Tuesday, December 14, 2021

PayDay by Rorke

 He shivers as he holds the position so familiar to him by now; knees splayed wide and core engaged to push his chest out, back straight with a raised chin but lowered eyes. His wrists crossed in the small of his back while the silence washes over him and his fingers absentmindedly trace against the sealed envelope. Time almost becoming irrelevant with each drawn out minute of anticipation forcing his mind to focus and he feels himself become one with the room, blending into the still surroundings.

This is all just a formality really. His wages have been set up to transfer directly to her account for many years now but every payday he kneels in her office, just like now, to present her with the unopened payslip. Truth be told, he has no idea how much he makes because it doesn't belong to him, all he sees is the basic allowance she gives to him for 'essentials'. This day holds another special meaning too, however, it is the one day a month he gets released from chastity (assuming all the factors such as his chores and behavior are acceptable, of course)

The stillness of the room is suddenly broken by the mahogany sliding doors to the office scraping against their runners followed by the staccato click of her sharp heels and  the subtle notes of vanilla perfume fills the atmosphere. Instinctively, his hands raise to offer the slip as she passes and unceremoniously takes it from him.

Hearing her perch on her desk, he steals a very brief glance up while she studies the paper. The sharp intake of breath and a whimper of need escaping his lips as the heavenly picture of the tight grey dress revealing lacey stocking tops donning crossed legs

Her voice breaking the silence with a, "Good boy", causing his heart to warm before she continues, "However, I have a date tonight so your release will have to wait....you can fuck off to your chores".

Swallowing that rising disappointment and turning it into the dedicated, burning submissive energy and whispers his thank you before placing a kiss to each of her heels and crawls off to his chores. 

The Butterfly by Skye

 The Butterfly


Cocooned, trapped, encapsulation be,

but there must be more to life, for me to see.

a elaborate spread of the wings take flight, 

gracefully, drifting around the light. 

the sunbeams falling gentle down from skies, 

as he flutters with imperfect tries.

his strength grows, as tested against a fail,

be it a soft snow storm, or damaging hail.

as winter falls and safety first, he shall seek,

the small angelic creature, seems no longer so meek.

a power filled, winged, perfected one, 

misses the safety, of where he begun.

time to fly, onto great things, 

the little butterfly with his beautiful wings.


Teased and Tormented by Shine

 I awoke to find herself bound to the bed I had been strapped to the night before only to find now Mistress had just walked in the door. As I'm lying in a pool of her own juices dripping and throbbing even more just by the sight of her.

" I see you kept yourself nice and busy my little whore " 

As she slaps my naked inside thigh. Just then I jumped up as the slaps sending tingles all through my body. Running her nails up her inside thigh and back down the other side. 

" Yes Mistress "  I said with a moan all the while writhing in pain and pleasure

Mistress could see the look in my eyes knowing I was ready to be taken then and there but she had an idea.

Slapping her once more leaving fingerprints on my flesh before grabbing the jug near her. Opening the door and grabbing some ice that had fallen throughout the day, and walking back inside. 

"I have a little present for you girl" She said holding the jug of ice.

My eyes widened as I lay there helpless and all I can do is watch, drip and shake.

Laying the jug on the side of the table lifting some of the ice up and out of the jug and laying it on my nipples.  Rolling her fingers tips around her nipple , twisting her nipple making it all pert before slapping it leaving pink fingerprints all over my boob. 

" Oh god , oh shit " I screamed loud out into the air as my nipples become all pert and hard at the touch of the ice kissing them and meltin

" I didn't say it was a nice present now did I " with a devilish 

grin on her face. 

Running her hand up my thigh letting her nails caress my stomach and the top of her mound just taping and waking up my clit. All the while letting the ice melt and drip down my stomach to my clit and dripping all the way down my slit to the bed. 

Gasping as the ice melts.

" Oh shit! " gasping as the sensations running through my body.

" Have you been a good girl today " She said grabbing my face and looking deep into her eyes.

" Yes Mistress " I Said while gulping as the ice melted around me. letting the cool air in the room bring all the goosebumps over her skin

" Good girl " Kissing my lips deeply staring deep into my eyes and dropping her face.

Rolling her hand up my thigh in between my legs starting to flick her clit with all four fingers softly back and forth back and forth in rhythm with my pelvis. Flicking just to make me wet enough to do what ever she wanted with me.

" Do you want this girl " She said with a smirk.

" Yes Mistress, Please Mistress" I  said.

Mistress started deep into my eyes and slapped her clit hard. I jumped high into the air as the ropes round my wrist caught me and the goosebumps cover my entire body.

