I knew I would like the hotel. Mommy had recommended it, so graciously given the circumstances. As I walked through intimate corridors of sumptuous, deep red wallpaper and ornate mahogany, decorated with an endless collection of vintage artwork, I felt like I had been invited to the lodge of a secret society. I also couldn’t get Mommy out of my head. My thoughts swirled around her.
I berated myself for passing up an opportunity to finally meet her in person, while visiting her home turf for work. I panicked that I might run into her at any moment. The idea of seeing her in the flesh both excited and terrified me. She had grown to fill every nook and cranny of my fantasy life over the past several months.
Part of me worried that the reality of Mommy couldn’t possibly live up to the magic of the space we had co-created online. I loved visiting that space, where I could read back through the trail of text messages that mapped my abject devotion, where I could immerse myself in the dream she spun across her social media and fan sites. The other part of me criticized myself for playing it safe, keeping a digital firewall between Mommy and me.
Seeking the clarity of the open air and a little distance from a lively early evening in Brooklyn, I climbed one last dimly lit flight of stairs and opened the heavy door to the rooftop terrace. I emerged to a gorgeous tapestry of clouds stretching out towards the setting sun, bathing the Manhattan skyline in orange and pink and purple. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, but my first thought was for Mommy and how she must love this view.
I felt a twinge of guilt. I should have gone through with it. I should have arranged that coffee date with her. To some degree, I worried that meeting her in person would dispel the magic I had found in our connection. She had breathed such life into my fantasies, and never meeting her face to face helped convince me that I wasn’t getting in over my head.
I was still the same man I had always been, climbing the corporate ladder and living a busy life that many might envy. I was just exploring a new side of myself, scratching an itch I had ignored for too long. So what if I found myself eager to obey Mommy’s every whim, sending her a thousand dollars for soup whenever she tweeted about being sick in bed? So what if I sprung for her to fly first class and enjoy vacations without me? So what if I cleared her wishlist just to apologize for cumming without permission?
These were just evidence that I was fortunate enough to have room in my life to indulge this kink and to spoil Mommy. Honestly, I had friends with more expensive hobbies.
But I couldn’t get Mommy out of my mind, even as I wandered the opulent garden terrace, full of nooks and crannies, perfect for trysts. I imagined the kind of decadent party Mommy might host here, an orgy of hedonism sparked in the golden hour light and continuing well into the morning.
So when I saw a woman in a black dress, lingering at the ornate wrought iron railing at the roof’s edge, I did a double take. I chided myself for seeing Mommy everywhere, now that I was lingering in her territory. Then the woman turned to me and made eye contact. She smiled, framed by that majestic sunset. My heart leapt. “Mommy?” I whispered under my breath.
Was I hallucinating? Or dreaming? Or was it really her? Yes, it was Mommy, wearing the last dress I had bought for her from her wishlist. I remembered her delighted message thanking me: “I love how SLUTTY it is.” And now here she was in real life. I stood like a fool for several moments, like a deer caught in headlights.
For anyone else in my life, I might have expected a friendly wave or a beckoning gesture. I did not know what I expected from Mommy. She continued to lounge by the railing, swirled her cocktail once, brought it casually to her lips, never breaking eye contact. I realized she was enjoying my discomfort. Not knowing what else to do, I approached.
“There you are,” she said. Had she been expecting me? I just nodded dumbly. “Yes, it’s the dress you begged me to wear to your abduction,” she said cheerily, following my gaze. I blushed, remembering how she had joked about exploiting my weakness for seeing her in that plunging neckline, that sheer black top. “Are you ready to be abducted, sweetie?”
“I… didn’t expect to see you,” I said at last. “Mommy.” I added, just a little late.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” Mommy chided me. “You can’t get me out of your mind.” The words pierced me. My breath caught in my throat. “What are you afraid of?” Just hearing the sound of her voice, live, felt unreal. When texting Mommy, I often felt like there was no filter. I could tell her anything. There was no shame, no barriers in talking to Mommy.
I had only ever held back in one way, this one, about meeting in “real life.” And now that I didn’t need to type my thoughts into a keyboard, I found myself with even less of a filter.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I said.
She studied me for a moment, as though weighing me. “You could always turn around and walk away, sweetie. Mommy doesn’t chase her prey.”
