Professional

In September last year a gentleman I know invited me to attend the “Concours of Elegance” which is a classic car event held at Hampton Court Palace (https://www.hrp.org.uk/hampton-court-palace/whats-on/concours-of-elegance/#gs.l4l7ml).

As well as a Champagne reception and a wonderful lunch, he offered to generously reward me for my time but there was one proviso, namely that I would wear the outfit you see here, including the long gloves and the ankle bracelet, an outfit which he had seen in one of my photos and which he was determined to see me wear for this event. I demurred slightly, not because I was completely opposed to such a brazen outfit but because I feared others attending the event would assume I was his escort, which he might find embarrassing. However, quite the opposite was the case, because he intended to parade me around and, on the day when he introduced me to some of his friends there, he made it plain that I was a sexual trophy for him that day, his ‘escort’ if you wish.

He even told one man that I am a professional Masturbatrix. He was staying at the Mitre Hotel, across the road from the Palace and when his excitement became too much, too visible, we went there so I could provide him with some much needed “hand relief”. When we returned to the event he boasted to the same man about the incredible ‘service’ he had just enjoyed, which he said was the best he’d ever experienced and he pointed out that my right glove was marked. He also encouraged others to discuss whether I might accompany them to other events, similarly attired. He thoroughly enjoyed showing me off and we had a wonderful day.

What follows is NOT the discussion I had with other men that day but is what I later imagined I might have said, perhaps some of it is what I wished I had said but I was too cautious to do so.

Tony introduces me to a little group of men who have gathered around to admire the view.

‘Why don’t you explain what I mean when I say that you’re very good with your hands and also why I asked you to wear those wonderful long gloves?’

Well, I hesitate for a moment and wonder what to say but then I plough on. ‘I am a professional Masturbatrix. I provide men with a hand relief service. I really enjoy masturbating men and that’s what I do’.

I give each of them one of my business cards.

‘Why don’t you tell them a little bit more about how you do it, because it’s very special, your style, your approach.’

‘OK, well to begin with I should explain that I always dress for the occasion and I would usually wear whatever it is the man has requested, within reason of course. I don’t generally go in hard and fast, in fact quite the opposite, I want it to last as long as possible. So what I do is I slowly stroke the cock until the man is hovering on the edge of his climax and then I try to slow things down or I will stop completely if necessary, so as to prevent them from ejaculating too quickly. If successful, this can go on for quite some time, 15 or 20 minutes or even a half an hour or more. By that point the man is normally begging me for relief but I like to make them wait even longer before I tell them but I want them to climax, to ejaculate on me if they can and when they do it is very often an extremely intense experience for them and I am frequently told that it is the most intense they have ever experienced’.

The men look at me, stunned and it’s left to Tony to speak and he asks about my fees for this service.

I tell them that I wish to make one thing clear: I am not a prostitute or a sex worker, this is my hobby, I do it because I enjoy it, it’s fun and I love giving so much pleasure to men in this way.

‘Then why are we talking about fees’, one of them asks ‘if this is just a bit of fun for you’?

‘Because if I didn’t charge the queue of men wanting me to masturbate them would be a mile or two long. But the moment I state the minimum that I’m looking for before I even consider putting on a suspender belt and putting on my stockings then that queue becomes considerably shorter and much easier for me to manage’.

‘Wow!’ one of the men gasps.

‘And in any case, if my hobby was baking cakes, or making dresses or gardening would you expect me to give away cakes or dresses or transform your garden for free?’

‘That’s a very good point’, one of the men agrees. And then he asks, ‘Is it just hand relief you do or are there other ways in which you have your fun?’

‘It is principally hand relief, that’s my thing, as I say I’m a professional Masturbatrix but from time to time I do other things. For example, as you can probably see I am rather busty and some men have quite a fixation about my big tits and so I do sometimes get tit fucked or I can use my breasts to bring them off with an oily tit wank.’

‘You enjoy that?’, he asks.

‘Very much so. Getting a pearl necklace is a real joy for me and if everything works out exactly right I can often have an orgasm while I’m being tit fucked or giving a tit wank because my breasts and especially my nipples are extremely sensitive, so it doesn’t take that much to make me climax. I also enjoy giving oral from time to time and before you ask, yes, I do swallow the semen unless the client prefers to ejaculate on my face and then I will lick off as much of their spunk as I can afterwards’.

‘And if it’s discipline a man craves, I do that and I can be a very strict and merciless bitch. It’s mainly psychological – you know, control, humiliation, servitude, that type of thing – but if they need pain to get their kicks then I have quite a collection of canes, whips and riding crops. My long dressage whip can do serious damage and I’ll admit I do get off while inflicting pain. In fact, I once had an orgasm while whipping some pathetic creature’.

‘Do you ever go all the way?’, one of them asks.

‘If you mean full penetration, intercourse, then the simple answer is that this is not something that I offer to my clients but of course there is a price for everything, isn’t there?’

And they all chuckle at this.

‘So if someone wants to throw is stupid amount of money at me for their ultimate experience then I am willing to listen but as I don’t like condoms, they will need to have a health check first’.

