Hand colored image of a vintage kitten with a whip, with lots of pink — including porcelain roses. Dominatrix Earrings by PersephonesBijoux.
Via the number one phone sex Tumblr site, I found this post and then the fabulous shop called Female Supremacy, which features some fab femdom fashions ~ as well as a number of items for their submissive partners. These are a few of my favorites…
Bonus: If you’re not familiar with Zazzle, you should know that there are numerous style and color options ~ for both men & women ~ and you can customize the shirts, complete with pet & power names!
Pinkie is a real life submissive ~ and a phone sex operator who turns her money over to her Master, Blackie. She’s got a book out via Tit-Elation, and here’s a little excerpt for Hot Flash Fiction Friday. This takes place after Pinkie has served her Master’s Hong Kong business associates by being a face-fuck toy and she was forced to strip and masturbate for the group of men.
Blackie knows me so well, he knew I was close. “Go ahead and come, you little whore; you can squirt for them too yet.”
When he said “squirt,” the room filled with expectant “ahhs” as if they were a crowd at a Fourth of July celebration who had heard the whistles of the finale fireworks launched into the air.
…It seemed like hours, but I know it was only minutes that I lay there panting and screaming, tears running down my face, smearing my makeup and soaking the hotel bedding — while my body jerked and clenched and then finally just trembled while I lay there muttering something about “no more.”
Someone took the Hitachi from my hand and away from my twitching clit. The bodies began to disburse — except for one. The boss appeared at my face and ordered me to open it. “Now you tired whore, I fuck your face and you have no pleasure, no hope, no wishes other than for it to end.”
You can read the rest ~ and a lot more ~ in the ebook, Pinkie and Blackie: Tales of a Phone Sex Submissive.
In this short erotic story, an escort takes control…
According to Jim, he was a man who loved giving and I was an escort who got everything she wanted. He was wrong about that. Completely and wholly wrong. You see, I’m the kind of girl who takes what she wants, it’s not always just handed to me on a silver platter. And as for Jim, well, he was a man who didn’t know that he liked receiving what was given to him. He’d always been the dominant one in his relationships and most girls in London happen to be okay with that. Not me, I wanted to prove to him that sometimes, it’s worth it to kick back and enjoy the ride.
Read the rest of As Ready As I’ll Ever Be.
A evocative tweet from Secondhand Rose:
His pride was like one of those cast iron door stops – left at the door & tripped over when he left.
Looks like Bond, Bruce Bond, will be taking over Santa’s “naughty or nice” list this year… Here’s some of what might be in store for you!
This week’s erotica is also a Sex Kitten flashback ~ a story our beloved Jewel wrote back in 2004, called Holiday Present. Here’s the teaser:
I pull the bondage hood on over your face. I zip it over your eyes. You keep them open to the last moment because that’s what I like – seeing your last look in the light before I turn your world dark.
Your breath becomes raspy. You never like the first few minutes in the hood.
I know you don’t like the smell of the hood. But, you stop thinking about the smell soon.
There you sit, waiting, expecting. I don’t do anything for awhile. I enjoy your anticipation. I like to wait for your squirming to start. Just waiting, thinking about what I will do next, what I’ve got planned or will get the impulse to do… it makes you eager and hard.
Silent and sitting right in front of you I notice the little things. You’re restless. First your hands sit on your thighs then rub up and down, caressing yourself. I like it. I cover one of your hands with my own and lead it up your thigh to your rising cock. Your breath whooshes out but the narrow vent leaves you coughing for air.
I keep your hand on your cock, not even moving, just resting our hands on your cock together. When your cock is hard and your hips wriggle and squirm your breathing is fast and gasping. Still I wait, holding you in position until your cock starts leaking.
That’s when your mumbling starts, begging through the zipper of the bondage hood. My real fun starts then. How long can I keep you right there… needing but not getting anything. How long can I stretch out your building need to orgasm.
“I told you I wanted breakfast in bed on my birthday.”
He stood there at the side of the bed, nude and completely stupid looking. The simple task of breakfast in bed had him stumped. All because he thought with his cock instead of his brain. His idea of breakfast in bed on my birthday was for me to wake up and suck his cock.
I was furious. So angry I almost dared not speak or even look at him. I could feel the anger boiling inside of me, right to my fingertips and the roots of my hair. How could he be such a fool!
“Get out! Get out of my bedroom, out of my house and do not come back until (and unless I invite you again)!”
“But…” He blubbered a bit and then I looked at him, right eye to eye and his face turned a bit pale. This wasn’t a BDSM game, this wasn’t play. This was my birthday and he had made it about him and his desire.
It was the most selfish thing he could have done and he had gone ahead and done it, expecting I’d be pleased. The arrogance!
“Let me make it up to you… We can go out for breakfast. That really fancy place downtown.” I was still too angry to answer him.
He left, headed to the bathroom. I heard the shower running and was angrier because even after this fiasco he was still trying to hang on.
I’d show him!
I put on my robe, went downstairs to the kitchen and made myself the breakfast I wanted. He was already out of the shower, dressed and standing in the hallway before I was finished. I made pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausages, fruit salad and fried potatoes. I squeezed fresh orange juice and then made coffee. I sliced a fresh tomato to decorate the side of my plate. It smelled great.
I could feel the tension inside my skull lesson as I finally loaded it all onto my plate. I set it on the table, centred on the place mat with the good cutlery and a proper cloth napkin. I even had the fresh flowers I had bought myself on the ride home from work yesterday. All was perfect.
I heard him shifting around in the hallway. I sat down to my perfect breakfast feast. My poached eggs were just right. I dipped a corner of my toast into the yolks and began eating.
Behind me, on the stove, in the sink and around the counters were all the pots, pans, ingredients and so on. I had put nothing away. I had not put even one pan into the sink to soak. He remained in the hallway. Now and then I could hear restless noises as he shifted around, leaning on the wall which was another thing I didn’t like.
“Stand up straight you little prick! Don’t loaf around leaning on my walls!” I belted it out like a cannon shot and I could see his shadow jump to attention without having to actually look at him.
When I had enough of my breakfast I blotted my mouth with the napkin and got up from my chair. From the bottom of the cupboard I got the dog bowl we had bought once but not yet used. Pet play had seemed interesting but never quite fit in with what I wanted to do, until now.
I picked up my breakfast plate with the remains of pancakes, toast, sausages and potatoes and I let all of it slide and drop off my plate and into the dog bowl. I liked the plop sound it made as it landed. Placing the dog bowl on the floor I left the kitchen, went upstairs and had a shower.
To him I said nothing more. Actions speak louder than words.