A Perfect #PunishTuesday Spoon Spanking Session

Seventy-Three Demerits. He’d earned them over the course of the week, fifty from an orgasm sans permission (it might have been a forced orgasm on my part, but I’m a cruel, capricious Mistress when I want to be). The rest are for little misdeeds: broken rules and bratty behavior. And ok, after a major flu that left me poached and miserably stuffy, this wasn’t *actually* the right day, but the health related rain check. #PunishTuesday is the concept I hold to, no matter if “Wednesday” is the actual word on the back of my cute days of the week panties that evening.

With the heath related holiday, when the actual day came around, he was already excited. Blame it on days of teasing, and reminding him about his mounting sins and the punishment he was due for them. Even so, I sent him out of the room to get into the right head state.

Getting Ready & Setting The Scene

While he was gone, I took the time to prepare my space by cleaning. True, dozens and dozens of sub people will blow raspberries here- he was off relaxing and I was corralling the forest of water glasses and tea mugs that accumulate in the bedroom, stuffing the loose laundry into the hamper and making the bed. I know this is not the standard BDSM fantasy. I know someone is already typing up “but a TRUE sub would…” Nonesense. I like the control it gives me to clean and make a space orderly. It’s meditative and it makes me feel like all the parts of the space are ready to respond to my needs. And I wanted to get my head right too.

I don’t believe dominance is a put on, or a fake thing. But, for most of us, the so called lifestyle is not a 24/7 all on all the time experience. 50% of the population is kinky, but we hardly all build our relationships around that one facet. Sure, I need Wildcard to be into kinky sex to make things work, but it’s just as important he can empathize and enjoy the other things I value. And for us, as with most couples, there are hard boundaries on where my power eclipses his. This is how we take two separate, independent people and put my power over his.

I make the bedroom look how I wish, getting the covers smoothed flat; checking the ready to go restraints; plugging in the pretty fairy lights that serve as a lamp; and putting out toys on the bedside table. Then prepare myself. I take off my clothes and step into white heels from my collection, glossy, with a platform in the toe that makes me taller. Indoors they don’t feel like hobbles, they feel like power, nor is my nudity a vulnerable exposure.

I do my eyes with a stroke of black and my lips in a bold matte red. As a last touch, (because if you can’t be yourself in the boundaries of you sex life, where can you?) I dash off a little heart on my left cheek.

It begins.

He is naked, except for the brown stripe of collar around his neck, already sporting a swinging erection. His ‘preparation’ was clearly touching himself and I take advantage of that, leaving the overhead light on to catch every bit of an intense self edging session on camera. Only when he’s so intensely close to exploding his face is in a rictus of intensity do I let him ease off, but the video goes in my little library, to be enjoyed at my leisure.

“Do you think you deserve to be tied up?”

It’s important for me to get him to state preferences. I don’t like black hole or starfish subs, who passively flop into the scene and expect this to do down like I’m some sort of housekeeper cleaning a particularly warm carpet.

I also make him ask for the cuffs that extend from under the mattress, holding him around the wrist, face down. It’s just your basic under bed system by Sports Sheets, versatile, safe and above all idiot proof, but once the velcro hooks he’s no more going to go anywhere than if I used locks and buckles. I like the medical/mundane nature of it, just like how washable my strapon harness is, all nylon and straps. It’s better than half assing it- that’s the problem a lot of the fetish stuff has, trying to take you into another sort of world with hints of high end fetish wear, and all you get is cracking, fraying pleather or whips that shed their caps on one hit.

This is real, and he’s about to feel real pain, so he gets a warm up. I’d made him ask for that too, escalating a patter of hits to rise the blood in the firm rounds of his ass. He’s very male, furred without vanishing into the pelt, coloured a little golden, like wheat seeds. He loves the cuffs on his wrists, and I can feel that they are bringing him into a state of accepting relaxation (dare I invoke “surrender?” or is that too cliche?) even as I pick out the wooden spoon.

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How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking

One of the biggest barriers for new femdoms (and women who are giving this a try) is that the topping side of dominating people can seem hellaciously intimidating. What if you get it wrong, will the bottom be seriously hurt? Will he laugh at you and take away his submission? I blame existing dominants, who often base their authority on how well they hit and tie. In some cases, of course, kink skill takes time and practice. Bullwhips and needle play require more prep and know how, as well as specialized equipment. But spanking is something anyone can do and carry very little risk, particularly a bare handed spanking with an open palm.


Delecious bare handed spanking pic from juliensubWhy spanking and how does it work?

A human butt is one of the more resilient, padded parts of the body. Cushioned and bouncy, it offers a wide surface area for striking while keeping all the important biological bits tucked deep out of the way. As well as a safe target, many people associate spanking with being in a demeaned, vulnerable of juvenile position. Although people in the 18 to 35 generation may never have personally experienced a beating in the hands of a parent, the idea of being bent over and smacked is deeply embedded in popular culture, as a minor form of violence expressing the authority of the spanker. Besides, we sexualize butts, and spanking is touching butts.