Another of the men says, ‘You mean it’s bare back – they spunk inside you?’

‘Yes, absolutely, as many times as they are able to in fact. I love being flooded with sperm and semen.’

Tony pipes up at this point. ‘But you’re married, aren’t you? Does your husband know that you do this sort of thing, doesn’t he object?’

‘No not at all, he loves it and he wants me to have fun and enjoy myself. He’d like me to do more in fact. When I get home, dressed in an outfit like this, maybe splattered with a client’s ejaculate he is ever so excited and of course I have to give him hand relief almost immediately but his greatest thrill of all is if I come home and tell him that I am carrying another man’s sperm in my stomach or in my sopping wet gash. Then he wants to know every last detail and needs to be given daily relief for at least the next week. I know that he has never regretted marrying a slut like me and he would love it if I was being fucked by one man after another every day.’

‘Would you ever do a group of men, a group like us for example?’, one of them asks.

‘Yes of course, I can do that. I’ve even provided the entertainment at the stag party but nowadays I prefer to limit it to a smaller group, say four, as it’s more manageable but it can be more cost effective for them too. For example, if I was to do a hand relief session with four of you cost for each of you would be less than an individual session and you still get the same incredible hand service, although a little quicker for each compared to the one-on-one service I like to provide. For me one of the benefits of doing this with a small group is that I can end up heavily splattered with all their spunk all over me, dripping off me, and I really like that, that’s a very big turn on for me and so then I will be desperate for my orgasm, so one of you would be invited to use your fingers deep inside my pussy and frig me off to climax. Added to which when I get home and show my husband my outfit splattered with spunk from all you lovely men, well, you can imagine his reaction’.

‘Now, who wants to join me in the hotel across the road?’ I’m looking at a group of men who are almost drooling as they look at me and I can see an erection in every one of their trousers. At this point it’s clear that I have a number of new clients and a busy few hours ahead of me. Perhaps I should be thinking of all the money I’m about to ‘earn’ and what I’ll spend it on but all I can think of is all those lovely hard cocks and the enormous amount of spunk I’m about to receive.

Feedback

Following my last blog about gloves, I received very nice emails from two of my most loyal followers, which I thought I would share with everyone, with their permission. Putting this blog together does take quite a bit of time and the last one was particularly time consuming, as I looked through all the photos I have of myself – of which there are more than 17,500 – and then had to select which ones to include and the even larger number I could have used but decided against.

So it’s nice to receive such positive feedback. If you like the blog (and, even better, if you sometimes cum while reading it and viewing my photos!) I would love you to add a comment or give me your feedback directly by email (ladyinseams@gmx.com) or both of course. Although I can see from the statistics the blog is very popular (last week was a record with over 8,500 visits) the comments are relatively few and it would be great to see more.

Anyway, here are those two emails:

Hi Emma

I thought you’d been quiet lately, now I know why! Your latest blog on gloves must’ve taken hours to put together. Superb detail accompanied by all those photos. A true masterpiece and one of your best yet.

I particularly enjoyed the photos of the sheer black long gloves. They must feel incredible wrapped around a cock, both for you and the cock owner as you put it so well. I assume there can’t be any lubricant involved though for risk of damaging the gloves, so it would have to be a long, slow wank, nothing too frantic. Otherwise you’d have to change into your nurse’s outfit and administer to a nasty friction burn 😎

Thanks again for such an erotic entry into your canon. Speak soon and enjoy your weekend. Oh and happy Burns Night (Rabbie not friction 😀).

Emma

After reading your latest blog on gloves, the least I could do was sent a short email to say “wow”. Seriously wow! Whilst I’m not necessarily a gloves afficiando, the stories and photos are amazing. I love how much effort you’ve gone to and can’t believe how many sexy photos you’ve shared on this blog. I was so hard straight away that I had to go and change into some pvc boxers and play with my wife (she didn’t realise I was so turned on by your photos but she wasn’t moaning…well, actually, she was moaning!!!).

Can’t thank you enough for all the effort. It’s so appreciated and definitely promoted my love life.

Thank you so much.

Gloves

It’s perhaps a little strange that I’ve not written about gloves before now. You may associate me with gloves because of my passion for providing ‘hand relief’ and as a self-described ‘Masturbatrix’ and if you’ve seen my videos, you will already know that I very often wear gloves while masturbating men. But my own love of gloves goes back much, much further than that. Even as a very young child, when I played dressing up games, I often put on gloves – normally many sizes too big for me, of course – and when I look back at old photos of me at parties and other events in my teens, I am wearing wrist length black satin gloves in many of them. I think I had a single pair and, remarkably, they’re still in my box of gloves, extremely well worn and with much sentimental value.

Don’t expect me to explain why gloves have always been so important to me, other than to say that when I was that age, I thought they added a touch of class and elegance, a hint of sophistication which I didn’t really possess. I loved all those period dramas in which the ladies never seemed to attend any ball or concert other than in long satin gloves. As a recent article in Town & Country magazine put it:

“Debutantes and heiresses were probably the first thing to come to mind, when thinking of opera-length gloves. The style was very much associated with aristocratic women from days past … [but the] long and elegant formal glove has recently started to make a comeback … It’s the perfect way to add an unexpected element of sophistication to formal wear, or even a cocktail look”.

