RandomSub @randomsub123 - Tumblr Blog

My kinks:

- orgasm control

- orgasm denial

- chastity

- ruined orgasms

- edging

- joi & cei

My limits:

- any thing illegal

- anything public / involving others

- money / tributes

- pics

- personal information

- blood, scat and so on…

Feel free to DM me. I‘m always happy to chat with anyone about anything.

mistressandhercagedpet

stolencaps

theresponsivemale

She brings it up while you're doing dishes. Casual. Almost offhand.

"I've been thinking about what you confessed to me. About your little routine."

Your hands stop moving in the soapy water. Your face heats. You know exactly what she's talking about.

"Shh, it's ok. I'm not mad."

She's not mad. Why does that make it worse?

"I think it's adorable, honestly."

Adorable. The word lands somewhere between your stomach and your cock. She thinks your masturbation is adorable. Not threatening. Not competitive. Not the sexual expression of an adult man she respects. Adorable. Like a habit. Like something a boy does.

"I know your little guy overwhelms you sometimes. And that as a boy you need to play with yourself."

As a boy. Not as a man. Not as her partner. As a boy — someone whose urges are expected, managed, accommodated. Someone who can't help what his body does.

Your cock is hardening. Why is your cock hardening?

"And I know that when you do, you must worry about hurting my feelings. "Like maybe you're excluding me from your sex life."

You hadn't thought about that. Had you? You'd never considered that jerking off in the shower might be… exclusionary. That your private routine might be something she'd have feelings about.

But now that she's said it, the guilt blossoms. Of course she might feel excluded. You're having a sexual experience without her. You're satisfying yourself without giving her the chance to participate. You're making a choice about your sex life — your shared sex life — unilaterally.

She just gave you a guilt you didn't have five seconds ago.

She says it gently. Not accusatory. Just… observational. As though she's noticed something about you that you hadn't noticed about yourself.

"That worry must make it hard for you to enjoy your playtime."

Playtime. There's that word again. Your masturbation isn't sex. It isn't even self-pleasure. It's playtime. Something a child has. Something that needs to be scheduled, permitted, supervised.

And she's right, isn't she?

Now that she's named the guilt, you can feel it. Every time you've touched yourself since your first conversation, there's been a shadow. A wondering. Does she know? Would she be hurt? Am I betraying something?

You thought you were just jerking off. Turns out you were excluding her.

"I don't want you carrying that guilt around, sweetie. That's not fair to you."

Not fair to you. She's concerned. She's worried about your emotional wellbeing. The guilt you're carrying — guilt she manufactured thirty seconds ago — is a burden she wants to lift.

She's so generous.

"So how about from now on, whenever you want to play with yourself, you tell me first."

There it is. The new structure. Stated simply, as though it's the obvious solution to a problem you both agree exists.

"That way you'll have my permission."

Permission. The word slides past almost unnoticed. She didn't say "I'll give you permission" — that would be claiming authority. She said "you'll have my permission" — as though it's something you want, something you need, something that benefits you, something you'd naturally seek.

"And you can play with your little guy without worrying that you've excluded me or hurt my feelings."

Your little guy. Separate from you. A thing you have, not a thing you are. A thing that needs management. A thing that overwhelms you, drives you, makes demands you can't refuse.

She's offering to help you manage it.

"Ok?"

Such a small word. Such a soft close. She's not demanding. She's checking in. Making sure you're comfortable with this arrangement that somehow, in the space of a two-minute conversation, has become the obvious, natural, only reasonable way forward.

What are you going to say? No?

No, I don't want your permission. No, I want to keep excluding you. No, I want to carry this guilt you just showed me I've been feeling.

You can't say no. Saying no makes you the man who wants to hurt her feelings. The man who prefers to leave her out. The man who refuses a simple, reasonable request from the woman who loves him.

"Ok," you hear yourself say.

"Good boy."

Good boy. Not good man. Not thank you. Good boy. The phrase your mother used when you cleaned your room. The phrase that means you've behaved correctly, met expectations, earned approval.

Your cock throbs.

She returns to her book. The conversation is over. The new reality is established.

What just happened?

You were standing at the sink doing dishes. You had a private sexuality — a routine, a release, something that belonged to you. And in two minutes of gentle conversation, without a single demand or accusation, she…

She made you feel guilty for something you didn't know was wrong. She offered to relieve that guilt through a simple structure. She positioned your asking as a gift to her, and her permission as a gift to you.

She made your masturbation — something you've done privately since you were thirteen — into something that requires her awareness. Her blessing. Her approval. Her ok.

And you agreed. Gratefully.

Tonight, when the urge rises — and it will rise, it always rises — you'll feel something new. Not just arousal. Not just the familiar pull toward release.

You'll feel the question.

Should I ask her?

And the guilt, if you don't.

She'll feel excluded. She'll be hurt. I'll be the man who leaves her out.

And so you'll go to her. Sheepish. Hard. Needing.

"Can I… I want to play with myself. Is that ok?"

She'll look up from her book. She'll take her time. She might say yes. She might say not right now. She might ask what you want to think about.

But whatever she says, you'll wait for it. Because the alternative is guilt. Because asking is what good boys do. Because this is the structure now, the way things work, and you agreed to it.

You asked for this.

Not literally. She never made you ask. She just created conditions where asking was the only comfortable choice. Where not asking meant carrying a guilt she'd gently, lovingly installed.

This is how territory is taken. Not by force. By making surrender feel like relief.

Welcome to permission.

This is the third in a series on how the directive female establishes frame — not through dominance, but through questions that become confessions, guilt that becomes structure, and surrender that feels like love. You can find our earlier posts here: #1, #2.

Next: What happens when she starts deciding what he's allowed to think about when he plays with himself.

If you'd like to read more of my writing, please consider joining my substack: Responsive Male. It's free to subscribe and you will receive alerts when I release new content.

sppuppie

Fantastic effortless control using the beta's brain against itself.

mssteph1716

randomsub123

The only way I should be allowed to cum 🫣🤤

all-4-mygirl

randomsub123

T-those are the only options? 😳

ammsxx

I imagine buying remote control vibrator for a guy and using it in public places or at formal events or when he talks with someone watching him squirm and try not to whine-

randomsub123

😳😳😳

empress-lunae

most femdom posts i see talk about small cocks, but i love subs with big cocks too. teasing thick and long dick just means watching them throb and twitch more expressively. having a big cock doesn't make you more dominant, silly, it just exposes what a pathetic slut you are better. and you can still be femme, if your long cock peaks out of your panties, thats actually so cute!

fucking subs while their huge cock flops and bounces uselessly, while leaking cum, is so hot, i love seeing big cocks hump and twitch desperately.

all sizes of cocks can be subby or a cute clitty if their owner is ready to whine and submit