Session Stories: "mommy's" good boy

I love it when my subs send me their reflections, and this one is really special. Alex is a creative writer as it is, so when he offered to review our session for me back in December I was rather excited to read his interpretation of the time we spent together.

An important note of consent for this piece: you will see that in this session I established an 'ageplay' dynamic where I took on the role of "mommy". Even within our community, some people still consider incest and ageplay scenarios problematic. I want to be very clear that this is just kink-shaming. For exmaple, of course there are a few roleplay scenarios I feel allergic to: for example I would never do a Lord of the Rings roleplay (because I am obsessed with the books and movies and they're sort. of sacred to me). However, I am not judging consenting adults who want to sexualise something for me that would feel brutal and horrific to sexualise. Go for it, if you are into it!

So yes - I have an incest kink, and yes, ageplay kink. And no, I have absolutely no history of either of these things outside of pure fantasy. I am glad we got that out. of the way.

Something I find interesting is that "MILF" (Mum I'd Like to Fuck) was one of the most searched categories on pornhub this year. This is excellent news for "hot mommies" like me. Enjoy - xoxo

Praise was something that Mommy offered often. I grew addicted to her words of encouragement as much as I did to her physical contact. I wanted to give myself to her completely, and I can recall no act of submission more perfect from that evening than when she finally pegged me.

Photo by Mariano Rodriguez 2024

My Evening with Blade Fonteyn

Or: How I learned to Stop Thinking and Embrace Submission

by Alex

Her voice was soft and her demeanor was friendly, yet there in her captivating eyes—a sharp intellect and a bright intuition, tempered by the wicked edge of some playful, predatory instinct.

I still remember that night we met in December.

I was nervous as I approached Studio Lux on that cold, winter night, and even the smoky, dulcet tones of Lana Del Rey’s voice filling my head through my AirPods couldn’t set my nerves at ease. Nervous, and excited—but mostly nervous. The session had been booked, the parameters had been established, the deposit had been made; all other details were arranged for an evening spent in the lovely company of Miss Blade Fonteyn.

I spent the day preparing my mind and body; cleaning myself up and making myself look presentable, doing everything I could to get into the right headspace for an experience I had never experienced before (this was to be my first introduction to subbing and BDSM). And yet, I still fretted over the small things, the little details, the minute logistics of all the unpleasantries my anxious mind couldn’t silence. I’m an overthinker by nature, and it wasn’t like me to toss myself into the deep end of an encounter like this with little to no knowledge of what to expect. More than anything else, I simply wanted to make a good first impression. After all, I was meeting a classy lady.

So even before I laid eyes on her, even before I heard her voice—Miss Fonteyn was producing the desired behaviour to transform me into her submissive plaything. Arriving shortly before eight o’clock (in reality, I found the studio well before then; I only had to walk around the block for twenty minutes to marshal my thoughts and muster my courage), I stepped through the courtyard and found her waiting for me. She stood in the doorway, her slender figure silhouetted against the warm light beyond—an enticing siren wrapped in silk and sin.

Miss Fonteyn invited me inside, and after a short wait, she guided me upstairs to the playroom. We sat down and proceeded to discuss the plan for the evening, and it was by this point—as I listened to her speak and admired her beauty—that the general buzzing in my brain began to quiet down. Her voice was soft and her demeanor was friendly, yet there in her captivating eyes—a sharp intellect and a bright intuition, tempered by the wicked edge of some playful, predatory instinct.

I admit that I couldn’t hold her piercing gaze for longer than a few moments at a time (prolonged eye contact has always been something I am avoidant of, for reasons that perhaps a psychiatrist would be better equipped to explain). I just got the uncanny sense that she was already mentally undressing me and deciding what to do to me.

It was arousing, to be scrutinized so intently. I may as well have been naked, if not for the fact that I was wearing multiple layers of clothing. But from the very beginning, it was crystal clear.

Miss Fonteyn would take charge. I would follow her every command.

My only request was to call her Mommy.

Mommy graciously accepted.

Once the agenda for the evening was defined, we began to play. Mommy stripped me naked and ordered me to stand before a mirror, allowing me to observe my reflection. I watched closely while she fastened the collar around my neck. Within moments of putting it on, I hardly registered the weight. It felt like nothing was there—like it was natural.

I liked the way it looked on me.