As I matured (and, frankly, when I had more money) I gradually gathered quite a collection of gloves to be worn for special occasions and by that I am including for sexy moments and showing myself off. Wrist length leather, of course and longer leather gloves, satin in black, white, red and even gold and both elbow and even shoulder length satin gloves in red, black and white and PVC and faux leather and wet look, all formed part of my collection.

I’d like to share some photos with you of just some of the gloves I possess and wear. I’ll begin with ‘regular’ wrist length leather gloves, essential during cold weather, of course, but also providing a hint of dominance when worn with a sexy outfit or when clutching a whip or cane.

Wrist Length Leather

A fairly frequent request from the cock owners is for leather gloves but I found that with the combination of semen and lubricating jelly or oil soaking into the leather, they often became very stiff and the leather began to crack and this made them unsuitable for relief work, as they’d hurt a cock too much and so had to be thrown away. I soon became well known in all our local charity shops because if I spotted a pair of leather gloves which fitted, I snapped them up.

Of course, longer leather gloves hint at domination and cock milking much more clearly and, naturally, I have some in my collection too.

Long Leather

There’s obviously nothing new about gloves as fetish items.

Unquestionably, many men are attracted to women wearing gloves. I noticed this when I was out, even just wearing regular leather gloves on cold winter days but very much more so if the gloves are slightly incongruous, for example, gloves worn with a short sleeve top or dress or very long gloves worn under the sleeves and simply not removing gloves in a social setting – a bar or party – seems to be a trigger for many men. Perhaps it hints at decadence or kink and I know many men instantly associate a woman wearing gloves with masturbation.

Back in 2010 I became really interested in and excited by the whole ‘Masturbatrix’ theme (and here I must credit the porn star known as ‘Lady Sonia’ as her milking videos were an inspiration for me) and found I derived enormous pleasure from providing men with long, slow luxurious ‘hand relief’ (and you can read as to how I differentiate that term from ‘hand job’ elsewhere in this blog).

As I was soon completing hundreds of relief sessions every year, I began to accumulate more and more gloves for this purpose. The most obvious choice was the disposable ‘surgical’ latex gloves and I got though many boxes of them. Indeed, to this day I carry a pair in my handbag, together with a small tube of lubricating jelly, on the off chance that I meet someone who requires this service and persuades me that they qualify for such a treat.

Disposable Latex

As you can see, I use a variety of styles of disposable gloves, from clear vinyl, though to traditional white latex and even blue or purple. But there is a lot to be said for black latex gloves for masturbating men as they show the semen very clearly after ejaculation.

Black Disposable Latex

Recently I asked on my Flickr page, if I was to offer relief, would gloved or bare hands be preferred. The answers were roughly 50-50 but one person replied “gloves please – psychologically it feels a bit more impersonal and detached” and I think that’s exactly it for me and for many men. It’s more ‘clinical’ which is why disposable latex gloves suit very well – peeling these off and throwing them into a bin saying “There, that’s your sperm disposed of” is a little extra thrill for me at the end of a healthy milking encounter.

But I don’t insist on gloves at all. In fact in a previous blog I mentioned a friend who has a strange obsession with the fact that I am an unfaithful married woman and likes to ejaculate over my wedding and engagement rings, I suppose wishing to defile the symbols of my faithfulness and he insists I allow his semen to dry on the rings and then show this to my husband, to reinforce the point that his is just one of many cocks I service and that my husband is a pathetic cuckold.

There is a benefit to bare handed milking, which is that it makes it easier to lick off the semen from my hand and fingers, or it would be were it not for the fact that I almost always use a lubricating jelly or oil and this is why in many of my photos and videos you may notice I’m wearing a glove on just one hand, as this is the hand which is used to stroke the lubricated erection and then when the man ejaculates I will sometimes try and catch his lovely sperm and semen with my other, bare hand, creamy fluid I can then lick up. You know how much I enjoy swallowing spunk!

A Single Glove

So, it’s the cock owners choice: gloves or bare hands? If it’s gloves, they then have a wide range from which to choose: the surgical disposable type or vinyl, or PVC, rubber, long satin ones, wet look or these long ones with the prominent silver zips, which again are very popular with my admirers.

Long Zipped

Let’s take a photographic walkthrough of some of the gloves I have in my collection and some of the options available to a cock owner who is about to be milked dry.

Long Black Satin

Long Red Satin

Long Black Sheer

Red Red Metallic

Some Other Colours

Probably most popular of all are my wrist length black glossy latex ones, with which I must have completed many hundreds of relief sessions and received dozens of pints of seminal fluid. When I have completed a milking session, I hand the gloves to my husband to be cleaned and he then reapplies a gloss finishing spray, so they are as good as new and ready for the next cock.

I also have some red latex gloves too.

PVC and Wet Look

Another very popular choice is PVC or wet look gloves, of which I have many different pairs, perfect for hand domination sessions and giving someone a good thrashing. Did someone say ‘busty dominatrix’?

