Friday Femdom Fiction: That’s a Wrap

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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.

33 Things Every Submissive Man Should Know

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1) We are people too, and all the vanilla courtesies still apply. For you as well as me.

2) Don’t fawn all over us; you will sound like a tool. Don’t call us “Mistress“, “Goddess” or “Lady” unless we tell you to. Don’t try to act like our sub without our consent- anymore than you’d act like a woman’s boyfriend without her say so. We shouldn’t try to pull rank on you either, just ‘cuz. Don’t put up with that shit.

3) That hand kissing thing doesn’t make you a subservient old school gentleman, it makes you a show boater.

4) Your fetishes, needs and desires matter. They are not, however, my problem until I choose to make them my problem by getting into a relationship with you or choosing to address them when we play, and probably anything we do will be a mutually complimentary fusion of both our desires- don’t stand for a relationship where your needs aren’t being met- it doesn’t make you a True Submissive, it makes you a martyr.

5) Getting flogged, spanked, dressed in lingerie, or pretty much all your fetishes are intimate acts, even if they don’t involve your penis. They are therefore as intimate and personal as asking for sex. Govern yourself accordingly.

6) For the love of all that is holy, stop offering me acts of service unless they are your fetish, or I specifically say I want them, and even more so, stop trying to trade acts of service for acts of kink. A house cleaner makes way less per hour than a pro-dom.

7) Not all female dominants are professionals. Not all women are comfortable with you buying them stuff. In fact, if you want to buy them stuff, you still shouldn’t lead with your wallet because we will think you think your money has power over us.

8) Your submissive desires do not define you. They are part of who you are, but not the entirety of who you are, and a dom’s long term interest in you will probably have a lot more to do with the whole person than you being a sub. Also the type of submissive you are is informed by the rest of your personality.

9) Women who demand tribute to talk to you or to prove your seriousness are scammers or naive. Professionals who stay in the business will be trading a real service for money, and will be as explicit and up front about what they do to the extent that the local laws governing solicitation let them. Women who ask for money to dom you are professionals, regardless of skill or sanity.

10) You are no more or less valuable or worthy as a person because you are a male submissive. You are not doomed to only getting your kinks met if you hire a professional. You are not unattractive to all women, even the doms.

11) We probably like looking good and being fantastic as much as the next person, but we can’t sustain a conversation based on how awesome we are. It’s either trying to force a worship dynamic on us, we will perceive it as you discussing your turn ons, or typical human modesty will cause us to blush and deny. Use compliments like pepper with new people- sparingly applied where suited.

12) On the flip side, working on being more hot can’t really hurt your chances, particularly if you want a ‘hot’ dominant woman. Make sure your hair is groomed and flattering, your clothes fit and you otherwise take advantage of the best tools available to your regardless of your subculture memberships. Humans are shallow.

 13) Do not underestimate the ability of supposedly vanilla women to surprise you- not all doms hide out in BDSM environments. But, likewise don’t mash a square peg into a round hole. Your ability to convince a woman is related to your ability to make it seem sexy and inviting, and not like a chore she’s doing for you.

14) When you do hook up, don’t deliberately disobey and do a shitty job of things because you think that’s the only way to get beaten/punished. Make a clear distinction with your dom regarding your needs- if she really cared about what she told you to do she will not want to reward you with your fetish when you fail to do it.

15) You may not meet your true love at a munch, but you probably will meet other kinky people on the same page as you. I can’t promise that you will make friends because you might be shy and socially incompetent, but I can promise if you want a relationship you will have to talk to people somewhere. At least all the people attending should be soem sort of kinky.

16) Not all doms are sadomasochists. Not all doms don’t know not all subs are not sadomasochists. Try to talk about stuff- you don’t have to be pushy to say that you don’t know if you will enjoy being spanked or not.

17) If you tell us that you need 300 levels of secrecy because of your Very Public Job, and you’re not a minor celebrity or living in a small conservative town of gossips, we are going to think you are married. Likewise, ‘discreet‘ is code word for ‘cheater‘.

18) Your wife might not understand you, but we know even if you are awesome, at best you’re going to break our heart  when you try to shield us from some other thing you think we can’t handle, just like her.

19) Safewords are so you can say “no!” and have her ignore it. Ignoring a safeword, on the other hand, is bad news. Discuss in advance what it means to you and do not assume. Hell, never, ever assume.

20) If you act like every female dominant you meet is the last lifeboat off the Titanic or your only chance at a relationship, we are going to run away, because it will make you behave like a nut job. And you will get taken advantage of because you are desperate.

