General Life Updates – What’s coming?

So I’m planning out my projects in some sort of orderly fashion. Here’s what’s coming down the pipe. I have a bunch of fiction to bang out, as well as some vanilla things, and best of all, this Halloween a kinky party. Woo, private decadent fun!

Writing queue:

First, for contest winners, 3 different 500 word stories…

Mikey: The epilogue to super porn.

JT: A night out is a slow burn tease.

G Loss: Pick something! Come on!

Then:

The last 20K words of Catamite, concluding the story.

Followed by a few ideas- what do you guys think would make a good ebook next?

1) A dominant woman has a first date with a substandard sub and gives the waiter her number instead, hijinks ensue.

2) She goes to discuss her grade with her TA- only she’s graduated and she wants him for her sub.

3) He’s completely naked at a party at her say so, and is utterly humiliated while watching her.

4) Two shy lovers both into BDSM confess their kinks to their partner, thinking the other to be pure vanilla.

5) He gives himself to her for the holidays, as her Christmas Slave [This one is about 1/4 written].

6) In the spacefaring future, a captured human researcher is forced to teach an alien planet’s primitive tribal queen about his culture’s secrets, while providing a sexual awakening for her.

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In Which Domestic Servitude Didn’t Happen

spring-53-servantsRecently I experimented with interviewing a service sub.

Wildcard, bless him, responds to the constant trickle of male attention I get by being amused through to delighted. For the most part the attempts to scale Fortress Pearl tend to be alarmingly unfortunate- bad spelling and bigger egos demanding dynamics with me NOW before first names are even exchanged, much less confirmed.

Wildcard, who is as I describe to others, purely decorative, likes to read my fetlife messages, chortling at every unsolicited Goddess or presumptuous Mistress plz.  Recently, following a conversation focused on upgrading our cheap apartment, I attracted a service oriented sub. And he at least was a cut above the usual nonsense.

I like domestically fussy things. I have multiple pinterest boards devoted to that sort of foof, and Wildcard woo’ed me on my birthday with the gift of an Imperial Red Kitchenaid. But honestly, I’m very disorganized. You would think, given this fact and my orientation, I’d be awash in nice men scrubbing and polishing, but I’ve always shied away from domestic servitude.

I have never been able to put my finger on precisely why- maybe it’s being. Or maybe it’s because every hint of the experience has ended like so:

Enter “Servile” via a fetlife message. Other than a surprising devotion to misuse of ellipsis, he seems sincere enough. I make myself honest in my response- my profiles are not set to looking and this is not a fetish I’ve had any experience with outside of that one guy who did my dishes and tried to give me a Clocky.

And, I stressed the importance Wildcard had in my life, how he mattered to me and so on. This was all very well and good by Servile. He just wanted to serve, and according to him, served married women in the past. He was the cliche, high powered business dude who just wanted to let it all go on his hands and knees.

After a couple of weeks of banal back and forth in which I was bombarded with enthusiasm and he attempted to indicate if I ever wanted my feet seen to it would be pedicure city. Not my thing- I prefer to leave the pedicures to the professionals, but whatever…

A few things bugged me- first of all I didn’t like that he jumped straight into dynamic city, nor that he didn’t stop dropping his phone number, even though I had no intention of giving a stranger mine. He conveniently did not address my observation that such an experienced sub should have references.

But exeriences are meant to be had, so I suggested that we meet for tea at a local tea room far enough from my house to be safe, where upon a guy who looked nothing like his profile picture (a headless set of defined abs turned into a sort of brick shaped guy in a Ralph Lauren shirt) shyly attempted to kiss my hand. This resulted in a sour retraction of said limb- I do NOT do hand smootches from people trying to indicate they want to have a valet fantasy with me. The valet does NOT kiss the mistress.

Servile’s story included being the publisher of a fetish magazine with 3000 visits a day. Curious, I asked the name of such a popular publication- never heard of it, but I was willing to look it up. I admit a certain degree of pleasure in being able to waltz in like I owned the place.

We talked for a bit, mostly about him- conversation varying from him being a Very Important Business Man and the usual ‘ZOMG so pretty and imperious!’ I’m not going to lie, when nature gives you skin that makes A4 printer paper look sallow and tanned, inky hair, and a face with a nose that should have a carved naked wooden lady on it, I ain’t ever going to pull off girl next door. So it’s nice my body fits who I am.

Then the subject of references came up, something he seemed flabber ghasted by. He eventually dropped a few names I recognized, before producing the zinger that he was such a catch that obviously doms wouldn’t want to give him a reference. Because you know true doms won’t, right? For example [prodom] wouldn’t say nice thing about him because she wants his service. I happen to know [prodom], I’m relatively well connected, so this did not bode well.

Turns out the magazine is a facebook page with 3000 likes TOTAL. I contacted [prodom], who more than anything else, was confused as hell. So, nope. No valet for me. sorry Servile, your story has too many holes.