" I SAID DO YOU WANT THIS GIRL " She commanded. 

" YES !! MISTRESS !! " I replied pleadingly. Letting out moan after moan unable to control them any longer. 

" Good Girl , Next Time Louder ! " She said Sternly.

" Yes Mistress , Sorry Mistress" I said bitting my lip hard staring deeply into my eyes.

Flicking her fingers back and forth rapidly letting her clit become so swollen and engorged I couldn't hold back.

" Can i cum please Mistress Please " I stuttered unable to concentrate anymore. 

Mistress staring into my eyes grabbing the ice from the jug and pouring it onto my stomach and clit and throwing the jug to the other side of the room.

" Oh Fuck !!" I screamed louder again, Shaking , Trembling. 

Writhing all over shaking shivering, Pulling against the ropes shaking the bed. As I thrashed as the ice started to melt making so many sensations rush through my mind.

" Can I Please Mistress " Staring deep into her eyes for an answer.

Mistress smiling wickedly continued the Torment not answering but staring back menacingly, with a big grin on her face. 

Flicking rapidly faster and faster sliding her fingers down inside me starting to pump my pussy working with the rhythm of my own body, my own pelvis humping her hand as she thrusted her fingers in deeper matching the rhythm and speed of the other hand. 

Faster and faster my body convulsing and dripping all over the bed the moans the screams uncontrollably. As it now starts to become full force of her fingers, flicking my clit rapidly relentlessly.

" Oh God Oh Fuck Please Mistress Please" Begging, Pleading with Mistress.

Teasing and tormenting continued Faster and Faster. Not stopping. 

" Oh Fukkkkkk Pleaseeeeee!" As my  eyes rolled back into my head. my screams getting louder and louder.

" Cum for me Whore !! " She Said.

" NOW " Mistress demanded.

Losing all control releasing all of my juices and squirting all over the bed and the floor as my eyes roll back into my head completely and  passes out.

As Mistress slides her fingers out of my dripping wet pussy. She smiles rolling her hand round my neck and lifting my head up. Wiping her dripping wet fingers round my lips dripping it into my mouth. 

As I softly stirs Mistress slides her fingers into my mouth, almost gagging me with them. 

" Suck it bitch " She said with a smirk

" How do you taste " She grins.

Sucking her fingers deeply rolling her tongue around tip and diving deeper. 

" Yes Mistress " I said muffling with her fingers in my mouth.

Removing her fingers from my mouth slapping my swollen clit once more to watch my body react and jump. sending tingles all through my entire body.

" Fuck !!" I screamed and jumped shaking the bed.

" Good Girl " Mistress said with a smile...

"Rest now..... Round 2 is Later" She smirked 

As she covered me with a blanket kissed her forehead and left me to sleep..

p.s No this did not happen I was told by Miss Eva to write this so here ya go lol 

An Artist's Work by Anonymous

 As I pulled into the driveway of a remote farm cabin on a dark, cold night in rural Vermont, I reflected on how I ended up here.  Two months earlier, I had met with old friends to celebrate 25 years since business school graduation.  Since then we had gone our own ways, some into finance, some into business and some into oblivion. I generally hate these sorts of things, but after my wife and I had split after 25 years together, and our kids had become adults.  I consider these events are “forced fun,” with people who knew a younger me, a different man.

After I checked in, I was given a card and told to learn innocuous bits of information from 3 classmates also in attendance.  I looked at my names — two people I knew well, but the third was Anna.  Anna was the “artsy chick” 25 years ago, and no one knew what she was doing in business school in the first place; she was into art, horses and poetry,  We nicknamed her "The Artist."  We had shared a couple classes and drinks back in school, but I don't think I had thought about her since the day we graduated.   I found my way to her and noticed she had matured into an attractive older woman, with the same mature artsy vibe.  She looked as if she had just stopped by on the way home from a horse stable rather than attending a business school reunion.  We caught up on old times, although we didn’t have much to share, and had a pleasant chat.  I learned she was single, and lived about 2 hours outside of Boston, on a Vermont horse farm.  She painted, horsed and did who knows what in Nowhere, Vermont.  She and I casually agreed that if I was ever in the area I should come by and share a glass of homemade wine; we traded numbers and created a pleasant connection, even though we really had no friendship to rekindle. 

A month later I found myself in Boston on business, and had my meeting cancel.  My friends suggested a ski trip to Vermont, which happened to be close to Anna’s farm.  Recalling our pleasant chat, I thought, why not call her and take her up on a glass of bad homemade wine, some likely sub par goat cheese and see her Vermont country life.  After a couple texts, here I was. 