21) If you expect every female dominant to come fully equip with gear, whip skill and a private dungeon, you will be sad. If you expect them to look better than the normal range of attractiveness you will also be sad. If you try to buy us all the accoutrements to turn us into your idealized dom, you will probably also be sad and we will be grumpy because you think we are some sort of fetish paper doll and now our spare bedroom is full of your shit.

22) Courtship overtures that start with a positive comparison of us compared with all other doms, such as that we are prettier, saner, smarter, etc… do not go as well as you think they will. Keep in mind that it is all too easy to project your ideals onto strangers and it’s going to be very awkward if you praise her for something that is not the case.

23) We can’t despise you if we want you to be our sub. We can pretend. We can say all sorts of mean things. But only an emotional masochist will get into a relationship with someone who really makes their skin crawl or really is unsatisfying company.

24) Your penis size is less important than you seem to think. Don’t get me wrong, some of us care- and a lot of us will wanna see, but later and well photographed.

25) This isn’t grindr, so you can’t seduce women with a lousy picture of your anus. Similarly an online persona laced with overtly sexual pictures and stolen porn will make you look only down to fuck.

26) Don’t tell us how our gender or ethnicity makes us naturally dominant. Also, vanilla tip, praising our looks based on ethnicity is going to get frowns. Especially if you get it wrong.

27) Don’t tell us certain sex acts aren’t ‘dominant’ or worry about how subs aren’t supposed to want certain things. You don’t have to be into penetration, but that’s not because you are a sub, but because that’s your preference. Also, accept that satisfying your partner as a sub may mean doing what she wants, not what you wish she wanted. If she wants her tits slapped during sex, she wants her tits slapped. Likewise if you still like blowjobs, you still like blowjobs.

28) On the flip side, pegging, cross dressing, etc… are not inherently submissive. ‘Serve’ is not synonymous with ‘kinky sex act’. Not all doms will do or want to do your fetish. Unfortunately porn files things in clusters, but those clusters don’t always reflect real life. If you just want it up the butt, you don’t need to call a woman ‘Mistress’.

29) You are allowed to have limits. It is not your dom’s job to ‘push’ or ‘expand’ your limits unless you both think that idea of that is sexy. Porn sites like kink.com use that as a cheap trick to make their sex seem more intense and scary.

30) Switches are not inferior dominants or lousy subs. Not all switches are on/off style either- so their desires may be more of a dimmer than a radio button.

31) Don’t trash talk other subs or try to pull rank based on how you are “alpha” or “a true submissive”. Doms don’t like it when you tell us what we want, and you don’t know what we want until you get to know us. Your ranking system is merely self labelling.

32) Target sanely. All your service sub studying in giving manicures and tending to high heels will baffle a gender queer dom women who just wants a nice service sub to help her/them with carpentry projects. Prep is not bad, but there’s no magic bullet and what you did to prepare for us will inform us of who you think we are.

33) Dominant women can be insecure, sad, clueless, make mistakes, need snuggles, love you, have terrible taste in media, get horribly infected ingrown toenails, have body image issues, question their sexuality and self esteem and at the end of the day are just as lost, clueless and fumbling around as you.

(There you go, 33 heteronormative things for F/m minded submissive hopefuls to improve their chance of happiness. – Oh goodness, this list has gotten popular!)

MRA, PUA and Weird Male Dominance Fixations

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So, there’s moments when one becomes utterly mystified by the state of other people’s sexual psychosis. Especially places that take a whole range of vocabulary you use or one thing and twist them into something else. One of them is the Manosphere’s absurd obsession with being Alpha and Dominant.

So, what’s the Manosphere?

To bring you up to speed with the subject of the post: as you are probably well aware, we live in a world that is full of inequalities. One way that these manifest is along the arbitrary binary of gender roles and expectations that are attached to them. This fucks over a lot of people, male and female. I’m a feminist and unapologetic about this. However another segment of the population, mostly expressing themselves online, deals with these challenges with other methods, mostly by making a damn fool out of themselves in a way that’s collectively embarrassing to men and women.