For kink purposes, there’s two kinds of spankings, a fun spanking that works with the “victim’s” natural tolerances and a mean spanking that seeks to exceed them (in a safe fashion of course!). In this case, don’t confuse tolerances for limits. Limits are how the bottom protects you from being arrested, while tolerance is how the spanking effects them in relation to how they experience pain. So how do you make sure everything’s hunky dory?

Establishing informed consent and tolerances.

If you’re a newbie dom, maybe your bottom has also never had spanking before. Or, maybe if he’s new to you, you’re not sure he understands what you are capable of dishing out. I’ve already established that I’m a big fan of consent. Don’t hit people unless they say it’s okay, and understand the ramifications of what they agreed to. That established, what if the person doesn’t know what their finite limits are yet? Nobody wants to initiate a grandiose walloping and have the bottom start screaming “Pumpkin! Pumpkin! I don’t consent!”. Have a conversation about limits and kick any new partner who tells you they have none out of bed.

But what if they’re gung-ho about it, but this is virgin territory? This is the main stumbling block for many kinksters. Most people come into this with a bunch of sexy ideas, some of which are going to turn out to be perverted brilliance, but many of which will be improbable, impractical or nowhere as hot as they seemed in real life. On that line, launching a full scale assault on their ass may sour a spanking victim- if this is primarily your idea you want to be able to ease the bottom into it.

I’m a big fan of using the pain scale numbers system, because you can’t get simpler than that. During your first spanking session, task the receiver to rate your hits on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being “did you touch me?” and 10 being “sweet mother fucking christ auugh I’m dying.” For a bare handed spanking, many people can’t even get past 7. Regardless, start with your lightest possible hit and work to establish your mid-range. You will probably discover one other fun fact: people’s pain tolerances shoot way up when they are aroused. Thus his tolerance is going to be a bit wibbly. With warm up, you may exhaust yourself long before he’s ready to call it quits.

Following so far? Let’s keep going…

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Spank, Ruin His Orgasm, Make Him Scream

The hickey made a trail up my neck, a line of purple-red dots showing where an evening of pure pleasure for my body had left a very obvious and unprofessional mark on his Miss. Wildcard was in trouble. Big trouble.

We’d had a lazy, sexy Sunday evening, and I only discovered the result the next day in the office bathroom. At the time I warned him to be careful, so spotting the marks, my urge was to take down his pants and paddle him pink as soon as I got home. Nonetheless, I decided to save it up for his official punishment day, to give him a chance to anticipate. And of course, give Wildcard time to contemplate his own fate and you can cue the smart mouth. I think it’s instinctual, since this is the guy who can end up in the hospital with internal bleeding and crack jokes with the nurses. Nevermind, more things to ‘punish’ him over! >:)

He likes it best when it feels like he deserves the spanking. I’d never actually hit him if I was genuinely upset, but we play with funishment, mock scoldings and unavoidable consequences. “It can’t be helped, rules are rules!” is his kind of dirty talk.

But when Tuesday happened, despite an ever increasing aroused warmth in my genitalia, his backtalk was gone and he was a little small feeling asking for pettings first, that’s not a bad light ramp into a nice dominant buzz. I’m opportunistic- I don’t need to beat the crap out of someone to feel in charge. A little snuggling and some positive affirmations and the sass was back. He actually swatted my butt! That was the last straw. I shoved him face down on the bed and began to wallop him, pulling down his black boxer briefs.

I intended to make this a long session, so I started light, escalating until even my palm was starting to burn, switching off hands for maximum coverage. You can go two ways with a spanking, vicious and hard for something quick, or a gradually building heat. I wanted to really get his attention and leave a lasting impression, so I aimed for the latter.

With a good warm up, his bottom needs a little extra encouragement. After he’d got a rosy glow going, I switched to the concentrated snap of a crop. That pink in his cheeks became a decided red, and his customary insolence was, for once, silenced.

After the wicked punishment on his ass was done, I made him stand in the corner with his underpants around his ankles while I snapped pictures of him on my cell for some extra humiliation and some later nostaligic enjoyment. While catching some close ups, I noticed he seemed a little inflamed, and because I’m a nice femdom it was time to do a little care and restoration.

I made him get on all fours and put his pert ass in the air on display, to rub a palmful of cool baby oil oil onto his griddle hot, reddened ass. Of course his dangling cock and balls became too difficult to resist and very quickly I had him spread legged and milked erect until he was moaning. Every time I noticed his breathing getting heavier I taunted him that he could lose control, but I would only ruin his orgasm for him.

What’s a ruined orgasm, femdom fans? That’s when the cum spurts but the stimulation is cut off, leaving the victim still horny, often with a long wait until they are desensitized enough to come again (or at all). I made Wildcard lie on his back with his legs hanging off the bed, to give me better access to his vulnerable body. I have a technique I developed: just as he tenses up, I take my hand away and then spider them up his stomach and ribs.

