Friday Femdom Fiction: Meeting Her Slave

She hit the cafe a full half hour early, despite walking from two bus stops away in heels after she’d gotten distracted and over shot where she was supposed to get off. She realized, as she slipped inside and scanned the room, that she was giddy.  Among the patrons: some students with a pile of notes on their table, and older man with a book and a young woman pecking something out on a white macbook, nobody met the description she expected or matched the picture she looked at on her phone.

[I want to be your slave. Oh, I know, I want to get to know better your first, and obviously that’s a big thing to ask of you, but, I wanted to make my intentions clear. And, if you’re not interested I respect that.

I just haven’t met someone quiet like you before. You’re clever, and funny and mean.]

He was smiling, the picture, a kind of goofy, self conscious grin, but a real smile that half closed his almond eyes. His black hair stood up a little stiffly- he’d taken the photo this morning and was holding a sign with a picture of a hand drawn penguin on it and one word: “SOON”

She knew he worked somewhere near by, admitted it when she picked the venue. The cafe was nice enough, nothing particularly

She ordered a mint tea, trying to pick were to sit. Near the window? She suppressed the urge to bounce on the spot like an impatient child. The cafe chairs were dark varnished and vinyl seats- choosing one so her back was to the wall, she self consciously fiddled with her skirt hem and the clip of her garter on her stocking through her fabric. Was it dishonest to dress this way? It turned her on to know under her dark blue cotton summer dress, everything was soft lace and secret elastic. She told herself the extra confidence couldn’t hurt.

It had happened in a whirlwind month. An offhand positive remark on his part, a polite thank you, a conversation that had spun from teasing into cybersex. They’d crawled off the fetish website, where their pictures were both anonymous headless torsos, his bare with nipples like brown thumb prints, hers corseted in severe black silk, and onto instant messaging, where suddenly seeing a cartoon penguin avatar with a green circle next to it made her heart skip a beat.

If he was truthful, on her online orders, he’d come three times that month, once of his own volition after their first session- her pushing as far as she could as a ‘wicked priestess’, him the explorer who’d stumbled into her secret temple.

*i feel the hard stone slab beneath my back, wonder how many men have perished, tied to the altar this way. i pull hard against the roeps*


*The Priestess holds the dagger high for another moment, teasing your with your helplessness before she brings it down to strink, but stops short of your heart. Instead the razor sharp obsedian point is moved to hook under your collar and slit you shirt open, then moving lower to slash away at your clothes until you are completely naked.* “The Goddess Demands a Different Kind of Sacrifice.”

(arrrgh!, strike, obsidian) 

She never worried before that much about her typos. And yet for all her fretting she was not found wanting. She had been the one to shyly ask him if he wanted to take this offline. And his enthusiastic affirmation at once tied her stomach into knots and made her skip about her apartment like a maniac, singing and drumming on the counter tops until her normally tolerant roommate was rolling her eyes.

Now her phone bleeped with a friendly alert. She thumbed the picture away, checked the text- her roommate and say call: [Any sign of lover boy?]

[Too early!!!!! :P] She thumbed back.

Her tea was too hot to drink and taking forever to steep. She tried to distract herself in a book. Every five minutes she checked her phone. A message

[on my way! might by a minute or two late] It was still five minutes early. She took a nervous sip of her tea. Every time someone came through the door she would perk up and then feel a little stab of disappointment when it wasn’t him.

Oh. There he was. Her tongue took that moment to faint in her mouth as he stepped through the door.

He was wearing a loose green polo and slacks, office clothes, as she’d been told to expect. A cross body strap from his bag put a diagonal bisection against his torso. There was a small stuffed penguin under his arm.

She giggled, remembering a webcam session that had started erotic, and then by afterglow had taken a turn for the adorable. “Is that from your bed?”

He lit up with a wide smile when he saw her.

“Mr. Pepperton wouldn’t let me leave him behind this morning.”

