My Son’s Friend Spent the Weekend Serving Me

Dear FemdomU Forum,

I’m not proud of what happened, exactly, but I’m not ashamed enough to pretend it didn’t happen either. I made a choice. Matt made his choice too. We are both adults, and whatever else anyone might think about it, everything that happened between us was consensual.

I’m at the age where my children are grown and building lives of their own. My youngest, my son, is twenty-two and close to graduating college. Matt is the same age. They have been friends since their freshman year, so I had met him plenty of times over the years. He was always polite to me, perhaps a little too polite, and I had occasionally caught him looking at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

That Friday afternoon, Matt came by my house to drop off several boxes for our church fundraiser sale. My son had collected clothing, books, and household items from some of his friends, and Matt had volunteered to bring everything home because he was driving through town for the weekend.

It should have been a five-minute visit.

Instead, he carried the boxes into my garage while I stood there directing him where to put each one. It was warm, and by the third trip he had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had filled out considerably since I first met him. I noticed. More importantly, I noticed him noticing that I noticed.

When he finished, I offered him something cold to drink. We sat in the kitchen and talked about college, graduation, and whether he had found a job yet. Matt kept looking at me, then quickly looking away. Finally, I asked him directly why he seemed so nervous.

“I’m not nervous,” he said.

“You’ve barely looked me in the eyes since you arrived.”

That made him blush. I leaned forward and told him to look at me. He did, although it clearly took some effort.

“There,” I said. “Was that so difficult?”

“No, ma’am.”

The way he said it changed something in the room.

I asked whether he always called women ma’am when he was attracted to them. His entire face went red. He tried denying it, but he was a terrible liar. I let him stumble over his words for another minute before telling him to stop talking.

“You’re an adult, Matt. If there’s something you want, you can say it.”

He swallowed hard and admitted that he had fantasized about me. Then, after more prompting, he confessed what those fantasies involved. They weren’t fantasies about taking charge of an older woman. They were about being ordered around by one.

That was when I made my choice.

I told him to stand. He obeyed immediately. I walked around him slowly, letting him feel my eyes examining his body. Then I told him that if we continued, he would follow my instructions, answer honestly, and use his safeword if he needed me to stop. I made him repeat that back to me.

When I was satisfied that he understood, I ordered him to remove his shirt.

He hesitated for perhaps two seconds. Then he pulled it over his head.

“Everything else,” I said.

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Watching my son’s twenty-two-year-old friend strip in my kitchen was surreal. He was visibly embarrassed, yet his cock was already hard by the time he pushed down his underwear. He tried covering himself with one hand.

I slapped it away.

“If you want to be my fucktoy,” I told him, “you don’t hide the toy from its owner.”

His cock twitched when I said it.

I made him kneel and kiss my feet. Then I had him crawl behind me into the living room, where I sat comfortably on the sofa and questioned him about all the things he had imagined me doing to him. Every confession made him blush more deeply. By the time I ordered him between my legs, he was trembling.

I didn’t let him rush. I corrected him whenever he relied on enthusiasm instead of paying attention. I pulled his hair, moved his mouth where I wanted it, and taught him to listen to my breathing and the movements of my hips. When he did something particularly well, I told him so. When he became careless, I slapped his cheek and made him begin again.

He learned quickly.

I came with his face pressed tightly against me and his hands held behind his back. I kept him there afterward, using his mouth until I was far too sensitive, then made him kneel in front of me while I decided what would happen next.

Matt had planned to continue driving that evening and spend the night with friends. I told him to text them and say his plans had changed.

He looked at his phone, then at me.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” I said.

He sent the message.

For the remainder of Friday, Matt belonged to me. I made him cook dinner naked except for an apron, with strict instructions not to touch his cock. Whenever I passed him in the kitchen, I gave his ass a sharp slap or reached beneath the apron to remind him that I could touch what he was forbidden to touch.

After dinner, I bent him over the end of my bed and spanked him properly. He had never been disciplined by a woman before, and I enjoyed watching the confidence leave his body one stroke at a time. He counted each slap until his voice cracked. When he lost count, I added five more.

Then I used him.

I rode his cock slowly at first, looking directly into his eyes while I reminded him whose house he was in and why he was still there. He tried to thrust up into me, so I pinned his wrists and told him his job was to remain still while I took whatever pleasure I wanted.

He obeyed until I finally gave him permission to move. Then he fucked me with all the pent-up desperation of a young man who had spent hours being teased, corrected, and denied. I made him beg before I allowed him to come.

Saturday morning, he woke on the floor beside my bed. I had given him blankets and a pillow, but I wanted him to understand his place for the weekend. I put him straight back to work, first making coffee and breakfast, then serving me in the shower.

By Saturday afternoon, he had become remarkably comfortable with being naked around me. I corrected that by making him wear one of my old pairs of panties while he finished sorting the fundraiser donations in the garage. Every time he bent to lift a box, the pink fabric stretched across his sore ass. I sat nearby with a glass of wine, supervising him and occasionally sending him inside to pleasure me.

That evening, I tied his wrists to my headboard and used him until he was sweaty, exhausted, and begging. Sometimes I rode his cock. Sometimes I sat on his face. When he thought he might finally be permitted to come, I climbed off and left him aching while I enjoyed watching television.

He called me cruel.

I reminded him that he could leave whenever he wanted.

He looked up at me from the floor and said, “I don’t want to leave.”

That answer pleased me enough that I eventually let him earn another orgasm, though not until after midnight.

Matt was supposed to get back on the road early Sunday. Instead, I woke him by sitting on his face and kept him occupied until nearly noon. Afterward, he checked the time and muttered that he was going to be late returning to campus.

I told him he should have considered that before volunteering to carry boxes into the home of a woman he had been fantasizing about.

Before he left, I made him shower, dress, and help load the remaining fundraiser donations into my car. Standing in the garage again, he looked almost exactly as he had when he arrived, except for the marks hidden beneath his clothes and the unmistakably submissive way he waited for me to dismiss him.

I kissed his cheek and told him to drive safely.

Then I leaned close and whispered that the next time he visited, he should bring a toothbrush.

Matt smiled, lowered his eyes, and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

He was several hours late getting back to school.

And I already know there will be a next time.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Collins

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