Alternating tickling fingers and brisk but slippery stroking I managed to not only get him so rampantly erect he’d put a porn star to shame, but milk his thick (sorry guys, no sph here!) cock into spurts of cum all over his belly- ruined orgasms without the wait between. By the time I finally gave him his release he was screaming, drenched in his own semen and completely and utterly drained dry.

And that was a perfect #PunishTuesday. Yum.

Femdom Spanking Practice

Wildcard and I have a more or less weekly thing, Punish Tuesdays, set up to make sure we have some sort of anchor for our dynamic. Last Tuesday was spanking practice, a well needed session for me as well as him. He’s been complaining lately that I still have a habit of going from 0 to 100, warm up or not. What better way than a lesson for both of us, lots of practice for me and an extra long hand and belt spanking for him.

I started by having him strip absolutely naked, not even a collar, and lie face down on the bed. I started bare hand, alternating right and left, building up an even blotch of pink. It didn’t take too long to get the area toasty, but rather than switching straight to heavier toys I decided to go for an endurance run.

Of course, naughty boy that he is, Wildcard started humping the blanket under him, all furtive. I don’t think he thinks I noticed him wiggling just a little.

Some times when I spank him, I have him on all fours and reach around to milk his cock with my free hand. I like the sensation of control and how velvety soft he is under my smack-warmed hand. Other time he goes over my lap and I trap his package between my thighs. There’s no hiding when he starts to hump then!

I think I set a record for longest warm up yet, but after I’d maxed out the weight and hit of palm strikes I still wasn’t done abusing his poor bottom and it was time to get some serious swatting practice in on his bare behind. I selected his more supple belt, the thick one without the extra ridge, because although its gentler last play party the main problem I had was the belt twisting during swing.

This time there weren’t any edge strikes, just a merciless rain down on his cheeks. I was feeling extra cruel, so I couldn’t resist lightly striping his thighs as well. Every time I struck, he kicked, but he knew he was helpless to whatever I decided to do. I’m the boss, after all. >:)

We have a rule that I instituted: If you miss, you have to give it another shot. Since Wildcard and I are both of unusually nervous dispositions, it helps to have a re-enforcement to get you to be confident enough to try again when you inevitably do a wrap around strike or pop them somewhere unintentional but tender. A couple of miss-strikes on his tail bone got me thinking and I grabbed a pack of washable markers and started documented the stroke count on his back… and drew a heart shaped pattern on his lower back to identify the nono zone.

I didn’t stop hitting until I was confident that I’d gotten in all the practice I could that day. After his behind was a deep shade of red- but no bruises, shows what a good warm up can do. He squirmed around a lot and then looked at me with big, hopeful eyes. Could he get a reward?

Sweet almond oil is my lube of choice for handling him, but no sooner had I stroked him into a proper erection but he was begging for more. A slim little plug for his extremely tight ass, lubed up and shoved home. Yum. Stuffed and hard, that didn’t feel like enough, so I brought out the hitachi for extra omph. Pressed up against him, I took my time with his cock until he was screaming and swearing when he came. Someone gets quite the naughty mouth when it’s good.

After, he was just sprawled out, totally drained, while I snapped a few pictures of him for my private gallery: body flopped, sweaty, plug still in his ass and his cock still thick and fat on his belly in a puddle of cum.

We finished up Tueday with bath time, putting him in the tub and using the shower hose to wash him all clean, soaping and scrubbing until we were ready to snuggle up under the covers and sleep. Me, I can’t wait until next spanking practice session. What do you think guys, more quality time with the belt, or shall I work on my riding crop?

Friday Femdom Fiction: Makeup Sex

“Please punish me!” He was naked, his arms folded over his chest with the elbows drawn in, and his mouth beseeching, hoping. Vulnerable.

When they’d had the actual argument, voices hadn’t been raised. She’d touched him, and wept. She wasn’t a person to whom loud rage came easy, just emotions compressed inside herself until her core became clogged with unsaid, over self analyzed complaints and only raw honesty could dig her out. She’d said all she needed to say, and he’d listened, now he was left with the guilt she hated to place on him.

“I’m not… I’m still angry.” She had her fists half balled, her shoulders squared but her face half turned away, her mouth holding the signature of the pain she was feeling in the way she curled her lips. “I don’t want some sort of big display to show you’re sorry. I want you to give me what I need, not just today, but every day, when I actually need it. And I don’t want you to do this because you want to prove something and then get distracted tomorrow.”

“Please. Please Jane. I fucked up. I love you.”

“I know you do, baby. But wanting me isn’t the same as being good for me.” He body ached to take him, to put him under her hands and back in his place. “You fucked up, but you’re still mine.”

“Please…”

She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to feel better until I punish you, aren’t you?”

His expression told her the answer was yes.

She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, behind her teeth and reached, hands pulling his arms from where they were covering his body, exposing him. “Very well. Go take a shower and then come back to the bedroom. Dry yourself off properly and do not dawdle under the hot water. Bring a towel with you.”