Posted in O Non-Fiction, O Self | Tagged , | 2 Comments

30 Days of Kink: Happy and Curious!

30 days of kink is almost finished up, especially with me cramming multiple days in a go. Thankfully, after several days asking me to whine, these few days are all about good things and stuff I like again.

Day 19: Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life?  If so, what are they?

Uh, unexpected? I guess the BDSM scene gives me a chance to practice being in an organizational role, based on the whole munch thing, so there’s that…

I don’t think kink adds anything to my life that wasn’t already there- if I had vanilla sexuality I’d probably be just as invested volunteering related to that. I guess I will have to admit if I wasn’t so darn reliant on text RP for titillation as a teenager, I’d never have developed my writing ability? But I’m not a person who takes BDSM very seriously as a self identity and this informs how much it’ll effect other parts of my life.

Day 20:  Talk about something within kink/bdsm that you’re curious about/don’t understand.

I’m curious why femdom and maledom end up looking so radically different a lot of the time in porn, when in practice the gender of the dominant is way less crucial to the packaging than the fetish selection might imply. I mean other than “the Patriarchy”, which seems disappointing.

Day 21: Favorite BDSM related book (fiction or non-fiction)

Gosh, that’s a tough one. I’ve already demonstrated a certain degree of cynicism regarding the mainstream stuff aimed at femdom- eg my review of The Mistress Manual. I like some fiction, but BDSM as a setting can only go so far, especially when I’m firmly into being an evil fetishist but I like character depth and not snuff. For example the Little Submissions guy gets it right, but all his stuff are vignettes.

Tanith Lee is my secret teenage femdom mentor- her fiction is what YA budding dominant women should read for self indulgent but delightful purple prose and characters that reflect a lot of different ways to be dominant while still being painfully young and human.

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Femdom Fiction: Supermale VS Amazing Amazon

One Month Ago

“It’s really better if you didn’t visit, Mark.” Her hand reached up, lingering on his cheek and he saw the hesitancy in her face, but then her familiar expression of determination locked in place, banishing that hint of wistfulness. “I’m transferring to The Gothton Times because I need a change.  I need my own space.”

“But what if you got into trouble? I’ll still be watching.” He looked around the small apartment, already half packed into neat cardboard boxes,  unsure if he believed the permanence of what was happening, even as Lola Lean pulled journalism award plaques off the top of her crowded bureau and haphazardly into a box marked ‘Bedroom #3′ in a nearly unreadable scrawl. “Here, that’s too heavy for you, let me take that.”

“Don’t. And don’t worry about me. Your place is here, in Megacity. I need to leave precisely because I can’t live the rest of my life in the shadow of the Man of Steel. It’s great that I can always know you’ll catch me if I fall, but I need more than a super powered safety net if I’m going to grow.”

“But you’re a wonderful journalist, Lola Lean. Much better than me.” He reached for her arm, only to watch her pull away, hugging the box to her chest, shaking her head at him. “I remember how you used to fight to cover the stories that everyone else was too scared to touch.”

“I know, but that’s just it.  I used to write about predatory payday lenders and crooked lobbyists. Since Supermale came to the city I haven’t written about anything else other than the next big monster tearing up the streets.” She pointed out the apartment window, in the direction of the noisy construction going on outside, the latest rebuilding. “Sure, they run my stories on the front page, week in and week out, but I’m not a serious journalist anymore, I’m your PR girl.”

“But what if something happened? What if… When you’re away from me someone attacked Gothton city and…” He found himself reaching for these scenarios almost hopefully. “Besides, that city is full of maniacs! ”

“And there are plenty of competent heroes in Gothton. You know it’s Man Who Dresses like a Bat’s territory and anyway, Gothton needs investigative reporting much more than shiny, happy perpetually demolished Megacity and it’s endless Obviouslyevilcorp press releases. The Gothton Times might be another Wain Industries puppet, but they promised to let me write whatever I wanted, which is much more exciting than Parry chasing me to get another exclusive interview with you. God, I’m sick of asking you the same stupid non-questions and I could write those starry-eyed post calamity gratitude columns in my sleep by now…” She stopped abruptly, seeing his stricken face. “I’m not being fair, you’re right, Megacity has every reason to be happy you are here to protect them. But Megacity needs you, I don’t.”

“Lola!”

“I think we need to take some time apart, otherwise even with me moving away it’ll be too easy to just have you swoop in and have the whole story be about you.”

Two Weeks Ago

A giant metal hulk crashed through the side wall of a bank.  A streak of blue and red landed on its chest, and there was a brief twisting motion before the piece of metal tore away, and then the colourful blur lunged, dragging a struggling body out of the exposed cockpit and tossing.

The body starfished out as it flew through the air, limbs splaying just in time to impact a big shop window across the street. The view then abruptly pulled back to the now collapsing robot, as the blue and red streak launched itself back into the air, and then cut to another scene, in front of the Megacity police main headquarters. This time security cameras caught a collision perspective as the red and blue blur exploded through the doors, tossing three unconscious and battered men onto the tile. Anxious police rushed from their desks to the scene, only to see Supermale gesticulating angrily and pointing.

