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Erotica: For Shame

February 27, 2017 By Phi Leave a Comment

Submissive woman outside

Episode 1 of the Mr. and Mrs. Shameless Series

“Have you no shame?” he asked incredulously. She’d been bent over trying to pull a stubborn weed out of her front lawn. It was a hot day and she was wearing a short sundress. Standing up and turning toward the voice that had interrupted her struggle, she cocked her head to the side.

“Excuse me?”

“The way you’re dressed, you should take better care to watch what you’re showing off to the world, young lady. Obscenities do not belong in public.”

Young lady. Her eyes narrowed. She’d show him how young ladies could be obscene.

“DADDY!”

The front door opened and he came out, using his palm to shield his eyes he looked out onto the front lawn. “What’s up, pumpkin?”

She twisted at the waist so her skirt would flair up a bit as she turned. “Daddy, Mr. Buzzkill wants to know if I have any shame. Do I have any shame, Daddy?”

Her husband looked over at the man standing on the sidewalk. “What did she do?” They were peers – middle aged, salt and peppered.

“She was bent over in that short dress letting the world see everything she’s got. Look, I’m no prude, but it’s a dangerous time for women to be flashing their goodies all over the place without caring about consequences.”

“You are absolutely right. I should teach her some shame.”

“Oh, no Daddy, please no!”

“Bend over and show me all your goodies the way you were showing them to the world. I need to teach you a lesson.”
She dutifully bent over. The hemline of her skirt slid up her thigh to just under the lace trim of her white panties.
Stepping forward, her husband lifted the skirt, pulled her panties down and started unbuckling his belt.

“What are you doing?” The interloper was panicked.

“I’m teaching her about shame. It was your idea.” He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. As he shoved it inside her he grunted toward her, punctuating each word with a slap to her ass, “You need to learn to care about consequences.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll learn my lesson, I promise. Uhhh..yess….teach me that lesson right there, oh that lesson feels so good Daddy.”

The interloper ran back across the street to his home, and the suburban couple took their shameful display back inside.
A few minutes after she’d finished swallowing his load, the doorbell rang.

“Hey, guys. I got a complaint from your neighbor that you were having intercourse on your front lawn.”

“Hey Officer Bradley, you’re right on time. She’s ready for round 2.”
“You know, Simon, you could just call me over. I’m always happy to fuck your wife.”

“Yeah, but this way that nosy neighbor of mine gets something out of it.”

Phi is an erotic fiction writer. Phi (pronounced “fee”) came into kink at early age and renewed her connection with the lifestyle in 2014 after a decade-long hiatus. A somewhat popular and undeniably avid blogger on fetlife.com under the name phi-is-me, phi lives in the suburb of a suburb in southern California with two cats and six pillows.

Tagged With: erotica, femsub, girl, punishment, Spanking, submission

The Little Brat

November 16, 2015 By Desdemona 1 Comment

Photographer: Dexx Model: Renata Colette

She was home alone and feeling neglected. She set up her phone and snapped a few cheeky shots for Daddy.

“That should get his attention,” she thought with a laugh.

Her phone suddenly buzzes to life. A new text message.

“I get home in two hours.” It was Daddy!

“You’re going to get it and that little bear too. Be ready….”

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Tagged With: girl, little, photography, punishment, scene, submission, submissive, toys

Mistress Lucy trains Her puppy

November 2, 2015 By Desdemona 1 Comment

Photographer: Dexx Models: Mistress Lucy and Renata Colette

Mistress Lucy was bored. She was tired of the same old tricks. While perusing the local bookstore, something caught her eye…a puppy training guide. Interesting, and she had just the perfect little puppy on which to practice.

Mistress Lucy is a professional dominatrix based in Los Angeles, CA. For more information or to contact her regarding sessions, visit her web site.

