O Fiction

This is my fiction, which is generally erotica I’ve written, etc…

Friday Femdom Fiction: That’s a Wrap

by

First, there was a penis. Although it was neither erect nor otherwise distinguished by anything to draw attention to it, such as decorative ribbons or fancy sparkles, it stood out among the cross-wound layers of brightly coloured vet wrap that held his legs together and his arms to his side. Where the wrap was in bright primary shades, it was the one organic thing, flesh tinted, natural and exposed. Adding to the lurid effect, she’d left a folded throw blanket beneath him in bright blue and yellow fleece, extra padding and protection for the rug.

For his part, he was completely helpless, mummified on the floor, with her bare feet resting on his stomach and thigh. From time  to time she would move them, using her toes and the soles of her feet to tease him, gently rubbing against his cock or lifting it, so the shaft was cupped by the sides of her feet.

From her perspective, there was a certain sort of silliness to the whole affair, him, dehumanized and muffled so he was reduced down to nothing but his cock, the wrap capped with a hood that kept him quiet and only able to hear her properly when she raised her voice or spoke close to his head. It was a pity it was hard to do sensory deprivation without him looking utterly ridiculous, but his reactions made it worth it. She watched him wriggle about, testing against the tightness of the wrap by trying to flex his shoulders enough to move his arms, or curl a leg, and finding he couldn’t. This wasn’t bondage that he surrendered to, but something that made him yield, whether he felt like it or not.

Because it was warm in the cocoon, she kept the room chilled, and only her naked legs were poking out of the big fluffy comforter when had wrapped herself in. The effect was not lost on her, a woman all bundled up into a cloud of fluffy pale grey, tormenting a rainbow. Her feet grasped at his cock again, gently pressing it between sole and instep and rolling her foot so the stroking would gradually work him erect.

She liked the feel of his cock, the skin so soft and warm. The only parts of his body that was that smooth were his eyelids and lips. The vet wrap itself was a very fine mesh with a slightly tacky feeling, something that breathed and stuck only to itself. She’d wound him is several different rolls, from his slender neck, to the wide shelf of his shoulders, emphasizing the taper as she immobilized his arms and then worked her way down his legs and she knew he wasn’t getting free until she peeled if off.

As her feet continued to tease, she heard his groans through his hood and saw that he was wriggling some more.  A trickle of precum told her that he was quite helpless to resist her gentle tugs and firm control of his cock. She smiled.

“Do you want to come?”

“Mmmmmfffsss!” Said her mummified victim. “Mmmm!”

She withdrew her feet, and the wriggle he made towards the air made his disappointment clear even if she couldn’t see his face. She giggled and temporaily shrugged the blanket off, feeling the cool air on her naked torso. Leaning, she pulled off the hood, exposing his head. He looked up at her, frustrated, a little curve of the knit-cotton of her wadded up panties peeking out of his mouth. She reached down and retrieved them by hooking a finger into the exposed edge.

Because he was playful, when she’d half dragged them out, he clenched down suddenly with his teeth. The damp elastic stretched.

“Ah-ah-ah…” She tugged. “Give!”

He narrowed his eyes a bit and turned his head to the side, feigning a growl.

“No. Bad. Do you want me to put the hood back and leave you like this?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and seeing she was serious, he dutifully opened his mouth so she could retrieve them and drop them next to his head. “Ahhh…Plah!”

“So, I’ve decided you can cum, but only if you do the work.” She announced, as if she had reached some grand conclusion. “Do you still want to?”

To punctuate the choice her feet found his cock and started to play with it again until he was nodding eagerly. So, she slithered off the couch onto the floor with him, wearing the comforter like a cape and kneeling beside him. She could see he was looking at the bits of her that stuck out, and smirked as she carefully rolled him over onto his front. Flipped, he began to grind himself against the floor, arching his head back to keep his face out of the carpet. A fleece blanket wasn’t the most satisfying thing to hump against, but he was desperate.

Feeling merciful, she shoved a cushion under her chest, before settling herself back into the couch. Watching him writhe and buck desperately was starting to have an effect on her, particularly his frustrated determination and the way his tight, square ass is moving up and down. The sadist in her briefly used her feet to pin him, before she gives into temptation and her own hand snakes between her legs.