A third clip showed explosions at the dock, and a flying figure dropping heavy barrels and crates onto a boat approaching the harbour.

“Clarence Ripper will probably walk again, but he’s going to need heavy rehabilitation and he’s lucky that rescue workers were already on hand to save his life. Meanwhile Supermale forcibly detained Mr. Manheim and two of his associates repeatedly until the Megacity police were willing to take him into protective custody, since they have yet to actually prove Manheim’s connection to Intergang strongly enough to justify issuing an arrest warrant. Obviouslyevilcorp is now suing the port of Megacity for damages to their holdings, alleging that although they had no knowledge that ship contained illegal cargo from El Sebra, leaking that information to Supermale, not the police, was a breach in ethics that led to millions of dollars of property damage.”

Two people watched the screen, a man with vivid green skin and a woman with lush dark curls and strong shoulders.

It was the man with vivid green skin who spoke first. “It seems like in the last few weeks, our fellow Law Union member has taken it on himself to completely overturn the city that is his beloved home.”

Dianthe listened, letting her compatriot finish speaking. A slight furrow in her fine Adriatic brow marked her concern as she considered the situation, letting her wisdom check her immediate reaction, but admitting, “That is not the Supermale that I remember. That is no principled warrior.”

“He has grown erratic.”

“And arrogant. Despite his increase in activity he gave us no notification. The Flash reports refugees ”

“It is perhaps understandable for an outsider to become detached from his adopted culture.”

“I do remember your own struggle H’onn, and we all lose our path sometimes. But you decided to take some time away from our work. Supermale… he is on a dangerous journey.”

“Perhaps his friends should step in. I am sure the Man Who Dresses like a Bat already has a plan in place.”

“No, I think this is something that I should take care of.”

“Perhaps, but do you feel the rest of the team should be involved?”

“You empathize with his position as an outsider, but Supermale is also a warrior. Whatever scheme the Man Who Dresses like a Bat has concocted would be more focused on neutralizing him, than helping him, and I do not think Supermale will take a direct appeal to reason in his current state. And, none of you have the aptitude to match him in a field of battle alone, but as a team he would see our collective actions as further justification for his alienation.”

“Very well.” There was a rustle of a blue package, as green fingers retrieved a chocolate and white cookie from the plastic sleeve. “Let us all hope you succeed, for his sake.”

Now

The alarms were subsonic, but the thief knew he was already in trouble. pelting out of the First Megacity Bank at high speed, he hoped against hope that the bag of cash he was holding under his arm was free of dye bombs.

Dianthe took a post on a third floor balcony. The alarm was an irritating whine to her heightened senses, and she knew it was going to work as well as a dog whistle on her quarry. Sure enough, she saw the red of his cape as he swooped down towards the fleeing felon.

Her sharp eyes calculated the trajectory, and saw the outcome before it happened. Carelessly, Supermale had done nothing to check his momentum. Mere property theft stood a good chance of costing the thief his life. Reacting with quick reflexes, she dove, trusting in the gift of Hermes to carry her aloft in the right path. She caught the thief in a mid section tackle, rolling him out of the way of his danger.

Where Supermale hit the ground, the asphalt cracked. Briefly startled, this gave her time to scoop up the thief and run, with the ski mask wearing robber in a fireman’s carry.

She cut a path to a battle ground she had already scouted out, a section of collapsed building, still bearing the imprint of the super powered conflict that had demolished the block months before, properly uninhabited.

“Amazing Amazon!” Supermale’s voice was impatient. “If this is League business, you should tell me who this man is.”

“This man is nobody more important than any other person.” Slung over her shoulder, the thief whimpered, ignored. “It’s you I wish to talk to you.”

“Very well, hand him to me and I’ll deliver him to Justice and then we’ll speak.”

“No. You will probably hurt him.” Bait or not, he was still a person and she wasn’t going to let him get killed in trying to reach her fellow league member. “I’ll turn him in.”

“He is a thief and this is my city. Don’t tell me how to keep the streets safe!”

She let her captive squirm down behind her, but the felon was too terrified to run and stayed put, cowering at her back. She squared her shoulders, issuing the challenge she had intended all along. “Supermale, I will offer you a deal.  Spar with me, and you may take this man. If not, I will bring him in.”

“Spar? You’d lose.” He looked her up and down with his uniquely piercing gaze. She knew while her heightened senses gave her perception far beyond a normal mortal, for him, he could see through her. Physically, at least. Mentally, she knew his mind was clouded by some secret pain.

“Don’t be so sure, Farmboy. I’m a warrior trained in the Amazon way,” she sensed a little hesitation and added, “Or is the ‘world’s strongest hero’ afraid his reputation is a lie?”

