i dream about it all the time. my fantasy is to have a beautiful woman suck my small tiny cock until i cum in her mouth. she then grabs my balls and crushes them in her hand while i moan in agony she spits my own lode of cum back into my mouth. she says since its the last time you are ever going to cum, i thought you should have it. she then puts my tiny little penis back into her mouth and it gets hard again, well as hard as it can get. she then looks up at me and slowly bits me tiny useless penis off. she then stands up with it hanging out of her mouth. grabs it in her hand sticks it in my face and tells me to kiss it goodbye. i do. she then walks away with it.

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He Dreams About Castration
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

Wanted stories, vignettes focusing on:

• Chastity, Orgasm Denial
• Female Supremacy (SF, Fantasy welcome)
• Feminization
• Lifestyle Enslavement
• Small Penis Humiliation

Let me publish something by your or extracts from some a F/m story or novel that you’ve written. I’ll be happy to link to your blog and or ebook. Full credit and copyright stated.

Email:

The offer also applies to Female Let Relationships Net for F/m nonfiction.

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Let Me Publish Your Story or Fantasy
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

Too long for heart or soul or blood to bear, I have walked the night, searching for the one to share my dark dream. Innocent, beautiful, depraved, the boy who will bear My mark upon his soul forever and not be destroyed by My fire.

It is the music I mostly remember. The soft gentle strains of the waltz, the Charleston, leaping and coruscating, haunting wisps of jazz escaping through a nightclub doorway on a tendril of acrid blue cigarette smoke.

How could We Meet Again, who have never met? I yearned for you my dark twin, yearned for your yielding embrace and your ripe warm heart.

The beats grew darker, harder, faster, the signs outside the places of the night grew brighter, but the faces were always of the same cast.

Young, so painfully awfully young to the eyes of an ancient soul, brittle, debauched, callow faces scored with petty lusts and conceits, that marred their transient beauty more than the lines of age and hard bought wisdom ever could.

As the music lost it’s words, its soul, even it’s last shred of melody to the driving beat of the speeding city, I lost heart and hope, and headed out, away from the town, away from the river, the lights and the music and the shallow glittering pretty ones, away, away.

Hungering, starving for more than the bright baubles that had been my nightly sustenance I stalked empty street after empty street, until the city at last ran out. I roamed the country roads, where the night creatures still knew well enough to shun one of my kind.

In the small towns and villages my search was harder. The night so much shorter, prey few and far between, I knew hunger, both real and the soul hunger that had stalked me since my creation. I knew pain, fiery pain and my veins burned as my soul had. Sweet ecstasy of pain, oh to share you with my dark twin, and make us whole and full and return the promise to the night.

It was that time when the world turns, when unholy things such as I reclaim the night after the soft short nights of summer, and the prey begin to huddle their frail forms in coats against the cold and dark, that I cam to a small grey town, as new and raw as the young things in the city.

And here, by the railway station, after the last train had borne it’s consignment of weary revellers away, I saw him.

Rather, I saw his shadow, strangely elongated in the orange glow of the station carpark light. Soft curling hair tied in a ponytail, escaping the collar of his coat. Long fine bones, and a dancer’s grace.

I did not stop to think. His kind and mine shun each other always, except in the last embrace, when flight gives way to passion for the span of thirteen heartbeats and is gone.

I drew my cloak around me, uncaring of the picture I must make, and spoke, with a voice unused for decades.

“Come here”.

Mike shivered, and sniffed the air. Woodsmoke, discarded fish and chips, the grease and diesel smell of the departed train, and something more subtle. A soft metal scent, like old blood, mixed with church incense? Mike was used to feeling out of place, out of time, out of sorts.

Brentwood was no place for a young man with a dancer’s grace, a poet’s soul, and no apparent interest in drinking with the lads, or football or girls. The night appeared to grow darker, thicker, more dangerous.

Mike took a deep breath, and slowly, gracefully turned his head to the source of that subtle musk. He knew he should be afraid, but with a sense of recognition, he realised that he was not as much as surprised when a lithe dark form detached itself from a shadow that seemed pale by comparison, and stepped out into the lurid light of the station floods.

Even there she seemed to drink the light. Hooded and swathed in rich dusty black silk velvet to the toes of her little button boots.

A rich, hot darkness flooded through him, thick and sensual. Senses held hostage by the mundane world he was born to flowered fiercely, rebelliously into life. He could not even see her face, but her timeless attitude of noble authority seared an impression of unbearable beauty across his eyes, threaded his veins with silken fire. Desire exploded, fresh and new minted upon senses more accustomed to the calm quiet pleasure of a good book.