With the hood off, he can hear her panting, and the abrupt changing in her vocalizations when she comes.  That’s about all it takes for him to baptize the blanket beneath him, adding his noises to hers.

~~~

The writing prompt here was to start with a penis. Which I did. 😀

Back to the archives of more femdom stories.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Caught, Shamed and Spanked

by

The smell of simmering chicken broth permeated the air like a soothing hug. She’d left him tucked up, with an enormous box of kleenex and the lamp pleasantly dim, after several return trips to fluff up his pillows just so and see him cozy. He’d gone to sleep with some terrible television show streaming, and she’d left him in peace to nap for an hour. But now, she heard stirring and flicked the electric kettle on, before she went to check up on her patient.

The blanket was pulled up to his bare chest, the laptop balanced just so in front of him, and his left arm hidden below the covers. His collar was a thick band, worn loose on his throat so he could rest comfortably.  She raised her eyebrows. “Feeling better?”

“A bit better…” His voice had that careful hint of gratitude of a person unsure but pleased to find themselves looked after. And something else.

“Whatcha doing?” She loomed in, fluffing up the pillow behind him and glancing at the screen. White background Reddit and a couple of other tabs. Suspicious. “Gone Wild?”

That would have meant a series of coltish, fae girls, making doe eyes hopeful looks into the camera or sprawling just so, splay legged and prone. She smirked as his reticence confirmed what she thought and kept looking at the computer, checking and finding other hints. “Hmmm, and ‘Majorie’s Birthday Spanking’. You were really hoping I wouldn’t notice, weren’t you?”

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Femdom Stories: Birthday Commission

by

Someone ordered their very own custom story for a birthday gift for a very lucky sub, and kindly gave me permission to re-post the contents here for everyone to enjoy.

She got home with the rustle of plastic shopping bags: groceries for dinner, a white box from the bakery tied with twine, and a bag from the pharmacy that she’d held tight, thinking about what she would do with what’s inside. Her face was kissed to blushing from the cold, frost pinches and winter carried in from the January day, warming while she shucked the layers of her coat and set her boots where they wouldn’t leave the floor speckled with salt drips.

“Mistress?”

He’d heard her coming in, and came rushing to greet her the way she liked, kept her company while she put the food in the kitchen, the box in the fridge. He read the anticipation on her face, but for him it was too early to do more than guess. He saw how she kept careful track of where the bag from the pharmacy was, glancing at it on the counter, then, when the food was sorted, picking it up again.

“Boy, come here.” Her finger caught his chin, holding him for a moment as a smile twitched the corners of her mouth, catching the curiosity in his eyes. “You need to go prepare your ass. I’ve decided it’s past time I finally… opened you up.”

“Ma’am?” He bit his lip nervously as she took the plain looking box of latex gloves out of the bag.

“Go on, don’t keep standing there.” She pointed at the bathroom for emphasis, “Don’t keep me waiting, there’s a good slut. I want you clean, naked and dry in fifteen minutes. Oh, and bring the towel after.”

To be precise in the timekeeping, it took sixteen and a half minutes, and there was still a bit of trace moisture at the backs of his knees and arms, but he was naked and presenting properly in front of her, kneeling with his legs spread and his arms behind his back in the way she liked. She’d taken a comfortable seat in front of him, the box of gloves open now, and a pair laid out next to the lube. Her hand reached out to cup and squeeze his balls, cradling the entire package with the casualness that belayed her confidence. “There’s a good little bitch. That’s better.”

All the time he had been apart from her in the bathroom, he’d been feeling the building fear. She saw it in the way he pulled his belly in, the tension in his jaw and the bright alertness in his eyes.

“Come on, spit it out Boy, what’s the matter?”

“What are you going to do to me, Mistress?” He couldn’t help himself, calves flexing, standing on tiptoe as her squeezing hand teased and lifted.

“I’m going to fist you, slut. I’m going to open you up wide, stretch you until my entire hand fits in.”

He couldn’t help it, breaking his proper pose and squirming, “But Ma’am…!”

“Boy!” His name became a warning, her tone firm. “You’re going to be a good boy, you’re not going to make me punish you…”

“Mistress,” he whispered, not knowing quite how to bring his thoughts into words. “I…”

“Get on all fours, boy. On the towel. I l know you’re ready.”

He could feel the lingering dampness from the shower in the plush fibres under his knees as he shifted position. A whimper escaped his mouth.

Rather than loom over him, she crouched down, taking hold of his jaw and looking at him sternly. “You will do as you are told.”

Her fingers sought, wrapping around over his mouth, pinching his nose to temporarily cut off his air, holding the breath from him in a way that brought him away from his fear, to a place of calm. After the spent exhalation started to force itself out in whistles, never succeeding in truly breaking the seal of her grip, he felt the brush of her nose tip as she kissed him through her hand, keeping him a moment longer until he thought he couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Again, Mistress? Please!”

She nuzzled up against him, replacing her hands over his mouth and nose again. As she cut off his breath, the world narrowed until there was only two people in it, him and her. The second time she released him, he gasped in big lungfuls of air that didn’t clear away the connection she’d bridged between them. He saw it in her face as well, the concentration on him and the happiness.

She was still smiling as she caressed her hands down his body, moving around him to fondle between his legs and run her palm over his side. Exploring, stroking and teasing, she got him standing from half rampant to fully erect, and then maddeningly let her hands wander away again.

“You like this, don’t you, you little slut? Being my toy?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He moaned, twisting his head to try to follow her. Her hand stroked over his ass, reminding him what she was about to do.

“Stay still, Boy.” The spank left a red imprint after the sharp clap of palm against skin and the sharper sting. He yelped and stiffened. “Remember who is in charge.”

“You Mistress!”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your… your toy Mistress. Your slut.”

