strapon

A Necromancer Breaks Her Captive Paladin

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Content Note: F/m, Noncon of male

His lean blond body was stretched over the altar, shackled with the heavy manacles. He wondered how many had bent before, to the corrupted god of this shrine. He knew their rites favoured scourging, bringing about a holy trance within their chosen vessels as they were pushed to the brink of their endurance.

He wondered if she thought that he too could be made into an instrument. Would it be knotted rope, a braided cane or thorn branches? Regardless, he knew he could take much before succumbing. That his skin was largely unmarred was more a credit to the healers of his faith than a life lived without injuries.

This temple had fallen before the Necromancer and her army, its crypt seized to fill out her forces. As a Paladin, he had been drawn to this taint, discovering it all too late. Now he knew her to be a cancer in his homeland, growing strength in this ancient backwater. He believed his days were numbered, soon to become another victim. He prayed the people of the nearby village would notice he hadn’t returned, and not send a search party, for nothing they could muster would be stronger than him, but send word back to the temple or the royal guard. Anyone who could hope to stop her before she grew too strong.

In the room, once a place of worship but now little more than a half crumbling ruin on an ancient crypt, the shuffling clunk of her foul undead thralls patrolling was the only sound. If he had his sword, if his strength would let him break free, he would purge this place or die trying. But he had been stripped and restrained, body bared, and left with his back exposed vulnerably, hld so all he could see was the sleek feet of the shrine’s statue directly in front of him.

It was Nari, god or goddess, depending on the language and what they considered the neuter pronoun. They of the slim, sexless body, neither male or female, with skin that glistened like black tar in the light. Not his deity, not the three faced Purifier, whose name was so powerful that it was not uttered careless by even its most devoted. tHe Purifier commanded the dead be placed on pyres, lest they become, as those buried here had, more tools for a foul purpose.

“You are the very model of the pretty Paladin, are you not?” She, the Necromancer, had been there for his binding, cruel and imperious, dressed in black silk-satin slit to the thigh more daring than a courtesan and glittering with ornate silver jewellry  to be the envy of any noblewoman. Her mouth was a berry of blood, mirthful, her eyes gloating. She had commanded them, the undead that had overcome in such numbers even his righteous gifts could not turn them all. Even with their crude movements they had managed to drag him and click the manacle in place.

Then she herself had peeled his armour and the clothed beneath from his body. Where they could not be unfastened, she’d cut, precise and relentlless.

“Posterboy. I suspect they paraded you out on feast days, had you stand guard when your high priest petitioned the court,” Her fingers hard run over his flanks, cool but alive, feeling the scrape of the points on the intricate metal gauntlets she wore. Soul Rippers, a profane instrument  to weave and pull at the dead as she wished.

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Friday Femdom Fiction: Strapped On

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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.

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And that, boys and girls, is what real strapon fucking action can look like. Fun, silly and sexy. 🙂

 

 

Queen Hatshepsut’s Strapon, “Penis Envy”, Penetration & Me

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Note false beard of regal powerI 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.

Of course, because I’m also unable to have sex without over thinking things, I’m going to discuss the inherent baggage that comes with strapping one on, especially as a femdom.

If you are a female dominant, you’d have to be living in a box to not notice that wearing a fake penis is part of the stuff people automatically associate with you. Practically, a strapon is only one of the many ways you can stuff and stimulate a hole, but like a lady hyena, if you’re the top mammal, you seem to get a phallus. This association is so strong that guys into getting done up the ass routinely mislabel themselves as submissive. Much like male heterosexual transvestites also get wrongly filed under the submissive label (because panties and cross dressing as a woman are shameful, don’tcha know?) every femdom gets the joy of routinely reminding dudes that being pegged is only as submissive as they want to make it.

Of course, linguistically and socioculturally, people who like stuff in their bits deal with the fact that penetration is also generally associated with power. “Cocksucker!” is not generally used as a term of respect. There is also the problematic habit of characterizing the female reproductive system as, rather than being an internal but no less valid set of equipment, as being an absence of penis. Thankfully, the concept of “Penis envy” is generally discredited as being something that Freud got a bit carried away with (and is as probable as “womb envy” in men) but as much as the old guy got things insultingly wrong much of the time, he was correct in the way that guys and the cultural narrative they control seem to make power revolve around penises.

This, incidentally, also comes up in some of the chastity play and SPH, where again, the potency of the penis in the relationship gets to be a stand in for the potency of the dude that you are so lovingly debasing. Although this is not the rule, for example if you are showing the commitment to orgasm denial that uses topical lidocaine to numb the guy out before fucking, you’re probably not saying something about the actual equipment.

Anyway, be that as it may, it means that there’s two reasons to jam something in someone’s holes: it feels good (or bad in the right way) and for fun with symbols. I generally fall somewhere in the middle in this sort of spectrum- but I also have to admit something…

Fucking someone with a strapon is actually really hard work, and no matter how you slice it: you’re putting a non-nerve ending having artificial extension of yourself in someone for primarily psychological effect. On a physical front, It is considerably less effort to fuck someone by hand, or even, honestly, kneel down and blow the guy. Now I happen to like fellatio- I’ll never be one of those doms who never fucks. But even if you get him to ride you, if you’re on the bottom this may get uncomfortable (oomf, oomf, oomf!, quoth your dom from below, as a typically heavier male impales himself repeatedly). I really like fucking my partners this way, but it’s one of the least stereotypically “dominant” and self focused tricks in my sexual repertoire, and to be frank, since I see nothing inherently humiliating in being penetrated, this will always be an act of love.

Seriously. Wanna know what strapon sex feels like, mechanically? Try jamming a slightly soft peg into a well lubed, elastic hole hidden in two cushions, when you can’t feel the end of the peg, and you are steering with your pelvis.

Pegging is also weird because it is very much something that exists in the heterosexual space. Actually for that matter so does Futa, since a lot of the examples I’ve seen are either real transgendered people, to whom the penis does not trump their femininity- the labeling being chicks with dicks, not dudes with tits, even though the possession of other typically female characteristics like breasts in no way automatically marks that person as woman, or illustrations and photoshops of women with penises. (No really, even if you deny transgender as a thing, gynecomastia most certainly is a real phenomena).  It is the thing that the lady who likes the dude does to the dude. It is most certainly not the thing that the dude who likes the dude is using as a surrogate replacement for in the lady, except in those rare edge cases that exist to derail arguments.

So with the dildo-in-harness thing, strapping one on exists in a weird zone of being a penis for the people who are otherwise categorically not penis havers, and does not trump gender. It’s very much important that I am a woman penetrating a man for the psychological impact, though bizarrely, when a guy straps something on it goes in the opposite direction as being an adequacy insult.

Mind you fucking someone raw is still pretty hot. And if I temporarily had a real penis I would probably use it on someone.

But you know that the number one impulse strapping one on gives me?

Wibbly, wibbly, wibbly.