69 SHADES OF RED: Femdom Stories of Spankings and Other Sexual Punishments - Bend Over! You Know You Deserve It! Volume 2 of the WellHeeledDominatrix.com Collection

by Nika Bella Dea

  “And, because of that, I am going to reward you with the best orgasm you have ever experienced,” she smiled. “But, in exchange for that, I require complete and total submission from you. You will submit to me, not only in body, but in soul.”

  All the time she was talking, she was stroking up and down on the bridge of my nose and I could feel my eyes growing heavier. I wonder if she’s hypnotizing me, was my last coherent thought. I now lie, bound onto a bed and with something over my mouth, struggling to remember what happened after that.

  Wait, a glimpse is coming back to me! I remember her telling me to take my clothes off, and kneel down and I obeyed without question, mesmerized by the power in her eyes. Her voice was soporific and soothing and I remember feeling safe somehow. The next thing I now remember is that she was kneeling behind me, and cupping my balls firmly. “You want this, you really want this,” she whispered into my ear. I could feel my cock growing hard and, at that moment, I would have done anything to feel her hands on it.

  Try as I might, the next while is shrouded in the mists of my failing memory, and the next thing I am aware of is that I was on my knees, with what felt like a dildo up my ass, and I was loving it, even though she was whispering, and telling me that I was a very bad boy for getting hard. She spanked me then with what felt like a baseball bat. It was so damned hard! And yet it felt like the sweetest pain ever. There was a tiny part of my befuddled brain whispering ‘endorphins’ to me and I was teetering on the brink of orgasm.

  “You will not cum until I decide you are ready,” she whispered. “You agree that I know what’s best for you, don’t you?”

  I nodded, torn between wanting to cum right away, and waiting until she decided the time was right, while also fantasizing about how exquisite the release would be by then.

  The next thing I recall is that my ass felt as if it was on fire and my cock felt enormous, engorged as it was. I thought that the slightest breath of wind on it would cause it to erupt. The girl hit me again, and then whispered the most wonderful words I had ever waited for.

  “You will be allowed to cum in my mouth this time only. I believe that you have learned that I am your Mistress and that, from now on, your seed belongs to me, as do you.” As soon as she placed her red lips on the end of my penis, I spurted into her warm mouth. It went on and on and I had never felt anything so sweet in my whole life.

  And now, here I am, still lying on a bed, and unable to move. What next? I think, and then the door opens.

  “Good morning, slave,” she says. “For today’s lesson…..”

  Polyamory

  by Abigail

  What can I say? I am a woman who always gets what she wants. I do not tell you that in an arrogant way. No, it is merely the truth. I adore my job, my friends, and my family, but what I adore above all else is the immense sexual satisfaction I obtain by being in charge. I have honed my art over many years now, and am proud to say that, as well as having my own slave serving my needs at home, I also have another two potential slaves who, at this moment in time, are downstairs in my punishment room.

  If everything works out with these, I might well decide to keep them as well. “But, what if slave Number One does not agree?” I hear you ask. Well, my dears, that is not an option. Number One always agrees with my decisions. He knows better than to argue. Having said that, I do sometimes goad him into an argument because I do so enjoy seeing him on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

  My potential polyamorous partners have begged to be allowed to permanently join my cozy nest as they both believe I can provide them with everything they need. But, we will see my dears, won’t we? So how did I come to have these two sniveling excuses for manhood shackled in my dungeon?

  It all started three weeks ago. I allowed Number One to accompany me to my favorite club in downtown San Francisco. He had been an extremely well-behaved slave for the previous month and I, therefore, decided he could have the privilege of an outing. Since he has no idea where we live, he was blindfolded throughout the journey and I decided to keep him that way for the remainder of the evening. After all, why should he be allowed to witness the depravity of other slaves, and maybe wish to join in? Absolutely not.

  We had been there a short while when I noticed three men looking at me with longing evident in their eyes. I suppose I do have a rather commanding appearance, being rather tall for a woman. I am just over six feet in my spike heels, which I rarely remove. I have long, ash blond hair and massive breasts, which I adore showing off in their full glory.

  The three men who were looking at me had all been allowed in as guests because they were all looking for potential Mistresses. One of them obviously had no idea (or had not been briefed) on what was acceptable behavior, as he had the audacity to approach me without an invitation. I merely looked at him witheringly, smacked him sharply across the face with the back of my hand, and moved on. I wasn’t exactly surprised when he fell to his knees, begging me to "look after him". I turned away in disgust.

  The other two, however, kept their heads bowed respectfully as I approached. One was blond and the other had almost black hair. I did not mind that they had been looking at me as I entered, but I did require that they should not give me eye contact until I invited it.

  “Look at me,” I commanded. Their eyes rose to mine, and then settled somewhere in the middle distance. Hmm, very good, I thought, looking them up and down appreciatively. They were both completely bereft of body hair, which is an absolute must in my opinion, and they both had tattoos and genital piercings, which is another prerequisite of mine.

