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. 🙂
I like my strapon harness. It’s made out of sporty materials so I can just run it through the washing machine, and the O-ring system gives me a great ability to adapt. Putting stuff into people’s orifices is fun. I like penetrating people and pegging them.
, by Charlotte Stein, is a rare example of a femdom book designed to appeal to a woman and which also does not get hung up on the idea of making her into a pro or head mistress or some such. It’s fun, it’s light and it even has a wee little bit of romance. And a very mundane setting down to the fixtures and baked pasta dish (surprisingly memorable in the way that you remember those little details when you fall in love) and a submissive male lead I could actually see myself wanting to fuck. That, in a world of pornography that goes out of its way to sell male subs as walking creep farms or eunuchs, is a very rewarding achievement in its own right.
Category: Erotic romance
Say feminism, and 95% of your audience battens down their hatches like you said “hurricane”, or finds something else suddenly very, very interesting. Like the carpet, or their own shoes, or that urgent appointment they just remembered to alphabetically file all the food in their pantry. At least, as a femdom, I can be openly feminist and nobody bats an eye. Of course a significant number of people will confuse this with female supremacy, which is an entirely different thing. The relationship BDSM, as a whole, has with this philosophical approach is a bit more dubious.
Category: Sci-fi YA novel