MRA, (Mens Rights Activists) take the inherent problems that come with maleness (other men trying to kill you, poor social tolerance for weakness, poor tolerance for acting in stereotypical ‘female’ ways), and, for the most part, blame feminism. They’re joined by PUA (pick up artists) who are by and large men who decided that the solution to all life’s problems are at the bottom of someone’s vagina and they need to figure out an elaborate algorithm that lets them access as many as possible in their search. As you might imagine, failing to see women as people is a criteria for both groups, so there is extensive overlap. As, for some reason, with Libertarianism, because governments are seen as the pesky enforcers of such things as welfare for single mothers and child support arbitrators.  These (mostly)men generally share a strong thread of gynophobia but also intense social anxiety- not so much misogyny, as outright “get her before she gets you!” thinking that often extends to assuming everyone is out to get you and that they exist in a world of nasty inter-male competition. A side effort is put into describing men who do not buy into this system as chumps or ‘manginas’ who hurt the glorious man cause.

This is leaving aside the ones who have decided to swear off women completely (to everyone’s mutual relief, thanks MenGoingTheirOwnWay!), there is a rather absurd trend to want relationships with women but go to elaborate lengths to have the upper hand and the belief that women all want a particular kind of man who is Very Dominant. So dominant as to require an exhausting degree of emotional manipulation to maintain the facade that you rule all your relationships.

Now you say “Male Dominant” and outside of my sometimes unfair snickering about rope tops in utilikilts, I will imagine a true cross section of the male population. Well, in practice men who identify as doms are statistically more likely to identify as feminists and kinky people tend to be more likely to fit into the PolyPaganNerdy bubble, but they’re going to be all sorts of different kinds of guys, from cuddle kitten to catpiss. Ask your Manosphere wannabe dom types though, and you have something very different. Precisely speaking, the push to be Dominant-to-Women functions on the premise that there will always be someone in charge- and if you don’t take charge she will be in charge of you and use you- and, in general the MRA brigade emphasize that if she was a pre-feminist good old fashioned girl she would be a lot happier- she just has to find her inherent submissive. Take this advice from popular MRA/pickup artist subreddit, the Red Pill, on developing a long term relationship (Unicorn Hunting):

Women are as miseducated as men about what is effective and what they should want. The delusion is pervasive, and any woman won’t fully know she wishes for a strong leader until she feels this leadership first hand, and that’s your job. You are a Captain. It’s your job to inspire loyalty, trust, and devotion. The “natural Unicorn” has these things, but they can otherwise be developed in a good, reasonable woman. I’m not suggesting you snatch up an attractive feminist shrew (a sort of Unicorn in its own right) and expect good results, but I’d be stunned to see the transition and result. This would be TRP on Nightmare mode and would be worthy of… So. Many. Field reports.

At best, some of them conflate dominating a situation with simply having a strong opinion. That’s mostly harmless, other than basically encouraging people to go further down the path of jibbering crazy. Some of them cast themselves as metaphorical pet owners, who think that women need to be trained like dogs- if indeed dogs do respond best to Caesar Milano style training over other methods. It’s not uncommon to find either what boils down to femdom fantasies of evil matriarchies ruling the world or on the flip side, fantasies that if society were to collapse, all those Wicked Women Would Be Sorry.

Expect, if you spend time in the Manosphere, to be told that the occupations of women are make work that’s destroying the economy and that there is something wrong with western women that has made them all aggressive and, often treated like a sin against the social order, ugly. These chaps will fantasize about how Eastern European/Asian women are ideal and wax lustful about it at length, stickying their keyboards with heavily photo-shopped pictures of Korean or Ukranian models, or babble about the significance of hair length. That’s really popular at the moment, and many of these men are positively obsessed with the idea that women are Wrong if they do anything to change up an outward appearance that’s compliant with cultural signifies of femininity.

You also get a lot of debating about straw feminists, usually with a misquote or two from Dworkin, which is like trying to argue against neurobiology by referencing Jungian archetypes… incorrectly. Most MRA would not know what a feminist was if they walked into one, which is part of what makes the whole thing so unbelievably embarrassing.

As far as MRA behaving badly, at the extreme end of things, you get Mark Lepine and the guy who shot up an women’s exercise class because younger women didn’t want to date him, or for that matter, Breivik, who was generally anti-left but included the idea that women should be barred from access to graduate studies as part of his vision for the future- being Scandinavian I suppose even he couldn’t imagine anyone not getting at least some higher education. Because of unfortunate associations, this also means that much more issues focused lobby groups, such as those looking to increase custodial rights for fathers, often need to distance themselves from the cuckoo groups.