The only person who does not get a choice is my husband, as I now insist on always wearing gloves when he needs relief and this enables me to say quite honestly to him and to all of you that I have not touched his penis in over five years and I have no intention of doing so. It’s a further little humiliation for him: I am happy to handle your cock but not his.

So, there you have it. My perfect set of clothing when I want a bit of fun is a nice suspender belt, a pair of fully fashioned stockings, some very high heeled shoes (or boots) and a pair of gloves. Then I am ready to play and quite prepared to remove and destroy a man’s worthless sperm.

Seams close to home

In a recent blog post https://ladyinseams.home.blog/2024/12/24/ghosts-of-christmas-past/ I explained that, in contrast to past years when I would frequently attend Christmas parties or other events as a companion for various of my admirers, this year I chose not to do so, as part of my move to reduce the number of slutty adventures I have.

Following that blog, I was chatting online with one of my lovely followers and he asked if I was attending any parties at all at Christmas and I said only one, with my neighbours. Naturally he asked if I would be wearing stockings. I’m sure he would have loved me to have said yes, seams with six inch heels and my ‘Queen of Spades’ ankle chain but I always like to be honest during these chats, so I told him the truth: yes, I would wear stockings (and indeed I did) but plain not seamed not even RHTs and I think only my husband was aware that I was wearing a suspender belt.

And this got me thinking about how rapidly things can change. It’s not that long ago that I was very confident to wear fully fashioned (seamed) stockings, not just to parties but almost ‘day-to-day’, for example when out shopping. Today much less so.

And thinking about this reminded of another Christmas drinks party, not that many years ago. I don’t remember exactly when but I think it was in 2016 or 2017. Strictly speaking it wasn’t a neighbours’ drinks party, as it was about two miles from where we live and I know Jill and Paul, the hosts, through a local club we belong to, rather than them being near neighbours but I don’t think this influenced what I wore.

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t give it much thought. It’s Christmas time, we’re going to be drinking Champagne or cocktails and I feel a little frisky and so I wore a nice multistrip belt, black seamed stockings, nice heels and a sequin cocktail dress. I felt elegant and a little sexy at the same time, a perfect combination at that time of year.

This was my party dress and shoes, although I didn’t wear the ankle bracelet (nor, as far as I can remember, the gloves)

It was fun, I felt great and the Champagne flowed freely. I’ll confess that once I start on Champagne, I find it very hard to stop and I’ll acknowledge now that I’d had more glasses than is good for the liver, as each time I had almost finished a glass it was refilled. However, I was not alone, as almost everyone was walking and the volume of noise in the two rooms being used got greater and greater and it was clear that almost everyone was at least tipsy.

A gentleman, probably early 40s if I had to guess, introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Tom from number eleven”, which I took to mean he was a neighbour. We had the usual polite and very predictable neighbours’ drinks party chat: Where do you live? How do you know Jill and Paul? Any special plans for Christmas? Children? Going away at all? You know the form.

And then he said something along the lines of “I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t help noticing your stockings, earlier. They’re lovely.” So, first, we established that they were indeed ‘proper’ stockings by which he meant not hold ups or put another way, that I was wearing a suspender belt. I confirmed that they were indeed and when he used the word ‘vintage’, I told him that they’re properly described as fully fashioned nylons and he immediately demonstrated he had good knowledge by saying he was familiar with the term, flat stitched, individually sewn to create the back seam, finishing hole, nice welts … and said “I’m a really big fan of them, in fact but you see them so rarely, that’s why yours caught my eye.”

So – and do bear in mind I was quite drunk at this point, as was he, I think – I said I loved my FFNs and it was a real pleasure for me to meet a man who really appreciated their glamour. He said he was relieved to hear this, as he’d been unsure if he should even comment upon them and I could see he now felt relaxed and able to chat freely about them and I think I encouraged him along the way. He asked if they were for special occasions only and I said no, not for me, despite the cost, that I wear them frequently, yes for evenings like this but also shopping and to work and at some point, I mentioned that I own over thirty suspender belts. Now he was visibly excited – in fact he was almost hopping from one foot to the other.

Of course, he made the obvious joke that if I was in his office he’d get no work done and he didn’t know how any of my colleagues could cope. For a very brief moment, I considered telling him the truth: that I only work with one man, that he obliges me to wear seams and is truly fanatical about them and that each day I’m in the office I masturbate him. Thankfully, despite being rather drunk and by this point feeling quite horny as a result of our chat, a bit of my brain applied the handbrake and I realised that saying this would not be a good idea, not least as Chris, my boss (then, I’ve since left this role) is quite well known in the area and I’d already met one local solicitor earlier in the evening who knew him.

We moved onto safer and familiar ground: your husband is a lucky man, does he like them as much as you do, doesn’t he mind you going out in seams and high heels (we’d covered stiletto heels by this point, I should add) and I would loved to have told him the truth: that I am a cuckholdress, that my husband wants me to attract other men, that he not only permits me to have fun with others but positively encourages me to do so and that sometimes when I go out fully ‘tackled up’ in lovely seams and spike heels, I hope to be chatted up by men but again I managed to restrain myself. Some of these people are almost your neighbours, the voice inside my head reminded me.