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Tagged With: dominatrix, dynamic, fetish, girl, latex, photography, puppy play, slave, submission

Erotica: Michelle, the Prequel

November 2, 2015 By Phi Leave a Comment

Sexy female sitting in a bar

I was excited. I was also fucking nervous. Mistress had me in training for three weeks with her other girls before she’d even let me spend the night at the mansion. They worked me raw having me learn positions and study current events and cleaning – good god, all the fucking cleaning. And it had to be done “The way Mistress likes it.” Every time. Even shit she’d never see, like making the beds in the guest rooms.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful, it was that I’d signed up for more than this. I felt like the Karate Kid doing wax on wax off stuff before figuring out that it was preparing me for what was to come. And in my head I knew that. And I tried to be patient, but I guess patience isn’t really in my nature.

Each night I’d wrap up my training and wait in a room while my “sisters” went in to report on my progress. Each night I waited for Mistress to walk back through the double doors and welcome me to stay.

Each night, Juliette would be the one to walk back through the doors. “Mistress thanks you for your service and wishes you a good night. Please return tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

And that would be it. I’d go back to my shitty apartment that I shared with roommates I barely knew, and masturbate myself to sleep.

By the end of the third week, I was starting to get used to the routine. I’d catch glimpses of Mistress as she’d wander in from time to time during my studies. Wanting to impress her, I’d stay focused on my tasks – and other than a courteous “Good morning, Mistress,” or “Good evening, Mistress,” I’d carry on with whatever I was doing. I’d been taught that was “the way Mistress likes it.”

The day Mistress walked back through those double doors alongside Juliette, I fell to my knees before her and kissed the ground at her feet without being told.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” she said. “I’m hosting a get-together this weekend. Tomorrow morning, you and I will have a chat and discuss your place in this household. If we come to an agreement, I will introduce you as a member of my House at the party on Saturday.”

“Yes, Mistress,” was all I could say. With that, she turned and walked out. I didn’t come up until I heard Juliette speak, “I’ll show you to your room whenever you’re ready.”

I was ecstatic. All that hard work had paid off! And the following morning, instead of waking up in my shitty apartment with my shitty roommates, I woke up in a beautiful bedroom with my own adjacent bathroom.

Over breakfast, Juliette tried prepping me for my conversation with Mistress, but I kept zoning out, daydreaming about being introduced at the party. I imagined what I would wear – a brand new black leather collar and my dark blue corset with back-seamed stockings and heels. I would look perfect for her, and all her guests would be watching me and envious of her and I would be her most prized possession.

“Just remember, she likes things the way she likes them. Don’t question her. Are you listening?” Juliette was waving her hand in front of my face.

“Yes, Mistress likes things a particular way. Got it.” My mind wandered back to the curve of my cleavage in that corset.

My conversation with Mistress went well. She already knew a lot about my background from my application and initial interview. This was more about letting me know about her expectations if I were to accept her collar. Obedience, charm, respect, and loyalty. All the traits I’d spent three weeks learning about and training in.

“Do you know why I selected your application?” she asked me.

I was stunned. I’d not put much thought into it. I’d assumed it was because she found me attractive, but I didn’t want to say that out loud. It was as though she read my mind, though, because she smirked “It’s not because of your ass, though I do plan on enjoying your physical attributes to their fullest, and very soon.”

I bit my lower lip in an effort not to smile broadly.

“I selected you because you have spirit,” she said. “My house runs very smoothly. I don’t have cause to dole out punishment very often.” She stood up from her chair behind the desk and walked toward me.

“Kneel.” she said.
I knelt, hands shaking.

She was holding a collar.

“Chin up, look at me.” As she said it, she took a forceful grasp of my chin and pulled it up anyway. I opened my eyes and looked into the darkness in her eyes.

“I enjoy breaking the spirited ones. I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” she whispered. If she hadn’t been holding me up, I might have melted into a puddle right there.

“Do you accept my collar?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She fastened it around my neck, and pulled me up by the hair. I scrambled to stand as the pain shot through my scalp.

“You will not be clothed from now until after the party Saturday night. Nobody but myself has permission to touch you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” My voice was hoarse with desire as I started stripping off my clothes in response.

“I mean nobody,” she paused and smiled cruelly. “Not even you.” She punctuated that last sentence with a sharp pinch of my left nipple. I winced in response, and she slapped my face in response to that.

I fell silent, but inside, I felt my face flushing. Emotionally I was feeling vulnerable and angry simultaneously. I called on my training for the previous three weeks and with a deep breath, calmed myself back into submission.