On the other hand, long term reading of MRA and PUA generally causes me to over emphasize the value of their voice in popular discourse and I occasionally have to take a step back and remind myself that while what you have is people who hate everything about me that makes me who I am and call for what is a reduction of my civil liberties and my enslavement, they are a minority of voices. And yet…

It also makes me wonder what, among men so desperate to be Dominant, they would make of my dominance, or really any kinky dominance.  Some of them make a concession that there’s a small bubble of “Lantern Jawed Lesbians”, women who are unfortunate men-trapped-in-the-bodies-of-women, in their estimation. In this context that means that they also tend to accuse women who embrace feminist theory of being ugly and trying to rework the social order to avoid their just punishment for this failure to conform with how the MRA wish women were like. This also generally involves a lot of flailing about claiming that say, women of the past were much happier than modern women. Well, I mean asides from the massive infant mortality, dying early of preventable diseases, over work and malnutrition- but don’t worry, men are natural providers and protectors. 😛

It’s pretty much the same drum that’s been banged since the ancient Greeks:

The tribes of women
come in four breeds: bee, bitch, and savage-looking sow,
and mare with long flowing mane. The mare
is sprightly, swift, gadabout and most lovely in form.
The savage-looking sow is neither good nor rotten,
and the bitch is troublesome and fierce-tempered.
Yes, the bee is best: a good housekeeper
who knows how to work. Dear friend, I tell you,
to win a desirable marriage, pray for a bee.

Phocylides (Greek, ca. 600 B.C.)

But, what precisely, does the world view of someone who sees women in charge as either mentally ill or being tricked by society into being led astray stack up against sexual kinks?

I know guys who ID as sub men, who are equally proudly anti-feminist. When I say ‘know’, I mean avoid- but my point holds that D/s is hardly a perfect unassailable bastion of humanism. And yet on the flip side, these MRA focused communities will simultaneously hold up sexual behaviour that’s right out of a kink playbook (rough, degrading), while swearing up and down that they ain’t kinky. The women who buy into this are particularly bizarre, kind of like the Christian Domestic Discipline quadrant who want their spankings while claiming it isn’t sexy- these women obsess over being ‘submissive’, but get offended if people pigeonhole them into kinky.

So does it follow that you could be a MRA and sexually submissive? I posed that question on the reddit debate forum, The Purple Pill with mixed results.

Mostly, other than a shy man who sees himself as super Alpha in his relationship except for the whole humiliation via sissification thing, I got a lot of people doing things like explaining to me that since dominant women were scarce, I effectively didn’t exist. Some argued that male submission violated some sort of natural law (like gravity,  guess?) and got hung up on explaining BIO TROOFS.

One thing that’s particularly striking is the habit of the guys to justify themselves based on the fact that it’s not that they really value all of the Alpha-as-fuck aspects personally, but it’s what women want… so clearly they can’t help but give women what they crave, right? Or women will never let them use them as a penis cozy!

But I’m A Nice Guy from Scott Benson on Vimeo.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Caught, Shamed and Spanked

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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 Book Review: Glamourhai by Jess Mahler

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Glamourhai by Jess Mahler

Jess Mahler is also the author behind “Fantasy for the Kinky“, and has released one of her serials in ebook form, complete with a lovely cover- I’ve reviewed her work already with the short story “Fealty“. As such I had the good fortune to get a review copy of Glamourhai.

When people write BDSM stories, they are generally wank material or romances. Whether they are con-non-con, torture tourism or strictly spank and smooch, sexual and romantic desire is a central point behind the main characters’ interactions. This book is none of these.

What it is, is a femdom focused fantasy novel by an experienced writer. That’s pretty much the best one could wish for, to have the subject material handled by someone with strong technical skills and a love for the subject material. On the flip side, it’s a surprisingly chaste book about coming into your own regarding your orientation- there is more fantasy adventure here than fucking, and the romance is mostly onto the side characters.

To summarize the plot: In a land ruled by fairie lieges who feed on the emotional energy of human thralls, a young man (Mattin) trades himself in a lifetime of service to a relatively benevolent fairy lady to try to win back a sister (Marta) who has been claimed by a much less kind fairie lord. However, things are not all they seem- between finding his feet in a bizarre magical household and navigating the dangerous politics of the realm, Mattin must discover if he can truly submit to his Lady. She, for her part, has to deal with actually needing to let someone adjust to their role instead of a comforting, easy insta-sub like the rest of her household and a strong desire to have him accept his role willingly.