Her palm cracked down again eliciting another yelp. When she stroked after, it made him want to press his butt into her hand, feeling the soothing touch. She smirked, watching him wriggle.

“My little slut wants it, I can tell.” She let him watch as she drew the gloves on, clean, smooth and white. The top of the lube bottle popped open with a crisp snap, and she felt the sharp plastic against her thumb and the cold, glossy squirt of lube. She let it sit for a moment, before crooking two fingers and using them to caress the lube into the split of his ass, stroking up from dangling vulnerable scrotum and massaging, teasing the tightness. He was tense, his anus at first rejecting her intrusion even as she coaxed it to accept the lubricant. Cleverly, as she pushed with a finger, her other hand went back to stroking and teasing his cock and soon he’d taken two fingers.

Two fingers became three and she saw the start of his melting resistance. “Look at that. My little whore wants more!”

He could feel her inside him, intimate and stretching. It felt like she was increasing the number of fingers, flexing them, driving them against his prostate and all the while coaxing him closer and closer to coming. And yet, she never let him get there, using it as a wedge to open him.

“Tell me what you are!” She only stopped he assault to gift him with another dollop of lube, confident he was ready to take everything.

“Ahh… I’m your whore! You’re toy! your little bitch!” Now he was riding hack onto her hand, helping impale himself. She felt the tightness on her hand as her knuckles caught, her thumb tucked into her palm and then she was in.

“It’s so big, Mistress.”

“Don’t stop, you little whore!”

“Ma’am!” He groaned, wanting more very badly. But he’d never felt so full before, never so stretched as he rode her curled hand.  “I’m your slut. Your nasty little slut. Oh my god, Mistress! Mistress, can I come?!”

“Yes!”

It was her teasing hand on his cock that triggered the point of no return, cum spurting. She felt his ass grip hard, fluttering with convulsions as semen baptized the fingers of her other hand and onto the towel beneath him.

“Come on boy,” Now her other arm was cradling him, letting him come free from her hand, gently. He felt the openess from its parting and craved to replace it with a closeness against her skin.

Seven minutes later, in his second shower, the water sluiced over both of them, his satiated face, her smile. “Was it okay, Mommy?”

“Yes, it was so good. You’re such a good Boy.”

He leaned in close to her, nuzzling her shoulder and then following where the water drops rand down her breasts, until his seeking mouth found her nipple, sucking it. She let her arms wrap around him holding him there for a moment, sighing out, content, reaching to pet his water plastered hair.

She held him that way for several long minutes, before she gently let them out of the water, turning it off to rub a dry towel over his body. He didn’t want to be parted from her, so she kept herself pressed up, her warmth touching his and sharing, as she dried them both.

Gradually, kisses and nuzzling to her breasts became kisses on her ribs and belly until his mouth found her thighs and burrowing, he found the other wetness and another kind of warmth, the lingering a souvenir from her work on and inside his body, and brought her to her own sort of satiation.

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Friday Femdom Fiction: You Can’t Get What You Want

by

Nature made her curvy and gave her the will to make men weak. In a kinder world, she would have been as yielding and plaint as the supple softness of her body. Instead, she’s learned that she loved the way it let her lead and torment. She fed off them, desired their desire, often more than she wanted sex.

Sex, after all, was a messy process, occasionally rewarding, but her body demanded being handled just the right way and so few met her standards that she had gotten used to failures. It was, in her private mental estimation, easier to make them suffer for her and take that as a more nourishing food for her libido. Tonight, she was on a date. He was sweet, and funny, but tonight she felt like seeing him beg and saying no.

The dress she wore wrapped around her, skimming but never squeezing, tailored in imitation of the contrasts of her body. The walked together, arm in arm, him supporting so that the spikes of her heels wouldn’t trip her on the cobbles, feigned fragile need for him, like a lure. From time to time she’d brush up against him, sharing her warmth.

He wanted her, but they had done little more than kiss, and once his hand had crept over the top of her ass, enjoying the way that the taper of her waist made it a natural gesture, but he didn’t dare push further.

Instinctively, he seemed to know she dropped boys who were pushy: “Please, I’m going to fuck you!” They would threaten, and then she, seeing the game was too much for them would gently ghost away. She considered herself kind, and would tell them forthright, “I like to tease.”

She liked him, in her way, liked the line of his shoulders and the masculinity of his walk. He was the right mix of hesitancy and desire and desire for her, at least to be one of her victims. He’d earned that right when he had, one night three weeks ago, edged up against her at the party.

So she started her campaign to destroy him with little touches, not enough to seem anything other than innocently interested. In her opinion, men didn’t get touched enough, and it was another weakness. Pet them, massage them and they folded.

He took her home, dutifully, up to the walkway before her apartment building. They kissed, and she gave a playful laugh. Her mouth strayed from his, to his chin, then his ear, tongue tip testing when she saw him tense.

Those curves shifted as she squirmed her body, rubbing against him. It turned her on and made her wet to see the change in his breathing as her hip found his crotch, bumping gently. A few wriggles and she noticed she was making him properly hard.

The yellow glow of the light beside the door gave everything a warmth. His grip on her got tighter, and she made a slight move to pull away, only to turn so her back was to him but he was still holding her. She arched her spine, and made a small noise of contentment as she began to grind against him.

The same trick of nature that made her soft of body and hard to please had also made her sensitive. She was teasing herself as much as she teased him, feeling herself get more and more into the connection they were building together. It was just a simple thing, rocking, right-left, the writhing coming from a pivot at her waist and a flex of her slightly bent legs. She gave another deep sigh, focused on him and how he was starting ot have trouble staying upright.

Then, as she expected he broke first. “Please… please can I come upstairs?”

“No.” She smiled and kissed him one last time, pulling away, fingers brushing him over the front of his pants. “I’m sure you will be thinking about me later.”