His lanky body stretched as he got out of the bed, limbs leading, eyes still stickily focused on her until he left the room and she heard the bathroom door swing shut.

She got up, took the elastic from her wrist and pulled her loose hair into a tail next to her ear, keeping it out of her face. She wore the garb of early fall, high socks reaching to white thighs, ass hugging shorts, a sweater that was half way into dress length and made up for a modest body by tumbling off one shoulder. She drank a glass of water and the mirror told her that the tear stained redness had started to fade from her complexion.

She heard the water of his shower as she gathered her dominance from it’s dissembled places, putting willpower with love, and letting herself trust again enough to loose her sadism. The light in the bedroom was already off, but she rose to extinguish the one in the hall and set candles on the dresser, calming and giving everything a softness. On the bed, patting the duvet into flatness, she laid out the studded leather strip of his collar, the many stranded flogger of stretchy rubber, the slim, sharp crop in its nylon sheath, gloves and lube.

The shower noises stopped, and she waited the next few moments until he emerged, wavy hair tossled all over the place and dark with residual moisture, towel held to half curtain his nudity. She took it from his hand and raised her brows, letting a hint of the command enter her voice, “I hope you did a good job getting dry. Otherwise this is going to really hurt.”

He had an aura of nervous anticipation. She knew that the shower had both let him center himself and unsettled him, never completely sure how far she’d go. He’d seen her fully released, letting loose on a borrowed masochist and the joy in her face as she made the man scream. It turned her on that she intimidated him, liked that letting him watch gave her another lever of control.

She smirked put her hands on him as if she owned him, first his arm and then cradling his testicles, liking their weight in her hand and the sense that his body was entirely in her control. “Kneel.”

Abruptly, he went from almost a head taller than her to having his face level with her belly. She made him hold his head just so, in submissive supplication and slid his collar about his throat, pulling the tabbed end through the buckle so it say below his adam’s apple. her fingers ran through his hair and then grabbed a handful at the back, pulling up.

Without much choice, he followed her command and ended up belly down on the bed. She’d left his towel crumpled on the floor while her palm cupped his bare ass and began to spank.

She built up the sensations while teasing him that she hardly thought he deserved a warm up. His guilt broke the path easily, letting his submissiveness burst out, horny, hungry, unable to do anything other than take what she wanted and be grateful,

With a warm glow in the cheeks of his buttocks, she struck until her own palm stung, reminding him he was being punished. “Inattentive. Lazy. Flirt.’

When she saw he needed more she brought the flogger from the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes!”

She swung the tool in flicking strikes, landing the rubber ends with soft splats, noting each gasp as she intensified her strikes. The red grew and blossomed, and she let the whip fall over his back, remembering her lessons- let it fall like she was painting wings, always in control, always letting weight and momentum fall where she could force him to endure. his skin darkened, flushed and his head moved. “Slut!”

She let another slash land across his raised buttocks, noting his cock had climbed to rock hard. “Does thinking about what a bad boy you are turn you on?”

He whimpered, past further comment and she responded with the crop, sharp pain, her choice of head-strikes or white welts from the shaft. She knew he would bruise up purple after this, looked forward to the days of marking and redoubled her efforts until she’s scouraged away the guilt and brought him to an abject, animal place.

Admiring the fresh marks, she caressed and scooped the towel, tapping his hip by way of indicating he should lie belly down with the fabric under his legs and hips. He knew what was coming, even as she drew on the black rubber glovers and made her fingers shiny with lube.

She made him accomadate her, inside and out, probing fingers stretching and making him completely exposed. She watched as she found secret spots inside, pressing until he ground himself into the rough nap of the terry cloth under him. She saw as his hips shifted, that his erection was standing rampant. Nothing got him harder than being completely used and teased. He began to beg.

Her cunt was wet, soaking through her panties. Clumsily, she shed her gloves, told him that he was going to be her toy and fuck her. The button and zipper fly on her pants came apart with quick yank, shedding her tight shorts down her legs in one smooth motion with her dripping panties. She let her bare fingers wiggle over the split lips and drenched dark curls. “You are going to fuck me. As hard as I want, and you won’t come.”

He nodded, making a little mewl of acquiescence, face tense with supressed desire, until she made him mount her, positioned in front of him so he saw the unblemished swell of her pale, round ass and the vivid, enflamed warmth of her cunt, making him work his cock into her.

She gave a little gasp, accommodating its size and then engulfing completely, inner muscles gripping, showing him that all his size was nothing she could not control and use. he began to thrust and the noises she made came from deep in her chest, raw lust, loving the power that made him do this. Her fingers slipped between her legs, once, twice, almost too slicked up to find purchase and tease her clit.

He made little noise, all his concentration going to hold back and resist the barrage of stimulus as she insisted, “Don’t come. If you do I’ll flog you raw.”

