Domme Stories
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Queer Issue 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 4:00 am
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Queer Issue 2017
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M y mom would spank me when I was a kid. She said it was for my own good. And she was right, because I really get off on it now.
I'm grateful to my dysfunctional strict parents and years of Catholic school repression for leading me to the rough stuff in adulthood, though bondage is getting problematic these days because I have to pee frequently and I'm prone to charley horses.
When Basic Instinct premiered in 1992, I fantasized about Sharon Stone tying me to the bed like she did to Michael Douglas. The gay community was outraged and called for a movie boycott because Ms. Stone played a bisexual novelist who might also have been an ice-pick murderer, a plot point GLAAD declared was the wrong message to send America about queer women. I believe it was the right message. Nobody fucked with us in 1992.
A few years later, I moved to Hollywood to make it in the movies and sleep with actresses. My first break was a small part in Batman Forever , the one where Batman and Robin have pronounced nipples, making it the best Batman in the franchise. I still get money. My role was "Second Journalist." You can see me in the Gotham gala scene. I'm the only woman wearing a black turtleneck dress in a room full of bodice-busting bit players. The character of "First Journalist" was played by a nice lady, but she was pushy between takes. She said, "You have to meet my lesbian friend. You two would hit it off." She was one of those straight people who always try to mate their lesbian friends like we're pedigreed dogs.
I met her lesbian friend for lunch in WeHo. Lesbian friend looked achingly stylish as she handed her keys to the valet. Her smoking good looks were offset by a stale cloud of whiskey fumes. At lunch, she went on about her two-month cleanse, which was not in itself a deal breaker. She was just too drunk to date. Then she said, "Television destroys the soul. So I quit acting. I'm just a dominatrix now. I beat the shit out of the same studio heads who used to reject me. Hope that doesn't freak you out."
Trying to contain myself, I said, "That's cool."
On our second date, she was drunk again. Dinner was unbearable. She was trite and talked over me constantly. But we ended up having sex in my motel room, because how often would I get to fuck someone who had guest-starred on ABC and NBC? She seemed really into the sex at first, but when it was my turn, she got skittish and said, "I'm late for a client in the Valley. I could come by tomorrow and show you what I do. Want to try a little?"
I asked: "Will you be tying me up?" ("Like in Basic Instinct ?" I wanted to say, but played it cool.)
She said she'd "bring the bag." I acted like I knew what was in the bag.
Up to this point, my only BDSM experience was in the AOL chat rooms. Not satisfying. Dial-up killed any vibe, and nobody had webcams, so you could lie about whatever you were or were not putting up your butt.
The next night, the lesbian friend was three hours late and drunker than ever, but she had brought "the bag" and a bottle of Jack to level off. She used my bathroom to change into her standard-issue black PVC Mistress wear. She was moving slow. I was relieved when she blindfolded me so I could imagine a better presentation. She struggled to tie my hands to the motel bed frame. "You could tie my wrists tighter," I told her many times.
Finally, I just accepted that this dominatrix could not tie a knot. To make the best of it, I moaned and squirmed as if I was trying to get free, but really I was holding on to the loose knots, from which I could escape like Houdini at any moment.
"You tied up good? Can you see anything?" she asked too nicely for a dominatrix. I heard her take another swig from her bottle. Then she commenced rummaging in the bag. I had a feeling she was looking for a candle to drip hot wax on me—which I'm not really into (also not into anal or nipple clamps that are too tight). Ideally, I'd like to be tied up and forced to have vanilla sex.
"Are you ready?" I heard her put the bag down.
Silence followed and then the snip, snip, snip of sharp little scissors waving over my body. Was she going to cut me? I wasn't into that, either. She yanked my pubic hair with one hand, trimmed with the other, and asked, "Do you have a safe word?"
She passed out halfway into the renovation, leaving me with random topiary shapes between my legs. I finally understood why she offered me the freebie.
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Nasty and hot Femdom Stories from the best authors. We are all a lot into Femdom and know exacteley what you guys like. Most stories are also illustrated with pictures so you can dive into a true Femdom reality experience. Some of the stories are even based on a true happening.
A mean mistress forced me into a chastity cage and started renting me on Tinder. A true story!
Once again my slave is called to the studio so that I can check his training progress. Unfortunately, I had to find insufficient results, moreover, he lied to me. The punishment is accordingly!
Imagine you are the only male employee at a lifestyle magazine for women and your boss and colleges have a devilish plan in store for you.
Peter Mann has had his first night in Femdom Prison. For him it’s time to get down to business. His initiation ritual, his first morning in Irongate, awaits him. One of many, many more to follow.
