look around, and said that her friends would also like a tour of the house. Should Pat introduce me already naked? Or should I strip for them? Or should they strip me? She decided I would be too awkward and nervous for the second option, and the girls might be reluctant to pursue the third option. So it was to be the first. One of the things Pat liked about my nudity was the scarcity and fluffiness of my pubic hair.
"Maybe we should accentuate this."
So with no argument, I undressed, and with nail scissors, cut away as much of what little I had. "It looks so clean, so exposed, so virginal, so vulnerable," was her summary of the result.
She would meet them at the door, introduce me (naked) to them, and we would have them leave any bags, or cardigans, in the first room. I would ask them if they would like to see the house. This was quite important because, in those days, there were not many free-standing houses around, and this one had views of the beach, from the back of the house. I would then usher them to the dining room, and tell them we had some refreshments to offer. I would serve from the kitchen in the next room, ask if they wanted tea or coffee, tell them we had something harder for later, and serve as required. Then, just see where it all led.
I had never been so nervous, so conflicted and so excited all at the same time. But by the time the door bell rang, I think I had learned to just let things happen, and stop worrying. After all, what good would worrying do now! There were four girls at the door, then a little hesitation and awkwardness, as I made way for them to enter, a little giggling from them, and some comments to Pat regarding their initial reactions. Then a slightly stuttered invitation to deposit things in the first bedroom, and an almost inaudible invitation to see the house - all pretty much to plan. All five were seated at the dining table, cakes were delivered, drink orders taken and delivered - and my cock was not only rock hard, but even now, starting to dribble quite copiously and uncontrollably.
"Should I sit down, too?"
"No, we can see you better standing!"
Then the questions began. How long had I been doing this? Why? How did it make me feel? How do I feel now? Was I really still a virgin? What other quirks did I have, or want to have? Did it matter if my audience was fully dressed? Was it better if they were dressed? Questions put from everyone. And this guy with an inferiority complex, usually tongue-tied with any female conversation, responded honestly, quietly and succinctly. Were the girls revolted, amused, sarcastic - I got no indication that they were. They were interested, polite, non-judgmental, in such a way as to make me feel not only relaxed, but even reasonably acceptable, if still a little kinky.
I served some alcohol, and for the first time in quite a while, Pat spoke.
"Would we now like some action - maybe a spanking - and would anyone like to help out?"
She got me to bend over across the table, one girl gave me a tissue to wipe my cock, and each one gave me a slap or two across the bottom. Did I enjoy it? With a definite yes, the spanking continued, harder and harder, until the oldest one (I guessed nearly as old as my mother) put me over her knee, and really hurt me. Such vulnerability. Such abandonment. Such humiliation. The physical pain meant nothing in comparison.
Pat asked me where she could find a belt. A couple of girls declined to use it on me, but the others tried it; not with any great force, though. The oldest one took the belt, and used it more vigorously, calling for a mirror. She then showed me my bright red buttocks, and the welts, as they began to show just a little blood on the edges. I felt this amazing flush of pride, that I had entertained these women, enjoyed being submissive, and had found a new manner of sublime gratification.
"Pat tells me you enjoyed jerking-off for her," the older woman asked.
"What did you like best - that or the spanking?"
And so the questions began again - how did it feel to be publicly thrashed? Had I ever been spanked before? How was the pleasure - physical or mental? Was there anything I would not allow? This one I could not answer, and so a few suggestions were made - having something in my arse, kicked in the balls, pinched in the nipples, peed on, and so on. I had to admit that none of these alternatives sounded very attractive.
It was nearly time for them to go. I think they might have been quite sincere when they said it was good to meet a man who was so open about his feelings, so abandoned in his attitude, so seemingly comfortable with his sexuality. All this time, I think my cock had remained quite hard, streaming endless juice. Again, the older one stated that it would be a shame not to allow myself relief after such a marathon.
"Would you like to get it off?"
And in a final act of extreme humiliation, I was told to get onto the table, on my back, backside off the surface, legs held above and over, while I jerked myself. It felt different with a larger audience. The level of embarrassment was much higher. It took some time to cum, and their exhortations did not seem to help with the physical act, but certainly made my mind numb with exhilaration. When I came, it was profuse, mostly on my neck and chest, but some on my face, and for the first time, I involuntarily had a taste of my own semen. There was some mild applause, while I just lay there, with the feeling of exhilaration slowly turning to shame, and disbelief.