Fantasy, as a genre, often provides us with conceits that let us explore alternative social arrangements and relationship dynamics that are otherwise improbable or rare- in this book, the prevailing mode of business is poly. From the perspective of the sympathetic characters, rape and non-consensual torture is morally wrong, but regrettably common and the human subjects of the fairies collectively live in a feudal system where they  live like medieval vassals.

If I had to make a comparison to Jess Mahler’s style, it’s as if Mercedes Lackey or maybe Anne McCaffery took up writing femdom- by this I mean that it’s a very personality and feelings driven story- in which the central conflict is settling precisely what is the correct emotional approach and practical coping skills for a new environment- with bonus sensible perpetually middle aged types and experienced hands watching out for whatever awakening is taking place.

And yet it’s a world laced with sex that is without much sex between the primary characters- to be frank, Mattin’s awakening was a lot closer to a religious calling. The fairie lady everyone serves simply does not fuck her servants just to punch up the erotica factor gratiously.  She might sexually tease them, but if servants get horny, it’s up to their fellow humans to figure that part out. Not much time is devoted to her sexual head space in favour of a focus on her emotional desires, and her hopes and dears for Mattin.

Indeed, Mattin doesn’t persue her in that sense eithere- his sexuality is expressed in a way that’s almost vanilla, the sort of tasteful sluttiness matched with the equal tastefully slutty human female household member. There’s a m/m side romance between some other characters, and everyone else has a jolly, happy attitude to sexuality that is more cozy than vulgar.

Personally, my sexuality and my BDSM is more vulgar than cozy, and a lot less nice. Thus I found myself in an uncomfortable position, which I have to move into spoilers to talk about- so, after the jump…

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The Choke Point & My Cunt, His Cock

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It’s always tight, when the tip of his cock slides into me. My cunt has a choke point, starting sex, like I was some sort of customize part of the Fleshlight or Tenga product line. It’s not something you get to see in sex diagrams- the kind with simplified, labelled anatomy, where you get to see a split view of a pelvis and the vagina is a lightly bumpy tube sandwiched between other less savoury tubing.

He, Wildcard, says I’m often gripping to the point of discomfort, at first, which makes me shy even though he’s not actually complaining. Sometimes, when he’s inside me, most often when he’s come, I bring the muscles within myself together, like I’m blinking. I feel him, like wrapping my hand around a rod- he takes a long time to soften after coming, and I can keep grabbing it- clench-clench.

It’s harder to grab on while he’s fucking me. Mostly I end up on top of him, but on top of me, he favours a steady, dragging stroke, almost a pulling rather than a burrowing thrust. I really like it, feeling a sort of double wrapping effect- he fills me up, and then his slimness fits neatly between my thighs.

I like cunt and cock as a matching set of words- ‘pussy’ sounds less active, ‘dick’, juvenile. Vagina will always be the internal channel to me, penis will be a bit too clinical for exclusive use in the erotic.

If this were a femdom porn, I’d have it locked in a little chastity cage and he’d be eternally between my legs in ‘worship’ with a tongue, when it when  I wasn’t telling him he wasn’t man enough to be inside me because of his size. But it’s not- I like to control how he comes just fine, but I adore more than just forcing him not to. I want him to explore and play with.

So, I cuff him to the bed to keep those long arms out of the way, and toy with him. Fingers make for fun, curled in come-hither teasing under the head of his cock, or wrapped lower down on the shaft to stroke and squeeze like a sheath- I don’t have to grip hard to feel him swell. Slippery, slick lube makes everything slide easy, cold on my palm but quickly warming. Or there’s the trick of pressing the head of a hitachi firmly against the shaft of his cock until it forces a wellspring of white cum from him.

Sometimes I like to lap with the tip of my tongue, along the ridge of his cock head, tasting him, looking for those first few drops of clear pre-cum. Full swollen, he’s almost aggressively thick looking, hard to swallow, but all the more enticing, perhaps because of it. And yet, it really doesn’t matter how slippery I make him, or my own cunt’s gush of anticipation- I know that I’ll feel him.

It’s his particular virtue to be able to get my attention from start to finish. From the first chokepoint, to when my body has milked him past tumescence, I even feel his withdrawal. And it is, to say the least, pleasing.

Other Places To Go Part IV

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Happy 2014! With the year showing all sorts of promise, and various other projects on the go- here’s a trio of good links on other people’s blog posts that I thought was worth a gander.

tumblr source

Kink Abuse takes a look at the fundamentals of writing a good kink dating profile.

Freaksexual wrote an oldie-but-goodie on navigating sexually permissive spaces as a straight or bi man.