She found her words. All the sensible thoughts she’d had about sitting down and talking practical things went out the window when she spoke in the *voice*.

“Well then, let’s take a look at you.” She let her head roam from his cowlick to the laced brown leather shoes on his feet. He’d stopped abruptly, with a tension that showed even his breath had slowwed. She could tell he was nervous, guessed what he was thinking. “Oh, no, we’re in public. I wouldn’t.”

“Sorry… ”

“Go get yourself something.” She pointed at the counter.

“Okay. Would you like…”

“N-Yes. Another mint tea.” She slid her mug forward. Yes, yes this was going to work very well.


This is what it looks like in real life, folks. Giddy, silly and happy- and more than a little be awkward


30 Days of Kink: BDSM Relationships?

Day 22: What do you think is important in keeping a BDSM relationship healthy?  How does it differ from a vanilla relationship?

Although ‘vanilla’ relationships are already hampered by problems like differing base expectations, kinky relationships don’t even have the weight of cultural tradition to turn to. Pretty much all the established tropes and cliches in BDSM are both incredibly regional and incredibly fuzzy in their precise meaning. What, for example, does a collar mean, anyway?

I think BDSM relationships are particularly guilty of escalating quickly and are more likely to fall under the influence of an unhealthy scarcity mentality. There’s a joke about lesbians moving in together on the first date that applies here– and as well as over commitment, lot of people seem to enter into kinky relationships with stronger expectations than normal. Kink forums reflect the result in an endless stream of questions about why it isn’t working, where the problems are generally just that both people never really looked beyond the fact that they shared roughly similar fantasies.

On the other hand, if you’re kinked in vanilla land, you may have compromised on your sexuality and decided getting your way just wasn’t that important to you or perfection just didn’t . For me, a guy who actually gets me going properly is such a rare bird that he’s liable to get the full weight of my attention. I worry about labels later.

And the meat-and-potatoes (or legume and potatoes for vegetarians) is going to be those day to day things. I don’t subscribe to the idea that BDSM takes extra, extra communication or something- all relationships succeed and fail on respect and gloopy brain chemistry. My sex is no more or less fancy than anyone else’s. There’s so many ways to do vanilla properly its hubris to expect only my sex life takes additional instruction.

Day 23: Since you first developed an interest in kink, have your interests/perspectives changed?  How so?

Well, I discovered I was a femdom! I mean, I always knew I was kinked, but trying to put a finger on the role that felt most comfortable has always been challenging. Is it bad to say I don’t think I evolved much from my starting place? My approach to relationships have gotten more mature, but that’s more a thing about self esteem that would apply even if I was a trigendered otherkin leopard or vanilla as cheap soft serve.

BDSM relationships, I admit, are always something that I think have to come secondary to human relationships. For example a gay couple are humans first and gay second. On the fetish front, I don’t think I’ve been particularly inconsistent- but as I’ve talked about the inherent challenges of femdom identity VS femdom stereotype extensively elsewhere, suffice to say my primary evolution is just ruling out things I’ve tried that I don’t like- but this in no way has meant I’ve run out of new things to try or old things to try in new ways.

Day 24: What qualities do you look for in a partner?

Playfulness and open minded- strong communication skills. Being flippant, I like my men sensitive, nerdy and needy, but I have a preference for ‘wound’. In a world of people drooling over Captain Jack Sparrow I’m more of a Norrington person. I also tend to like my men on the switch-y side, and like 99% of dominant women seem to, the mating call of “I’m the MOST pathetic!” does not do anything for me. Ironically I find a guy’s need to get into your head for counter insurgency more attentive than a guy delivering up ready-to-serve fantasies.

Physically, I like a lean build, longer limbs and consumptive poet-esque aesthetics. However I’m more likely to over look the physical for good intellectual chemistry. Cybersex is one of the quickest ways to dampen my knickers. One of the social characteristics that most attracts me to a guy is homeliness- a certain ability to make things feel like a proper nest. Guys who cook and understand the need to be comfortable gel well.

