(Note from Thomas Lavalle: I first came across the highly provocative femdom fiction of the writer cybernamed "Eosuchus" on Mark Remond's Worshipping Your Wife blog, here and here. Sadly, Mark has lost touch with Eosuchus, but passed along to me one of his older stories, "IF," which Mark said he had once gotten permission to reprint. I am taking the liberty of doing so here and will happily take it down if contacted by the author.)
IF by Eosuchus
“If they know me, honey, then they’re going to know what you’re into. I’ve never been in the closet. I mean, all my friends in the city, they know who I am. They know I’m, well let’s just say that they think I’m a little extreme.”
She slowly walked around him, where he was strapped down on the bench. Then she paused to put a foot up on the bench beside his chest while she adjusted her stocking top. His eyes met hers and she smiled and tapped him on the nose with a long red fingernail.
“So when they meet us they’re going to know I’m the boss in our relationship. It’s just going to be out there, in the open. So what you have to do is to accept that. You have to get to a place where you just don’t worry about that kind of thing anymore. You just give up that manpride, boypride thing, d’you hear me?”
She glowered down at him with mock ferocity, then reached out and pinched his nose shut for a moment.
“Remember you’re a broken boy now. You have an owner. I’ve spent a good deal of time breaking you down and putting you back together. You’re coming along very nicely. But you have to get used to being under my rule while we’re in public. People are going to see that you are my underling, my servant, even my slave. You have to accept your public status. There will be situations when my friends will see you obey me. It may be humiliating for you, but you will obey or you’ll be punished, in front of them. You will probably have to obey them, too, and I may punish you in front of my closest friends anyway. Once they’ve seen you get a good spanking over my knee they’ll understand everything, right?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said as calmly as possible, despite the severe turmoil that churned up inside him at the thought of such public humiliations. They had been lovers for six weeks, since that fateful weekend at the poetry camp and he had learned an awful lot of what she was prepared to do to him to break him to her will, but clearly he was going to learn an awful lot more.
She giggled evilly. Then she reached over and tugged on the harness that he was constrained by, his arms bound tightly to his side, his head and body strapped down to the padded board of her bench. He was bound at the waist, knees and ankles, plus his balls were tucked through slits in a piece of leather that was clipped to a D‑ring sewn into the bench. He could hardly move a muscle. His penis waved around in the air, erect, trembling, awaiting his Mistress’s hand.
“Poor little thing,” she murmured, tracing her nails down his face and neck. ”You didn’t know that I trawl poetry weekends, looking for men like you. I like the sensitive types who want to be the sex slaves of women like me.”
A sex slave! The humiliation of those words was very powerful still for him. He trembled. Was this really what he was reduced to? Strapped down to a bench so she could use him in any way she wanted to, and Stefani usually did want to as well. She had a large, healthy sex drive, but she preferred oral sexual service from a male slave to anything else.
Sex slave! There was no doubt about that. That’s what he was becoming. It was time for him to admit to himself that what he wanted to be was a sex slave to a woman like Stefani. He’d always wanted that sort of thing. It was just that he’d never dreamed that his fantasy life could become so, well, real. It was well beyond frightening, now.
But Stefani was unstoppable, just as she always said. Once she’d selected her prey she zeroed in on him and soon forced that first, intimate encounter.
In his case she’d made contact by sitting next to him and just introduced herself at the next to last poetry reading at Klosters Kamp, which was a combined poetry and photography gathering, once a year at a small, prestigious liberal arts college. She was a pretty woman, not slim, but not fat either, and plainly aware of her own sexiness. From that moment to the date he asked her out on, he went willingly to the hook, then to further dates and his appointment with destiny when she was sure of him and knew he was absolutely panting for her and confused about himself and his desires.
“You like being the slave of a woman like me, don’t you, honey?”
“A sad fate for a man, some might say. A definite lowering of your status, of course. Except that I don’t think men should have all that much status,
“I don’t mind wimps, don’t get me wrong, they’re often very nice in their way, but in bed I like a man with some muscle definition. You have a nice body, a body I’m happy to own.”
She leaned over him, allowing her ripe, womanly breasts to fall loose from her merry widow. His cock pulsed and quivered as her tits tumbled into his face and were rubbed around on him softly, up and down and back and forth.
“Lick your Mistress’s breasts, slave.”