  “Come along,” I ordered. “On your knees, and follow me.” I took them through to the novice room where I would be able to put them through their paces to ascertain their value to me. I have to say they performed rather well; they were both obedient, and showed the necessary amount of respect as I alternately grabbed their balls, pulled their hair, and whipped each one's ass. The blond (which shall now become known as Number Two) was quickly sporting an enormous, circumcised erection.

  “Lick my cunt, you dog,” I ordered. I stood in front of his kneeling form, and pulled his head toward me. He had a long, rapacious tongue, which quickly got to work on my engorged clit, flicking this way and that. I allowed it to continue for a short while but, as I also needed to trial-run the dark-haired one (Number Three), I swiftly moved away.

  “You, come here,” I told Number Three. He kneeled on all fours, waiting for instructions. “Fuck him,” I ordered. I wanted to see just how obedient they were, and watched with great enjoyment as Number Three’s hard cock entered the ass of Number Two. “Jerk him off at the same time,” I barked. Three wrapped his arm around Two, and began jerking that lovely circumcised dick.

  I had no intention of allowing their enjoyment to continue; they would be allowed to climax when I decreed it and not before. “Enough,” I said. “Move away.”

  I dragged Number Two to his feet by grabbing a handful of blond hair, and said, “You may now fuck me.” I lay down on a nearby couch, and showed him my bare, wet pussy by spreading the lips with my hands. “NOW!”

  His cock was indeed impressive, both in length and girth, and I had no need to tell him to do anything differently. His fucking action was perfect. Now, although I am a Mistress, I do enjoy an amount of pain. So, while he continued to fuck me, I slapped my clitoris until I got my release, which was exquisite.

  “Out, now,” I ordered, making him withdraw before he orgasmed.

  I allowed them both back to my home, along with Number One, who was the only one allowed to cum inside me that night. I did need to show the others his superiority to them, as well as his inferiority to me.

  And, here we are almost a month later. Numbers Two and Three have managed to prove their devotion over this time and so I think I will now cross the border into polyamory. After all, isn’t three supposed to be a lucky number? Time will tell, my dears, time will tell.

  Dying to Uncage His Cock

  b
y Jill

  I enjoy erections as much as male chastity. So how, in this case, do I reconcile Jon’s request to cage his cock? I very much want to look at it, touch it, lick it and, if we can get past our fear of a full friends-with-benefits situation, fuck it.

  Finding a cock cage was easy. The model I chose, known as “the bird cage”, came in two pieces. The first piece was a phallic-shaped, steel-framed cage that fit snugly over a limp cock. That piece attached to a second piece—a hinged steel ring that, when closed, wrapped securely around the root of the scrotum. A small padlock joined the two pieces together.

  Some devices I looked at encased the whole cock and balls in steel or plastic. But, with this model, Jon’s balls hung freely through the gap created when the two pieces locked together. That is the way I wanted it. Jon’s balls were the largest I’d ever seen (I’ve played with a lot of cocks in my day) and I wanted to enjoy the sight of them, as well as play with them during his cock’s internment.

  Slipping Jon into this contraption took a little doing. The trick to it is the cock can’t be hard if it is to fit properly in the cage. It can’t even be semi-erect. The whole point of the small cage is to confine the cock so it can’t get fully erect. Add to this the fact that steel and bare skin aren’t the best friction-free surfaces one can put together, and you quickly realize you need lube for success. And, a woman’s lubed hand playing with a cock almost always results in instantaneous hard-ons. So, you have to lube, stuff, and lock all before the cock has a chance to get hard.

  Once in, though, it is a beautiful sight. A little ball torture or a few fingers up the ass and the poor cock strains against the walls of its cage. The sexual frustration is palpable. And, I get completely wet thinking about how hard and eager Jon’s cock will be when it finally gets freed from its prison.

  Being only a part-time dom, and only ever in my private sex life, I had to do some research on cock cages and male chastity. Having only Jon to try this out on (as much from his urging as my fantasizing), I had to reconcile a few things with what I learned, to what I wanted. First and foremost, I wondered how long I could keep Jon in the device as opposed to how long he wanted to be in it. There is no real consensus to how long a man might stay caged. I have given a prostate massage or two and they are recommended to relieve seminal fluid for men in chastity for long periods of time.

  If you do the massage correctly, the man never actually cums. The fluid just slowly oozes out while he stays horny. That torment is its own brand of fun but I wanted Jon’s attention-deprived cock in me. I have wanted to control his cock ever since I caught sight of him walking around at my sister’s pool in what were maybe the most delicious looking swim trunks I have ever seen. In this past summer, during all of our flirting, through he and I sharing movie dates that we didn’t call dates, and him dating Jenny and Claire, and me dating Bruce, and that little torrid fling I had with Claire myself that we were even still in the middle of (yes it’s a small incestuous group we all run with), Jon and I had yet to consummate the heat we felt for one another. But, with him caged—well therein lay the true psychological and physical torture for both of us.

  It seemed this man’s chastity could, in the end, affect me more simply because I wanted this particular cock as much as I wanted to see it suffer. His piece was quite a magnificent tool to behold. Sure, I’ve had bigger cocks. But, what I viewed during my first short time playing with it, before Jon fount a glorious gob into my two hands, is that his penis was aesthetically quite perfect. ‘Handsome’ I’d call it, as I would the rest of the curly haired guy with the blinding row of teeth. Now that he was caged, I found I was trying to wrestle the memory of Jon’s hard dick again and again in my mind.