As I rang the door with a bottle of champagne in hand, I looked forward to a glass of wine, some artsy discussion of art, the old times and a flirty dance of two mature people.   She did look amazing, radiant, even as she wore no makeup and had plainly been working on the farm all day.   She smiled, and invited me in. She then rather bluntly said, "You can put the champagne there" and nodded towards a cluttered oaken table.  I had, of course, expected a more enthusiastic reaction, but The Artist did smile when she saw me, and that put me somewhat at ease.

As she turned away from the door, she rather matter of factly said, “Ok, Don, please take off all your clothes, fold them and leave them on the mat by the door.”  Her tone was casual, but commanding, as if she was telling me not to pet the dog.  It was not a question, but rather a command.  My brain kind of froze, but I knew I had a choice, right then. Say “no" and walk out. Or, stay and obey. I thought, Ok, she can't intimidate me, I will show her.  I am not ashamed of my body, I am in good shape, and besides, when is nakedness with a woman nicknamed The Artist a bad thing, ever

As I gathered my thoughts and stripped, she had moved to her living room and sat in a chair, next to a raging fire.  I had expected her to be naked too, but, to my surprise, she was quite fully clothed and content.  She said she had put a towel down on the couch, motioned for me to sit across from her and to “make myself at home.”  

What then proceeded was one of the most normal, yet stilted, awkward conversations of my life.  We chatted as if I was not, in fact, naked or sitting on a towel on her couch.  I learned she was single, owned 500 acres of Vermont countryside and was quite content.   She knew of my wife’s passing, that I had just sold my company, and was learning to re-engage with life outside of the pastoral world I had created and lived

After 30 minutes or so without acknowledgment of my naked body or the situation, she said “hold out your arm.”  It was said in the same tone she had used before and not a question or request, it was a statement.  I did as I was told.

She took my hand, and turned my palm face up, and tucked it under her armpit to hold it still, which exposed my forearm and bicep. leaving both her hands free.  She then pinched about a half inch of my skin, my flesh and pulled it up.  To my shock,she then  pushed a thin hypodermic needle through the pinch, piercing it through and coming out the other side. A very sharp needle, with a biting quick pain, like a shot at the doctor office. A prick, painful, but not excruciating.  

Half of me wanted to scream out in horror.  But, I didn’t.  I watched, grimaced and let her push a needle through my skin.  When she was done, she calmly said “you were talking about your ski trip, please continue…”.  My mind was blank.  Skiing?  I just had a needle through me!  I am naked in front of you.  And then I  realized —  I was rock hard.  Erect as a circus pole.  Now THAT was embarrassing.

As I stumbled on, she took my other arm, rotated it palm up, inched my bicep and slid another needle through my flesh.  It hurt of course, but perhaps the shock had worn off and it wasn't as hurtful as the first one.  I endured.

I noticed that a drop of blood was leaking out of my arm from the needle.  Anna noticed too, and casually lifted and rotated my arm, as I spoke of skis and rental cars, and licked my bicep, taking the blood and leaving behind a slick trail of saliva.  The disconnect between the words out of my mouth and the physical dynamic playing out

But I was also excited, mentally and physically.  I ached, yearned, and the casual sexuality, the raw physicality of the needle, of Anna, her presence transported me to another place.  My skin tingled, my senses were chaotic, and the darkness and fire sharpened the sensation. Anna's smell, her words, her tone, her and licked the blood trail.  And me.. My cock was hard, sticking straight up and positively yearning for something.  And very obvious and very undeniable.

After more meaningless chit chat, she motioned for me to stand.  I didn't think twice, and stood motionless in front of the fire.  At this point I was not so surprised when I saw another needle in her hand, and knew what was coming next, as she pinched a skin fold on my chest, just above my right nipple.  I felt the sharp pain, the piercing sensation, the needle threading my skin.  And then a second needle, on the left side, a matching pair of needles matching the two in my arm.  Anna then again licked up the slight drip of blood leaking down my skin, tasting me but leaving a cool sensation from her tongue behind.

I do not remember the exact words or what happened, but I do recall my very prominent erection, my hardness and aching for her, for physicality, for connection.  She led me to her bedroom, which was a small back room in her barn-like house.  It was rustic, functional, and plush even.  A room inhabited by a woman who made her world and lived in it.