He was already in motion when a voice like tarnished silver wrapped itself around each newly quickened sense he possessed, with an irrevocable note of command.

“Come here”

Related posts:

1. Thoughts of a Submissive Man

Submissive Male Captured
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

Once the mind adjusts,a person could handle just about anything. Pinching, pulling,twisting and just general yanking on them will soon bring you many delights.

The clothespin training takes me to 2/3 hrs. I am yanking on them of course. I then went to various clamps; certain clamp pliers;cable clamps,which are stronger[1/2 hrs at a time. Some time ago a girlfriend discovered my passion, and really worked them over good. She chewed them up until nice and sore;smacked them with a ruler;and then directed her attention to my rock hard cock,by smacking the shaft.

We would have a heated sex session before bed;in the middle of the night; and again in the morning.

Now married, both the girlfriend and the wife would give my ass a good tanning;and then each one choose a nipple and chewed at the same time. We never did anything that was not agreed upon;and I got to fuck the two of them.

It doesn’t matter what the gender is. A mouth is a mouth. The same for two men,which I have done;or two women,which I love to watch. I can deep throat a man for an hour or so;and its not polite not to swallow.

Originally posted 2010-06-21 11:35:54. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Nipple Torture is the New Viagra
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

As always, my accommodations were the finest, but in truth, I was far too busy to notice. One evening, as I worked in my suite, I heard a light knock on the door. I hadn’t ordered room service, and asked impatiently,

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mr. Lamb,” I heard Miss Wolfe say.

“What is it?” I demanded, impatient by her breach of etiquette. I am no fool. No smart businessman lets the relationship with their assistant become too personal, even if the assistant is one of the most beautiful women in the city.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, sir,” she replied, her silky voice muffled by the thick door. “But there’s been a development on the Yokito negotiations, and I thought you should have an update.”

By now I was more than impatient. I was annoyed. I could not fathom why Miss Wolfe would take an elevator fifteen floors up to knock on my door when she could have simply picked up the telephone.

“Miss Wolfe,” I said as I cracked open the door to glare at her, “The last time I checked, they still had telephones in this facility, and I certainly do not appreciate your knocking on my door at this hour.”

She hugged her long coat tightly around her sleek body and looked down at the floor. “Some papers were dropped off for you to review,” she murmured. “I thought you’d want them right away. But if you prefer, I’ll go back to my room and call you on the telephone.” Her voice cracked on the last few words.

This was a side of her I’d never seen. Nothing upset Miss Wolfe — last-minute changes in deadlines, my rantings over schedule conflicts, working nights and weekends – nothing.

“There’s no need to get upset,” I muttered. “You’re here now. You might as well come in.” I opened the door wider and moved aside. Without a word, she picked up her leather briefcase and walked into my suite. As I turned to close the door, I heard a sharp hissing sound. Immediately, the room started to spin, and I whipped around just in time to see Miss Wolfe holding a small spray vial.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place and saw the hazy image of my soon-to-be unemployed assistant. But Miss Wolfe, with her endless supply of elegant business attire, was dressed for anything but business. In high leather boots, a short leather skirt, and a Wolfe leather top that left little to the imagination, she was obviously not the same Miss Wolfe who brought me coffee and muffins.

“What the hell.” I cursed, realizing for the first time I couldn’t move. Leather cuffs imprisoned both my wrists and ankles. My arms were chained high above my head and attached to hooks suspended from the ceiling. A short chain ran from each ankle cuff and attached to a sturdy metal hook imbedded in the floor. “Miss Wolfe,” I said quietly with steel in my voice. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I assure you I am not interested.”

“Oh, really?” she retorted, staring pointedly at my pelvic region. “You could’ve fooled me.” Like a jungle feline stalking its chosen prey, she moved closer. She leaned close to me, and I caught a hint of intoxicating perfume. She reached down and ran an elegant finger over the bulge in my pants.

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Lamb,” she whispered in my ear, her silky voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you think I showed up at your office by accident? Tell me, didn’t you find it a bit odd that good old Betty retired so suddenly? Oh, I heard about you alright, and let me tell you something right now. I’ve waited two long months for this, and I will not be denied. Tonight, you are going to serve me.”

Her words excited me in spite of myself, but I vowed she would never know “Miss Wolfe,” I retorted. “I assure you, you are quite mistaken. Now, I demand you release me this instant.”

