“It’s Getting So Hard To Think, Right Baby? Why Don’t You Just Hump Mummy’s Leg For A While.

“I know you’re trying baby. That’s what makes it so sad. You try your hardest and you still fail. Time to stop trying now. Time to switch off and be mummy’s naughty fucktoy.”

Sometimes I write these updates out on the train to work to be published later. I always hope that a woman is going to be sat next to me, reading what’s typed out of the corner of her eye. After a few minutes she’d lean over and whisper “Don’t worry, little boy. Mummy’s found you.”

I want to be taught to get silly and highly excited and touch myself whenever a particular woman with mummy attributes appears on TV. Someone like Liza Tarbuck or Kate Garraway or Ruth Langsford. I just love the idea of being unable to stop myself from losing control over a late middle-aged woman as a sexy mummy sits on the couch behind me laughing and gently encouraging me, deepening my fixation with the presenter.

“Mummy’s boobies just turn your mind to mush, don’t they baby? That’s okay. Mummy will think for you.”

I wish I had a mummy who was going out on a date night tonight and leaving me at home tied up and listening to brainwashing tracks so I love and respect and need her more.

Switch off my mind and give me a high heel to play with on the floor as you relax for the evening.

I want to be put in a nappy and dressed in very childish clothing, then taken by the hand and led down the street by a mummydom. When she finds a nice-looking woman (or, even better, a group of women) she asks me if I think they’re attractive. When I say yes I’m asked for specifics. “She’s got a nice bottom, mummy” etc. Then mummy tells me, kindly but firmly, to go over and tell the nice lady that I think she’s got a nice bottom.

I want to be on my knees sleepily tugging on mummy’s skirt. “Think for me please, mummy…”

A good boy masturbates while thinking about how wonderful feminism is. But a good boy never cums because being denied makes him stupider and easier to manipulate for the feminist cause.

Give me a daily routine to complete then take away or deny access to key components of it. Leave me weeping and broken because I’m unable to complete my servitude as I know I should. Then make me so happy and thankful when you come along and fix everything so that I can serve you again.