She pushed me down on the bed, and said, "I suggest you not move.  The needles will tear if you thrash and they catch on the covers."  Such an obvious statement and yet i heard the tone in her voice, her command.  I then watched as she casually took off her jeans, and her panties, and mounted me.  One knee on either side of my chest.  I noticed her full, curly mound of pubic hair. her cunt, her lovely sex.   Before I knew it and without words or a kiss or even a touch, she rocked her hips back and impaled herself on my rock hard cock.   I had been mounted pure and simple.  Anna used her hands to keep herself steady as she rocked and used my cock.   I desperately managed in my head to keep myself from orgasming because I simply did not want this to end.  But I also knew She didn't want this to end and my orgasm would seem impolite and unwanted.  I knew she didn't want me to cum.  She had a plan, and I couldn't alter it by trying to force my passion

Anna fucked me as she rode and mounted me.  She was in her own passion, her own world using my erection.  She fucked my cock, moving up and down and pushing her hips forward and back for her to stimulate her clit on my groin.  I felt her rock steadily faster and in her own rhythm as I tried to match it,  Her breath got shorter, and shallower and I noticed her nipples becoming firmer, pointed even.  Her eyes were glassy, her hands pushed more firmly on my even as she rocked in and out on my cock.   I knew her orgasm was coming as she rocked herself faster and more intently, with passion and fire.   She then bucked, and pushed intently, hard on me as her torso and butt quivered, feeling her orgasm on me.   

After she orgasmed, her hair falling, her hips gyrating and bucking she collapsed forward on my chest.   Her heavy body tweaked the needles threading my chest, which I had seemingly forgotten about.   That quickly returned my body to someplace real, and she whispered in a throaty voice, "you may cum now..."  I then exploded into her, feeling my cock thrust and balls constrict and my orgasm pulled from me by Anna and her body.   But I knew this wasn't my orgasm, it was what She had crafted.  The Artist, indeed.

What followed that evening was a meal about which I recall nothing.  And, it was if our passion had not happened, my bleeding spots were the only reminder of what had transpired, even as I could scarcely stand to look at her, in awe of what she had just done.

In the days and weeks that followed, she did not return my increasingly aching calls or texts.  I never saw her again.    

Sunday, November 21, 2021

Winter Confessions Sunday, December 5th!


Femdom Confessions returns Sunday December 5th at 2 pm SLT!  Submit your original writing via our dropboxes at The Femdom Confessions space or by the landing point in The Courtyard.  Submissions can also be given directly to our hostess, Evangeline Eames.

As always, anonymity assured if requested.
 

Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Almost Goodbye by Anonymous

 Almost Goodbye - by ANON


You hesitantly reach across the couch, across the divide, to touch my hand, an uncharacteristic conciliatory gesture. I stare at your hand. Your voice sounds strange, unfamiliar, when you ask, "Are we okay?" I raise my eyes and search your face, still stung by your willingness to walk away from me, from us. I pause before answering, "I think we can be." You open your mouth to speak, but for once, I have no need for your words. I need you to show me, not tell me. I close the space between us and press my mouth to yours. Pulling back, I whisper, almost plead "Show me." I desperately hope you'll understand what I'm asking for, what I need. And you do. 

Your mouth opens to me and I push my tongue into you, but it's not enough. Acquiescence will never heal this gaping wound. I start to pull away, but your arms are around me, holding me to you, preventing my withdrawal. Suddenly your tongue is inside my mouth. Urgent. Hungry. Desperate. "Yes," I think, "Show me. Prove to me that you couldn't walk away, not even if you wanted to. Show me that your need for me is too great, that my hold on you is too powerful, unbreakable." You don't wait for permission. I groan against your mouth, against the lips that are crushing mine. I hook my hands under the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, disrupting your hands and your lips, but they return instantly. You force the left cup of my bra down, exposing my breast, and your mouth claims it. I cry out, arching my back. My fingers thread through your hair holding your mouth to me. Your hands waste no time. You push my skirt up my thighs and jerk my panties aside. Without warning, your fingers are inside me, two fingers. I gasp and cling to you, nails digging into your back, marking you, hips thrusting forward to meet your invasion. "Fuck me," I whisper, my tone demanding. From your throat comes a sound akin to a growl. I reach for your belt, clumsily tugging at it. Impatient, you take over with your free hand. Belt. Button. Zipper. I push your pants down to your knees, desperately needing you inside me. You pull me on top of you, grabbing your cock and guiding me onto it. Your hands find my hips and pull me down hard. My cunt engulfs you entirely with one swift movement. My eyes widen and then close, my body tenses, and I cry out sharply. I press my hands down on your shoulders, holding you in place. You thrust up into me. But you need more. You easily shrug off the pressure of my hands on your shoulders and lift me, flipping me onto my back, your cock, no *MY* cock, never leaving me. My legs instinctively wrap around your hips, pulling you deep. You thrust. Hard. Urgent. Pounding. Knocking the air out of me each time your body crashes into mine. I struggle for air. I scream. You don't stop. You don't pause. With a final thrust you groan and your cock spasms inside me, filling me with your seed, with *MY* seed. You collapse on top of me. My legs wrap tightly around you, not letting you go, holding you until you soften inside me. You begin to come to your senses. Realizing what you've just done, you anxiously push yourself up to look at me. You start to speak, but I cover your mouth with my hand, "If you apologize for that, I will never forgive you." When you nod, I remove my hand and pull your weight down on me, holding you, stroking your back lightly with my finger tips, searching for the half-moon indentations left by my fingernails. 