Her threat became a gasp as she came, almost squeezing him completely out with the violence of her contractions, and he gripped at her hips, sheathing the way she liked to give her something to use. When she could draw steady breath, she heard him beg again and said, softly, “Yes. Yes you may.”

His orgasm came with a scream, louder than her, as the intensity of everything finally was loosed, throwing him into a final spasm that sent a pulse of hot semen deep into her. He collapsed, first over her back and then sprawling, onto his back, too drained and lost to give more than little body jerks as she curled up beside him, stroking and smiling until he could reach for her again, seeking a different kind of release in the comfort of her arms. Knowing he was forgiven.

~

This week’s Friday Femdom Fiction is brought to you by XXX Sex Guides – a dating site for kinksters, who kindly offered to have their story enjoyed by everyone- and then left what I wrote up to me- which meant something real, raw and very much taken from life.

Femdom Life: Spanking Him On Camera

showcase_MPThe last couple of weeks have been rough as far as health problems that have seen Wildcard and I both hitting clinics within short days of each other. While neither one of us is dying, we both aren’t helped by the summer humidity either.

Friday evening, after yet another stress filled day, I went for my thrice weekly run, leaving Wildcard all by his lonesome. Stress seriously cuts down on sex time, as does being under the weather, and with him starting to feel a bit better he was hinting a certain interest.

After putting in my usual time and distance in sneakers, I came back to find him with laptop on his lap, gently stroking his half hard cock while chatting with a room full of strangers. He perked up and suggested that I could join in, tie him up and tease him, to which I gave him one of my patented looks. I am not a big fan of dominance on demand. with me you don’t call the shots and set the script. You can suggest sexy ideas, but it isn’t going to fly if you try to put my urges and control on rails.

He didn’t end up tied up to the bed, but he did end up edging himself and then bent over my knee for a mean, hard spanking while everyone he’d been entertaining earlier continued to watch. Hand was soon switched up for a belt, probably my favourite of his to use, a big thick piece of supple brown leather.

I had him on all fours, facing the camera and reaching underneath himself to keep his cock hard- and his facial reactions showed me that he was experiencing some intense sensations from the leather striping his cheeks, while the colour changed to a bright pink, blossoming from the blush of his warm up to a good ruddy rose of a proper bare skin spanking.

The reactions are the best part for me, watching the intensity in his face as I made him count off loud so everyone of the people in the chat room could hear. It’s not the first time I ended up spanking him on camera for anyone to watch, but Wildcard is a horny little exhibitionist who get both extremely turned on and extremely humiliated with an audience. As well as the usual horny guys drooling over me, we got a couple of ladies getting into seeing him paddled, gratifying since I like it better when he doesn’t get treated like he doesn’t exist. And I knew that kind of attention is Wildcard’s big weakness, so you can bet he was feeling extra vulnerable and submissive to whatever sadistic cruelty I intended. Spanking him on camera for women to watch is a huge fetish for him!

He was the one who noticed the little wet patch under me, a mark on the sheet where I’d been resting, but it was me who told him that he had to fuck me without coming- as long as he could manage, stretching it out as his thick cock filled me up. We started with me astride, riding him, but pretty soon he tipped me back and made himself take his time while I teased him by gripping his cock with the muscles of my cunt.

He took a long time just like I ordered, waiting a minute after I gave him permission before finally cumming with a loud muffled groan into my neck. We ended up spooned up after that, with various audience members indicating their appreciation.

The problem with a live crowd, of course, is that you don’t control them, so it’s no wonder that sometimes the questions get a bit weird. I’ve been compared to people’s stepdaughters. and we often get bombarded with requests for butt stuff. This time we got asked: So, is he the biggest guy you’ve ever fucked?

The girthiest. Even super turned on as I was, he’s a tight fit.

Friday Femdom Fiction: She Strips Her Toy and Plays With Him

She made him stand in the middle of the living room, looking him up and down. He was slightly taller than her, lanky of frame, with his neck bent to watch what she was doing, until she took his chin and fixed his gaze straight ahead at the muted brown drapes on the other side of the room.

“You’re nothing but a toy. Be a toy,” her voice was stern, but with the slightest hint of mischievous lust, something husky and playful under the strict edge.

Her hand brushed his shoulder, feeling the comfortable knit of his light blue t-shirt, thin fabric over warm. spare flesh. Outside, the midday weekend sun poured through the gap in the curtain. Her other hand held a warm mug of milky tea, bitter and soothing as her fingers spidered down his back until she grabbed a handful of shirt hem, tugging it up,  so she exposed his stomach. She saw the slight ripple as his abs contracted and then relaxed, reacting to the proximity of her hand.

His belly had a light covering of hair that she caressed and then down, over the bronze buckle of his belt and the front fastening of his jeans. He shifted just enough to hint he noticed what she was doing, but kept his gaze fixed where she’d put him, while the seam and tuck of his jeans encouraged her to stroke her hand over his crotch, and then, spurred by her own desire, to continue to rub and touch. She knew how the fabric felt against his cock, defusing but transmitting the pressure. His reaction was the start of a swelling, and an almost imperceptible rock forwards, seeking more teasing. Sadistically, that made her stop, keeping control as she set her tea aside.