“First of all,” she purred. “You will address me as Mistress Wolfe. And second of all, you’re in no position to make demands.” She began to circle me, her leather boots clicking against the hard floor of what looked like an old warehouse. I looked around and realized that the restraints imprisoning me were not the only ones at her disposal. My eyes fell on numerous tools of confinement, pain, and pleasure. My head was clearing at last, and I tested the strength of the chains binding me.

I heard a silky laugh behind me. “Yes, they are genuine.

You’re mine completely, and I believe it is time for your first lesson.” She ran her hand lightly across the back of my pants, lingering on my buttocks as she prowled around to the front of me. She looked directly into my eyes and whispered, “I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”

She reached out and unbuckled my belt. She tugged, freeing the long leather strip from the loops confining it. She held the belt in her hands for a moment. Then suddenly, she drew back and cracked it against the side of my thigh. Even through my pants, it stung.

This was too much. “You crazy bitch!” I yelled.

“Goddamn it, enough is enough. Let me go now!”

She smiled. “Strange, that didn’t sound like begging to me. But that’s easily remedied.” Calmly, she transferred my thick belt from her right hand to her left. With her right hand now free, she reached out to unfasten my pants. With a few quick tugs, my pants were around my ankles, my erection even more prominent through my boxers. With another series of tugs, my boxers also rested on my feet. My shirt and tie, she left untouched.

I heard the chains rattle as I tugged furiously against them. Miss Wolfe began to circle me again, my sturdy belt in her certain hands. Unexpectedly, I heard the sound of a crack and felt the first sting of the leather as it struck my bare backside. I flinched and yelled in response, tugging even harder against the chains securing me. Like lightning, the second crack came sooner than expected. “Stop it, dammit!” I yelled, making a vain attempt to twist around to face my tormentor.

She ignored my demands, and struck my bare ass with the sturdy belt yet another time. I struggled like a madman and heard her laugh quietly. I felt several more painful cracks against my backside, and then she paused.

I heard the click of her boots as she prowled closer. I felt a silky hand brush against my warm backside as if testing her handiwork. Soon, I felt two smooth arms encircle my waist and two expert hands reaching between my legs as she pressed her body close behind me.

The pain from the belt had made my erection less prominent, but as I felt two silky hands stroke my penis from head to shaft, it didn’t take long for me to grow rock hard again.

I considered making another bid for freedom, but her touch was enthralling, and I doubted my demands would do any good…

Originally posted 2010-06-08 15:28:31. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Sadistic Secretary
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

And I want to hurt you. Hurt you badly. But you are new to this and I’ll have to be very mindful of restraining myself. Your butt is wonderfully smooth. It has never known a cane much less learned the different kind of pain wood, acrylic and metal canes bring.

You don’t yet suspect how vulnerable your nipples are. You probably never even think of them. How I shall make them feel will startle you.

Your genitals have always given you simple pleasure. Will you be the kind of male who gets his biggest erections when clothespins are attached? How helpless you will feel when I grip your testicles in my hand and squeeze.

Originally posted 2008-01-19 07:46:47. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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How Will I Hurt You?
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

She can speak to me over an intercom and listen if She pleases.

A pulse oximeter probe is strapped to my left big toe. If I begin to suffocate, Mistress will be alerted. If I become sexually aroused and my pulse rises, Mistress will know this perhaps even before I do.

If I am being punished, my weight is pressing my bare feet into dull spikes which produce first pain, then numbness with increasingly intense pain at my slightest movement, and a rising level of suffering which completely overcomes me, and breaks me, no matter what I do.

Originally posted 2009-12-30 04:48:38. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Related posts:

1. Husband’s Punishment

Punishment Closet
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

Too long for heart or soul or blood to bear, I have walked the night,
searching for the one to share my dark dream. Innocent, beautiful,
depraved, the boy who will bear My mark upon his soul forever and not be
destroyed by My fire.

It is the music I mostly remember. The soft gentle strains of the waltz,
the Charleston, leaping and coruscating, haunting wisps of jazz escaping
through a nightclub doorway on a tendril of acrid blue cigarette smoke. How
could We Meet Again, who have never met? I yearned for you my dark twin,
yearned for your yielding embrace and your ripe warm heart.

The beats grew darker, harder, faster, the signs outside the places of the
night grew brighter, but the faces were always of the same cast. Young, so
painfully awfully young to the eyes of an ancient soul, brittle, debauched,
callow faces scored with petty lusts and conceits, that marred their
transient beauty more than the lines of age and hard bought wisdom ever
could.