My poor little Sissy will spend some time on the treadmill. Of course under my strict supervision! And in every round I have something more cruel for her in store!
After I finished cleaning Mistress’ pussy from our delightful session on the big brass bed, she seemed very pleased with me. She told me that, provided I remained as obedient as I had been that day, I would not have to be a puppy dog any more, at least not for the present.
"No more sleeping in the doggie cage, Mistress?" I asked.
"Not unless we need to refresh your obedience training lessons, li’l one," she replied.
I was very pleased to hear this. Sleeping on the bed would be so much more comfortable than on the thin pad in that cage.
"Now, slave Arch, it’s time for you to get yourself cleaned up. There is work to be done, and your training must continue. Get into the bathroom and take a shower. I will be back for you in a little while."
"Yes, Mistress." I went directly to the bathroom, closing the door.
Immediately the door was opened behind me. "You will not close this door without my permission, Arch!" Mistress scolded.
"Sorry, Mistress. I didn’t know, Mistress."
"Yes, Ma’am. May I close the door, Ma’am?"
"No, you may not! I have told you previously, so far as you are concerned, there is no privacy here. Do you understand that?"
"Now, get cleaned up. I’ll be back for you."
"Yes, Mistress." As she left the room, I availed myself of the toilet, then removed my ankle and wrist straps—I could not remove my collar, because it was secured by the little padlock—and turned on the shower. The warm water felt so soothing. I lathered my head with soap. It felt very strange to feel only bare scalp there. As I continued to lather the rest of my body, I began to think about all that had taken place since I first was ushered into the office of ‘Ms. Stella Smith’, if that’s what her name really is. What ever her name is, I thought, she is now Mistress Stella to me—at least until I can find some way to get out of this rediculous situation I find myself in.
I thought about how much different I must look, with my head and body completely shaved, and with a collar locked around my neck and a steel ring around my cock and balls. As I was thinking about that, unconsciously, I held my cock in my hand and began to rub it. The warm lather felt so good, and it made me think about the exciting feeling of Mistress’s velvet cunt sliding up and down on it. In spite of the fact that I’d had an orgasm just a little while ago, it began to get hard again. With warm water running over my body, and my slick, hard cock in my hand, I relaxed, stroking it and loosing all consciousness of where I was and what I was doing—or supposed to be doing.
Suddenly, I heard Mistress’s voice not three feet from me. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she shouted. "ARE YOU PLAYING WITH MY PHALLUS? YOU DON’T HAVE PERMISSION TO PLAY WITH THAT COCK! I’TS MINE, AND YOU DON’T PLAY WITH IT UNLESS I SAY YOU CAN!"
I was dumbstruck. I didn’t know what to say or do. I let go of my hard prick and stood there staring at her. Water from the shower was cascading over me, and my cock, covered with soapy lather, was pointed straight at her. "I’m sorry, Mistress…I didn’t know, Mistress…I didn’t realize what I was doing, Mistress…I…I…"
"I see you must be taught a lesson, slave. You will be punished for this. Perhaps then you will ‘know’ and you will ‘realize’ what you are doing."
"I’m sorry, Mistress," I said, contritely.
"I’m going to make sure you are sorry," Mistress declared.
"But Mistress, it wasn’t intentional…and I didn’t realize I was doing something wrong. I won’t do it again," I said, hoping she would relent about whatever punishment she had in mind.
"Arch, here punishment for any infraction is administered the first time the infraction occurs and each and every time thereafter. You will be told ahead of time what that punishment will be and when it will be administered. That way, you will have an opportunity to think about the punishment to come and the reason for it. You will be expected to present yourself for punishment at the appointed time and in the appropriate manner. On this occasion your punishment will be five strokes of the strap across your butt. After you have finished cleaning up and getting yourself dried off and your wrist and ankle straps back on, you will come to me and tell me you are ready for your punishment. Is that clear? Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress, I understand," I said, looking down at the floor.
Without saying another word, Mistress left the room.
I rinsed the soapy lather off my body and dried myself slowly, wanting to delay the inevitable as long as possible. Then I realized that, because the punishment was inevitable, delaying it just gave me more time to think about it. That was punishment in itself. Finally, I realized that, by telling me what the punishment would be then setting it for some time in the future, Mistress intended to make me fearful by giving me time to dwell on it. I hurried to finish what I was doing and quickly put my wrist and ankle straps on. Then I set out to find Mistress Stella and get the punishment behind me—so to speak.
I found her in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table drinking coffee and talking to Mistress Aurora. They were laughing, and I wondered whether it was at my expense. The only thing I heard was Mistress Stella saying, "…and we’ll have to have Luna test him." Then they laughed again. I wondered what that meant.