There was still hesitancy on his part when they circled each other. The felon, fearing and not understanding, escaped only as far as a piece of fallen brick wall, where he cowered in its cover.

A long time ago, when they first met, she had already sized him up as a possible opponent, and her first impression wasn’t altered now. He had an imposing, perfect physique, shoulder spread optimized to his height and weight so that no part of his anatomy unbalanced another. His handsomeness came from that same optimized ratio, with a square jaw, unblemished skin from a lifetime free from disease and accidents, and a distinctive dip in the front of his hair curling. And yet, despite his physical confidence, she saw a country boy bashfulness. She could guess what he was thinking and planned her attack accordingly.

He saw a woman with wild dark curls, held from her brow by a diadem that owed more to the design of a helm than a fantasy crown. Bold scarlet for her bodice, and gold at her bust and belt, an eagle’s wings spread across her breasts. Blue for her hips, with silver stars, the same metal for the bracers around her wrists. Boots that rose to her knees, red and fitted to the elegant taper from muscular calf to feminine ankle. [1]

She noted his eyes finding the tanned swell of her powerful thighs and hid a smirk. Femininity meant strength to her, but outside the island of her upbringing, she knew men saw womanly as fragile. The first attack was up to her, because something in his upbringing had taught him not to expect it. His reaction was clumsy, but blocked her, to her expectation, and the fight was properly engaged.

She was lithe for a woman of her stature, and squirmy. Whenever he thought he had her held in place she would shift a little, using his weight and momentum against him. The truth was that, fine male specimen or not, Supermale’s invulnerability had left him sloppy.

“Did your mother never teach you how to box?”

The fight took to the air, caroming off each other and  only to end up twined together. This was pankration, no holds barred unarmed combat. And while her opponent’s childhood featured cornfields and idyllic games of baseball, hers was spent in dirt ring arenas with her sisters in arms, sweating and fighting for every little advantage among the most gifted women in the world.

Gradually, ever so gradually, as Supermale would pull himself out of a pin, or wrench out of the grip of the same legs he had been admiring, she wore him down. It took eleven long, dirty hours until she was confident enough to reach for her lasso.

The golden cord let her bind him hand and foot in the girdle of Aphrodite. Hog tied, she hoisted and despite his continued struggles, lifted him up. She spoke softly so as not to be caught by the media cameras and microphones of the Megacity news crews trying to make sense, tender now, and careful of her captive’s vulnerabilities. His secrets were still precious and not to be shared with anyone, just because she bested him.

“Why are you being so rough? So arrogant with the trust that has been placed in you to preserve life, peace and safety?”

He struggled, and she saw many conflicted feelings pass through him, but the rope pulled the truth out, surprising even him, “I feel alone. I am the best this city has to defend it, but it brings nobody close to me. I yearn for someone whose strength of will can match my strength of body.”

Even as the words left his mouth, she saw a peace come over him.

“You long to submit?”

“To a woman who respects me but does not fear me. There was once a woman that… that I loved and could press her will against mine, but she is gone. I feel like everyone will go and that nothing I do will be good enough.”

“You have friends. Isn’t that enough?” But a half smile hinted she knew what he was going to say next. “The League will always be there for you. and even if we disbanded tomorrow, I’d still look out for you.”

“I want to be loved. To belong.”

“To be owned?”

“…Yes.” His blue eyes were wide.

“We will go where we may be alone and we will talk about what it means to belong to an Amazon.”

They lifted off together, still facing each other, blue and red into the evening sky. Her hand took his, leading the way.

Two Hours Later

The room was flanked by columns, white marble, curtained, a part of a pocket sized villa edged into a mountain top. She’d told him about how the developer had been inspired by the architecture of Themiscyra as they’d landed on a balcony. She said the breezes blowing off the Pacific reminded her of home, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before leaving him in what turned out to be a comfortable but sparely decorated bedroom.

He was a different sort of helpless, utterly confused by what he was supposed to do next. She told him that she was going to refresh herself and for him to wait. Perhaps a half hour later she returned, with her dark hair made inky with traces of moisture and her armoured costume traded for the loose folds of a traditional peplos, the whisper soft saffron and royal purple fabric caressing rather than clinging to her body.

“Your submission is a surrender, and you must give it to me.” He wondered, though he was the taller of the pair, how she managed to impose. “Take off your cloak, your boots, and all other things that hide you nakedness from me.”

He swallowed reflexively, and presently, peeled from his body, his costume was puddled on the floor between them. Casually, one sandal clad foot kicked the pile of fabric away and she took her time visually inspecting his body.

“Among the girls at Themiscyra, it was not unusual for our games to play with power.” Her smile was impish. “I soon learned where I wanted to be in those games, but also that I wanted more than the company of my own sex.”

Her fingers touched his shoulder, and he blushed, as if this was his first time he’d been with a woman. Lola Lean had been uncomplicatedly enthusiastic, as demanding as she was simple in her tastes, but the best abstinence only sex education offered by the public school system in the state of Kansas and Ma Kent’s bedside copy of “Outlander” left him with little internal script of what was expected of him.

