Guild of Correction
Copyright© 2025 by Midsummerman
Chapter 6
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Don's lust for the older, matriarchal, and domineering woman, leads him to a life of enslavement. A bitchy girlfriend, more than aware of his sexual penchant, takes him to her Stepmother... who puts him to good use in preparing him, as her token of admission to the Women's Guild of Correction, a covert organisation which caters for the hedonistic pleasures of the dominant sex.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Consensual Slavery Heterosexual Fiction BDSM FemaleDom Humiliation Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex
The intrusive but strangely exciting feel of the anal plug, keep Cleaton’s cock high, as Madam Cordelia Aster had him put on the clothes that she had chosen for his trip alone to his old residence ... and the authority of Madam Agatha Cramer that awaited him there. His erection was further assisted by the curt cacklings of Cordelia’s guests, Madams Sybil Carling and Madam Celia Hardcastle, and the stern attentions of the dominant Hilda Smart, Tara, and Sarah, to ensure an obedience already observed in full by him, as he was dressed with the loose fitting attire that his new and mature owner had chosen for him. Cordelia’s cunt tingled as she sniffed at the sweatshirt of her choice, grinning spitefully at her property.
“I’ve lightly perfumed the things I’ve chosen for you with my scent, it’ll keep you ss keen as the plug you’ve been gifted with, for your return to me...” The audience of women sneered with satisfaction as he sniffed at the garment, taking in the so obviously feminine scent, Cordelia’s cunt moistening at the thought of being in control of his senses, even when away from her.
“ ... of course, as you’ll be travelling there by public transport, anyone will know you’ve been with a woman ... and many will guess by your meek attitude, that you’re owned by one.” His mind ran riot at the confused but erotic thoughts that coursed through his brain; ridicule on his journey, the severe Agatha awaiting him, the exchange of anal plugs by her firm hand ... and a return to the submissive heaven of Cordelia’s ownership, and humiliation before her dominant friends and strict household staff. His detracted thoughts were brought home by his owner, she, in an aroused state of pompous satisfaction.
“I would say, there’s no going back now, now that we all know just how pathetic your lust to be dominated is, but you’ll go back once ... and Madam Cramer will see to it that your former liberty where you were is erased forever.” She lifted her arm in haughty and superior fashion as she pointed to the door, and amid the cynical laughter of her guests, he was led to it by a sneering Hilda, and given just enough money to complete a return journey, he was made to know the delights of the anal plug, and the gentle scent of his dominant owner.
Once out in the open, he struggled to put aside the thoughts of being dominated, trying to think rationally as he travelled, but the lush feel of the plug denied him any freedom from Cordelia’s crushing ownership of him, and her scent upon clothes that he was given no choice in selecting, had him erect at every moment. The eyes of every woman he encountered on public transport, seemed full of contempt for him, Cordelia’s words ringing true, and as he alighted close to the residence he once inhabited, the squirming of the plug and thoughts of Madam Agatha Cramer awaiting him, had his cock boning more rigidly than ever.
Up in the dwelling which was once his haven from the realities of female domination he now suffered and enjoyed, Madam Agatha Cramer stroked her cunt on viewing his approach, before sauntering to a chair in the dwelling she would be queen of today. A woman he hardly knew, but had fantasised and masturbated over, and who now knew more about his destiny than he did, nestled down and crossed her black stocking clad legs, her naked flesh comforted by the patterned silk gown she wore over her mature flesh, her cunt tingling as she toyed with the stiff but flexible cane she’d sought for the occasion, a broad and wicked smile creasing her mature and slightly weathered face, her red lipsticked lips pursing as she viewed the golden anal plug set out on display upon the table.
On ascending the stairs, he swallowed hard at seeing the door to his residence ajar, and the sweet scent of a not too expensive feminine perfume assailed his senses as he walked in, the anal plug he’d been gifted with, seeing to it that his cock remained rigidly erect by its teasing of his prostate. He gasped in a sexual awe at the wicked and contemptuous smile that greeted him, as Madam Agatha Cramer, looking more appealingly dominant than he’d ever imagined her, with legs crossed to expose her thighs clad in black nylon, cane in hand.
“Close the door ... now!”. His cock pulsed longingly at the realisation from her tone, that the woman who’d seemed no more than a slightly nosey, middle-aged busy-body, was actually the woman of authority he’d masturbated over when fantasising about her being dominant. Agatha’s cunt tingled with a tart sexual pleasure as he obeyed her simple command in obedience to it, she also finding the situation she was now in, surreal and unbelievably exciting. Her enthusiasm for the dominance she’d now have over him, having her bark at him with a spiteful exuberance.
“Strip off! ... I want to see just how pleased you are at knowing your place below me at last!” The spiteful grin she gave him as he quickly lost the loose clothing chosen for him, only accentuated the stiffness of his cock which perked and bobbed as he stepped from the leggings, her contempt for him so clearly apparent by it. She flicked her hair, took a deep breath, and pointed the the cane to her heels.
“Now crawl over here and kiss my feet!” Cleaton’s anus clenched hard at the plug as he obediently crawled towards a sneering Agatha’s feet, clad in tall stilettos which she’d purchased specially for this occasion. Her cunt had moistened deliciously when she’d tried them on, strutting in them around the room had thrilled her sexually, the height those spiked heels gave her, and the tautness of her leg muscles that the stance in them created, exciting her dominant nature. She’d posed naked before the mirror, admiring her still shapely but a little plump figure, her slightly protruding belly and gently sagging breasts poking nipples hard with sexual excitement ... Yes, she’d thought, and quite correctly, her years as a spinster had kept her ripe, ripe for the life of domineering victory over masculinity that she would now embark on.
Her face was filled with the smugness she now felt, as his face reached those exquisite heels; her opportunistic meeting with Jayne had not only confirmed there was no going back for the cur of a neighbour now at her feet, but had opened a new and thrilling path for her. He didn’t know it yet, but his final visit to the residence would not be the final time he saw her. Madam Agatha Cramer was to witness his humiliation at the venue she was yet to learn the address of, an address which would be disclosed when she visited Jayne at her mother’s residence, where a trained male male would be gifted in enslavement to her, formally ending her life as a spinster on returning to the flat next door with her willingly submissive servant. Her cunt blossomed to a pert arousal as Cleaton plied his lips to the shiny patent leather of her still egos, the thrill of her being in absolute control of him, sexually exhilarating, and increasing her smugness tenfold.