Friday Femdom Fiction: A Bitch at the Beach

Burned. She made an uncomfortable mewling noise, looking at her body in the large hotel bathroom mirror. Everywhere was covered in sore streaky red. Her breasts were still their proper alabaster and rose color, as was her buttocks, but her shoulders were sun seared, ugly pink, as were patches on her torso and legs. She looked, in her judgement, like she was having some sort of allergic reaction. And she knew what would come next, peeling, then tan marks, light brown on milk white.

The door rattled and swung open, and she poked her head out, still patting her singed flesh with a cool, damp wash cloth.

“Okay baby, the concierge found a pharmacy that’s open at this hour…” He clutched a plastic sack, crinkled up in his hand. He, of course was perfectly unblemished. She’d taken extra special scare to slather him with sun screen, after all. “I’m really, really sorry. I got aloe and…”

“Kneel down, right now.”

“…Mistress?” He said from somewhere on the floor. His voice was tiny. He hadn’t stopped looking penitent, since they first discovered the start of her burn and she identified the culprit.

“I’m too angry to punish you right now. Not only is this really sore, how is it going to look at the party this weekend?”

“I don’t know, Mistress…”

“Of all the lazy, inconsiderate things. You had the privilege of touching me and rubbing my skin and…” She took a deep breath. “Nope, too pissed and stingy to talk about this still. No Mistress for you tonight, just hurt-y fiancee. Get the aloe and more ice from the hall, and tomorrow I’ll decide what I’m going to do.”

He made a little whimper. He always liked it better when she punished him than when she was actually upset.

The next morning, as soon as store opened, he was back at the pharmacy. His collar was around his neck, both reassuring that Mistress was okay, but that punishment was now imminent. He scampered first to the seasonal section and picked up a few things: a floppy cheap wide brimmed hat, a can of sunscreen with a high SPF sunscreen, then to the stationary aisle. Scissors, glue, tape, then rushed back to the hotel.

Arts and crafts followed, her carefully trimming, snipping, sticking and then spraying, before the pair took breakfast smoothies at the hotel pool. Other holiday makers noticed, on the little strip of luxurious beach, a couple, laid out with a deck chair and umbrella. The woman wore a loose caftan and stayed mainly in the shade, her eyes masked by dark glasses, but her mouth in a small but content smile, while the man rushed about, doting, rubbing her feet, bringing her drinks and sometimes just kneeling nearby her legs, looking up at her adoringly. From time to time she would beckon him over and whisper something into his ear, then he would lay out in the sunniest part of the beach, tanning.

That night, the hotel noted they used a lot of ice, but if the other guests heard muffled whimpers, grown ups having romantic fun was a matter of normal. It wasn’t until the small, private party that weekend, at their friend’s ocean side condo, that the other guests saw the full effect of her punishment.

WORTHLESS SLUT, emblazoned in white on his back, standing against in stark relief against a caramel tan. On his front, FUCK BITCH 4 MISS.

If the Mistress didn’t pick her usual revealing party attire, no comment was made by the other guests, but her naked fiance was used well, and photographed at every angle. Quite a few people went home with happy vacation souvenirs.

Another Real Life BDSM Play Party (Making It Work)

genericnakedmanSo, it was another BDSM play party night. Woo sex parties with beautiful people! Let’s take off our clothes and mingle!

Actually, I’m an anti-social fuss pot who tends to default to hiding and sulking, but this one I was committed to trying to have a good time. After all, I’m pretty privileged to live in a large city with a vibrant and active community.

And really, as far as sometimes finding the public BDSM play scene a challenge, I blame that I’m an unimpressive top with intermittent social skills. I don’t mean to put myself down, I just mean as a dominant I can’t really fall back on flamboyant scenes, which removes some of the appeal of playing in public, and I have a hard time breaking into interactions with other people sometimes- and I get uncomfortable as the object of focused sexual pursuit, while having unreasonable expectations of worship. As such I decided that it was on me to figure out how to make things work, and flush with enthusiasm I threw myself into this party, complete with volunteering and trying to dress up extra cute.

Wildcard has a rather better experience- for him this is his kind of decadent fun he always dreamed about. He’s also new to the scene- like most libertines I’ve reached the point of jaded where the novelty has not only worn off, but been replaced by a patina of sameness,  fate that seems to befall a lot of kinky folk who’ve been kicking around the place too long.

But, in preparation for trying to have a good time, I did my best to make sure good things would happen including trying to prep for best possible top time. You’d think an open and active dirty word pornographer like me would be up on this kind of thing like fleas on  cat, but for me, getting into the saddle with someone is always pretty hinky- I need to feel like I want to be there of my own volition and I need to have a connection build up and not just mechanically walk through the dominant scene checklist, and I need to be seduced into feeling dominant.

Of course I’d told Wildcard that I really couldn’t do the ‘dom-on-demand’ thing where we were happy non-sexual/non-power exchange-y in day to day interactions and then poof, suddenly I had to drop into the role with full on confidence in a very public environment. So he was doing a good job of before time foreplay, which is to say going out of his way to pique my interest in swatting him, while I did my best to anticipate and plot. And as you will read on, things may have worked very well…

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