Mommy ordered me to kneel and I did so without delay. Any lingering doubts in my mind were already vanishing. What surprised me was how easy it was to submit to her. She caressed my torso, ran her fingers through my hair, whispered sweetness into my ear. I shivered. My breath—shaky and heavy as my body awakened under her touch—fed oxygen to a brain that was becoming increasingly vacant, conscious thought evaporating into nothing with each passing second.

The noise faded to the background until it was just Mommy and I, together in the present. I fell under her spell instantly. There was no gradual slope, no hesitation giving way to vindication. All it took was her smile and her eyes and her voice, then I was hers. I had Mommy’s full attention now. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint her.

I wanted to be her Good Boy. Mommy showed me exactly how to do that.

It didn’t take long for Mommy to learn that my ears were a huge erogenous zone for me—one that I never knew I had. Nobody had ever touched me there in the way that she did. Each time she played with them using her lips, her teeth, and especially her tongue, I was reduced to a gasping, shuddering mess.

On the edge of the bed, she sat, beckoning me forward. I prostrated myself on my hands and knees and crawled to her, offering myself at the sensual temple that was her heavenly flesh. My first act of devotion was to kiss her shoes—first with tender presses of my lips to smooth leather, then with growing fervor as she allowed me to worship her feet with more dutiful lip service.

From that point on, every act unlocked another layer of my submissive side, and I loved every second of it.

It didn’t take long for Mommy to learn that my ears were a huge erogenous zone for me—one that I never knew I had. Nobody had ever touched me there in the way that she did. Each time she played with them using her lips, her teeth, and especially her tongue, I was reduced to a gasping, shuddering mess. My sensitivity to her warm breath and wet mouth around my ears only grew and grew, as did her boldness as she targeted these weak spots of mine with greater intensity. There even came a point where I lost the ability for form coherent sentences, my voice devolving into spastic, pathetic whimpers as she leaned over me and I squirmed beneath her, a victim of her most vicious tongue-lashing.

Then there were her hands which she used with dexterous finesse; gentle in one touch, firm in the next. I discovered just how easily she could manipulate me when she slid two of her lubricated fingers into my ass. At first, I reactively tensed my core muscles, but because I had already been training my ass with various toys of increasing dimensions in my own explorations, I soon melted into the familiar, enticing sensations that she was milking from my prostate. She sank her digits to the third knuckle, curling them to probe that sensitive bud and hitting it in just the right way. I moaned rather whorishly—much to Mommy’s amusement. Before long, I was leaking precum—again, to Mommy’s enjoyment, for which she praised me.

Praise was something that Mommy offered often. I grew addicted to her words of encouragement as much as I did to her physical contact. I wanted to give myself to her completely, and I can recall no act of submission more perfect from that evening than when she finally pegged me.

Anal is something I’ve grown to enjoy immensely ever since I first started experimenting with dinky little toys and quickly escalating to thicker, bigger dildos and plugs. However, it’s never been something I enjoyed with anyone else—at least until Mommy, that is. Mommy had the very special privilege of being the first one to ever peg me, and I was very happy to share that with her.

And when the time came, I lay there on my back as Mommy folded me in half and positioned herself between my raised, spread legs, slowly guiding her cock into my entrance. I remember our eyes locked at the moment she penetrated me. I wanted to live in that moment forever.

Mommy fucked me slowly, at first, with shorter, lighter strokes that lengthened into deeper, harder thrusts. I groaned and relaxed into the motions, bliss overtaking my senses. The fat, round head of her cock repeatedly struck my prostate, producing warm waves of electricity which tingled from my core and spread throughout the rest of my body.

I could feel Mommy in me, outside of me, all over me. I sang her name in pleasure—screaming “yes, Mommy,” or “please, Mommy,” or “I love your cock, Mommy,” over and over. Mommy echoed my sentiments, telling me about all the dirty things she wanted to do to me. Our voices joined into a chorus of raw ecstasy as she pounded me into the bed, pushing me into a powerful orgasm. Yet above this carnal clamor—the most erotic thing to me—was Mommy’s assurances that I was her Good Boy.

She fucked me hard and fast. She fucked me soft and slow. She fucked me so good, I came multiple times.

It felt incredible, to be ravished so thoroughly and praised so sweetly by her. Everything she gave me, I wanted to give in return. She pushed her feet into my face, and I kissed each of her toes as fervently as if I was uttering a prayer (not that I’m religious, but in the moment, lying beneath her, I did feel close to divinity). She trapped my head between her legs and sat on my face, suffocating me with the tight squeeze of her thighs, and I still inhaled her as deeply as I could.