~~~~

This one was 3/4 finished, so while I am not the happiest with it I still packaged it up to post. In reality there’s a part of this story that’s very true- grinding up against men is a favourite activity of mine and I do adore teasing. I could probably do it for hours 

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Friday Femdom Fiction: No Marks (Tickle)

by

The cuffs made the satisfying tearing noise of silk being shredded when she unwound the velcro from its coiled up shape. He was still smiling, the black silk of the blindfold across his eyes like a censor bar.

“Huh,” she set the first cuff around his wrist and considered precisely what she was about to do. The nylon weave straps ran under the mattress, beneath them, an X shape with each end terminating with a cuff. “There we go.”

A naked spread eagle gave her a chance to enjoy the view. He was slim, with the build he’d built up with daily 6:00 AM swim practices. She swung a leg over his body, straddling him.

“Mistress?”

Her fingers sought his chest, stroking in a glide over his smooth skin. He kept himself hairless, as if that could somehow help him glide through water better. She couldn’t leave marks, which was just her luck. Boyfriend with a perfect body, a high pain threshold and a hobby that meant wearing a speedo on a regular basis. But she would show him.

“What are you planning tonight, Mistress? You’re not going to spank me, you tied me face up.” His tone had a challenge. With everything they did and played with, he was always quick to hid behind his limits. She liked that edge of rebellion that never went away, even as she sought to grasp it and rip it out by the roots.

Her fingers curled as the stroke reached his shoulders, letting them brush along where the muscle connected chest to arm. She liked the way he fit together,and the way that when he lay on his back she could still see the way his back muscle extended like a wing, “Hush.”

“Mmm?” He clammed up, but there was a certain sort of seeking in the way he tested against the cuffs on his wrists, pulling on the straps.

“You talk too much Waterboy.” She leaned in close. “If you want to come, I don’t want to hear you make a sound.”

And then her fingers skittered over his ribs. He gave a gasp, getting the measure of her game instantly.

She found all the delicate, soft places, where the nerves could be teased. Armpits. Back to ribs, and along his collar bone. He shook. The more she brushed her fingers against him, the more sensitized she saw he got. She took care to change the spot, never letting him adjust.

The blindfold, being nothing harsh, had loosened itself with the way her was frantically moving his head from side to side, grimacing and giving little whistling exhalations and snorts. he looked at her accusingly.

“Don’t laugh,” she warned, in that syrup and cyanide voice. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

Then, to raise his helplessness, she ordered, “Stop smiling!”

The way a nervous mouth and a happy mouth both pull themselves shared enough similarities, that between her constant stimulation and verbal prods, that it was almost impossible for him not to grin. “….hhhhh!”

“Was that a noise?”

He shook his head briskly, with a look of panic.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, then, shall we?” She slid down his body, making sure he felt her soft nakedness against his, until she settled herself at his feet.

When she began to tickle the soles of his feet, she was thankful she’d strapped his powerful legs down. He was kicking frantically.

“Just a little bit more,” she crooned. He was at her mercy now. She knew if she pushed a little more, he’d break, and one of his chuckles would slip out. She laughed then, considering. Did he come tonight, or would he have to wait?

