Femdom Stories: Birthday Commission

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.

Interested in your own femdom stories? Check out your options for custom BDSM & Femdom Erotica!

Friday Femdom Fiction: Consensual Non-Consent

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?

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!

500 Word Friday Fucking Femdom Fiction: Summertime With Femdom

She bumped the double fold of her cunt against his crotch, feeling the comfortable tautness in her thighs as she straddled him, kneeling and squirming on top of his supine body. Somehow, in the bump and crash of stripping and making out between the door and the bed, they’d ended up that way, him on the bottom the way she liked.

He was naked, except for the black band of the collar at his throat and one sock, and she was stripped down to her skin, smooth, sticky with summer sweat but clean. They were both touched by the heat, his short hair in spikes, her longer hair haloed by summer curls. The fan turned its face like an indecisive sunflower, fighting the early August weather and failing to cool anything off.

His hands reached for her hips, and were captured by the wrists before he could do more than brush his fingers against them. She slammed them down against the mattress, even though his strength could easily brush her away like a gnat. But she wanted him there, and wanted him to feel at her mercy.

“Fuck me, bitch.” She hissed it, daring him. “I’ve been wet all day, waiting for you. On the bus, thinking about your cock. Craving it. So, fuck me.”

He bucked his hips, feeling the slickness on the head of his cock, the tight curls on her labia. It was a natural trick of anatomy that, rubbed together, things fit. Inexorably, all the wriggling, their struggling and then he fingers seeking the painful places on his body where he could be hurt worked to couple them together.

Inside her, his cock made itself a space, nestled up so the hardness was engulfed. She grunted, feeling its presence, making herself clamp down so the ringed muscle inside drove a tingle through her. She raised herself to a squat the planted her feet on his upper arms, still trying to trap them, and he looked up at her, seeing the stretch and shift in her torso, the way her breasts moved with her and the impacts. Balance made her release his arms so she could make their pelvises kiss better, but he kept his arms still.

“Lazy, fucking, slut.” She panted between thrusts. “Help me.”

The bed slid a bit, badly anchored as he added the bounce of his hips. She kept talking, low, her voice holding a little edge of loving malice, “Give me your fucking cock. Harder. Harder bitch. Harder, you little whore…”

Her slap was clumsy, but she followed it with more clever pain, fingers jabbing armpit, finding the tuck into the collar bone, and skittle coloured painted fingernails leaving white scraped lines and fast puffing rose runnels. “You made me wait all day for this. I wanted you in the morning, but lazybones. You fucking slept in, you little bitch.”

“Ah, ma’am!”

“Shit. The thrusting got clumsier when she found her clit, and he was the sole lifting force in their fucking. “Don’t you dare wimp out until I cum.”

His forehead beaded up with sweat, but he forced himself to please her until she dug her orgasm out, between fingers flicking and the stretching and stuffing and devouring of her cunt, her words getting less and less coherent until they dissolved into lingering curses. “Ah… fuuuck!”

Her cunt homed and hilted on him as she came, hugging around the shaft, but it was just as much the rawness in her thrown back face, the flush and the open mouth that fired his balls. “Ma’am?”

“Fuck. Yes. Cum.” She sort of sagged, the sex tension pulled from her, her loose hair hanging in her face as she gave him permission to finish.

—-

Yes, it’s a bit longer than 500 words, but I haven’t written any erotica lately. And I’m horny.

Wait And Touch (Stockings)

I asked, to a free drawing prompt: “How about a gentleman in the process of pulling off a stocking of the leg of an indulgent woman with his mouth, while his arms are bound?”

He waited with his head dipped, about a foot or two from the widest sweep of the door’s path, so it could swing open (unlocked) without running the edge into his bare feet or bashing the corner into him. He was folded over into something resembling a collapsed Z, knees bent, head down, sort of meditating with his back to the door, feeling the uneven hardwood boards, where they had buckled and warped from a few century of tenants, and not seeing much, courtesy of the blindfold.

It was one of those kink shop deals, with the dark leather look, and a careful shape to stop any light to come pouring in around the edges. He owned a hood, much better for sensory deprivation, but this was a gift from her. For now, he was tucked up small, listening fro the noises of the building. In the about thirty minutes since he had parked himself, naked but for undershorts and with his arms held behind his back as if by invisible ropes, he’s gotten familiar with the little creaks and thumps of a weekend afternoon.

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