Just Want A Mummydom Who Tells Me She’s Going To Find A Use For My Naughty Mouth If I Don’t Stop

Yesterday evening on the tube there were a mother and toddler sitting opposite me. The mother was wearing a thin-strapped, low cut vest top and no bra. She had massive boobs. The toddler was pulled into the mother and made to suck a bottle for several minutes. I was incredibly jealous.

Fantasy idea: a performance appraisal at work. My boss tells me she’s very pleased with my work and that I’m a valued team member and she really enjoys working with me… but she’s noticing lapses in focus due to me looking at my phone too often. She suggests keeping me in chastity and authorising and-or overseeing any releases I have for “the foreseeable future.”

My favourite thing that I’ve ever posted on here was my story about N. I’ve tried writing a fourth part so many times but every time I do I end up getting carried away, humping and spurting ten losing interest until the next time.

I want to write it though. Because it’s a fun story to think about, but absolutely definitely really truly not something I’d want to happen IRL at all under any circumstances.

“Mummy’s busy working, baby. She has to work to earn money to give you treats and toys. We can play later but for now why doesn’t mummy slip off her heels and let you under her desk. Humping mummy’s bare feet will keep you quiet for a while, won’t it? Are you going to say thank you to mummy? Good boy!”

Fantasy idea: dress me up in a onesie or a little sailor suit. Cuff my wrists together and my ankles together and then cuff those sets of cuffs together. Put a gag in my mouth. Leave me to awkwardly crawl around on the floor all weekend. Tell me I have to do my best to always be in your view and then, of course, find lots of reasons to keep moving around the house. When you do settle somewhere make it somewhere awkward for me to sit. Go for long stretches of barely acknowledging me and then occasionally overload me with praise and maybe some touching.

Watch me become yours.

Objectify me.

I just want a woman with mummy vibes to tie my hands behind my back, cuff my ankles together and pull my head into her lap to give me head pats and tell me I’m a good boy. Eventually I fall asleep and when I wake up she’s wearing a strap-on and is roughly pulling my face onto it to give her a sloppy blow job that I can’t escape from.

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.”

The idea of being turned into a premature ejaculator is so hot. Like, being tricked into it by being told it’s like a compliment because I find the woman training me so incredibly attractive that I can’t last, can’t stop myself. But then when I start going quickly she tells me that sometimes she just needs to be fucked long and hard, it’s probably best if she starts going out to meet guys once or twice a week. And it’s only fair I pay for those nights out because it’s my fault she needs to go on them.

It’s a small thing but something that always triggers me on the Underground is Pretty Little Thing posters. Do an image search for PLT if you’re not familiar. All the models seem to be particularly hot. The clothing gives the impression of being raunchy and revealing but isn’t especially. It’s just tight and occasionally short or low cut. The models look like they’d be good at laughing at and humiliating little boys who are too easily aroused.