A voice in my mind urged me to do just that. Play it safe. Keep this side of myself online, just part of my fantasy life. Before Mommy, porn had always been my escape, so engrossing but unreal enough not to threaten my real life. I could still think of myself as normal, apart from the stigmas I feared and could barely acknowledge, until Mommy opened my eyes.
Then I let myself take a step forward, knowing only that I wanted this. Whatever this is.
“You look nervous,” she said, and I flushed at the thought that she could hear my heart racing. “I want you to take a moment. Breathe for me.”
Automatically, I began to recite my mantra, as Mommy had taught me to whenever my nerves failed me. “Mommy gives me life. I devote my life to Mommy.” I felt my voice start to fall into a practiced rhythm. My breathing became more even. “Mommy savors pleasure more fully than I do. I surrender my pleasure to Mommy. Mommy’s pleasure is my purpose. My pleasure is at Mommy’s mercy. Mommy uses my pleasure to remake me. My mind is a canvas for Mommy.”
I realized my eyes were closed, as they so often were as I recited my mantra as I drifted off to sleep. My eyes blinked open, let Mommy in. “Mommy knows what’s best for me. I will learn to be better for Mommy.”
Mommy smiled warmly at me. “See? I’m not so scary, am I?” She laughed at her own joke, her eyes sparkling. Then she said, more seriously, “And now that you’re here, what do you want?”
Again, without thinking, I answered. “Whatever Mommy wants.”
I thought her smile grew wider, almost imperceptibly. “And what do you think I want?”
“For me to… be a vessel for pleasure, for service, for your amusement.”
“Is that so?” she whispered, amused, or so I fervently hoped. “Show me. Show me all of you. Undress.”
I could feel a wave of anxiety swell up within me, along with an impulse to look at the terrace behind me and see who could see into this nook of the garden. I took another deep breath, and focused on Mommy’s eyes on me, the kindness and strength I saw there and still worshiped. I closed my eyes and breathed in as deeply as I could, feeling as always that she could see right through me.
I unbuttoned my shirt and met her gaze again, lost myself in those eyes as I shed the rest of my clothes. Before long I pulled my underwear down awkwardly past my growing erection, reveling in the thrill of Mommy’s power over me, standing before her naked. Mommy smiled again, and I was happy. She took a step back, and I followed her a step forward, away from the puddle of discarded clothes. I sank to my knees, still trying to breath slowly and deeply, just like Mommy wanted.
My heart still pounding, seeking calm, I lowered my forehead to the flooring beneath me, feeling the remaining warmth of the day ground me, even as the breeze caressed my skin. I reached my hands out in supplication towards Mommy, palms up on the ground, settling into a child’s pose.
Every inch of my skin, every cell in my body thrummed, alive. I found myself starting the erotic meditation that Mommy sent me, the one I’ve performed first thing after waking each and every morning for so many months, dedicating my waking body to pleasure. My right hand traced a delicate, sensual path up my left arm, from wrist to shoulder. It rubbed the back of my neck, almost possessively, claiming me for Mommy.
I found some comfort in the now familiar sensation of my hand roaming my body, imagining Mommy in control, activating my body for pleasure. As my mind settled on the simple but incredible fact that I was kneeling before Mommy, I felt my hand cradle my chin, lift my head off the ground, and draw me up into a kneeling position. I found Mommy’s gaze locked on me, even as she settled into a nearby lounge chair, one knee up through the slit of her dress, her right hand moving rhythmically under her panties.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world, Mommy taking her pleasure how she wanted, when she wanted. I heard myself say, “I am weak for Mommy’s pussy. I would do anything for a taste.” Just as Mommy had conditioned me, I kept my tongue out, begging, begging, begging.
She laughed. “Oh, we’ll see…. To start, I want to see you maintain eye contact with me, sweetie. My eyes are up here.” My cheeks flushed red and I met her gaze, her eyes glinting like twin daggers catching the light. “Good. I want to see the look in your eyes when you beg,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. I had never felt so small, but I raised my voice to beg louder. I am weak for Mommy’s pussy. I would do anything for a taste. She laughed again.
“For now, you may touch yourself wherever I touch myself… with my left hand.” I let out a gentle moan, fighting the urge to gaze achingly at Mommy’s right hand, the one still massaging her pussy. “And until you break eye contact, you may imagine that it is my hand touching you.”