Friday Femdom Fiction: Topping From the Bottom

by

This one is almost meta femdom, and may not appeal if you’re looking for straight forward femdom fiction.

~~~

“That’s your biggest fantasy?”

“It is right now,” she bit her lip. “But it’s important that you want it.”

“Babe, you know I want whatever you want.”

“It’s more than that. But, I’m pretty confident that your tastes in porn hint… um…”

“It’s a hot scenario.” He held the bundle she’d given him to his chest. “And a cool hat.”

“See you in ten minutes,” she smiled and then mouthed a kiss. “Make it real. You know I can take it.”

She went into the room and closed the door, peeling off her robe and wadding it into a ball which she stuffed into the bottom of the closet. Once upon a time, before admissions and confessions, this had been his room. Now it served whatever purpose they needed for work or play. She fixed the blanket so it covered the exercise bike better, and put one of the two chairs in the middle of the room. Rummaging in the closet, she removed two things, shiny metal handcuffs with their keys, and a black cloth bag. The handcuffs, she opened up, thinking about last minute details and flicking the light off so the room dimmed to what little light came through the curtain.

Sitting in the chair, she smoothed the silky fabric of her night dress, feeling the garters underneath and checked her stockings. Runs were fine. Runs would make it more real, but she didn’t like it when the clips loosed themselves. The bag went over her head and she squirmed bit, using the back of the chair to lock the other cuff so her wrists were behind her back, helpless. She let her head hang, thinking about the role.

They came for her in the intimacy of her dressing room, taking her out like so many vanished people to one of their many jails.  She knew, sooner or later, her number was going to be up. She wondered what the charge would be. Subversive, or maybe indecency. Maybe they even knew what she was doing. No matter what, she had to protect them, keep their names from them.

She waited, heard boots outside, a voice. Male. The door opened and shut. The lamp flicked on and she felt his presence, pulling the bag by the corner until it tugged free of her head, leaving her hair in disarray about her face.

“Anastasia Asinova.”

He was tall, dressed impeccably, every button on the grey uniform shining. The peaked cap sat on his head precisely and he had a clip board in his other hand. He continued speaking, “Age 28, never married. Profession, singer. Parents, deceased.”

She saw that he was looking her over, and revelled in it, “Well, that’s me. What’d you haul me down here for?”

He lat a little impatience show, “You seem to be treating this with more levity than it deserves, Miss Asinova. You should have more respect for the state. Although that a degenerate like you doesn’t care, does not surprise me in the least.”

She shifted a bit in the chair, feeling the vulnerability of the cuffs and their tightness digging into her wrists. His height took on particular menace, but she knew her arms behind her back thrusts her breasts forward and knew that the guarded carefulness in her eyes was arousing him.

“Miss Asinova?”

Her head came up, proudly, with a little shake that settled the softness of her hair out of her vision, “What are the charges?”

“Indecency.” He sneered. “Degradation of the moral character of the populace and corruption, Miss Asinova. You sell yourself for perfume and stockings. To soldiers, to men with weak moral character, who can grant you favours, as bribes to officials. We know your methods; a friend of the state has informed us about everything.”

“I offer myself to whomever I like,” the way her arms were held by the cuffs pinched her wrists, and sent a certain tingle along her arms, from shoulder to scalp. “But I’m no whore.”

His hand caught her across the cheek, a stinging slap. She gasped. He was starting already.

“I think the evidence suggests otherwise. You know what happens to whores, Miss Asinova.”

She took a steadying breath. “So brutal.”

But she caught the slightly hesitation, where he was noticing her. The satin fabric of her slip poured over her skin, light lace and sleek, in a way she knew followed and hinted at the softness of her body. She knew that the lamp was enough to reveal its half transparency and the elastic tightness of her garter. She laughed. “You’re looking too aren’t you?”

His hand reached out and grabbed her chin, holding her head in place and stooping to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, Miss Asinova. There is one way you can survive and that is to make a full confession and be ready to make an atonement.”

She made a soft whimper, instinctual, pushing his buttons. “Oh, you’re hurting me!”

But then as his grip loosened a little, her smile came back and the tip of her tongue flicked against the webbing that joined his thumb to his palm, wet and ticklish. He retaliated by taking a fistful of her hair, hard enough she grimaced.

“Slut!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“You listen to me, Miss Asinova. Normally I would simply see you charged and tried. When they found you guilty you would be sent to be re-educated. There, they would take away your pretty clothes in exchange for a prison uniform. They would shave off your long hair for the lice. A diet of barley broth and cabbage and hard, honest work would take the curves right off you.”

She panted, dragged half out of the chair. The only way to spare the pain of his fingers tangled in her hair was to press towards him. “Then what are you going to do with me?”

“We are going to give you a second chance, Miss Asinova.” He released her, letting her sit again. “But we will expect you to do something in return.”

She let him see that she was frightened, curling herself away from him. And yet, she felt exhilarated and breathless, aroused and shivery. “W-what?”

“We know that you mix with less than honest people. If you have no compunctions about dirtying yourself, you might as well make yourself useful.”

She stole a glance at him. She knew that pose, a certain tension that told her that her every move was teasing him. She made a soft mewling noise and let her teeth capture her lip. “Alright, just tell me what I have to do.”

“You will inform on the men who buy your services. You may be called upon to show your patriotism.” She understood his meaning. She was going to become a trap.

“I am loyal!” She insisted. Under her filmy slip her thighs squeezed together. She was already thinking to how she could turn this to her advantage. He would think she would comply and she would ferret out the rat that had sold her out.

He reached for her again, this time her shoulder, leading her out of the chair with her wrists still linked behind her back. “Not many people get second chances, especially those as undeserving as you, Miss Asinova.”

She dipped her head, even as he gave her body another raking glance. “I’m very grateful.”

“Come here,” he said gruffly.

She watched him give into temptation and saw his fingers reach for the button of his pants, even as she knelt. They both knew what he wanted,  before her mouth was around him.

She nuzzled him, felt the hardness against her lips and sucked. Soap and a maleness that defied comparison. Dragging it out, she teased with her tongue, rubbed wet and firm against the head of his cock, like a good little degenerate.

The groan he made brought a muffled echo out of her own throat, but she persisted to tease until his hands found her head and urged her, faster and faster until she felt the pinprick of tears and started to gag. There was no gentleness there, something almost violent, as if he was conflicted about what he was doing. Perfect.

She let herself relax into being used, until she tasted his cum, hot thick and bitter. He held her a moment longer, on the final forward stroke, until he finished, and she immediately turned her face away as if to shame them and his desire.

There was a moment’s hesitation on his part and she looked at him again, in full defiance. “Now what?”

“Now we brief you in how you’re going to perform.” He helped hoist her up to her feet, steadying her balance, much more gently, and she felt the way he lingered close to her.

They broke their roles then, as he helped uncuff her, the little key flicking in the locks. Freed, she gave her arms a shake, flexing her wrists.

“Those aren’t too sore, are they?”

“Oh, no!”

“God, you’re sexy.” His arms wrapped around her. “The way you were wriggling about. I didn’t know if I wanted to beat you and rape you or beg you.”

“Good.” She made a happy noise, reached up and took off his hat to put it on her head. “You were fantastic yourself.”