With Wildcard, one of the things I particularly like is how seriously he takes me. It goes beyond submission, and into considering even my foibles and particulars interesting and important.

If my tastes have a flaw, its that I like to tidy and improve a man’s life. This is mostly an outlet for my controlling streak and I’d never pretend otherwise.

The Things You Cannot Have

No, you can’t have my photo. If I don’t feel compelled for you to have it, there’s no reason I would want you to.

No, I’m not going to tell you, personally, in intimate detail, what I do with my partners. If I don’t put it on the blog, I wasn’t planning on sharing.

No, I won’t write you a custom story for free.

No, I will not look at these unsolicited naked pics of you. Nor did I want them.

No, I will not re-blog your press release. If you want advertising, pay for it. and I won’t reblog your stupid UK based twaddle- NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR CELEBRITY DIET.

No, I am not looking for a slave assistant.

No, I’m not looking for an online slave.

No, I don’t want to promote your new sex toy that I’m never going to get to try.

No, you may not have my Skype.

No, I’m not looking to co-author a story with a stranger, no matter how cool you think your idea is.

No, I will not train you how to be submissive. It is within you or it is not.

I hope that clears a few things up. 😉


Perils (and Pleasures) of Dating a Switch

Perils of dating a switch Wildcard is a switch

Switches get a bad rap in the BDSM scene, possibly for the same reason that some people (idiots) don’t know what to do with bisexuals. They get all the same myths and assumptions (switches need to be poly, switches MUST switch and can never be happy with a 100% dom or sub, etc…). I even had people explicitly tell me that Wildcard wouldn’t be able to make me as happy as a pure sub.

The open-ish bit in our relationship makes whether or not switches *need* to be poly a moot point. There are no shortage of cute little things wanting spankings to keep Wildcard happily satiated if switching was some sort of dual meter that needed to be filled. But it doesn’t really work that way because D/s orientations seldom fit into neat boxes to begin with.

Take any group of doms and there will be such a broad expression of how they do what they do and what lifts their luggage, that dominant is just a vague starting point. For example Ferns abhors brats, while Dee would like a sub who can second guess her with panache. Me, I’m a sadomasochist. “Aha!” a fool in the audience pipes up. “Clearly you just need a guy to show you how to submit properly, like all so called lady doms!” Well, no, sit down fool, and I’ll explain.

I’ve said this before. I like my violent bedroom romps, but I can’t sub properly. It rustles my jimmies. Its not been for lack of trying, but the closest I ever got was power-behind-the-throne style scenarios.

Nonetheless I seem to have a history of dating switch-y men. That is to say that for me, I prefer fighty, fiesty, etc… I like a dynamic that’s all high drama plotting and scheming- although in my day to day life I like cozy and simple, my erotic imagination demands flirting sword fights. That’s one of the things that first attracted me to my Gentleman, other than his good looks and well wound charm. So we romp and play in all sorts of ways.

On the other hand, Wildcard also expresses his switching on the binary. He can be all masterful domly dom; or he can be helpless and whimpering and craving being told what to do. Its all the same to him, really. For him, it’s therefore been an occasional challenge to deal with the fact that I can signal all quivery and whimpery, but my brain just doesn’t go to happy sub land. some of this fits into the psychological dominance thing- I like controlling guys with dom urges with seemingly vulnerable behaviours. I already told you about what I did to the Swede- finding it more erotic to “force” him to explore his dominance than trod the well traveled ground of his submission.

The peril, though, is not that the switch or the dom is not enough in the relationship, its that dominance is a really vulnerable state, and with Wildcard the biggest challenge has been unhorsing him mid-ride, knocking him into the metaphorical mud. Its a challenge for him to work with the fact that I don’t bend in the way a sub is supposed to. You know, you apply the right sot of pressure and it melts into yum.