With the exception of the older lady, and possibly Pat, the rest were silent, somewhat shocked. The older lady exclaimed that surely that was enough for today, and perhaps it was time to finish up. Pat agreed. I did not know what to do. I could not stand, to say goodbye, being far too embarrassed about the semen covering most of my front. So I just lay there, as the women politely said their thanks to Pat, maybe also to me, and made their farewells. Pat escorted them to the door, and I heard quite a lot of chatter, but could not make out the detail.
"That was extraordinary," was Pat's comment as she returned. "Let's clean you up." She was clearly thrilled as she chatted away, and giggled as she scooped up some cum in her hand, told me to roll over a bit, and proceeded to use the cum as a lotion, rubbing it into my burning bottom. "The girls were a bit shocked, but agreed that you gave them an experience that would not be forgotten."
While my mother was away, I saw quite a lot of Pat in the evenings, after work, as she would come around to my place, and cook a little something for me. She required me to be naked at all times, even when answering the door. During these meetings she explained that the ladies all belonged to the bikie gang she was in, and I think that now, for the first time, I really believed her.
Eventually, with only a few days left before my mother was to returned, she took off her clothes, and we ran around the house chasing each other, nude, like little children. She then said she'd like to extend my experience , and proceeded to handle my cock, the first such intimacy, before taking it in her mouth, and sucking me until I came. She then showed me how to excite her pussy, firstly with fingers, and then with my tongue. I followed each instruction, delighted when her body shook with pleasure, and proud that she asked me to keep going. I stopped only when she lifted my head, and kissed me (for the first time!), slipping her tongue into my mouth, and giving me a taste of what she had sucked from me. It was the only time we ever got this close.
When alone however, my mind would always go back to that afternoon with Pat and her four friends. I was genuinely worried for my reputation, and even though my Catholic upbringing was now well behind me, I was also wondering if that afternoon of pleasure was worth an eternity in Hell.
The job I got was for the six weeks up until Christmas, at a shoe factory, to operate a newly installed machine from Germany that glued shoe parts together, and to help with the greater load of work leading up to Christmas. The factory then closed completely for January, and then I was due to work in my father's business, which I had been doing during school holidays for the last few years. Incidentally, my parents were divorced.
This was my first ever experience with factory workers, and to them I was a new experience also. Young, looking even younger, fresh-faced, clean and pressed clothes, extremely shy, and preparing to go to Uni. To make matters worse, it was deemed that the gluing machine was to be located on the mezzanine floor, otherwise devoted entirely to the female sewing machine operators. The machine-cut leather was delivered from the male machinists on the ground floor to me for gluing, and then I distributed them to the female operators on the mezzanine. My only time with men, was the thirty minute male lunch break, which preceded the thirty minute female break. The guys gave me a bit of a wind-up, but nowhere near the way the women teased me.
"Pretty boy" soon became "Virgil", as I was called, to highlight my assumed virginity. They said they were running a guessing competition as to the dimensions of my cock, to be settled on Christmas eve. They egged each other on as to who would "take my cherry". Thirty-odd women, of all ages, tried their best to embarrass me, not in a hurtful way, but so as to entertain themselves with my embarrassment, but also to bring me out of my shell. After about two weeks I started to give some lip back, and I started to feel more comfortable, but the teasing never abated.
Many of the women, the older ones in particular, worked only in under garments, bra and panties, with a petticoat on top. It did not bother them at all for me, or others, to see them like this. After all, it was very hot - the Australian summer, top floor under a corrugated iron roof, no air-conditioning, machines throwing off heat. On the few occasions we met, I told Pat all this, and she related some of her work experiences.
All this time I fantasized about Christmas Eve, that the women would be true to their words, strip me, and measure me, and otherwise humiliate me in my vulnerability. I guess I knew it would not happen, but I hoped it would. When the day came, they made some small attempt to hold me down, and tell me that "the time had come", and as I struggled a little, they laughed a lot, then let me go - to my disappointment. The whole team, men and women, then had a small Christmas party, before closing down a little after lunch. The lady, probably in her sixties,who sat nearest to me, presented me with a bunch of flowers for being "such a good sport", and they all wished me a successful University experience. And so ended my factory career.