~~~~

I was sick all of last week, so this is late. It’s also three times the length that I try for with these pieces.

Friday Femdom Fiction: A Girl And Her Tease

by

The dress cinched in as he drew the zipper up. It made almost a purr.  She smiled at the mirror, and at the reflection of him, behind her. She was done up to the nines, face painted ivory, lips shiny, eyes dark. Her hair was swept up into an artful disarray. If she was stocking foot, her heels were simply waiting for her to step into them at the door. Underneath, he’d watched her layer, delicate, slippery soft nylon stockings, clipped garters, panties and a bra that hoisted her breasts up in a way that made one think of cupping hands.

“Very nice, Miss Bunny.”

“You know, just teasing’s no fun any more.” She smirked. Her sensed she was in one of her mood, where there was a hard edge to her desire. “I mean I dress up every time I go out.”

“Miss Bunny?”

“It’s not that I don’t like catch you staring. I mean, god, I stare at me sometimes, I’m that nice to look at. I like seeing the way you tent in your pants. And I like giving them a reason to drool.” She just about strutted, preening a bit.

“Maybe, just maybe, tonight, I’m going to fuck someone. Maybe when Rory gives me a drive home we’ll take a detour. Maybe Jay and I will duck out early. Maybe Natasha and I will stop flirting and I’ll get to have a taste. Maybe her boyfriend will do more than watch.”

He smiled, “Why not all at once, Miss Bunny?”

“Hmm, you’d like thinking about that, wouldn’t you, you naughty little bitch? Thinking about my face buried in Natasha’s cunt, finding out if the alphabet trick really works while her boyfriend fills my cunt? I bet she’d squeal really nicely with a few bites on the inside of those soft thighs. Do you think Troy would like it if after, she rode his cock while I let him have a turn eating me out?”

“Miss Bunny!” He was squirming on the spot now.

“Or maybe I’ll see how many boys would like to cum on my tits. Get them all in a nice circle so I can jerk and suck how I see fit and they are all begging for me to focus on them. Can you imagine that? One in each hand, squeezing, while another slides down my throat and I can feel more rubbing and pressing up against my face and hear them begging.”

He couldn’t help it, his hand began stroking himself through his pants.

“Hey!” She grabbed his hand up and smacked him on the knuckles. “Just for that you’re not going to get to come until I get back.”

“Miss Bunny! Please! I won’t get any work done!”

“Well, you need to control yourself better. Make sure to edge yourself at least once an hour.”

“How long are you going to be gone, Miss Bunny?” These events were usually only four or five hours.