But then after a bit of umming and aahing, and after stumbling over his words, trying to find the right formulation and after saying he hoped he was not being too cheeky, he asked if I, you know, umm, keep aah, ever keep them on.

“Keep them on?”, I asked. And as he started to mumble something about ‘in the bedroom’ I said, “Oh, you mean for sex” and I couldn’t help laughing before I told him, I don’t just keep them on, I put them on. And now my brain released the handbrake and I explained that I wouldn’t dream of doing anything at all sexy without first putting on a suspender belt, seamed stockings and high heels, although sometimes boots, occasionally fishnets and of course it could be a girdle or a basque or a corset or a waist clincher but almost always a suspender belt and seams and as his eyes grew wider and his mouth fell open I went further and told him the last time I had sex when I wasn’t wearing stockings was over a decade ago and even then it was during a heatwave in Spain (I didn’t add that I was fucked outside a restaurant and not by my husband!) and that I loved to dress for sex and had lots of uniforms and leather and PVC and wet look dresses and also bull whips and riding crops and a dressage whip and handcuffs and I started to explain why I have dozens of pairs of gloves, leather, latex, PVC, vinyl … and as he gulped down his drink, I realised I’d probably gone a bit to far with the detail and he looked like he might need to sit down.

There was quite a pause as my brain gained control of my mouth and he looked at me, blinked and said “Fucking hell. Incredible.” He looked absolutely stunned and it amused me to think how he might have reacted if I’d not stopped when I did, if I’d told him everything, about being an enthusiastic Masturbatrix, about giving my boss hand relief each week and occasionally sucking him off, about having a black man with a massive cock purely for sex, about all of the photos and videos of me that men view and wank to, about how much I enjoy being spunked on and how swallowing a big load of sperm and semen is, for me, one of life’s great joys, about how I can be a mean and dominant bitch, how I like to role play nurse, secretary, schoolgirl, teacher, mother, hooker …

If I’d met Tom in, say, a nightclub or a distant pub I might have said all that. I might have asked him if he was getting an erection. I might even have suggested I take care of the bulge in his trousers and taken him into the toilets for a bit of impromptu ‘relief’ or slipped my knickers off and handed them to him, instructed him to take them into the gents and wank onto them before returning them to me. At the very least I’d have asked for his email and sent him some photos afterwards, maybe given him access to my videos so he could watch me masturbating men, seen me being spunked on, listened to me gagging on cock during an oral session and seen me being fucked on all fours in my signature seams and heels.

But of course, I was at my friend’s house and Tom was their neighbour and I’d already said too much. I suggested that what I had said was just between the two of us, as he was such a fan of my stockings, although I already knew it probably wouldn’t stay that way and, secretly, I didn’t especially mind if some friends and almost neighbours knew I had a healthy attitude to sex and enjoyed a lively sex life, with my husband.

As we left to walk home (changing out of my heels into flat shoes, btw), Tom thanked me for our chat and once again said how much he loved my outfit. I pulled him toward me for a polite kiss and as I did, I felt one of his hands on my hip. Was it just chance or was he feeling my suspender belt? I whispered in his ear, “Sweet dreams” and he gave a little laugh and I think we both knew, he’d be thinking about me in my stockings, maybe imagining me in one of my uniforms, as he fell asleep that night, perhaps even requiring a bit of self-relief before he could even manage that.

As something of a postscript, Tom obtained my email from Jill and sent a message saying how much he’d enjoyed meeting me and said he was annoyed with himself, because he’d been so busy chatting, he’d failed to take any photos of me looking so lovely (and he added “and those fantastic stockings!”) and if I’d like, he’d be delighted to meet for a drink or lunch. I did consider sending him a photo or two and my husband even suggested I consider whether he might be a suitable candidate for my hand relief service but all a bit too close to home, so I gave a vague reply about being sure we’d run into one another again and that was our last contact, although every time I see Jill she likes to say that Tom has never shut up about me since that evening. I hope he cums thinking of me.

Just another punter

I’m in one of my full on, ‘tart’ outfits – heavy make-up with highly glossed bright red lips, pink slashed top with a black quarter cup bra, leather mini, black seamed stockings, six-inch heels and even a cheeky ankle chain with a ‘Queen of Spades’ symbol, just so those who know about such things realise I have a strong preference for black cock. But a punter is a punter and I need the money for Christmas. Champagne is not getting any cheaper.

A punter approaches me (in reality, my husband, in case you should get the wrong impression about me!) and eyes me up and down.

“Looking for business, love?”, I ask.

“Yes, I might be. Do you offer, eh, you know … hand services?”

“Of course I do love. What are you after, a quick hand job or a full hand relief service?”

“I’m not really sure. What’s the difference? And prices?”

“Okay, love, a quick hand job I do here and now and that’s just fifty quid. I unzip you and wank you off, quick as a flash.”

“What, here in the street?”