Some time soon afterwards, I met Pat, who was eager to know what had happened. As an act of bravado, I exaggerated everything. The women had held me down and stripped me, took the measurements of my cock as threatened, and forced me to work naked the rest of the morning, to continue to walk among them, naked, delivering their work, and even to endure some slaps across my bottom as I passed - all the things I had fantasized. Pat took it all in, delighted with each piece of fiction.
My mother, meantime, had decided to take my sister and herself on a boat trip to the other side of the country after Christmas, leaving me alone in the house, but still to work with my father. I was now a man, and could be trusted to look after myself for four to five weeks. Of course I told Pat this, and absent-mindedly, she mumbled that this would be nice. A day or two later, when we met, she was full of excitement.
"You were obviously stoked that the women had gone through with their threat," she challenged.
"It was fabulous," I replied. Then came the shock. She had relayed my "experience" to some of her girlfriends, and they would love to do something similar.
"And your house being empty, means we can do this easily. We're all working, so how about Sunday afternoon?"
It hit me like a bullet. This is what my fiction had caused. I was not ready for this, but I could hardly back down. What excuse could I make? I was genuinely worried about the consequences. I knew Pat, and being naked, just with her, was vulnerable enough, as exciting as it had been - but extending this to a group of females, none of whom I knew, and over whom I had no control in terms of telling the whole world, was a huge step to take, even though I had fantasized the very same thing with the women at the factory. I was speechless, but Pat ignored this and, assuming I would jump at the chance, started to plan the whole thing. And not knowing how to curb her enthusiasm, I allowed the thing to proceed.
About one pm on Sunday, Pat came to my house with some cakes she had made, some wine, and a couple of bottles of beer. Her friends were expected as a group around three pm. This was the first time Pat had been in the house. She wanted to have a look around, and said that her friends would also like a tour of the house. Should Pat introduce me already naked? Or should I strip for them? Or should they strip me? She decided I would be too awkward and nervous for the second option, and the girls might be reluctant to pursue the third option. So it was to be the first. One of the things Pat liked about my nudity was the scarcity and fluffiness of my pubic hair.
"Maybe we should accentuate this."
So with no argument, I undressed, and with nail scissors, cut away as much of what little I had. "It looks so clean, so exposed, so virginal, so vulnerable," was her summary of the result.
She would meet them at the door, introduce me (naked) to them, and we would have them leave any bags, or cardigans, in the first room. I would ask them if they would like to see the house. This was quite important because, in those days, there were not many free-standing houses around, and this one had views of the beach, from the back of the house. I would then usher them to the dining room, and tell them we had some refreshments to offer. I would serve from the kitchen in the next room, ask if they wanted tea or coffee, tell them we had something harder for later, and serve as required. Then, just see where it all led.
I had never been so nervous, so conflicted and so excited all at the same time. But by the time the door bell rang, I think I had learned to just let things happen, and stop worrying. After all, what good would worrying do now! There were four girls at the door, then a little hesitation and awkwardness, as I made way for them to enter, a little giggling from them, and some comments to Pat regarding their initial reactions. Then a slightly stuttered invitation to deposit things in the first bedroom, and an almost inaudible invitation to see the house - all pretty much to plan. All five were seated at the dining table, cakes were delivered, drink orders taken and delivered - and my cock was not only rock hard, but even now, starting to dribble quite copiously and uncontrollably.
"Should I sit down, too?"
"No, we can see you better standing!"
Then the questions began. How long had I been doing this? Why? How did it make me feel? How do I feel now? Was I really still a virgin? What other quirks did I have, or want to have? Did it matter if my audience was fully dressed? Was it better if they were dressed? Questions put from everyone. And this guy with an inferiority complex, usually tongue-tied with any female conversation, responded honestly, quietly and succinctly. Were the girls revolted, amused, sarcastic - I got no indication that they were. They were interested, polite, non-judgmental, in such a way as to make me feel not only relaxed, but even reasonably acceptable, if still a little kinky.
