Femdom Lessons: My First Pegging Session

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My name’s Lena, 23, and I’ve been into Femdom for a while now. My partner, Jake, 25, is the total opposite—submissive but terrified of anal play. Last week, I decided it was time to break him. We’d prepped for months: lube, restraints, the whole shebang. But when he finally knelt in front of me, bound to my custom strapon rig, his face was deathly pale. “This is your choice,” I said, voice tight with control. “You wanted Femdom, right?” He nodded, breath quick. I adjusted the 5-inch steel strapon—smooth, cold, and hard as his fear.

I slid my fingers over his prostate plug first, testing his limits. He’d worn that smaller silicone toy to stretch him for days. “W-why so much lube?” he stammered. “Because you’re tight,” I said, smearing the gel onto the strapon’s tip. “And I want you screaming.” He choked, wrists straining against the leather cuffs binding them to my bed frame. My favorite part of Femdom? Watching them squirm before the real power hits.

When I pressed the strapon into his entrance, Jake stiffened. “Breathe,” I ordered. He did, slow and shallow, as I pushed deeper. The moment the cockhead breached his rim, he whimpered. “That’s it. Let it fill you.” I paused at three inches, letting the pressure build. His legs trembled; I could see the plug wobbling inside him, slicking the strapon’s path. Finally, I shoved the rest in with a loud *thud*. He yelped, eyes watering. “F-Fuck—!” “Good,” I purred. “Now you’re mine.”

Pumping into him slow at first, I dragged my nails down his back. His skin flushed red, sweat beading under my grip. “What do you want, pet?” I hissed. “I—I don’t—” “You want me to make you feel it. The shame. The fullness.” I rammed harder, letting the strapon’s metal joint grind against his prostate. He sobbed, “Yes, please—more!” That’s how I knew he was broken. No more hesitation. Just raw need for my control.

I added another toy—my hand, gripping his dick and milking it as I hammered into his colon. He came almost instantly, jizz splattering onto his chest. “Swallow it,” I snapped, dragging his face to the mattress. He did, gagging slightly, while I kept pistoning into him. The strapon’s base slapped my inner thighs, a rhythm of power. When he begged for it, I flipped him onto all fours, spreading his cheeks wider. “I’m gonna make that hole scream,” I whispered, pounding him until he couldn’t form words. His only sound was a continuous, high-pitched whine—a melody of female dominance in action.

After I emptied myself, I yanked out the strapon and unchained him. He collapsed, shaking, unable to walk. I cleaned him while he mumbled, “Why do you like making me like this?” “Because you’re perfect when you submit,” I said, tying a silk scarf around his red, sore hole. “You want more?” He didn’t answer. He just stared at the ceiling, half-lost, half-mine. Later, he’d text me pictures of his bruises, begging for another Femdom session. That’s the beauty of it—he needs the humiliation worse than the pain.

If you’re curious about Femdom, check out the video section here at fetish-porn.video—there’s stuff on strapon play and beginner’s guides. And if you need real stories, more Femdom tales here, no frills, just domination. Let me know if you want to hear about my next time with Jake—he *really* wants to try rimjobs after last week.