Reaching up, the tips of her fingers touched his lips. He had a full mouth, sensual and often pulled into a vulnerable pout. Now, the tips of two of her fingers slid inside, where his breath was warm and the skin was wet, past his teeth. His eyes blinked slowly, forcing himself to keep containing his reaction as she penetrated him.

“That’s a good toy. You do only what you’re posed to do. You’re just here for me to enjoy.”

And so he stayed, standing with his legs slightly apart and his arms relaxed. She began to strip him further, properly now, peeling off his t-shirt and then prying at the belt. Half limp, he let her haul his arms up with the passage of the shirt until she finished removing it, and his arms fell back into position. His chest was like his belly, male furred, but not a dark thicket, nipples a temporary distraction for her fingers before she returned to undoing his pants.

The cotton knit of his underpants was black, fitted  but cut longer in the leg. The fabric had stretched where his half erect cock was outlined, poking up and towards the right. She let his pants slide down to his ankles and then tucked her fingers into the wide elastic band that held his boxer-briefs up, making the reveal slow, first the root of his cock, and then, inch by inch, everything else until they were on the floor in a pool of fabric with his pants. He had slender, straight legs, long boned, balanced with a swell of lean muscle at the thigh and calf, narrow hipped and waisted.

His bare flesh asked for her nails, fingers hooking and dragging, leaving red streaks pulled in sets like plow marks. She reached for him pulling him so she held a handful of his hair and kissed his lips, a slight twitch as he instinctively sought to return the contact and checked himself.

“No, you’re a toy. Nothing but a fuck doll for me to play with.” She pinched him, just because she could, to remind him he was helpless, and went back to exploring his body. One hand wrapped the shaft of his cock, jerking, the other reaching around to cup his butt. Square and firm, small. Her fingers found the split, digging in, seeking and making him wonder if he’d have to submit to another kind of penetration, but then her attention moved elsewhere and she pushed him, to pose him over the coffee table.

A hairbrush was the first thing her gaze lighted on. He was propped on the wood, stiff like a ken doll, but aware of what was coming, when first her palm smacked into his ass and then the flat back of the wooden brush.

He made a noise and her hand circled his cock again. “Shhhhh…”

She didn’t make it a prolonged spanking, but she coloured him, pink, blushing almost red, angling for a reaction. He made a few noises and she saw him twitch, but never fully flinch. She smiled, wide, although he could not see, and began to massage her handiwork, before setting him upright again.

He played along with lurching steps when she pushed him towards the couch, but was unable to contain a groan as her teasing resumed, gentle fast friction just taking him to the edge, with the harsh admission, “Don’t you dare come.”

She giggled at his disappointment, rubbing her clothed body against the warm smoothness of his nudity. He felt the rasp of her sweater and the softness underneath, wishing that he could simply slide his hands up under her skirt and make her want to squirm just as much as he was feeling.

But, instead, she straddled his lap, grinding against him. “That’s a good fuck-doll.”

Everything felt better and more sensitized when she craved sex. She knew it showwed on her, just as it was writ onto his face in the way his lips were just slightly parted and his eyes half lidded. She did not undress, except to slide her panties down under her skirt, kicking the black little scrap of lace and elastic somewhere off to the side before she mounted him.

He felt the sheath of her, enveloping him, hot and wet. It was almost too much, but she was experienced enough to know to wait, hilted on him, for those important seconds it took him to scramble for self control.

“You know I come better with something inside me,” the skirt was hiked up, her hands going to her clit. “Just like fucking a dildo only better. But… don’t you dare break until I’ve come.”

When she masturbated, he could feel the reactions in her body, on top of him and engulfing him. She took her time, teasing herself as well by riding him for a few strokes, just until he was edged again and had to break character to beg her to stop.

“Uh-uh, you should control yourself better.” The same mischief that drove most of her sadistic impulses made her curl the muscles inside herself in two pulses.

“If you do that, Miss, I don’t…”

“You want to be my good toy?”

“Yes, Miss,” he whimpered. “But Miss…”

“Shhhhh…” Her fingers went back to her clit, pressing as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes closed, just as she caught a glance of desperate anticipation from beneath her.

“Nnnngh!” The orgasm was a body jolt, roughly reached, like a vessel finally overfilling or something under pressure finally giving way. She gave three raggedy gasps before she could focus again, and saw his look of desperation.

“Well, I’m done, time to clean up my toy and put him away.” She grinned, face blushed with afterglow. “Right?”

“Miss!”

I wanted to try to capture some of the feelings of power of playing with a male body that’s entirely at your mercy, and make sure I kept at the erotica writing. “She Strips her Toy” is very much drawn from life, although it does not touch on a specific session and you can decide what is (auto)biographical and what is embellishment.