“There’s no shame in wanting to claim someone, but that means no shame in wanting to be claimed.” He could feel her fingernails now, testing. “Male bodies are fascinating. So like and yet not like the bodies of women.”

He saw her hold a thin piece of metal band. “You will show me you are worthy to carry my mark of ownership. It will be taken willingly, but I must know by how you act that you are committed to serving me.”

Her touch on his body got more forceful, slapping, pinching, exploring. “There will be no secret places, no hidden resistance. You will be like a perfect slave to me. You want that, don’t you? And you will satisfy me. That means fuck me how I want it.”

Farmboy innocence left him stammering, feeling at once very male as his penis crept up, and unmanned by the complete lack of control. A bit of guilt nagged, telling him that he should somehow be able to take the lead and know what she was talking about.

“You’re covering yourself.” She made a snorting laugh and her hand met his face, with no cushioning to the slap. She didn’t need to hold her strength, and he felt the full force. His hands lifted, leaving the prim clasp over his bare groin, but he checked his defensive parry, only to hear her next command.

“Kneel.”

His knees thunked into the stone floor, as solidly as if she’s sweep kicked the back of his legs.

“Already hard for me? Do you know how to edge yourself?”

His hand found his cock again as she gathered the hem of her peplum gathered to her waist, he could see the dark triangle of her pubic hair. “Let’s see what you can do with that mouth on my cunt. Oh, look at that, you want it don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Say it. Say how much you want to taste me.”

He begged.

“Lick me, lick my aidoion.” The wet, tucked and vivid pink folds of her labia were a welcome point of focus. He hoped he knew what he was doing. Lola Lean generally didn’t ask for this unless she was at least a little tipsy, and then she preferred feather light touches. He put those assumptions about women out of his head when he felt her roughly yank his hair, grinding against his face.  “Bite!”

“Mmmph?!” She had him on his back now, head pinned with her thighs, sure he misheard her.

“Show me your strength. It belongs to me now, my big slave, so use it!” She was smothering him, cutting off his air even as she pleasured herself.

Aggressive nips with his teeth only seemed to inflame her. They ended up in another more intimate wrestling match, this time with her goading him on. His face was all wet with her, her taste in their kisses, her nails raking down his ribs, and in turn, his hands getting tangled in the soft fabric of the peplum until it tore and she laughed and slapped his chest hard, unpinning it from her shoulders.

Her cunt slid against him, so slippery against his body, moaning letting the natural motion of their bodies struggling together guide it. Again, she spoke what he was thinking, teasing him about how he was clearly burning up to get inside of her.

“But don’t you dare come!” She chided. “Your seed belongs to me and I decide when you spend it.”

He gave a whimper as he felt himself slip in, and the grip of her cunt engulf, and the guttural groan. He noticed that, as her thighs made her hips slide up and down. more snatches of old, old Greek mixed in with her love taunts. “Ah… fuck.”

“I’m not going to be able to… to”

“No!” She stopped moving, letting him scramble for composure. “You belong to me, I say when.”

With maddening, self focused motivation, she would stop and start, teasing and building her own crescendo. He could feel the intense grip of her strength and she seemed to like angling her hips just so, breathing getting more ragged, using him until her cries turned into an intense gasp and then more strange words in her own language that he took at prayers or profanity.

At her reaction he clenched his jaw, before adding some blasphemy of his own, “Oh my god! Please can I come? Please!”

“No, we just started, my silly slave boy.”

48 hours later

He didn’t want to take the collar off. It was nestled snuggly about his neck, the metal circlet she’d folded into place with her bare hands. It was comforting, as comforting as the strength in her arm that still held him to her, even as she gently tended to him in the aftermath.

“You know, there’s a precedent for this.” She said, voice a little hazy and still cozily swathed in the glow fading from her sixth and final orgasm.

“Really?” All of him was sore, but bits of him most pleasantly, reminders. Pain was such a rarity is was nice to be able to feel it. He remembered her hands, slapping, pinching, and her pinning him repeatedly, never letting him forget that although he was stronger, she was still in charge.

“Heracles and his twelve tasks. When he lost his first wife, Megera, he went a little mad. The Gods, in their wisdom gave him twelve tasks.”

“The Aegean stables and the bit with the lion?” His face nuzzled against her naked belly, memories from J-school electives coming back.

“His twelfth task. Defeating miscellaneous monsters was heroic, but the point was to teach him humility. He was already a half god, only half mortal and the strongest man to walk the islands.”

“What they make him do?” Dianthe had an almost intoxicating natural scent that made him wonder if it was some god-gift like the rest of her talents, or just part of her beauty. It came out best when she exerted herself.

“He was sent to serve Queen Omphale of Lydia for a year.” Her fingernails dragged gently over his skin, soothing where she had just recently slammed him into the floor hard enough to crack the marble. “She made him a slave, to serve her and her handmaidens.”

