Tags: femdom, female domination, male submissive, cfnm, humiliation, teasing, bdsm, consensual, romance
I wrote this story for fun, years ago at another site. It was inspired by a comment in their forum where the participants were asked to describe a favorite fantasy in one sentence: "Mmmmm...a room full of male subs each begging me for their turn to cum and the one who gets to is the one who pleases me most, while the others watch in jealous agony..."
It's the only story that I can think of where I wrote in first person. I hope you suspend logic and enjoy it.
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It was Friday afternoon. I was bored and had no prospects for the weekend. I found myself looking at craigslist personals and clicked on "casual encounters." I was in no mood to get tied down with someone looking for a soul mate. A few sampling clicks and I found that even in this category, most were looking for "someone special." Bored, I scrolled into the older posts back into early that week. By the time Monday scrolled up, the ads were pretty stale. Then I saw this one: "Weekend Experiment. (pic)" Curious and wanting to check out the picture, I clicked:
"Wanted: Several sexually active males to volunteer for an experiment on male eroticism. No sex.
Contact immediately with phone number and photo. Interviews on Tuesday and Wednesday.
Experiment will take place from Saturday morning through Sunday afternoon.
Food and sleeping provisions will be provided."
The picture was a full body view of an attractive young woman with wavy brown hair. She was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt. She had an easy smile and her eyes seemed to twinkle. There was nothing revealing in the photo, but her lines were definitely feminine and I fell in love with her body language. Yeah, I've always had a problem with "falling in love." I get infatuated much too easily. I stared at the ad for a few minutes as I contemplated what kind of erotic non-sexual experiment she had in mind and squirmed a bit as I felt myself respond to my conjectures. Did I mention? The gal was awfully cute.
I didn't think I would actually take part in any such experiment and I was way too late to interview, but I was curious and wanted to know more. I rushed out a response to the email address and included my first name and phone number. In my haste, I had forgotten the picture. I quickly pulled the first picture I could find of me on my computer. There aren't many and none of them are flattering. Regardless, I quickly sent a second response that included a picture. I realized that she would have to connect the two emails to make any sense of them and I sent a third apologizing for the lateness of my response, for sending the phone info in one email and the photo in the second. I explained that I was rushed as I knew formal interviews were already over but if there was an opening to please consider me. To my dismay, when I hit the "send" key on the third response, I noticed that I hadn't included my name, phone, or photo. I finally settled down, explained everything, and included all the information in a fourth email. I knew I had made a complete idiot of myself.
I looked at her picture again. I felt like a teenager about to ask a girl for his first date. I felt a bit depressed. I knew I had blown it. Yeah, I knew I didn't have a chance from the start, but still I felt like I had blown any chance I may have had. Then the phone rang... and my heart stopped. It couldn't be related to the last email. I had just hit the "send."
Regardless of my conviction that the call wasn't email related, my hand shook as I answered then promptly dropped the phone. I scrambled to pick it up and croaked out a "hello" as I continued to fumble with the dang thing.
"Is this Chris?" a feminine voice asked.
"Speaking," I croaked out. Then thinking how cold that sounded, I added, "Yes, I'm Chris."
"I just received your emails. All emails were supposed to be for a mid week interview. The interviews are over." I could hear amusement in her voice.
"I understand," I replied. "I knew I was late. I had just noticed the ad and emailed as rapidly as I could."
She chuckled. "That was apparent by the second email. The third confirmed your state of haste."
Then I heard her break into full uncontrollable laughter. I was perplexed. There wasn't anything that funny about it. Amusing perhaps, but not that funny.
"I was talking about receiving your three emails," she said as she composed herself. "It struck me funny as a fourth one from you just popped up as we were speaking."
Sheepishly, I finally responded. "I guess I sound a bit eager, huh?"
"I'll tell you what," she said now that her voice was composed. "I can take one last interview. I can meet you at the downtown McDonalds in 30 minutes. If you can make it, I'll grant you an interview."
"I can do that. I'll be right there," I said breathlessly. My mind whirled with a million questions. There was no logic to why I felt this experiment or this woman was so important.
"Good. Thirty minutes at McDonalds on Main Street. Wear a tight T-shirt, no jacket," She said just before she hung up.
"But wait," I started speaking into the now dead phone. There were so many questions I wanted to ask. The McDonalds was only about 15 minutes away from my apartment. I rushed around, put on a fresh T-shirt, dabbing deodorant under my arms in the process, brushed my teeth, and quickly shaved. Since I was lucky enough not to be ticketed by any traffic cops, I arrived in the parking lot with 8 minutes to spare.
I looked around for her as I entered. I hoped I would be able to recognize her from her photo. It wasn't busy and it was apparent that she was not there. I ordered a couple of soft drinks and cookies. I filled my cup and found a table discretely separate from the main area. My eyes kept darting from the door to the window as I checked out each car that came by. I watched her pull up and realized it was indeed her as she got out of the car. My heart skipped a beat as she shook her hair out and walked through the door. I stood up to make it easy for her to see me. She smiled a killer smile and crossed over to me. She extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Janet," she said.
"Chris," I replied as I took her hand to shake it. I couldn't figure out why her touch felt so special, but it sent a shiver though me. Then quickly lifting the empty cup, "I got you a soft drink, if you like."
Her smile lit up the place. "Thank you, Chris. That was very thoughtful of you." She didn't reach to take the offered cup. Instead she continued, "Coke would be fine with a little dash of root beer and light ice."
I scurried to fill her cup as she sat down. As the cup filled, I couldn't help but think of her touch. To my horror, I was hard. I didn't even know her. My imagination was totally out of control. I returned trying to hide the evidence of my sudden erection by ambling over to the napkin dispenser and then holding them loosely to cover my front. Of course, one of the napkins fluttered to the floor. Flushing at the attention I was drawing to myself, I scooped it up and tried to nonchalantly saunter back to the table. I could feel my ears positively glow when I saw her smirk and gaze brazenly at my crotch. I sat down quickly opposite her.
"I got a couple of cookies too," I said in a lame attempt to hide my embarrassment.
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. That was the same twinkle that instantly got my attention when I saw her photo. "Can you get me a straw?" she asked, both her voice and eyes showing amusement.
I knew she was toying with me. I had no choice but to rise and retrieve a straw for her from across the room. I adjusted as best I could as I rose, but it wasn't effective. Luckily the place was all but deserted, but I could feel her eyes on my back. There was no way to cover on my long trek back. My pants were hopelessly tented and there was no way I could inconspicuously hide that fact. She was pointedly looking at my groin and we both knew why I was embarrassed and why she was amused.
"Thank you," she said as I hastened to sit down. Looking straight into my eyes, she took a sip of her soda from the cup. The straw lay on the table top, still enclosed in its paper wrapping. She watched my face over the lip of her cup. She saw a flush of submissive embarrassment, not a flush of resentment that being sent on a useless errand might provoke. I could see her smile a predatory smile as she finished her sip.
"Um... what do you need to know for this interview?" I asked to try to shake my discomfort.
"When was the last time you had orgasmic relief?" she asked without hesitation.