My cock pulsed. I felt it like a shock and I gasped out, “Thank you, Mommy!” My peripheral vision followed her left hand, gently grazing her collarbone, just above her golden dagger necklace. My right hand began mirroring Mommy when she slowly, sensuously traced her fingers up the side of her neck. I had performed Mommy’s meditation more than a hundred times by now, following her voice, imagining her guiding my hand even as I was acutely aware of being forbidden to fantasize about Mommy touching me.
Now, the sensation of my own fingertips sliding along my skin felt electric, knowing that she was directly showing me what to do, controlling me, wielding my right hand like a puppet. I swore I could feel the sensuous pleasure, her caress of her own skin, delivered through that connection and her control over my hand to my body.
For what seemed a blissful eternity I knelt, awakening my body with my hands, mirroring Mommy’s left hand while her right hand played with herself. As her intensity grew, I lifted myself up on my knees. Then Mommy brought her left hand down to massage her sex too, to open herself further for her dominant hand. Knowing that I was too little to have pleasure like Mommy, my hands followed hers only by massaging tortuously close to the base of my cock.
I breathed heavily in time with her, my erection swaying back and forth helplessly, denied. My hands came as close to my cock as I was allowed, my thumbs touching one another above my sex and my forefingers below, creating a diamond, a cunt of sorts, that I kneaded into myself as Mommy brought herself slowly and luxuriously to orgasm.
She closed her eyes, and I held my hands still around my throbbing cock in a ritual of chastity, fucking the gap between my hands but with the only sensation coming from the summer breeze caressing my cock and balls. And yet I still felt waves of pleasure, Mommy’s pleasure, washing over me.
When she finally opened her eyes again, I was still up on my knees, both hands open and pressed to my lap, my eyes on the ground between us.
“Mmm, good boy,” she purred. “Does my good little one want to touch his cock?”
I moaned, desperate with yearning. “Yes, Mommy. Please. Please, may I touch my cock?” She smiled, and for a foolish split second I thought that she might indulge me.
“The next step in your morning devotion is humping a pillow, isn’t it? Imagining it’s my boot?” She looked about dramatically. “But I don’t see any pillows here.” My heart sank. “Perhaps my shoe will have to do. Do you think that will suffice?” Oh fuck. A single crooked finger beckoned me closer, then directed me to the ground beneath her. She crossed her legs, bringing one bright red shoe so close to my cock. “Would you like to hump Mommy’s shoe, little one?”
My eyes fixated on Mommy’s dangling foot, the brilliant red shoe gracing it. I realized she was wearing the pair I bought for her early in my submission: bright red Jimmy Choos with cords that caressed her foot so elegantly, so sensually. “Yes, Mommy! Please, may I hump your shoe? Please?”
Mommy laughed. “Do you really think you could get off? From humping the sole of my shoe?” She nudged the tip of my cock with her toe, circled beneath it, lifting it so that the sensitive spot beneath the head rested against the sole under the ball of her foot. “Mmm, maybe…” She laughed again, and I blushed.
“Then get to it.” I began rocking my hips, slowly at first, just savoring the sensation of my erection pressing against the bottom of Mommy’s shoe. I closed my eyes, just wanting to live in that too fleeting connection between my sex and the bottom of Mommy’s foot. Beneath her. This was my place. But suddenly I felt very conscious of being out in the open, on a rooftop, where it felt like the world could see.
“Look at me, sweetie,” she whispered, a gentle but firm reminder of my newest rule, the latest strand of her control over me. I opened my eyes, and although I could see the clouds unfurling behind her, painted in luscious colors, my world narrowed to Mommy sitting above me, eyes bright and pinning me in place. I felt her begin to push back, to meet the gentle thrusts of my hips, and I allowed myself to think of it as us fucking. It was fucking. I was getting fucked by Mommy.
“That’s a good little slut.” I thought I might cum then and there. “Mmm, how does it feel? No phone or computer between us. Just… the sole of my shoe. The shoe you bought for me. Do you know just how many men have kissed these…”
“Please, Mommy? Please, may I cum?” I blurted out before she could even finish. Mommy’s laughter was musical, enchanting. She pretended to consider my request for one moment, and then another, before withdrawing her foot and looking down at me with the broad smile of a predator. “Oh, I think you can beg better than that, sweetie. Being on your knees is a good start, but I know you. You need more than that. You need to be taken.”