Stabbity talks about why “stealth submission” won’t scratch the itch.

Femdom Stories: Birthday Commission

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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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His Collar, My Needs

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For Christmas, I got LadyCobra (a leather worker, among her many talents) to make up a play collar in a rich, dark chocolate brown to add the Wildcard’s Christmas basket. It’s a prototype, as she expands her business, and it was something missing from the toy collection.

Why a collar? D/s involves a lot of purely-in-your head stuff. As much as I generally avoid anything with a whiff of Olde Guarde Leather and don’t like being called Mistress or otherwise dabbling too much into the Sekret And Strikt Tradition of BeeDeeEssEm shtick where there is one right way to be, but it seemed like a really practical tool for what we are trying to do.

Coming together as we did, knowing precious little, other than practically palpable physical chemistry to a degree that sends me mewling about like a cat in heat and our blissfully intellectually compatible brains, we went straight from chaste friendship to trying to figure out everything all at once in a backdrop that wasn’t what I’d describe as conducive to pacing.

Additionally, while Wildcard wasn’t a complete novice, a lot of this is pure theory to him that he wanted to try, and something that, fundamentally speaking, I only had slightly more practical experience to help us figure out what we’re doing.

Add an extra level of self imposed pressure- if he was, fresh from the land of vanilla, immersing himself with me as a guide, I of course allowed myself to get completely wound up about the fact that done wrong it might leave him with the wrong impression about some aspects of kink. Things went in little nibbles, a little impact play, a little rope- nothing big picture. Hell, roll back about six months ago and the poor man was convinced I was some sort of submissive. Whoopsies.

The other challenge for me was a desire to take him to a place, mentally, where I wasn’t sure he was capable of going, as much as he was down to try anything once. He had, at the outset, described himself as “bedroom only”. Realistically, that in itself is a fairly non-descriptive summary, since it means anything from trying to set yourself apart from the people who form their whole lives around their kink identity, to literally confining it to the immediacy of sex.

But in our case it’s not a relationship where I can simply, at any time, pull his hair and drag him to his knees to “force” him to submit to me the way I want. And I had no way of knowing precisely what his psychological construction around this is, even the means of just outright asking. He’s also fairly conservative about talking about his fantasies- I’ve not so stealthily been watching porn with him just to figure out precisely what he’s responding to.

When it comes to collar shopping, when he first got hints that was what I was plotting, he he declared “I reject any and all symbolism!” In the sort of pleased, fighty voice that suggested a certain degree of pleasure that I was going to enforce precisely what he claimed not to want. Of course I could have just gone the Pet Smart route, but the reality was that getting it custom made was one of those Things That Feels Right. It’s a play collar, but it’s got loads of symbolism attached because it’s an attempt to express my feelings. Which of course means lots of awkward fumbling, denial and blushing on my part.

But… it works, thus far.

The collar I mean, not the fumbling and getting a warm face. I mean that with it on, he’s much more focused in the moment and being where I’d like him to be. He shows it in his body language, the way he sits and curls up. Nothing is a panacea, and we’re still experimenting but it is pleasing and very good for my need to dominate.

 

What Is Dominance, Anyway?

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So, I’ve talked before about the gap between expectations for dominants versus the reality of making this work for your personality. We have all done to death theorizing why femdoms appear to be in short supply, what I haven’t talked about as much is trying to describe what it is.

Dominance is a tricky beast to pin down, probably because more than anything else, it’s a feeling. It’s a simultaneous sensation of connection and detachment, usually between two people but one that blossoms under individual specific circumstances. And, unfortunately, it’s not just someone doing what you say; I don’t get a dominant thrill from each and every time I experience someone’s unsolicited compliance or even when someone in my wider life takes my food order or something.

It’s different for many people too: some people like the service aspect, where the person does things for them to make their life more fun. Some people like the obedience aspect- it’s not so much knowing that someone is out to give to you, as knowing they will do what you want, whether it is painting a fence or doing jumping jacks. Some folks like the control aspect, of which I am most into- I like the power trip and making people react. That’s what feeds it for me, regardless of how I do it.

I’m also a sadist, which is commonly paired with dominance, but doesn’t have to be. I like men in distress. I like the whimpering, the big eyes, the cowering and the vulnerability. Other people, for example service oriented doms who just want to be pampered, might find a hurt sub upsetting. And it’s a buffet, not a radio button system, so keep in mind any of my examples might apply in any way and and any level of intensity.

On the other hand, applying theory to real life practice adds an extra level of complexity.

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