“It depends on if I get lucky now, doesn’t it?” She winked. “Maybe I’ll have to organize myself my own little after party and you won’t see me until tomorrow.”

~~~

On schedule! Maybe real life me has been being a happy tease lately. 😉

Friday Femdom Fiction: Consensual Non-Consent

by

Three weeks ago:

“I’m going to use your cock and there’s nothing you can do about it,” she tried, smiling through the threat. Her hands were planted on either side of his head, denting into the mattress, her nose inches from his.

He tried to look frightened, held himself still and stiffened up. She saw the faux fear, and bumped her groin against his. “I really mean it!”

“I like that, when I feel like you’re going to force me and I have no say about it,”

“Oh really? Kinda hard for me, given that you’ve got fifty pounds on me and most of that’s muscle, babe.”

“Just make me do it.” His grin had gone goofy-horny, contemplating a perfect moment, some time in the future. “I have faith, maybe you could tie me up…?”

“If you don’t want it. you’re not gonna be hard. And you always want it when you are hard. Kinda hard to rape the willing, you know?”

Thursday

Horny. She woke up with a slick of moisture between her legs, and her skin sensitized to the touch of the blanket. He was lying next to her, uncoiled from the curl he always fell asleep in, to the sprawl he spread into during the night. He liked the morning doze best, and she liked the softness in repose that took the stress out of his face. He would sleep until the last minute and dash off to work, tea in a travel mug and a bagel held in his mouth, just about buttoning his shirt as he went. And yet, working from home, invariably she was up a full hour before he transformed into the morning panic-flurry. She liked to watch him flail.

The shower washed away the smear of arousal, but not the sensations, water beating her body like caressing fingers, towel scraping rough and sensitizing. She took her birth control pill, swallowing the little dot of sugar, and flipped the kettle’s toggle to on, checking the glow to make sure the water was boiling. Still horny, and naked in the kitchen, her hand brushed over her nipples as she contemplated dealing with the pent up feelings. The clock showed seven thirty and her wet hair dripped down her back. She made a decision and walked back to the bedroom.

She picked up his phone and saw the alarm was going to go off in another thirty minutes, took it into the other room, and thumbed it to reset it to a minute and a half from now.

He didn’t wake up as she peeled the covers down. Naked, dark hair on pale skin, male lines, nipples wide and flat brown thumb prints, a slight softness of the belly that she always found desirable. Just about purring, she straddled him without letting herself touch him, hands hovering.

“Hmmm…” She made it feather light, nuzzling, waking him slowly, teasing his cock. Giving him a full erection first thing in the morning was easy, and with careful licks, she coaxed him from half swollen to rampant.

By the time he opened his eyes, he was already inside her, nestled up in the wet channel of her cunt and feeling the muscles grip.

“Oh.” She watched the reality of the situation home in to him as his brain began to properly perceive where he was. She rode him, letting the aroused tension grow.

And then his alarm went off, the phone frantically vibrating and chirping away.

“Oh shit. Karen…”

“Ma’am!” She insisted.

“Ma’am, I’m going to be…” She could tell the conflict to stay nestled up inside her was fighting the urgency he thought he needed to spring out of bed with.

“You stay here!” She just about growled at him, emphasizing with a hard down stroke that hilted him.

“Ma’am! Please, I’m going to be late!” He bucked underneath her, winding up to a full on morning-flail. The erection, however, stayed turgid and engulfed.

“You know all you have to do is say ‘Spaghetti’ to make it stop,” she gently mentioned the safeword.

“Nnnnn…” The temptation was there, but he shut his mouth. She saw the mixture of satisfaction and terror in his eyes.

“Then the only way you’re getting to work today is after I’ve had my satisfaction. So, slut, are you going to just lie there? I guess it would be nice to have lunch at home with you, for once.”

The sex that followed was frantic, as all the energy that propelled him out the door on time every day was thrown into fucking, begging and pleading. The more he whimpered, the more turned on she got, and the meaner she got, teasing him about missing the bus, and then the train and how everyone would look at him as he came in.

She came twice before she let him finish, and sweat beaded on his forehead, he panted let himself relax.

“Shit, Ma’am… can I call work and say I’m going to be late now?”

She smirked and handed him his phone, lighting up the screen first so the time blazed in front of his face.

“Oh. Ma’am. You…” He sputtered, realizing that even with the fucking and merciless teasing, he was still ten minutes early.

“If you hurry you can get a shower in too…” She slid off him, feeling pleasantly sore. “I’ll go bring you your clothes and get your tea on.”

~~

Yeah, con-non-con creates a challenge. Friday Femdom Fiction is all about the loving couple who consents side of kink (for the brutal stuff you want Catamite or other writing projects) and I wanted a scenario where a woman could “rape” a man but have it not actually be rape.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Humiliate me?

by

She couldn’t help it, her face cracked into a big happy grin, mouth twitching until the smile opened her eyes wide and girlish giggles escaped her mouth.

“No…” he put his forehead against the edge of the bed, resting it there in exasperation, as his arms were bound behind his back.

“Alright, alright, let me try again.” She took a deep breath an composed herself, opened her mouth and the merriment bubbled up. “Shit!”

He huffed a sigh. “Ma’am, you seem to have a problem saying it.”

“It’s just…” She looked down at his muscular body. “It’s silly.”

“You didn’t have any problem with this in chat, this morning.”

“Alright, you say it,” she folded her arms and he caught the tiny, seeking edge in her voice. These moods never meant anything other than a torrent of lust fueled abuse, raising his dashed hopes of where the evening was going.

“I’m a little bitch.” He felt a small sting of embarrassment, coming out in a small voice.

“See, not so easy, is it?” Her smile was a smirk now. “Tell me again and look me in the eye.”