He’s Been Feeling Submissive Lately

Wildcard saw me typing away on a blog post comment the other day, (this one actually), and when I turned and smiled to reach up and touch him from my nest on the couch, he leaned over and mimed typing with two fingers to add random content to my post.

“No! Bad!” I grabbed him by the robe, near the lapel and at the waist below the belt, and tugged him down over my lap, landing then playful spanks through the terrycloth fabric.  He looked amused, but compliantly flopped.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes. I will never write anything ever again,” he announced solemnly, as he rose back up.

I hesitated long enough to give him a look, pulled him back down and flipped his robe up, landing the next series of blows on the thin plaid fabric of his pyjama pants, “No! That’s not it at all!”

After a time I paused my spanking again. “There. Have you learned now?”

“Hunt and peck typing is bad?” He opened his eyes wide and innocent, making a stabbing gesture with his index fingers.

I made a grumbly noise in my throat and hooked my fingers into the band of his pants, pulling them down to expose his ass. My strikes went from pats to swats, and he buried his face in the couch. He’s never a very demonstrative victim- you can never really know for sure if he’s having fun, but if you watch him closely, you can see the way his shoulders move and how he relaxes into it. It’s the same coziness of a hug.

Each time I got a silly answer I intensified the strength of the blows until he conceded that editing my posts was not a positive quality, a surrender made mostly because he’d run out of funny comebacks.

It was one of those happy little moments, like a few days before, when I’d leashed his brown leather collar to the bed with the help of a rope and metal clip, and then bound his wrists with bondage tape so I could tease him.

I made him fuck the rippled, massaging inside of a Tenga Egg, half using it to stroke the length of his shaft, half making him thrust into the slippery channel I’d made with my hand and the toy. He had to beg to come, stretching it out until the orgasm was so intense he got a cramp in his foot, and I’d made him promise a forfeit: I got to take naked pictures of him..

This weekend, I made good on my threat, dragging him, nude except for the brown leather collar around his throat and made him pose, threatening him with all the places I was going to put his pictures while he stroked his cock. It was massively erect near the end, leaking a few drops of shiny precum- and he was absolutely gorgeous in the pictures.

Sexual desire makes  sort of vulnerability, especially when you can make the person pose any way that you like and he knows it. It’s all pouting lips and wide but shadowed eyes. I have a favourite picture in my collection of him, his hand on his cock, and my hand on his neck, shot to show his body and a glorious expression of helpless desire.

So yes, it’s been fun.

Real Life Femdom Party: Wildcard’s Birthday Spanking

Balloons!Last Saturday I helped hold a celebration for my Gentleman Nemesis’s birthday. It was a simple, casual six person dinner-and-company-affair, with two other femdom couples. That’s right guys, a real life femdom party- but maybe not completely like the kinds you see in porn. Also, we had tacos. :9

The founding kernel for this event was organizing a proper, mean birthday spanking for Wildcard. The first misconception to throw out, if you’re trying to imagine this, is something ultra high protocol in a classy mansion or high end loft. Although Wildcard’s residence is plenty homey and tasteful, the reality of secret BDSM is how well we blend in. The subs did not arrive on leashes, and the only fetish-y thing was that I decided to wear my corset, which is a steel bone and satin number in severe black, but this was as much because I don’t have many occasions to have my waist cranked down by 3.5 inches. Everyone else, on the other hand, came in comfortable, casual clothing, the sort of stuff where you won’t feel silly or awkward. None of the female doms or male subs have a thing for cross dressing, so there were no submissive sissy maids simpering over tea. Sorry, I know, trés disappointing for a certain hopeful number of you.

The guest list was some familiar faces: LadyCobra, Vosko, Ballbuster and Mr. Sub, which meant two other couples with solid dynamics. Once again, I really have to say they emphasizes how you can all be technically on the same page but have radically different ways to do things. It’s also possibly one of the best parts of playing with other people because you get such a wide range of dynamics and outcomes.

Powerhouse couple Ballbuster and Mr. Sub have had years to build their dynamic together. They’re real proof that some of the meanest, hardest play is built on a strong foundation of love and mutual support. Their style is also something that developed together, with definite switch tendencies in Mr. Sub that mean that when he’s not otherwise occupied in the sub role he’s eager to give input. With two minds put to the task, a lot of predicaments and pure wanton sadism pops up, and he’s as eager to share it with any and everyone else as his dom. On the flip side, with that sort of regular play partner, in scene Ballbuster runs things hard and fast, with intense cruelty and no warm ups- then again Mr. Sub takes a lot to get him down, and his idea of after care if bouncing around all pumped up, while the dom flops, exhausted in a corner. If you need to imagine them: Think huge toys, heavy pain and hard humiliation. With a sub like Mr. Sub it’s quite clear where Ballbuster learned her confidence- she doesn’t seem to worry about pulling out all the stops and the effect is spectacular. Also she went as a pink pixie fairy last halloween- take that how you will.