Early on in our relationship, Wildcard discovered my ability to remove myself from the moment and take control again. This is not a dominance pissing contest about which one of us is more inherently dominant, its more the reality that I don’t think I’m inherently capable of releasing control anymore than I’m capable of finding fridges erotic. So one night, he was playing with my body, trying to get a rise out of me, and met the clamp of my control – laughter, carefully planned to bounce the pain of the game away from myself and stand, indomitable.

You can mark a change in his behaviour from that point on- I think its were he became aware for serious about the dom thing with me. For him beating a girl is a means to creating a reaction in her that he wants, and I don’t think he’d really cottoned onto the idea of using his needs for my own sake or even that the door that he thought led one place just connected him through to the same stairs as the other route we took. For me, whatever I’m doing, its about Me. He already noted that when he met me, I was refreshingly different in my reactions. On the other hand, his dominance is a real thing.

I’m not entirely sure how he thinks about my imperfect switching. For a while he would make jokes about it “no, collar YOU! heeheehee…” I sometimes feel that he half gets it- he understands not wanting to to be not dominant, but not so much my dogged instance that switch doesn’t feel right as a label. In any case its something that I think he internalizes as “Pearl’s odd but important limits” in the same category of not putting a wet finger in my ear- he doesn’t need to understand it to respect it.

But as far as the urges I can’t fill, that’s just part of the way the game is structured- we’ve both discovered that there’s things I like (eg face slapping) that feel very wrong for him. I don’t feel that his switching in any way is different than a sub partner that doesn’t want to do whatever their limits are or has fetishes you don’t share.

I guess the biggest “peril” is not the odd consensual spank, but rather working with his dominance in such a way as I can hijack it to get my kicks, without devaluing it to him. Nonetheless, dating a switch is still the best way to get the sort of behaviors I want to hijack in the first place, and that part is the pleasure part.

My Kind of Femdom Romance

Tuesday: I walk home in the light drizzle of the late evening, stress of the day like a pack of rocks on my shoulders. I think bad, self pitying thoughts, feeling bereft, ignored and insignificant. My phone is an insistent white glare in my hand, as I truly to sort out someone’s problem for them. Up the front steps and into the entrance hall, the smell that envelopes me is warm and savoury. In the kitchen I hear a small thump, turn and see that he’s kneeling.

He’s naked on the tile, tawny and lean and male. I feel a little clutch of guilt, because I seem to enjoy poisoning my own happiness. I tell him I’m not that hungry- I ate earlier. I warn him I’m stressed, he might not get beaten. He takes it, accepting, pets me. I peel off down to my panties, white with rutching at the hips and tight little black bows, find something at fault with my body in the mirror and push aside my current obsession with the girth of my hips to put my attention back on him.

A flop heavy into the rumpled blankets into the bed. He makes me smile with his patience, makes up a plate of his own dinner and coaxes me to try some sweet potato from his fingers. Delicious. He talks self consciously about the sugar content, talking about his cooking knowledge. I steal another piece from his fork as he brings it to his mouth, walk to the kitchen and try little bites of the leftovers.

He finishes his meal and I push him back into the pillows, hands to his wrists. I ask him how he’s feeling.

He confesses his fantasies, describing how he’d thought about being left in a stand up cage, blindfolded, for any woman to enjoy. My voice becomes a lure and a lead, taking this thread and winding it about him. Very soon his eyes are covered and my hangs are roaming, pinching and exploring as I make the fantasy as real as possible.

My hand smacks almond shaped hand prints into the cheeks of his ass, and his cock is massive, head beaded with precum. I leave him blindfolded and tell him about how one of the women would tug him to the bars and pull his hard cock through the gap, as I take him into my mouth.

He wants to come. I make him edge for me instead, until I’m sure he can’t get any harder, until he’s panting with desperation. When he was blindfolded I already saw him writhing about, now his hang is gripping my soft thigh, hard.