As I prepared for the party two nights later, I found myself staving off anxiety attacks. I reached into my purse and took half a xanax, just to take the edge off. I’d not touched myself in nearly 48 hours, nor had anybody else. I’d been doing household chores all morning wearing nothing but my collar. That afternoon, Mistress entertained herself by having Juliette and Brendan fuck each other in the garden as I served her lunch.

Watching them fuck, and watching Mistress direct them from one position to the other to the next while they obeyed without question had me so wet I was dripping down my thighs.

Every once in a while she’d look over at me and everything about her expression screamed “I know you want to touch yourself and I am not letting you.”

Her guests started arriving around 7pm. It was the who’s who of the BDSM community. Juliette had taken her place at Mistress’ side, while I was tasked with offering wine to the guests upon their arrival. Everyone was dressed beautifully, women in latex and leather and beautiful corsets. The men in suits. I was the only one completely nude except for my collar. Not even a pair of heels to accentuate my legs.

I felt everyone’s eyes on me. I could feel them staring at my ass as I walked past them, and they didn’t hide from ogling my tits at all. Some of them were even leering.

But nobody touched me. I was dripping wet and at that point, even the ugliest fucker in the room could have slid his fingers inside me and I’d have been grateful.

I went into the wine cellar to open another bottle of red wine, and poured myself a glass, quickly gulping it down before returning to the party.

That was probably where things went completely wrong. I’d forgotten about the xanax I’d taken earlier. My libido was out of control, and Mistress had hardly said more than two friendly words to me in two days.

I watched with envy as Juliette served at her side. That would be my place one day, I thought. But first I had to get through the evening.

Mistress finally looked up and called me over. Finally. I set down my tray of wine glasses and walked over to her. “Yes, Mistress?” I curtsied. There were three or four people around her at the time – men and women I recognized as leaders in the community.

“Saffron hasn’t had a walk in ages. Go take her out around the block. Don’t come back until she’s done her business.”
I was shocked.

“Outside?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrow. “Yes. Outside.” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m trying to avoid her doing her business in the house.”

“But…” I felt the anger boiling up. This was my coming out party and she’d been ignoring me the entire time, except to tell me to walk her dog?

“But what?” her tone was getting cooler.

“You said I can’t get dressed until after the party.”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to walk your dog in the street, naked?”

“And now you’ll do it while wearing a ball gag and a plug up your ass.”

My mouth dropped open. Was she nuts? And before I could stop myself, I said the words I would eventually learn to regret for a long, long time.

“You’re a bossy fuckin’ bitch, aren’t you?”

The entire room fell quiet. Juliette’s eyes went so wide it looked like that Soundgarden video from the 90s.
Mistress didn’t say it to anybody in particular. She didn’t have to.

“Get her out of my sight.”

It was Brendan who pulled me out of the room and dropped me off at the end of the hallway.
He didn’t say a word. There was nothing to be said. I’d fucked the hell up.

And I was going to pay for it.

Phi is an erotic fiction writer. Phi (pronounced “fee”) came into kink at early age and renewed her connection with the lifestyle in 2014 after a decade-long hiatus. A somewhat popular and undeniably avid blogger on fetlife.com under the name phi-is-me, phi lives in the suburb of a suburb in southern California with two cats and six pillows.

Tagged With: dominatrix, erotica, girl, punishment, slave, submission

Erotica: Michelle

October 25, 2015 By Phi 1 Comment

Sexy female sitting in a bar

She always sat in the back corner. Who knows what time she had to arrive each night to get that spot? It had the best vantage point of the room. There was no movement on the floor she couldn’t watch.

And she watched. Every night she watched.

He’d been watching her for weeks. They’d never made eye contact. Her eyes were always scanning the room, glossing over heads and faces and arms and asses and tits. She watched them all while he watched only her.

His fantasy began after the first night he spotted her. He gave her a name: Michelle. He gave her a background: intelligence officer with the CIA, assigned to monitor the club’s patrons for signs of some of the most notorious criminals. He imagined the types of situations she’d encountered and escaped from using her feminine wiles.