He licked. Eventually he suckled while she worked his penis bringing him to the edge of coming and then stopping by grabbing his balls and squeezing them hard while she smacked his cock with a little whip. Again and again she did this, until she tired of it and finally made him come, watching his sperm shoot high into the air with a little smile on her full lips. His penis continued dribbling come for several long seconds afterwards.
“That was fun, wasn’t it, darling?”
“Oh yes, Mistress.”
She stood up and loomed over him, her breasts, her waist and belly constrained within the black leather of the merry widow corset, the V of her black satin panties visible to his right.
“Now it’s time for some fun for me, isn’t that right, hon?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress.”
She’d turned around so he could see her large, satin covered buttocks. She rocked her hips slowly up and down and her buttocks moved hypnotically under the black satin. She bent forwards and swung her body from the knees so that her big, soft ass moved slowly across his line of vision letting him see the smooth curves of her bottom, the taut place where he’d soon be sucking for breath and the mound that was going to descend onto his nose and pinch off all air unless he sucked very hard and pleased her.
Which way would she sit? The question always rose in his mind at this moment. What would her pleasure be this time and how long would it go on?
Now she swung a leg over the straddle bench and stood there tensing her buttocks above him and lifted her black hair up and ran her fingers through it before she sat down on his chest and moved back until her ass fitted over his face. She wriggled a little to get the kind of grip she liked and enjoyed the feeling of his first gasps as he sucked desperately for air on her panty.
She had on the velvet gloves that she liked to stroke her body with during this sensuous time and she ran her hands over her generous curves and firm, smooth flesh. Underneath her, in the hot darkness that was his allotted place, he gasped and sucked and gasped as his saliva moistened her panty. She began to rock her hips, letting his nose free for a moment each time, and letting him suck air through his nostrils again.
She played with her nipples during this period and occasionally tapped on his head with a delicate fingertip. That was the signal for him to force his tongue up against her panty and to hold it there while she slowly, rubbed her panty mound over his tongue from her clitoris downwards. Then, another tap on the head and he went back to sucking as she rode down harder and forced the tight contact that was so pleasurable to a woman like herself.
Later, much later, they went out to dinner. He wore his grey suit, she wore a black dress cut tight and short and three inch heels that made her as tall as him. Under his grey suit he wore pink frilly panties that were a size too small and constrained his genitals uncomfortably. His buttocks were also flame red from the sexy spanking she’d given him after she’d freed him from her bench.
The skin was tender and very sensitive. As they moved about in public she took the opportunity to pinch or caress him frequently, so that he was constantly aware of the sensations.
It left him feeling physically defensive and exposed in some way. His ass felt like it was alive, but his hard on was struggling with the tight pink satin. When they were seated she allowed him to be the man and order the wine and their dinners.
Only he was not allowed any desert or any red meat. Also he was restricted to a single glass of wine. He had to perform properly later and more than a glass might affect him.
“You’ll get used to it, hon. Remember that nobody in your home town will know, unless you make me tell them.”
“Oh, please, Mistress. Please don’t.”
“Then you better be a good boy. Remember all those photos I took of you on that first wild weekend? “
“That’s what’s nice about the city. It’s kind of anonymous. You won’t be going out, except with me, so you’ll be among my friends. You’re already learning not to think about yourself,” she put her hand down on top of his.
“I love this, it’s so good, you’re making real progress. I think you’ll make a good slave for me. You’ll be completely in my world and under my control. If I don’t get bored with you then I might even marry you. Of course, you’ll be the wife!”
“So, on Saturday you’ll get to meet Ginger and Lucy, my very best friends. They know me well, so don’t expect to fool them about our relationship. They’ll probably ask to see me spank you. I know Ginger gets a kick out of watching.”
He found it hard to reply. To be humiliated like that would be devastating, and yet it would also be terribly exciting to him sexually. He couldn’t explain what drove him to such self-abasement, but it was intoxicating on some deep level.
“Yes, Mistress,” he managed at last.
She was watching him with hooded eyes. “So, I probably will spank you
right there in front of them. What will that do for you, hon?”
right there in front of them. What will that do for you, hon?”
“Oh, Mistress, please don’t humiliate me like that.”
“Begging are we?”
“I’ll see. Perhaps if you’re very good I’ll relent and let you keep a little shred of dignity. If you’re very, very good, but only if...”
Copyright Permian Systems 1997