“What happened after a year?”

“Well the legends vary, but most accounts say after the year was up, she took him for keeps.”

Any similarity to characters belonging to publishing companies is covered under fair use parody laws. 

This story was commissioned by a blog fan who kindly offered to have me share it with everyone. To order your own BDSM & femdom stories, send me a message via my handy contact form or send an email to miss.pearl.chain@gmail.com.

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Moronic Messages: Backpeddling Butthurt

There’s nothing a dominant woman likes more than being randomly solicited. This conversation took place in my inbox via reddit. I’d posted in a completely kink unrelated thread about the website policy, mentioning I was moderator of /r/femdomcommunity, and clearly this guy took it as a good reason to reach out.

Him: Hey…how’s it going? (kay, not so bad, but you know these kinds of things never end well)

Me: Hello! Well, I suppose… (be nice Pearl, he could be a lost newbie…)

Him: Curious- do you get a lot of random PMs like this?

Me: Once in a blue moon. Can I help you with something? (wait for it, wait for it…)

Him: Wanna be my online domme? I mean I’ve got Skype- want to instruct me as to what to do and stuff? I love taking orders… (BAM! There he goes!)

Me: Absolutely not. Do you think all female dominants provide some sort of online wanking assistance programming or something?
Or did you assume because I mentioned my sexual orientation I wanted to be solicited by randoms?

Him: JC. Only asking… calm down (because the best thing you can do is tell a woman she’s getting emotional)

Me: Fuck off. I was telling you very plainly what your mistake was, you don’t get to hide your bad manners behind curiosity and then accuse me of being unreasonable. You sexually solicited a stranger, you don’t get to control her reaction.

Do you think all female dominants provide some sort of online wanking assistance programming or something?

Or did you assume because I mentioned my sexual orientation I wanted to be solicited by randoms?

Him: You didn’t ‘plainly tell me what my mistake was’. Just sounded like you wanted something to bitch about. Why do you have to be mean? A simple yes/no will suffice. I didn’t force you to do it, just asked a question. (You got an answer buddy. Don’t whine.)

Me: Because you are a presumptive twit who just asked me “wanna cyber” because you saw femdom and assumed it meant I wanted to be solicited, and when I called you on it you acted like a butt hurt little bitch. Now go away.

Him: Stop looking for something to get pissed off at.

Me: Still talking? Waaah, waaaah. Guy with no social skills is mad strange woman didn’t respect him after he solicited her like a cheap whore. So sad!

Him: Ha I’m not the one who’s losing their temper, silly woman. (So submissive. Much respect for women. So very slave!)

Me: Awwww, look, he’s trying to hold frame!

Ladies, I bet he’s still single. ;)

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30 Days of Kink: The Things That Make Us Grumpy

30 days of kink continues with a composition of days 16, 17 and 18, a chance to talk about the things that irratate, offend or are just plain irksome. And you know I like to grumble!

Day 16: What are the most difficult aspects of having a sexuality that involves kink or BDSM for you personally?

The hardest part of all this is that there are very few people who actually want to do what I like to do on any sort of consistent basis and all of us are very particular about how we want to do it, and not necessarily very consistent.

It’s not hard to find people who are into D/s. It is, however, hard to find someone who suits your particular interpretation- and one of the hard lessons you learn, early on, is that not all doms and subs are remotely compatible.

Day 17: What misconception about kinky people would you most like to clear up?

The thing that most drives me up the wall is the number of people who think BDSM is beyond the law or even normal relationship rules. The amount of nonsense passed off as “because we’re kinky!” by people experimenting with this for the first time beggars belief.

Obviously the people who think kinky people are all damaged or monsters are frustrating, but the self inflicted innocence also gives room to all sorts of dangerous behaviour, from failing to screen your relationships properly, as in the case of people who do what any dom says, or people who feel that criminal events are a private matter and decline to involve the police where they should.

But beyond that, it also means people with unrealistic expectations for ‘perfect’ subs with no other commitments, wealthy dominants who never crack and don’t usually love their sub and people who wear fetish clothing all the time because you can’t be kinky without it.

Day 18: Any kinky/BDSM pet peeves?  If so, what are they?

People who assume M/f is more natural than F/m. People who deny switches exist or see them as substandard. People who try to force a D/s dynamic or relate to you only in terms of your kink role. People who treat kink like it’s the better form of vanilla or that kinky folk are smarter and more adventurous, or less discriminatory. People who demand femdoms of all stripes act like professionals. People who bitch about all the unattractive people into kink. Really, anyone who can’t separate fantasy from reality.

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Competition Winners – Free Femdom Stories Give Away!

I’d like to thank the people who entered- G Loss, JT and Mikey have been selected as winners for this month. I’ll be writing their stories over October- and sharing it with everyone.

Didn’t make it in time to enter? You can still enjoy my existing archive of BDSM and femdom stories.