I blushed again, remembering one of the first stories I had written for Mommy. I crawled back to my clothes, and pulled the belt from my pants. I turned to face Mommy again. Unlike my story, she had no knife at my throat, no envelope full of incriminating photos.
Still, I performed what I had rehearsed so many times when writing that story, what I had researched from TikTok videos about how to turn a belt into a pair of improvised handcuffs. I pulled my wrists through, and keeping eye contact with Mommy, I pulled the tail of my belt through with my teeth, drawing the cuffs tight around my wrists. I walked on my knees closer to Mommy and brought my palms together as though to pray. I beseeched Mommy one more time, but my prayer changed. “Please, Mommy. Please take me. I am yours.”
Mommy rose from her seat and took a step closer. Only in my fantasies had she even been so close to me, and now the reality was intoxicating. She loomed over me. I breathed in her scent and felt myself grow weaker still. She smiled. “Before you were begging to cum, and now you are begging to be mine. And I do like to see you beg, you belong just like this.”
She pulled a small roll of black tape out of her purse, taped my thumbs together, then wound the tape round and round my other eight fingers until they formed one helpless mass. My hands were now stuck in this prayer position. “But you were already mine, sweetie. You enjoy this power I have over you. You already let me do what I want to you. If you want to cum, you’ll have to offer me something more.”
Mommy walked past me, and for one panicked moment I thought she was leaving and that I had failed some test. But as usual Mommy showed me what to do, taught me how to be good. From behind, she showed me my own credit card, fresh from the wallet in my discarded pants, before placing it in my hands. I could only clasp it beneath my bound thumbs. She whispered into my ear, “I could just take this from you… but I want you to beg me to take it. Beg me to take what’s mine. Make me believe you mean it. Offer me everything.” The way Mommy said that last word, sounded dirty, profane, profound.
My helplessness suddenly felt very real, and part of me still wanted to think through how much damage Mommy could do to my card, how much I thought she would actually do. But that part of me just watched helplessly as I said, without barely any hesitation, “Please, Mommy. Take my card. It is yours, I am yours. Please, let me be yours?” I felt tears begin to well up. Passing the test, being worthy, meant everything.
Mommy stepped in front of me again. Smiling, she murmured, “Good boy,” and my heart leapt. Next she pulled out a blindfold, wrapped it around my head. “Maybe I will let you cum after all.” Then she pulled me, shuffling along on my knees, bound and blindfolded, a few feet over. I heard her settle back into her chair, begin to moan. I realized I could smell her. I could smell Mommy’s arousal.
“You blush so prettily, sweetie. You know Mommy always cums first. Mmm, tell me, does Mommy’s little one want a taste?”
“Yes, Mommy!” I blurted. “Please, Mommy, please may I taste your pussy?” I didn’t care if it was greedy. The need for Mommy suffused every fiber of my being, and I could not hide anything from Mommy.
I felt the card being pulled from under my thumbs. “Hmm, would you rather cum or taste my pussy? Even a good boy only gets one treat tonight, dear.” My cock throbbed, demanding, and I hesitated, then I felt Mommy wipe some precum from the tip. “I don’t have all evening.”
Later I would rationalize it by saying that I had cum plenty of times in my life. I had never tasted the pussy of a woman like Mommy. “Please, Mommy. I want to taste your pussy, please.” Even as I begged, it felt like sacrificing my orgasm again to Mommy, laying it at her feet along with my card.
In response I only heard Mommy purr, pleased at my response. A pause, then I felt a hand on my chin, bringing my head forward. “Open up for Mommy.” I stuck out my tongue, eager. Suddenly, I felt a dildo placed firmly into my mouth, then Mommy’s hands buckling a strap behind my head. Then more straps over my head, holding the blindfold in place, and another down under my chin.
Mommy may as well have reached into my head and turned off my brain. Time stopped. The skin on my cheeks still tingled from knowing Mommy’s touch. My entire body savored the feeling of exquisite helplessness. Then, a moment later, the taste of Mommy’s pussy juices coating the silicone cock saturated my mouth. I moaned contentedly. “Yes, suck on it like it’s a pacifier,” Mommy whispered in my ear. My moans grew louder. “Yes, you do seem quite pacified now,” and I could hear her smile.