“That’s right, just behind those garages. But if you want the full treatment, that’s a hundred and fifty. We go to my place, I wear gloves, lube your cock and stroke you but I make it last. Really last. I try to stop you cumming for as long as possible. Build you up like, make the sap rise but hold you off until you can’t bear it any longer.”

“Edging. Sounds fantastic.”

“Even better, after you shoot your load, I keep stroking you, make it last even longer. It’s completely unhurried.”

“Awesome. Just one more question, when I cum, is it just over your hands?”

“Where would you like to cum, love.”

“I’m not sure. On your tits, I think. You’ve got fantastic tits.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told that before. You can cum on them, no problem. But if you want to cum on my face or in my mouth, that’s an extra fifty quid.”

“Wow. Do you do the hand thing with a lot of clients?”

“Oh yes, I’m a professional Masturbatrix, you see. I’ve masturbated hundreds of men, thousands of times in all. I’m very experienced and I’m very skilled too.” I hand him one of my business cards.

In response, he hands over fifteen crisp £10 notes.

Thirty minutes later, he’s gasping and groaning and after spurting one small stream of semen onto my cleavage the rest dribbles out over my latex gloved hand. Not a bad load by his standard, however, perhaps because I’d kept him on short rations for a few days previously.

“Blimey, I needed that”, he gasps.

As promised, I continue to stroke him slowly for a few minutes, so he gets the full benefit of the service but as his cock becomes flaccid I stop and say “Can you clean yourself up and get dressed please, I’ve another client due in a few minutes.”

“Oh”, he says as he wipes himself with the wet wipes by his chair and pulls on his pants and trousers. “Another hand relief fan?”

“Not this time – this guy visits me for oral”.

“You didn’t offer me that”, he says, slightly petulantly.

“Well, this guy’s one of my regulars. Once a week, a full cum in mouth service is what he wants. And before you ask, yes I do swallow and, furthermore, he manages about ten times your load, which makes it much more rewarding for me.”

“You like lots of spunk then?”

“What’s not to love, love?”

“You really are a filthy whore, aren’t you?”

“Would you want me any other way?”

And we both laugh at that, as he knows it’s true.

Spare the rod, spoil the child

I enter the bedroom and there he is, my son (or should I say my “son”? If you’re not familiar with this young man, you probably need to start here: https://wordpress.com/post/ladyinseams.home.blog/80)

He’s kneeling on the floor in front of a chest of drawers, there are various items of my lingerie scattered across the floor and he is holding one of my black suspender belts in his left hand and his erect penis in his right.

“Right, I’ve had enough of this!” I yell at him. “I’ve told you before, you must strop this. And I warned you what would happen if you didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry mum. I just can’t help it. I see you in all this … this stuff and I can’t resist; I can’t stop myself.”

“Clearly not. But I am going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry.”

I should add that I’m in a sort of ‘bitch office manager’ outfit today, the idea being that I’ve just returned from work and my pervert boss: tight leather skirt, 10 strap suspender belt and seamed stockings and five-inch steel heels. I’m also wearing a black PVC quarter cup bra under a satin blouse. And my nipples are rock hard! Well, I am excited!!!

I sit on the end of the bed, and pull my leather skirt down so it is taut, and the suspender belt straps show clearly beneath.

“Drop your trousers and get over my knee.”

“But mum, I’ve said I’m sorry …”

“No ifs, no buts, it’s too late to say your sorry. Almost every time I go get a suspender belt or girdle out, they’re stained with your muck. Even some of my gloves are covered with spunk stains. No, you’re going to get it now.”

He pulls his chinos down and places himself over my knees. “And the pants” I say as I tug down his boxers. As I start to spank him, I say something with each hard smack – “dirty boy”, “pervert”, “disgusting”, “filthy”, “depraved” … and he yelps and howls with each blow.

After a while his backside is bright red and beginning to turn a little blue but my right hand is also swelling and sore. I push him off my knee and go to the drawer and take out a pair of glossy black latex gloves which I pull on, to give myself some protection. But then I go to the wardrobe and take out my long, vicious dressage whip.

This was not part of our pre-agreed scenario and he looks genuinely frightened. “Oh God, no, not that” he says and he is not role playing now, as I have told him that when I use that whip, with any real force can split the skin open.

“No, not today, but take a look at it. If I find you wanking onto my clothes again, I’m going to use this and you won’t be able to walk for a few days after. Now where were we?”

And he stands and allows me to sit back down before resuming the position and I recommence his spanking but with even harder blows now. He’s yelping and begging but if anything, his erection is even more pronounced now.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, you filthy, dirty, disgusting little boy.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t, I promise, I’ll not …”

“How many times have I told you that if you want to release your sperm onto my lingerie all you have to do is ask me. Don’t sneak around the house, wanking away in secret. Just ask and I’ll drain your gland for you. You know this – mummy is happy to provide the relief you clearly need, so don’t go behind my back, let me get your sperm out. Now go and get that suspender belt you were holding when I came in.”

As he brings it over, I lean over to the bedside table and grasp a tube of lubricating jelly. I squirt a little into the palm of the glove on my right hand and a little more onto his cock, which is now pointing at the ceiling. And I get to work.