Just before he comes I tell him “if you do I get to do whatever I want to you”. I like that extra little jolt of fear- he’s not sure if he’s heard me, but its past the point of no return.

His come ends up in my mouth, down my throat, and he’s already screaming before the spurting starts. He’s past coherence, past profanity, even sounding pained. Post orgasm, he’s a stunned mess.

The gusset of my panties is wet, soaked through. After he recovers he wants me to come, and uses his hands and his voice to help me. We have sex this way a lot- its very intimate, lots of touching and lots of control for me. When I come we end up tangled into a perfect cuddle.

I’m at peace, all the stress of the day washed away, wanting nothing more than to hold and be held by what’s mine.

The Pet Gentleman Published

Femdom story by Miss PearlThe Pet Gentleman is live!

I’m really proud of  myself. Its really been a teaching experience, getting familiar with ebook publishing, hiring an artist (YuMine Guo you rock) and getting it up on Amazon. It’s Book 1 of Catamite and so on.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, it’s a 20 K work of femdom erotica, a non-con captivity romance. Lady Harringtion takes the poet and political prisoner, Phillip and breaks him down, turning him into her Pet Gentleman and slave. Getting it in ebook was really a way of reaching out to new audiences, as well as a way of getting an edited copy out there and no longer split up between a bunch of floating blog posts.

Should you read it? Well, do you like your femdom really mean in practice, but coming from a place of intense, enveloping possessiveness, where the humiliation is in the act of being owned and not a fundamental degradation of the person’s character or appearance?

In the coming months its going to be my goal to get it available for other ebook formats. I went with DRM free on principle – but for now its available via kindle here: MY FEMDOM BOOK.

Alternatively if you are sad and poor and want to take a peek its available in broken up parts through my femdom stories section, though I caution that’s incomplete. I’ll be releasing the squeal in a few months, according to demand – and when I negotiate with the artist over the next cover.

I’m Back!

Okay, that was an embarrassingly long hiatus.

I had the good fortune of working on a rather long femdom freelance story commission last month- I got to research some fetishes I’m not so familiar with and knock off a 4K word female led society with a side order of erotic F/m wrestling. The person who made the order was very encouraging and tolerated my world building obsession.

I turned 29 and organized a splendid birthday with a burlesque performance. I’ve been flirting with boys like its going out of style. Wildcard remains amused by this in about the same way one might be about their significant other’s un-shared but appreciated interest in bird-watching. sorry guys, no hot sexy tales of cuckolding adventures. I continue to enjoy the perks of domestic life with Wildcard.

We blew off a wedding to go to the local Secret By Invitation Only Play Party (because I know the organizer and 15 people cancelled so we wanted her to still break even on venue rental) and I had a sexy teasing scene where I was apparently so hot I distracted the dungeon monitor.

Funny anecdote from my birthday- the party was an invite absolutely everyone deal, so you had vanilla and kinky people in the same area. This is less of a problem than you might thing- the Venn Diagram for Kinky/Nerdy is basically a circle, but it led to an amusing double take when I introduced my (DM) Dungeon Master to another person as such and they did a double take as the relationship Miss Pearl the femdom had with this dude. I think he heard “this is my DOM”. Teehee.

As you know, Yumine delivered a splendid cover for “Catamite” now re-titled “The Pet Gentleman”. I’m swearing and slapping photoshop while I try to typeset. I’m still undecided on the “Too Hot For Literotica” sticker. You’ll be seeing it going live when it goes through Amazon’s approvals process, at which point expect to be saturated with HEY GUYS I HAVE A BOOK.

I promise not to turn my twitter account into non-stop book link spam. Some authors do this (you know who you are guys) and I don’t think its very pleasant to follow. Instead it’ll mostly be the usual pictures of my feet, complaints about being hungry and porn pics I liked. 😛