Meanwhile, LadyCobra and Vosko’s dynamic is a lot more characterized by LadyCobra’s attentive preciseness to detail. Vosko is a lot more vulnerable in play, and while he’s got a great sense of humour and strong public persona- in kink he’s got a softness there (and incidentally is the baby of our little group of libertines), which is not to say he is a wimp, but rather that there’s much more of an impression of fragility there while he’s being given fierce looking bruises. Paradoxically, by appearance, he’s also the sort of massive Scotsman that gave the ancient Romans second thoughts, and would not be out of place among a line up of metal fans. He’s well matched by LadyCobra who is, as I described before, incredibly technically precise and proper, with impeccable scene control. If anyone’s going to make “traditional” kink look good it’s her. She’s also very, very good at bringing just the right level of pain or strictness the moment needs, and making her approach to a submissive or bottom fit with just what the sub can take, all without making her subtle adjustments obvious.

Organizing an event is mostly complicated by the shyness that’s inherent in trying to get other people up in your sexuality without creeping them out or getting creeped out. Everyone’s needs and desires are intensely personal, so I’m always careful about presuming too much. Suffice to say, these things never happen with any sort of script or expectations beyond good taste and common sense. We agreed to a round robin, each of the guys in the sub role would get beat, birthday style, with each dom, and the implement of her choice, one whack for each year.

Wildcard was perfectly happy to share his day, because he’s one of the least selfish people I know. (Well, perhaps he’s nursing secret grumbles, but I don’t think he’d ever dream of vocalizing them if he did.) He also provided the homemade pork tacos, which sounds dirty, but actually was more that he’s an amazing cook- food which the guest inhaled, and I made a white cake with chocolate ganache and a caramel middle. I mention this because having fun is key, and if you want to organize your own party, keep in mind that you will have more fun if want to spend time with the people you play with outside of being kinky with, and at them. But, back to the beating and the humiliation!

I had Wildcard strip in front of us, piece by piece, folding as he went. He blushed really cutely as I made him remove every single item, except for his socks. Wildcard is ultra-slim in a trim bodied sort of way, and by affect, naturally very reserved and non-demonstrative about his feelings. He generally puts a lot of effort into his appearance- you won’t see him with his hair unseen to, or his beard untrimmed and even his casual clothing is well fitted and flattering. There’s a certain sort of pleasure I get just from mussing that perfect control in how he can present himself.

And it seems like my “take it off and fold it!” approach encouraged the others, because they soon followed suit, and Vosko was all vulnerable and stripped under much the same script, and then in his turn, Mr. Sub shucked clothes with the casualness that belays his long experience. There are not, to be frank, many chances to objectify men properly. I enjoyed it.

The best parts, for me, are always the reactions. Watching the way they take the hits, in this case posed just so, kneeling in an arm chair, with ass raised. My friends had brought their toys: paddles, bamboo canes a rubber baton and other entertaining means to smack flesh into submission. Wildcard had, for the second half of the evening, lost the right to speak unless spoken to or unless given permission. The effort was a practical one- with so many interesting people it was hard for him not to get distracted and interject into what people were saying. Charming conversationalist or not, he has an extremely hard time getting into anything approaching a submissive head state and his play collar was undergoing repairs.

I’m going to be honest and say that getting him in role or close to in role calls upon pretty much every shred of latent telepathic talent I might have in regards to reading subs (or in his case switches)- if his current job fails the guy should take up poker as a career. It’s also somewhat compounded by the sexual etiquette. I knew that he was incredibly excited to get a birthday spanking from multiple people because he told me as much, but the flirting that tends to be involved in BDSM encourages br’er rabbiting, ie other words pretending to be emphatically not into the act that you’re very much craving so the dom can feel like a meany with power over you, which means cultivating an air of reluctance. Since there’s an extra onus on dudes to be reserved in their sexual approach to avoid coming across as pushy, this can lead to kinksters behaving as shyly as a bunch of debutants.

Letting other women beat Wildcard is interesting for me, because it lets me watch how he responds. I gave him a warm up first, a bare skin, bare handed spanking to help him get ready for what was going to happen and passed him off, to go first in the chair. His fate involved his own belt laid hard against his skin, swung by Ballbuster’s hand. Then each man had his own turn following him.

The fact that Vosko was the youngest (and least spanked) did not, in any way, mean people went easy on him. Although he took less hits, it’s Wildcard who has the gentlest limits. Mr Sub, of course, needed a vicious thrashing to even make him do more than go “that’s niiiice” and go to sleep. All three men ended up with deep purple bruises, eagerly photographed and watched over as they faded over the past week.

I liked the fact that Wildcard was gently shaking a little bit, after his first third of his use. I liked that he melted into quiet vulnerability, rolling into a curled up naked ball, and that he would occasionally whisper to me. I liked that LadyCobra caught the vibe I was trying to build and worked well with it, and that Ballbuster, while she didn’t seem as into it, was patient enough to play along.

In any case, the guests seemed happy enough I can be sure there will be a repeat. Hurrah!

Friday Femdom Fiction: Caught, Shamed and Spanked

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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