Meanwhile I’d also like to give an enthusiastic wave to various people who promoted the competition- finally here’s where I ask you guys for something. I’m one of the many awesome bloggers in the running for the Kinkly.com Top Sex blog competition. All it takes is pushing a button to throw a vote in for me!

Come on guys, VOTE! I never win anything! T_T

Okay, now that you’ve done that- here’s what I’ve been up to  last month- I made Kinky and Popular on fetlife, with an angry rant about trying to keep the age limits respected at the 18-35 event I organize. That’s another first. Kinky and popular, of course, not ranting. You guys are used to me being stompy already.

I’ve also been on the road a lot- and in the air. Who knows, if you’re in New York or California maybe you’ve passed me on the street. The good news is that 8 hour flights are a great place to think about novel writing and Catamite’s still being worked on.

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Friday Femdom Fiction: Makeup Sex

“Please punish me!” He was naked, his arms folded over his chest with the elbows drawn in, and his mouth beseeching, hoping. Vulnerable.

When they’d had the actual argument, voices hadn’t been raised. She’d touched him, and wept. She wasn’t a person to whom loud rage came easy, just emotions compressed inside herself until her core became clogged with unsaid, over self analyzed complaints and only raw honesty could dig her out. She’d said all she needed to say, and he’d listened, now he was left with the guilt she hated to place on him.

“I’m not… I’m still angry.” She had her fists half balled, her shoulders squared but her face half turned away, her mouth holding the signature of the pain she was feeling in the way she curled her lips. “I don’t want some sort of big display to show you’re sorry. I want you to give me what I need, not just today, but every day, when I actually need it. And I don’t want you to do this because you want to prove something and then get distracted tomorrow.”

“Please. Please Jane. I fucked up. I love you.”

“I know you do, baby. But wanting me isn’t the same as being good for me.” He body ached to take him, to put him under her hands and back in his place. “You fucked up, but you’re still mine.”

“Please…”

She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to feel better until I punish you, aren’t you?”

His expression told her the answer was yes.

She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, behind her teeth and reached, hands pulling his arms from where they were covering his body, exposing him. “Very well. Go take a shower and then come back to the bedroom. Dry yourself off properly and do not dawdle under the hot water. Bring a towel with you.”

His lanky body stretched as he got out of the bed, limbs leading, eyes still stickily focused on her until he left the room and she heard the bathroom door swing shut.

She got up, took the elastic from her wrist and pulled her loose hair into a tail next to her ear, keeping it out of her face. She wore the garb of early fall, high socks reaching to white thighs, ass hugging shorts, a sweater that was half way into dress length and made up for a modest body by tumbling off one shoulder. She drank a glass of water and the mirror told her that the tear stained redness had started to fade from her complexion.

She heard the water of his shower as she gathered her dominance from it’s dissembled places, putting willpower with love, and letting herself trust again enough to loose her sadism. The light in the bedroom was already off, but she rose to extinguish the one in the hall and set candles on the dresser, calming and giving everything a softness. On the bed, patting the duvet into flatness, she laid out the studded leather strip of his collar, the many stranded flogger of stretchy rubber, the slim, sharp crop in its nylon sheath, gloves and lube.

The shower noises stopped, and she waited the next few moments until he emerged, wavy hair tossled all over the place and dark with residual moisture, towel held to half curtain his nudity. She took it from his hand and raised her brows, letting a hint of the command enter her voice, “I hope you did a good job getting dry. Otherwise this is going to really hurt.”

He had an aura of nervous anticipation. She knew that the shower had both let him center himself and unsettled him, never completely sure how far she’d go. He’d seen her fully released, letting loose on a borrowed masochist and the joy in her face as she made the man scream. It turned her on that she intimidated him, liked that letting him watch gave her another lever of control.

She smirked put her hands on him as if she owned him, first his arm and then cradling his testicles, liking their weight in her hand and the sense that his body was entirely in her control. “Kneel.”

Abruptly, he went from almost a head taller than her to having his face level with her belly. She made him hold his head just so, in submissive supplication and slid his collar about his throat, pulling the tabbed end through the buckle so it say below his adam’s apple. her fingers ran through his hair and then grabbed a handful at the back, pulling up.

Without much choice, he followed her command and ended up belly down on the bed. She’d left his towel crumpled on the floor while her palm cupped his bare ass and began to spank.

She built up the sensations while teasing him that she hardly thought he deserved a warm up. His guilt broke the path easily, letting his submissiveness burst out, horny, hungry, unable to do anything other than take what she wanted and be grateful,

With a warm glow in the cheeks of his buttocks, she struck until her own palm stung, reminding him he was being punished. “Inattentive. Lazy. Flirt.’

When she saw he needed more she brought the flogger from the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes!”

She swung the tool in flicking strikes, landing the rubber ends with soft splats, noting each gasp as she intensified her strikes. The red grew and blossomed, and she let the whip fall over his back, remembering her lessons- let it fall like she was painting wings, always in control, always letting weight and momentum fall where she could force him to endure. his skin darkened, flushed and his head moved. “Slut!”