“Do you like my leather skirt?” He grunts and nods as I stroke his penis with some vigour. “And you love my stockings and heels, don’t you?”

“So much. So much.”

“I know your staring at my tits, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah”, he grunts.

“Then show me. Show me how much you like seeing your mummy like this. Show me here”, and I hold the suspender belt up towards his throbbing cock. “Come on, I want to see all your semen, all over this belt. I’m going to extract every last drop. Every drop for your lovely mother. And then do you know what I’m going to do?”

He shakes his head. He’s clearly reached the point where speech is difficult and he is grunting and gasping and I know he’s not far off the point of no return. And then he seems to stretch upwards and his head tilts back so he is looking up at the ceiling and he grunts “Oh mummy, mummy, oh Jesus …” and then his sperm is spurting out onto the belt and he seems to spurt and spurt and spurt and then it suddenly stops and I think, that’s it, he’s done but somehow his ejaculation resumes and I have to wrap the belt around his cock because there’s so much fluid it’s soaking through the fabric and he just keeps spasming in my hand until I genuinely think it is not possible for there to be any more ejaculate left in his body.

“Good boy, good boy,” I tell him and he is still gasping and groaning. Normally I like to keep stroking for quite a long time, sometimes up to 10 minutes after the cock has climaxed but today, I have another plan.

I let go of his cock and lay the sodden belt by my side. Then I swiftly hitch up my leather skirt and unclip my stockings. Then with a bit of wriggling and arm movements a yoga teacher might applaud, I remove my suspender belt and replace it with this spunk-soaked belt and I reattach my stockings. The whole change-over took me about two minutes, of which I felt quite proud.

But now what I feel is his warm, thick semen against my flesh and it just feels wonderful.

“Now, I have to go and take care of your father, who is waiting downstairs for us to finish. And he’s going to love it when I tell him about this belt. Would you like to come and watch your mother doing her wifely duty?” The look on his face tells me all I need to know.

Good with your hands

‘I hear you’re very good with your hands’.

Those were the first words Josh said to me when we met at an industry drinks party. Josh, mid-forties, good looking, rather smooth, maybe even a tiny weenie bit ‘too cool for school’. I knew a bit about him, already. Founded an IT business in his twenties, sold it for millions, started another which he still owns, or owns most of at least but no longer involved in its day-to-day operations, giving him more time to enjoy his expensive car collection, a big motor yacht and a place in Spain, which I have been told is the largest in its region.

I laughed. ‘Yes, I’ve been told that too’.

‘In fact, someone told me you sometimes describe yourself as a Masturbatrix. Is that right’?

Okay, so he knows more about me than I thought. At this point, there’s no use in my being coy, I may as well be completely honest with him. ‘Yes, it’s true, I love to masturbate men. And, though I say it myself, I think I’m very, very good at it’.

He gave a little whistle. ‘Amazing. I’d like to know more. Do you mind’?

‘Not at all. What would you like to know’?

‘Well, what is it that makes you so good, do you think’?

I stopped to think for a moment. And then I explained why I believe I am a very skilled Masturbatrix.

The first and most important reason is that I really, truly enjoy it, love to do it in fact. I love giving men the pleasure, seeing their faces, hearing them gasp and groan in ecstasy but I also love the control it gives me, the sense of power. And I do find it a huge turn on too. By the time a man has cum for me I’m eager, wet, and very ready for my own orgasm.

I think some women will give a hand job out of a sense of duty, or to avoid sex or just to get it over with. Make him cum as quickly as possible and then get back to watching ‘Dancing on Ice’ or whatever. I’m not like that. I make an effort and like to dress properly – usually seamed stockings and very high heels, sometimes boots and low-cut tops, leather, PVC, uniforms, that type of thing.

Another reason I’m so good is that I like to take it slowly, build them up towards their climax but deny release, delay the moment, really make it last. I think I have a sort of sixth sense of when a man is about to cum, even if he tries to hide it. So, I’ll slow right down, stop, even make them wait. Making them beg, sometimes. I enjoy hearing them beg and I’ve had men sob with frustration at being so close to climax but being continually denied their moment of release. Maybe that’s a power trip for me.

And I love to see them cum – their faces, their verbal explosions, the semen pouring out over my hands or shooting up onto my cleavage, or stocking tops or even my face and neck, wherever. I’ve always loved being spunked on, even in my early teens. I don’t really know why this is, I just know it’s something I love.

And another thing that makes me really good at giving hand relief – I prefer that term, by the way, rather than ‘hand job’– is that when the man has cum and ejaculated and I’ve extracted as much of his sperm and seminal fluid as possible, I don’t stop. So many women make that mistake. I’ll continue stroking for as much as five minutes or more, getting slower and slower to sustain and enhance the feeling for them. I think that makes it special. Plus, things like lots of lube, a great selection of gloves and also, I’m very willing to talk dirty while I masturbate them if this is what they wish.

By this point, I stopped talking and realised I’d almost been thinking aloud. But I looked up at Josh’s face and his mouth was open and eyes really wide. ‘What do I have to do to experience this myself?’ he asked. Now we’re talking, I thought.