She only drank water. Glass after glass. The waitress didn’t even ask her anymore, just kept the glass filled the whole night. The only time Michelle ever moved was to go use the ladies room; but he imagined it was a cover for a drop with her handler. She had to drink the water so she could have adequate reason for visiting the ladies’ room so often to report on her targets’ nefarious activities.

He was a beer guy. His first night there, he drank two before he went home.

The next night he saw her again and stayed long enough to drink four.

After a few weeks, the waitress didn’t bother asking him for his order. He’d sit down and she’d drop a Stella on the table and wait for his card to open the tab without a word.

He watched as Michelle returned to her table from another drop with her handler. She was wearing a tight black miniskirt tonight. When she crossed and uncrossed her legs he could see the flash of red lace between them.
He stared at her tits as his eyes started losing focus and his mind wandered about what he might find under that splash of red lace…

She stood again. It was too soon for another drop. He sat up and looked in the direction of her gaze. A very tall, very attractive woman was walking toward Michelle’s table. She was wearing high heels and black leather pants, with her hair gathered in a high ponytail.

His mouth gaped open as he saw Michelle kneel before the woman. Right there on the floor in front of everyone! She knelt down and leaned over to kiss the woman’s shoes. The woman looked down on her and smiled. She crossed her arms over her chest and said something.

Michelle sat back up on her knees but stayed on the floor, eyes downcast.

What the the hell was going on?

He watched as the mystery woman spoke and Michelle nodded solemnly.

Suddenly, she raised her gaze and her arm and pointed….directly at him.

The woman turned her head to face him. She arched an eyebrow and looked back at Michelle. With another nod, Michelle dropped her arm and cast her eyes downward again.

He felt his heart racing. What the fuck was going on? Who was that woman? Why did Michelle point at him? What had he gotten himself wrapped up in?

The waitress came by. “Mistress will see you now.”

He did a double take and looked at the empty bottle of beer at his table. Had he been drugged? Was he dreaming?

“Pardon?”

“Go. Don’t anger her. It won’t go well for either of you.”

“Either of us?”

“Oh, you drunk fuck. Get your ass over there before she starts tapping her foot or by God you will regret it.”
He stood, bewildered, and made his way over to the back corner of the room.

“Y-you, uh….” He didn’t really know what to say. “I was told you wanted to see me?”

“Kneel.” Her voice was low, but feminine, and very confident.

“I think you have me mistake-….”

She interrupted him. “Kneel.”

Quietly, Michelle reached over and tugged at his pant leg and motioned for him to join her on the floor with an alarming look on her face.

He began to worry for her safety. He knelt.

He didn’t notice that the club had begun to clear. By the time he realized that the noise level had changed, there were about half the usual patrons still in the room. All of them wearing black. Most of them sitting at tables, watching.

“Do it.”

Michelle crawled forward and turned to face him. She placed her hand on his thighs, and then ran them up toward his waist. Her fingers fumbled with his belt.

When her small hand reached in to grip his cock, it was already hard despite his shock and confusion. By the time her tongue was circling his head, he was certain he was dreaming.

He’d been there a few hours, so the alcohol had taken hold. To her credit, she didn’t seem to tire from her task. When he finally felt the orgasm building, he looked up at the woman.

The corners of her dark red lips tilted upward slightly. “You may.”

What the fuck? The words tore into him and pushed him over the edge. With a grunt he came into poor, sweet Michelle’s throat. She stayed still for a moment while he considered whether or not he was going to faint.

“Your penance is complete,” said the woman. “You may go.” Michelle stood up and walked away.

The waitress arrived with a warm rag and his credit card bill. “Here you go. It’s on the house tonight.”

Still confused, he took the rag, cleaned himself up and refastened his pants and belt.

He looked to the woman, and she shook her head. “You may go.”

He came back to the club every day for months. He never saw Michelle, the woman, or the waitress again.

Phi is an erotic fiction writer. Phi (pronounced “fee”) came into kink at early age and renewed her connection with the lifestyle in 2014 after a decade-long hiatus. A somewhat popular and undeniably avid blogger on fetlife.com under the name phi-is-me, phi lives in the suburb of a suburb in southern California with two cats and six pillows.

Tagged With: dominant, dominatrix, erotica, femdom, girl, mistress, scene, slave, submission, submissive

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