Gentle hands cupped my face, began to lift me up off my knees. Then it was a hand on my shoulder, marching me forward. A twinge of fear shot through me. Blind, I could not see where Mommy was taking me. I could not see who could see me. And anyway there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. “You can pretend to resist all you want.” Mommy’s voice was casual, as though remarking on the view. “Your cock tells me everything I need to know.” It throbbed at hearing its name.
The street noise below us grew louder, and I realized we are at the very edge of the roof. Mommy turned me around, and I felt the railing at my back. One foot bumped against the glass separating me from falling several stories to the street below. A thought passed through my mind: I should be afraid. I am fucking vulnerable. What is she capable of? She had just had me put her name in my will. Should I be afraid that people down there can see me? Or grateful that somebody might be watching?
As always, it was like Mommy could read my mind. “Yes, anyone down there looking up can see you, sweetie. Do you know what they would see?” I just shook my head slowly, breathing heavily now around my gag, Mommy’s juices still coating my tongue, slipping down my throat. “They see that you fucking belong to me.” She wrapped a hand firmly around my cock and pulled me against her.
“You really thought that meeting me in real life would break the spell? What do you think now, little one? Now that you’ve had a taste of Mommy?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Her other hand began to pet my head affectionately, then just brought it down into the warmth of what I realized must be her bosom. Her first hand never left my cock, and I knew Mommy could feel it pulse, helpless. I sucked on my gag contentedly as Mommy just held me to her.
“Yes, I have you now. You walked right into my trap. But don’t feel bad, sweetie. It didn’t happen tonight or even when you came to New York. The moment you began fantasizing about being imprisoned in Mommy’s Basement, you were mine.”
The voice of Mommy, my superior and my teacher, penetrated my brain. “You thought you could just visit, get your fix, get on with your normal life. But you came to me missing something. There was a hole inside you and I filled it, filled it with Mommy. You took Mommy’s Basement back with you. You are in Mommy’s Basement now. It’s not the tape binding your hands or the gag filling your mouth. It’s your own fantasies…”
She traced sensuous circles around my head, holding me closer still to her tits. “And your desires…” She gave my cock a single delicious squeeze. “Fantasies that I nurtured and planted in you. Desires that I used to bring you here. I own you now and you cannot escape.”
No thoughts of my own swirled in my brain, just Mommy’s words. I moaned through my gag, “Yes, Mommy. No escape.”
“Mmm, I knew you had it in you, sweetie. I know because I put it there. And now you know it, too.” She patted me on the head. “Sorry that this is not the abduction you’ve fantasized about. It’s better, more beautiful, don’t you think?” I nodded my head. Or was it her hand nodding it for me? “Think of it as a pilgrimage. Your offering to me. Your sacrifice.” She leaned into me, and I felt the railing again at my back. “But don’t worry, sweetie, this is not the end for you. I’m just getting started.”
The truth of Mommy’s words sunk in, settled into my mind like a strap being pulled tight with finality. My head just nodded again. Mommy’s truth was all I knew. It was everything, I didn’t know anything else. “I’m going to remove the gag and let you free yourself, sweetie. But you are never leaving Mommy’s Basement. Because you want to be here. Because that’s how I’ve trained you. And you are better this way.”
The gag was pulled from my mouth and I said the only thing I could say, as the drool ran down my chin and onto my chest. “Yes, Mommy. Thank you, Mommy.” She patted my head one more time, then pulled at one end of the bondage tape trapping my fingers. I felt her place the end into my lips, letting me grip it with my teeth.
“You’ll have to do the rest yourself,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I need to find my real date.” Still blindfolded, I looked up towards her voice, confused. “Don’t be silly, little one. I didn’t come here for you. You came here for me, to give me this.” I felt the tap of a plastic card on my cock. “Thank you, sweetie. We’ll put it to good use.”
I listened to the click of Mommy’s heels as she strolled away, leaving me alone. Slowly, I began to peel the bondage tape from my hands. Mommy was right, as always. I could no more escape her clutches than free myself from these submissive desires. I gave myself willingly. I found my happy place, at Mommy’s feet, as Mommy’s prey.
This is part of my BDSM Stories writing contest, contributed by an eager submissive. Want a more intimate look into my personal relationships? Follow me on my OnlyFans. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter and for those who feel inspired by the above interview and want to make fantasy a reality, reach out.