The nurse will see to you now

“Come in James and take a seat. I’ll just run through a few details with you. I see you’ve paid the consultation fee in advance, so thanks for that. And your date of birth is 13^th of June 1996, is that right? So, you’ll be 28 this year. Lovely”.

“Now I know you want me to check you over today but you also mentioned that you would like some advice relaxation techniques and perhaps be able to sleep a little better, is that right”?

“Okay, so I’ll give you an examination in a moment but what I am also going to do is to recommend something which I think will help you feel more relaxed and give you a sense of wellbeing”.

I hand him a piece of paper.

“Now that’s the details of how to get access to all of my videos. There are 104 videos in total and what I would like you to do is to watch at least one of these each day and masturbate when you do. When did you last achieve climax”?

He thinks for a while. “Almost two weeks ago”.

“Well, I think that might be why you have been feeling tense and been tossing and turning at night. A young man like you needs much more frequent release”.

“I know but I was trying to save myself up for this appointment”.

“Well, that’s understandable and very nice of you but I am recommending that from now on you do this daily exercise to my videos. I am also giving you this – as you can see it’s one of my suspender belts, one with 10 straps. What I would like you to do is when you do your daily exercise, I want you to ejaculate onto the belt, as much as possible. As it is black satin, it will stain really easily and may even become quite stiff with your dried semen. Then when you come to see me in a month’s time, you can return the belt and I’ll wear it during our next consultation, all stiff and stained with your fluid”.

“Which brings me to another point. As you know, you’re on the silver programme, which entitles you to one treatment a month. But you could upgrade to the gold programme, if you wish, which would increase this to once a week and I would probably recommend that for you. And there’s also a platinum programme, although that is quite a lot more expensive, unless your healthcare insurance company will cover the cost”.

“What’s included in the platinum plan”?

“Well, like the gold, you can have a weekly treatment but in addition to the standard gloved hand relief you can ask me to tit wank you – as you can see, I am pretty busty – or you can choose an oral therapy. Now, that’s a full cum in mouth service, none of that rubbish with condoms, and I do swallow everything”.

He asks how much this costs and when I tell him he says “Wow, that is a lot, isn’t it”?

“Yes, it is but otherwise I’d spend all day at work on my knees, wouldn’t I”? and I laugh at the idea.

“And as I said, it is a full cum in mouth service, and I give deep throat too. You’d be surprised how popular it is. A lot of my patients love to cum in my mouth and see me swallow their sperm and semen”.

He promises to think about it.

“So, let’s check you over, shall we”?

He removes his trousers and shorts and as I pull on my disposable latex gloves, I can see he is already partially erect. I put some lubricating oil on his penis and on the palm of my gloves. I stroke his erection with my right hand and cup his testicles with my left, squeezing them very, very gently. His response is almost immediate.

“This looks like a very healthy penis. You’re fully erect now and it feels extremely firm, so there’s good blood flow and a rapid erection. In fact, it’s almost completely vertical, isn’t it? I would think, given your size, girth and how solid it feels, that your penis would give any woman considerable pleasure, although some may feel they’re fully stretched to accommodate it”.

After a few minutes of slowly gathering pace, I tell him, “I’m stroking more rapidly now as I want to get you to climax and see if we have a healthy ejaculation. Is this good”? I ask as I squeeze his testicles more firmly.

He gulps and almost whispers “Yes. Awesome. Incredible”.

My hand is sliding up and down his impressive penis at some speed and I can tell he is close to orgasm. His breathing becomes deeper and deeper and gets louder and louder, until he is more panting than breathing. Suddenly, he lets out a little yelp and semen flies upwards and again and then flows over my hand and his thigh and drips onto the chair.

“Good boy, good boy” I say as I continue with firm strokes, “let’s get it all out, every drop, come on keep going”, and he continues to pour forth more thick ropes and globules of semen.

I continue stroking. “That’s excellent. Very healthy indeed. I’d say your first spurt achieved about five or six inches of clearance, which indicates a very healthy prostate and there is really good volume of quite thick, white semen, which again looks healthy and fertile”.

“You are clearly a virile young man and I think almost any woman would be happy to have that load pumped into her or, indeed, to take that lot in her mouth and be able to swallow so much healthy sperm and seminal fluid. I know I would”.

After a few more minutes of wind down stroking, I peel off my latex gloves and dispose of them in the bin. I give him some wet wipes so he can clean himself up. I’m tempted to lick his semen off the leather chair but that probably wouldn’t look professional, so I resist the temptation and wipe up his mess with tissues.

“Now, I hope you feel more relaxed and I think you will find that you sleep well tonight. Remember, daily videos and ejaculation, use my suspender belt and please make a complete mess of it, as I love that, and do consider whether you wish to upgrade to the gold of platinum service. Otherwise, I’ll see you a month from now”.

Please note: this is a fantasy scenario I role played with a young friend, roughly along the lines described above. However, while I may be a slut – okay, I am most definitely a slut – I am not a sex worker and in reality I do not offer silver, gold and platinum healthcare therapies, so please don’t ask me for prices or an appointment, as I know refusal can result in disappointment.