Stripping away the pleasure and the control of the male orgasm, forced milking can be quite humbling.  No doubt at first, there is much stimulation in the realization that you lay there bound with your cock exposed for teasing and torment.  BUT…  as time ticks on, and you become lost inside your head, blankness even lacking, only the emotional ride which is whirling at an internal high speed, and the helplessness and vunerability becomes a tunnel with no light and no apparent end – you succumb to an ongoing CBT and milking session.

The restriction of the mummification is in itself, fucking with your human survival instincts.  And the vunerable exposure of your cock and balls stirs up those knotting anxieties in your stomach. 

What sounds you can hear in the room, are muffled and unclear.  Your eyeslids have been taped down. There is nothing.  You are nothing.  And your cock grows even harder due to your immobile predictiment. Feeling yourself being fitted, hearing a small motor running, aware of the growing pressure being pumped around your milkstick, and the ever so constant suction.  You have no control.  You have no say and YOU WILL produce.  Over and over and over, until nothing remains, except the silent tears of pain escaping from your sealed eyelids. 

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In this series, Goddess Lillith takes the seduction of smoking and foot worship to a new level.  Not only does she tease her slave with those beautiful full red lips of hers, she hoods him in leather and has him cleaning her stilettos, while teaesing him with those perfect toes of hers.

I am adding a pair of those opera length leather gloves to my gift list.  So many times I am asked “What may I do for you, Mistress Chianti?” – my response will be – “Bestow upon me your true desire to please me. Kneel and offer up your gift of leather, so that I can tease and torment you even more – my pet!!”

See More Of Goddess Lillith Here !!

Dear Mistress Chianti,

.. i would like to be owned led by a Strong Dominant Female .. i do believe in fem supremacy .., so you will find me at your feet begging to worship you use me as you wish Ma’am.., the way you see it fits your desire .. , .. i ‘am loving quiet guy who love to follow orders & and listen to my mistress doing exactly as she said ..

D/s role play fits me more .. so you will get such a loyal pet at your feet all the time Ma’am ..
hope you will collar me .. leash me , this way you will have me always at your feet like a good pet for you lick your feet / shoes.., waiting for your orders ..interested in body worship .. willing to be trained to be your perfect slave you will practice the desired kinky things with .. ,, work as a limousine driver in NYC..single not attached .. no kids .. .. , open to try new fetish ..

hope to be your good slave so soon my owner .. your slave samie

As I read through samie’s letter, I was actually entertaining the possible fun with such a new little pet, but then, the last line of “assumption” only created a sigh from me.  Assuming and addressing me to be your owner is unacceptable.  I make the choices – not you!

I really think this could be turned into a fun little game to play at my next humiliation dungeon party.  Instead of Pin The Tail on the Donkey, I would call it Shoot The Spunk into the Pig’s Mouth!!  Make sure you drop me a line to get on that invitation list!!

At first I thought he had a little tail tangling between his legs and realized it was his piggly wiggly dicklet.  Oh this is just way to much fun!

You can see more of this slut and others like him over at the English Mansion.  Make sure drop by sometime!

Dear Mistress Chianti,

I call you up and I am dressed to kill.  Looking hot and sweet, talking to you has made me even hornier and I slowly start humping the corner of the kitchen counter, getting more and more turned on as we spoke.  I love listening to your voice, always so hot and sexy, and in control.  I was wishing I was humping those beautiful legs of yours and I swear, I thought I could smell your wet moist cunt thorugh the phone.  All of this was simply driving me more and more crazy.  Then still speaking with you, I walked across the kitchen floor and I could hear my own sexy heels clicking against the tile and I smirked.  I knew damn well you knew I wasn’t making up any fucking stories and that I am real.  A slut.  Your bitch.  And I knew you wanted to see me, wishing you were here in this room.  Then I saw the stair railing and knew I needed to hump again and….

luv “m”

Well “m” – I do know just how much of a little dressed up feminized toy slut you really are, and your letter was fabulous.  I look forward to speaking with you soon, dear.