As the music lost it’s words, its soul, even it’s last shred of melody to
the driving beat of the speeding city, I lost heart and hope, and headed
out, away from the town, away from the river, the lights and the music and
the shallow glittering pretty ones, away, away.

Hungering, starving for more than the bright baubles that had been my
nightly sustenance I stalked empty street after empty street, until the city
at last ran out. I roamed the country roads, where the night creatures
still knew well enough to shun one of my kind.

In the small towns and villages my search was harder. The night so much
shorter, prey few and far between, I knew hunger, both real and the soul
hunger that had stalked me since my creation. I knew pain, fiery pain and
my veins burned as my soul had. Sweet ecstasy of pain, oh to share you with
my dark twin, and make us whole and full and return the promise to the
night.

It was that time when the world turns, when unholy things such as I reclaim
the night after the soft short nights of summer, and the prey begin to
huddle their frail forms in coats against the cold and dark, that I cam to a
small grey town, as new and raw as the young things in the city.

And here, by the railway station, after the last train had borne it’s
consignment of weary revellers away, I saw him.

Rather, I saw his shadow, strangely elongated in the orange glow of the
station carpark light. Soft curling hair tied in a ponytail, escaping the
collar of his coat. Long fine bones, and a dancer’s grace.

I did not stop to think. His kind and mine shun each other always, except in
the last embrace, when flight gives way to passion for the span of thirteen
heartbeats and is gone.

I drew my cloak around me, uncaring of the picture I must make, and spoke,
with a voice unused for decades.

“Come here”.

Mike shivered, and sniffed the air. Woodsmoke, discarded fish and chips,
the grease and diesel smell of the departed train, and something more
subtle. A soft metal scent, like old blood, mixed with church incense?

Mike was used to feeling out of place, out of time, out of sorts. Brentwood
was no place for a young man with a dancer’s grace, a poet’s soul, and no
apparent interest in drinking with the lads, or football or girls. The
night appeared to grow darker, thicker, more dangerous.

Mike took a deep breath, and slowly, gracefully turned his head to the
source of that subtle musk. He knew he should be afraid, but with a sense
of recognition, he realised that he was not as much as surprised when a
lithe dark form detached itself from a shadow that seemed pale by
comparison, and stepped out into the lurid light of the station floods.

Even there she seemed to drink the light. Hooded and swathed in rich dusty
black silk velvet to the toes of her little button boots.

A rich, hot darkness flooded through him, thick and sensual. Senses held
hostage by the mundane world he was born to flowered fiercely, rebelliously
into life. He could not even see her face, but her timeless attitude of
noble authority seared an impression of unbearable beauty across his eyes,
threaded his veins with silken fire. Desire exploded, fresh and new minted
upon senses more accustomed to the calm quiet pleasure of a good book. He
was already in motion when a voice like tarnished silver wrapped itself
around each newly quickened sense he possessed, with an irrevocable note of
command.

“Come here”

Originally posted 2008-01-17 11:11:16. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

No related posts.

Unfinished
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

After several emails we are meeting for the first time. I ask if you are sure; you say yes.

Once inside I instruct you to remove your clothes, fold them neatly and place them on the far end of the futon. Then to come and kneel before me with your head bowed.

For a time I merely watch you on your knees as you strive to cope with excited uncertainty.

I have your close your eyes and tell me of your long suppressed desires for submission and even pain. Your voice is jerky; often your sentences veer out of control. To confess is difficult yet wonderful.

Without prelude I slap your cheek. Not hard but the act itself is enough to shock you. Your head jerks up and you stare at me with wide glistening eyes.

Firmly I take your head and force it back down. My fingers play across the back of your ear as I ask you if you don’t really want to be a good boy, an obedient boy. You shiver. Not from cold, nor from fear. It is the thrill of your first taste of self-realization.

And so begins a long afternoon on the day I enslave you.

Originally posted 2008-05-15 19:19:20. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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Enslaving You
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories

I smile imagining you on all fours eating your food from a plate on the floor. You are my loving pet. So lost in surrender you can barely remember how to speak.

My floors are clean enough. But you scrub them that you might prove your need to serve me.

Shall I teach you special prayers so you can better worship me?

Do you hunger to feel lowly?

To drink my piss?

To be confined in a small dark place?

Which of your freedoms will I take away?

Perhaps I will lock up your manhood and forbid you orgasms except as rare treats.

How I enjoy seeing my chains and my cuffs on you.

You will give yourself to me and I will put at rest that slave’s ache in your heart.

Originally posted 2008-02-29 23:00:18. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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How Shall I Humble You?
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantaises, F/m Stories