At some point, I rise and take your hand, leading you to the bedroom. I stand beside the bed, watching, as you finish undressing in front of me. Then you reach for me, slowly undressing me. Your lips adoringly brush kisses against each inch of newly exposed skin. Dropping to your knees in front of me, you lower my panties to the floor and press your mouth between my legs, worshiping me with your tongue, tasting the familiar mixture of my fluids with yours. You teasing my clit expertly, just as I've taught you, until I cum on your face. You hold me up when my knees buckle. 

We move to the bed and fall into a deep sleep in a tangled embrace. Hours later, I wake with your mouth on me, peppering small kisses on my breast. I look down and see the bruises left on my skin by your greedy hands and the bruises left on your skin by mine. Your lips close around my nipple. With a soft whimper, my back arches into you. I feel your cock hard against my thigh. We make love, slowly and tenderly. I roll on top of you, moving on you, engulfing your cock. Your hands gently tease my breasts. This time, you hold back, letting me move on your hard cock, your thumb massaging my clit, until I cum, then rolling me onto my back and thrusting into me until I look up at you and offer the barest of nods. In response, you instantly release inside of me. 

It's dark now. We lie beside each other, your cum dribbling out of me. I snuggle into you, needing to be close. You hold me until I'm asleep. As I dream, you lie awake feeling anxious about what is to come. You know there will be suffering after enjoying my body so freely. Making love is ALWAYS followed by pain, intense, almost unbearable pain, but it's worth it. With these thoughts on your mind, you drift into a restless sleep filled with dread and anticipation of what's to come. 

Bad Memories by Killian

 So, bad memories, where to start? I don't enjoy humiliation, it's not a kink of mine, so in the spirit of confessions, the title and over-sharing I'll go with this one.

They say it takes tens of thousands of hours of interaction for humans to reach an acceptable level of social comfort, or roughly to the age of 25. As a young man in my early twenties I had absolutely not reached that point. I was a perfectly happy child, rarely in the limelight and content with mostly solitary pursuits. I was never really much use with women, I never felt particularly comfortable with them and the memories are so very painful in hindsight.

I never did manage any experiences at college despite living my best life through IRC. So when I made it to London for a first real job I was determined to pursue my lifelong dream of submission. I did what any sensible person would do - I hit the message boards and with a remarkable degree of luck the first advert I responded to somehow landed a NSA attached date with an extremely attractive woman who was perhaps 15 years older than me.

Incredibly, she was for real. As attractive in real life as her pictures, and seemingly as enthusiastic as promised. We met on a Saturday morning in a smart Central London hotel. I was painfully awkward when I think back to it, but she complimented me for wearing a shirt as we made our way up in the lift to the room. I put my arm around her, it wasn't so bad, maybe this was going to be ok.

In her room, a small suite, she suggested I lie on the bed and she disappeared for a moment to change into the most gorgeous lingerie that years late I still don't think I've ever seen better. We see the past in rose-tinted glasses, but I can honestly say she was the most beautiful person I've ever been with. I had stripped down and laid back on the bed. She straddled me while I was still barely able to speak, we kissed, my hands in her hair, and then I realized that I could not get it up. She tried her best, and god knows it was nothing to do with her, but I couldn't get a response. She offered a handjob, but I was broken and I could maintain enthusiasm. I apologized profusely, made my excuses, and left, ashamed.

And so began a lifelong problem that I've still not managed to overcome. I'm sure it's psychological, but decades later I've never quite managed to overcome it. As bad memories go it's hardly the most traumatic, but of all the negative experiences I've ever had, whether personal or professional, this is the one that still hurts the most.

I never heard from her again, I look her up every so often, she's still stunning.