“I’m a little bitch.” The embarrassment was warming, and stirred his cock.

“That wasn’t all. Tell me more, slut.”

“I’m a sissy, pathetic bitch who deserves to be spat on and… degraded and…”

“Louder!”

“I’m a little bitch! I deserve to be spat on and degraded and fucked!”

“And?”

“I’m a little bitch and I want you to show me just how much that’s true. I want you to… to use me, and hurt me and piss on me.” His cock was now pointing a steady right angle from his body, and he saw she was doing the hungry-writhe dance of horniness. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place, when they fell, together, into a connection that motivated her to crouch down and grab his throat.

“Pathetic little bitch,” she hissed, inches from his face. “You should be lucky if I reward you with that. Get over the bed!”

As he belly flopped over the edge of the double bed, grinding himself against the stacked mattress and box spring, she turned and stooped. There was a jingle and swoosh as she found his discarded pants and took the belt out of the loops.

“Unh!” He debated what she’d do if he tried to roll out of the way, but the belt cracked down across his bare thighs, finishing his horny noises with a high pitched yelp.

She gave him a few more welting stripes before she paused again. “Tell me what you are!”

“I’m a pathetic little bitch and…auugh!” The belt cracked down extra hard.

“Say it like you mean it. Make be believe you’re the nothing that you say you are.”

“I’m a pathetic little bitch. I want to be used and treated just how I deserve. I want to be shown that I’m a nasty, piss drinking…” The admission came out of him. “A nasty, piss drinking, disgusting little bitch.”

She grabbed him then and flipped him over, so they were nose to nose. She looked at him with loving malice for one long moment before rearing back and a wad of spittle landed on his cheek. “Drink my piss, hm? That’s a new one.”

“That’s right, ma’am. I want to drink down your piss.” He whimpered when she didn’t say anything else.

Her face unreadable, she crossed her arms and looked at the shiny place where her spit had landed. His eyes were large and vulnerable, hopeful yet fearing his mouth had carried him too far. Humiliated.

Then the smile returned. “That’s right, you little bitch,” she said the words that had, before, been too silly for her to get out. “You’re a thing. You’re nothing but a hole to fuck, a body to torture and a disgusting, submissive pervert who begs for more no matter what you do.”

“Ma’am?”

“And you’re going to be nothing but my piss lapping little slut too.”

—

It’s late, but live! Enjoy!

Friday Femdom Fiction: Strapped On

by

There were three loops for the harness, on for each leg, and one strap that settled in tight over her butt, hugging just over the real roundness of her ass. She admired the rig, although it was more functional than pretty, black, plastic buckles and nylon straps like a backpack. But the large red dildo slotted into the ring nicely, jutting out from her crotch.

Of course he was on his knees, cushion as a conceit on the hardwood plank. His own penis was doing an indecisive climb, awake enough to indicate its interest but also a little coy, like it was unsure if this was the right moment to do more than stretch itself a little.

“This is going inside you in a few minutes, and how much lube I think you deserve is entirely dependent on how much of a little slut your prepared to admit to be,” she lied as convincingly as she could. “So you better suck it good, bitch…”

He was eager, moving forward, mouth reaching, to take the head into his mouth. Un-lubed and uncontaminated, the slightly bulbed tip brushed against his lips before passing through them. She liked his mouth, very male with the faint darkness in the skin above his lips, but full and livid pink, fuckable. When they kissed she almost always wanted to hurt him, letting her teeth close on the swollen tenderness of his lower lip or mashing her mouth into his. She’s read about that in old romance novels of “bruising kisses” and never understood until the first time he’d smiled at her and she wanted to turn that soft mouth into a vulnerable curl of pain.

He was straight but he’d seen enough cocks sucked to improvise. Her strap on was in many ways worse than a real penis, too hard to slip down the throat easily, with none of the give and yield, but she liked it that way, liked that when she took the back of his head and pushed she could make him gag. He whimpered and drooled, and, after a while she grudging relented.

“Go get the towels, you little whore.” Another conceit, but it saved stripping the bed. She took the time to roll a condom onto the now glistening dildo, a kindness as well as a practicality, and he let himself be pushed over onto the bed.

She lifted his legs and threw them akimbo, but she reward him with a dollop of clear, cool lube, stroked slippery against the tight ring of his anus and then massaged the phallus she was wearing with the same hands, leaving both slippery and ready. Grinning, she thrust herself between his legs and guided the head of the fake cock until it’s thick width was pressing insistently into him. Her hand briefly scrubbed over the rough nap of the towel, cleaning it, before she drove forwards, her hips swiveling to home into him and open him up.

“That’s better, slut, isn’t it? You’re so much happier with something inside you, aren’t you?”

Her hand pulled strokes from root to tip, easing him through the roughness, while her mouth crooned obscenities. She liked the noises he made when she was the one penetrating him, so much like her own. Her hips drove with her thighs and her stomach, looking to see just how hard she could jam into him, making him feel at her mercy.

Of course the contraption wasn’t a situation set up for endurance, and she let him enjoy it as well as suffer through it, panting and teasing him until between the insistence of the eight and a half inches of silicone and the hand on his prick he was spurting out all over his belly, milky semen into the grassland of dark strands on white.

Giggling, she him rest on his back, extracting herself. The condom peeled off the dildo neatly, turning tidily inside out, and he made a weak noise, half overwhelmed and half content. Later, they would shower together, the dildo in the bathroom sink waiting to be scrubbed clean to wait its boiling, but for the time being she enjoyed the moment.

—

And that, boys and girls, is what real strapon fucking action can look like. Fun, silly and sexy. 🙂