She let another slash land across his raised buttocks, noting his cock had climbed to rock hard. “Does thinking about what a bad boy you are turn you on?”

He whimpered, past further comment and she responded with the crop, sharp pain, her choice of head-strikes or white welts from the shaft. She knew he would bruise up purple after this, looked forward to the days of marking and redoubled her efforts until she’s scouraged away the guilt and brought him to an abject, animal place.

Admiring the fresh marks, she caressed and scooped the towel, tapping his hip by way of indicating he should lie belly down with the fabric under his legs and hips. He knew what was coming, even as she drew on the black rubber glovers and made her fingers shiny with lube.

She made him accomadate her, inside and out, probing fingers stretching and making him completely exposed. She watched as she found secret spots inside, pressing until he ground himself into the rough nap of the terry cloth under him. She saw as his hips shifted, that his erection was standing rampant. Nothing got him harder than being completely used and teased. He began to beg.

Her cunt was wet, soaking through her panties. Clumsily, she shed her gloves, told him that he was going to be her toy and fuck her. The button and zipper fly on her pants came apart with quick yank, shedding her tight shorts down her legs in one smooth motion with her dripping panties. She let her bare fingers wiggle over the split lips and drenched dark curls. “You are going to fuck me. As hard as I want, and you won’t come.”

He nodded, making a little mewl of acquiescence, face tense with supressed desire, until she made him mount her, positioned in front of him so he saw the unblemished swell of her pale, round ass and the vivid, enflamed warmth of her cunt, making him work his cock into her.

She gave a little gasp, accommodating its size and then engulfing completely, inner muscles gripping, showing him that all his size was nothing she could not control and use. he began to thrust and the noises she made came from deep in her chest, raw lust, loving the power that made him do this. Her fingers slipped between her legs, once, twice, almost too slicked up to find purchase and tease her clit.

He made little noise, all his concentration going to hold back and resist the barrage of stimulus as she insisted, “Don’t come. If you do I’ll flog you raw.”

Her threat became a gasp as she came, almost squeezing him completely out with the violence of her contractions, and he gripped at her hips, sheathing the way she liked to give her something to use. When she could draw steady breath, she heard him beg again and said, softly, “Yes. Yes you may.”

His orgasm came with a scream, louder than her, as the intensity of everything finally was loosed, throwing him into a final spasm that sent a pulse of hot semen deep into her. He collapsed, first over her back and then sprawling, onto his back, too drained and lost to give more than little body jerks as she curled up beside him, stroking and smiling until he could reach for her again, seeking a different kind of release in the comfort of her arms. Knowing he was forgiven.

~

This week’s Friday Femdom Fiction is brought to you by XXX Sex Guides – a dating site for kinksters, who kindly offered to have their story enjoyed by everyone- and then left what I wrote up to me- which meant something real, raw and very much taken from life.

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What’s going on with Catamite?

Dear me, it’s probably my most beloved and controversial project. From getting banned on literotica for the non-con, and to be frank, some of the most blatant gender discrimination I’ve ever experienced, to frantic requests that I please, please publish one more chapter, the 23 chapter and counting novel is probably the heftiest of my works of fiction (although cumulatively, the friday femdom stories are starting to add up). It’s also been dormant for a while, and I really should finish it.

Today, still convalescing and wrapped up in a great white comforter, I took the master file and applied judicious editing, finding the project at over 38K words and counting. Ideally I’d like to have it done for Christmas, although that is health and work dependent.

I’m still not precisely sure how I intend to go about releasing the project though- the end goal was always an ebook, but getting more experience with what’s on the market I’ve realized that 3000 word short stories are considerably more normal- so it’ll probably be broken into two or three pieces.

Anyway, goal #1 will be to bring the story to its planned conclusion by the end of the year- it’s being worked on again. But then I have to format it into a book and get it available for download, and honestly, I have no idea how to do that… Learning time!

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Free Femdom Story Give Away

yellow-orange-mapleIn celebration of fall, the most romantic season of the year for me, I’m offering a chance to get one of my bespoke BDSM or femdom stories.

Three lucky winners will get a completely free 500 word short piece of fiction of their choice. It’s the same deal as my regular custom story system- you pick the theme, I give it my own unique spin.

I get lots of requests for ideas that people wish someone would write about, so now’s your chance to get that special kink you really wish someone would cover. Winners get stories in a .pdf and .doc format, while everyone else gets to enjoy them here.

Leave a comment for your competition entry with your idea for a story- one entry per-person. Winners will be announced September 30th, contest ends September 29, 2014.

Not familiar with my work? Check out my archives for an ever increasing supply of femdom stories and BDSM erotica.

Want to increase your chance of getting your own story to 100%? Why not bite the bullet and order yourself one through the contact form right here?

Rules and Other Stuff after the jump!

Continue reading

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