I cleared my throat, and, when they looked at me, I said, "Here I am, Mistress."
"Yes, Arch? You have something to say to me?" Mistress Stella said.
I swallowed hard and replied, "Yes, Mistress. I’m ready for my punishment."
"Very good, li’l one." She stood up. To Mistress Aurora she said, "Please excuse me. I must attend to the training of my slave." Then to me she said, pointing to her strap, which was hanging in its usual place by the door, "Bring my strap and come with me, my naughty boy."
Carrying the instrument of my punishment, I followed her back to my bedroom—I was now thinking of it as that. As soon as we entered the room she ordered me, "Kneel at the spanking bench and lie flat on top of it."
"Yes, Mistress," I said, still holding the strap. Attached to the legs at one end of the bench were two padded kneeling posts. They were just at the right height so that, when I knelt on them, I could bend forward and lie horizontally on top. Because of the position of the kneeling posts, my thighs were spread and the tops of them pressed firmly against the end of the bench. There was even a ‘U’-shaped notch to accommodate my cock and balls, letting them hang freely. I assumed the position, as instructed.
"Hand me my strap," Mistress commanded. When I had handed it to her, she caressed the cheeks of my ass with her hand. As she did so, she said, "Now, Arch, extend your arms straight above your head and lie still. Count each stroke aloud so I can hear you—and thank me for each stroke as it is administered. It is, after all, being administered for your education and improvement, and you should appreciate it."
With that, she drew her arm far back and swung the strap forcefully. THWAAACK.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH," I screamed. I rose straight up and grabbed my ass with both hands.
"Oh dear, Arch, I see you will have to be restrained. Lie back down on the bench…NOW!"
"Yes, Mistress." I lay back down and again extended my arms.
Mistress went to the cupboard, opened a door, and got a long leather belt. She brought it to the spanking bench, and, passing it underneath, buckled it over my back just below my shoulders. "Now, we shall start again," she said. "Don’t for get to count the strokes, my naughty slave. She drew her arm back and delivered another blow. THWAAAACK.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH," I screamed again and strained against the belt, followed by, "Two. Thank you, Mistress."
Again, Mistress caressed my ass as she said, "Dear, dear, dear, Arch. Don’t you understand when I said ‘we shall start again’ that meant the count starts at ‘one’, not ‘two’. Besides, I have yet to hear you count ‘one’, nor to thank me for that stroke. Now…we shall start again!"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. One. Thank you, Mistress."
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Two. Thank you, Mistress."
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Three. Thank you, Mistress." My ass was on fire.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Four. Thank you, Mistress."
"Good boy. Last one, Arch." I felt the palm of her hand again caressing my ass. She was taunting me. "Are you ready, my slave?"
"Yes, Mistress," I replied, wishing she would just get it over with.
Silence. Nothing. Waiting for the last blow was excruciating. Finally…after what seemed an interminable time…THWAAAACK.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Five. Oh god, thank you, Mistress."
Then, playfully, she reached between my legs with the strap and tapped on my balls. "That should help you to remember that all this is mine, and you must have my permission to play with it." Mercifully, before she released me from the bench, Mistress rubbed cool, soothing, lotion on my flaming butt. After that she released me.
As I got up off the spanking bench, she immediately noticed, and I realized for the first time, that my cock was rigid as a pole. She laughed aloud. Sitting on a soft chair, she beckoned to me. "My god, slave, you are a pain slut! Come here, li’l one and kneel beside me." When I was on my knees beside her, she clutched my head to her breast. Holding it there, she gently kissed my naked skull. It was then that I realized she was growing fond of me—and I of her. She held me in this manner for some time, saying nothing and gently rubbing my back. When my cock and I were fully relaxed and the fire on my ass had diminished to dull heat, she said, "Alright, Arch, get your new clothes on and come to me in the kitchen." She kissed the top of my head again, released me, and left the room.
I put on my new harness, dutifully attaching the bottom strap to my cock and ball ring. Then I pulled on the little leather thong and stepped into my sandals. I decided I liked the thong because, at the present time, it felt good to have nothing touching the cheeks of my sore ass.
When I entered the kitchen Mistress Stella was again sitting at the table chatting with Mistress Aurora. "I’m here, Mistress," I said.
"Good boy, Arch. I’m sure you remember Mistress Aurora."
"Oh yes, Ma’am!" I said, smiling and thinking to myself about being introduced to her as Mistress Stella’s puppy. "How are you today, Mistress?" I inquired of Mistress Aurora.
"Very well, slave Arch, and you?" she replied, smiling.
"You look quite wel
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