I served some alcohol, and for the first time in quite a while, Pat spoke.
"Would we now like some action - maybe a spanking - and would anyone like to help out?"
She got me to bend over across the table, one girl gave me a tissue to wipe my cock, and each one gave me a slap or two across the bottom. Did I enjoy it? With a definite yes, the spanking continued, harder and harder, until the oldest one (I guessed nearly as old as my mother) put me over her knee, and really hurt me. Such vulnerability. Such abandonment. Such humiliation. The physical pain meant nothing in comparison.
Pat asked me where she could find a belt. A couple of girls declined to use it on me, but the others tried it; not with any great force, though. The oldest one took the belt, and used it more vigorously, calling for a mirror. She then showed me my bright red buttocks, and the welts, as they began to show just a little blood on the edges. I felt this amazing flush of pride, that I had entertained these women, enjoyed being submissive, and had found a new manner of sublime gratification.
"Pat tells me you enjoyed jerking-off for her," the older woman asked.
"What did you like best - that or the spanking?"
And so the questions began again - how did it feel to be publicly thrashed? Had I ever been spanked before? How was the pleasure - physical or mental? Was there anything I would not allow? This one I could not answer, and so a few suggestions were made - having something in my arse, kicked in the balls, pinched in the nipples, peed on, and so on. I had to admit that none of these alternatives sounded very attractive.
It was nearly time for them to go. I think they might have been quite sincere when they said it was good to meet a man who was so open about his feelings, so abandoned in his attitude, so seemingly comfortable with his sexuality. All this time, I think my cock had remained quite hard, streaming endless juice. Again, the older one stated that it would be a shame not to allow myself relief after such a marathon.
"Would you like to get it off?"
And in a final act of extreme humiliation, I was told to get onto the table, on my back, backside off the surface, legs held above and over, while I jerked myself. It felt different with a larger audience. The level of embarrassment was much higher. It took some time to cum, and their exhortations did not seem to help with the physical act, but certainly made my mind numb with exhilaration. When I came, it was profuse, mostly on my neck and chest, but some on my face, and for the first time, I involuntarily had a taste of my own semen. There was some mild applause, while I just lay there, with the feeling of exhilaration slowly turning to shame, and disbelief.
With the exception of the older lady, and possibly Pat, the rest were silent, somewhat shocked. The older lady exclaimed that surely that was enough for today, and perhaps it was time to finish up. Pat agreed. I did not know what to do. I could not stand, to say goodbye, being far too embarrassed about the semen covering most of my front. So I just lay there, as the women politely said their thanks to Pat, maybe also to me, and made their farewells. Pat escorted them to the door, and I heard quite a lot of chatter, but could not make out the detail.
"That was extraordinary," was Pat's comment as she returned. "Let's clean you up." She was clearly thrilled as she chatted away, and giggled as she scooped up some cum in her hand, told me to roll over a bit, and proceeded to use the cum as a lotion, rubbing it into my burning bottom. "The girls were a bit shocked, but agreed that you gave them an experience that would not be forgotten."
While my mother was away, I saw quite a lot of Pat in the evenings, after work, as she would come around to my place, and cook a little something for me. She required me to be naked at all times, even when answering the door. During these meetings she explained that the ladies all belonged to the bikie gang she was in, and I think that now, for the first time, I really believed her.
Eventually, with only a few days left before my mother was to returned, she took off her clothes, and we ran around the house chasing each other, nude, like little children. She then said she'd like to extend my experience , and proceeded to handle my cock, the first such intimacy, before taking it in her mouth, and sucking me until I came. She then showed me how to excite her pussy, firstly with fingers, and then with my tongue. I followed each instruction, delighted when her body shook with pleasure, and proud that she asked me to keep going. I stopped only when she lifted my head, and kissed me (for the first time!), slipping her tongue into my mouth, and giving me a taste of what she had sucked from me. It was the only time we ever got this close.
When alone however, my mind would always go back to that afternoon with Pat and her four friends. I was genuinely worried for my reputation, and even though my Catholic upbringing was now well behind me, I was also wondering if that afternoon of pleasure was worth an eternity in Hell.
Jane
- 06.07.2022
- 17
- 0
- Category:
- Fetish