Mommy rewarded me by allowing me to lick her ass. After paying the proper respects to each of her cheeks with more kisses, she settled her weight over my chest and I latched onto her entrance with my mouth, using my tongue in broad, heavy strokes similar to a slavering hound—or just a very Good Boy. Mommy rewarded me again by letting me eat her pussy, this time entangling her fingers in my hair to get a firm grip on my head as she grinded her pelvis up and down over my mouth. Her scent and taste, intoxicating, drowning my brain in a delicious fog of delirium. The only thing to escape the airtight seal were my grateful moans. Mommy lifted her weight to give me a second to breathe, and my chin was slick and shiny with her wetness. I eagerly swallowed down the nectar, and I remember the way that Mommy smiled—right before she sat on my face again and fucked my mouth.

At the crescendo of the evening’s activities, Mommy had me on my hands and knees again, this time, so she could fist my stretched-out asshole—thoroughly used by that point; about to be used even further. I was looking forward to this, as I’ve never taken a fist in there before, not even my own, but I am overjoyed that Mommy was the one to break me in properly.

Her hand slid in easily, so easily that I was almost surprised when she balled her fingers into a fist and began to work my once-tight little hole into putty. I clenched uncontrollably in the throes of yet another orgasm—my prostate throbbing, my ass clamping shut around her wrist, my inner walls hungrily sucking around her pistoning hand. The sensation of pressure building within, of being filled so thoroughly with Mommy’s love—it felt like flying. I must have looked like an incorrigible butt slut with the volume of the desperate, filthy noises I was making, and with how much I was trembling from head to toe.

Of course, from start to finish, it was simply amazing.

The aftercare was equally gratifying. In the post-coital glow, I enjoyed a good cuddle with Mommy. We lay there in bed, bodies pressed together, naked limbs entangled, and spoke of various things. She remained composed and elegant with her words, whereas I was predictably less articulate and more scatterbrained after the thrashing I just got. But that in itself was perhaps the greatest thing that Mommy did for me that evening.

I felt safe, warm, content, and best of all, I felt a rare stillness of presence and emptiness of mind that I could only describe as meditative. Being an overthinker and generally ridden with existential malaise and anxiety, the lightness I was experiencing was not a grand revelation, but a subtle sort of catharsis that in the moment was exceptionally profound. Mommy was there, holding me, my head resting on her chest so that I could listen to her heartbeat—steady, strong, stable.

Throughout the entire session, she had been attentive to not only my physical wellbeing, but also my mental state. Mommy took care of me before and after, seamlessly switching between domme and protector. Despite having only just met, her genuine sense of empathy and the intimacy she fostered is a credit to her keen emotional intelligence. It takes a great deal of trust and honesty to place oneself in such a vulnerable position, and Mommy’s awareness of that and her ability to curate a session tailored to her sub’s needs only proves that she seeks to build real, human connections with those who desire her company.

Mommy is kind and thoughtful and perceptive. Mommy can also hurt me in ways that are good and she can fuck me senseless.

As an introvert, I’m genuinely confused as to how she was able to bring me to such willful and passionate submission so easily, when usually, I am constantly second guessing my behaviour with cold counsel. Yet now, with hindsight, I am still grateful for the many indulgences that Mommy inflicted upon me. I don’t regret any of the things I said or did in the moment, nor do I feel any shame or so-called “unmanliness” for being submissive and taking it up the ass. How could I? I was spending quality time with a gorgeous woman, so who could blame me for letting loose?

Mommy did warn me about the possibility of experiencing a sub drop after the session, yet in the days and weeks that have followed since then, I only find myself aroused at the memories and intrigued by the potential of what more there is in my submission to discover. I like what I like, and my evening with Blade Fonteyn showed me that I need not fear anything more by pursuing it to its fullest.

With her, I found much-needed release and validation. I already didn’t have any qualms about sticking things in my butt or being attracted to strong-willed, dominant, nurturing women, but I was allowed to live out some of these fantasies with Miss Fonteyn, who received me openly and without judgment.

As I bring this reflection to a close, I’d like to express one more thing: my tendency to avoid eye contact which I mentioned earlier.

During the session, as my inhibitions faded, I found myself searching for Miss Fonteyn’s eyes with more intention and sincerity. I wanted to see her, and I wanted her to see me—to see what she was doing to me.

The reflection I saw told me everything I needed to know.

I am Mommy’s Good Boy.