  But, back to the cage…

  We were seven days in and Jon seemed no worse for wear. “So, what’s going on? Anything ever come from that meeting with the agent and school board?”

  The fact that Jon could be locked in a cock cage, and still work building theatre sets, delighted me. I liked how complex this guy was. And, I liked how he could do a job that required skill, attention, and a fair amount of passion, while also cultivating adult pursuits, and keeping everything working in order, and separate.

  Though, this week, Jon was going about his work with a cage on his cock. It was this idea that had my brain spinning. I tried not to sigh too loud. He smiled about whatever he had just mentioned. I had caught only half of what he said and we went back to eating.

  He put down his fork after a munch of salad for a few minutes, and fixed me with those baby blues.

  “I think you’re thinking about it more than me.”

  “Are you thinking about it?” I nearly choked on my bite.

  Good, we were on to it now. I was literally slipping off my seat, aching to get to the matter at hand…or in his pants.

  “I’m only thinking about it now, staring at you literally licking your lips at me. Geez, Jill. I’m the one wearing the fucking thing,” Jon snickered.

  “I can’t get the idea of it out of my mind.”

  Though I wanted to say to him that I couldn’t get the idea of his cock out of the cage out of my mind. That was at the crux of this, I knew. That was what was making my pussy flood so much. I know lots of women get off on the idea of their man in a cage because they have caged him; he cannot take out his cock for anyone else, that he is captured and locked in the device. But, I was turned on by the potential of that curling, sleeping snake ready to be let out, and growing so I could get on up on it, roll it in my hands to full…

  “Well, it’s gonna take at least another week I’d think,” Jon added, and speared his salad once again.

  I sat back with a “humph”, not believing what I was hearing.

  “Really, I’ll need another week.”

  Not me! I wanted to scream but I knew I couldn’t argue. What good would that do either of us? This trial of the cock cage had to work for him as much as for me. He had just flipped my need to fuel his own.

  I wanted to fuck this guy, I thought, trying to spear a chunk of cheddar cheese. But, I kept my cool. I had to remind myself I was the one who was supposed to be in charge here. He needed to be pushed to the point where he wanted out. Things were going to change—right now.

  “I want to go,” I said in my best bitchy tone.

  Jon was thrown at the change in attitude. His voice lost its confidence.

  “Go…go where?”

  I leaned in, with no break in eye contact as I spoke.

  “Get one thing straight. In this little arrangement we have, you belong to me. You are MY property, all of you, including that little caged cock of yours."

  To emphasize my point, I stood up without another word, and walked out to the car. I knew he’d follow me. He came running out a few moments later.

  Yes, I was back in control.

  My First Time

  by Jenna

  How did I get to this position in my life? Sometimes, I think back to when it all started. I was 18, and in a relationship with a much older guy. Since he was one of my father’s friends, it was very much kept in the dark, and hidden away from family and friends. Allan was 38 and your stereotypical tall, dark and handsome. I fell hook, line, and sinker for his charm and urbane, witty humor.

  Within six months we were fucking like rabbits at every opportunity. It felt exciting and oh so grown-up. I thought that was it for the rest of my life. I moved away from home into a small apartment, telling my parents that I needed my own space. Allan would come 'round every day after work, and eventually moved in. I even pictured the white picket fence and roses around the doorway scenario. I thought I could be a young mom and he would be a cool dad. Everything was fine until he started dominating me. It was in tiny ways to start with and, since I thought he knew best, I let it happen.

  Before I knew it, however, the domination in him grew and I became a little mouse who did as he said, when he said it. He tried to wrap it up by saying, “This is what normal couples do. This is a lovi
ng BDSM relationship.” But, I had my doubts. There didn’t seem to be anything loving about his behavior. I later discovered that was not how people within these relationships behaved at all. I was lost in that relationship for a few years until I met someone who was able to help me break free.

  Michaela was someone I met while doing grocery shopping one day. We literally bumped into each other in the grocery store, and got to talking.

  “Why don’t you join me for a coffee when we finish?” she asked with a bright smile.

  There was something in her eyes that made me trust her immediately. I felt a kinship, and maybe a kindred soul. When we got to the café, she took charge, ordering us both coffee and pastries. But, there was a difference in how she took charge because she looked at me with a smile, seeking my agreement. Now, this was the kind of person I could deal with.

  We had been in there about an hour talking about this and that when I realized the time. “Oh my God, I better get home,” I said, looking at my watch. “Allan will go mad if I don’t have his dinner on the table.”

  Michaela looked at me shrewdly, and said, “He doesn’t make you happy does he?”

  I shook my head sadly.

  “Here’s my number,” she said, scribbling on a napkin. “Call me, and make it soon, okay?”

  We met up again the following week when Allan was at work, and talked some more. Somehow, she managed to turn the talk around to domination and submission and she told me that she was in a relationship with a guy who liked her to take charge. “This is how things are in a loving relationship,” she explained. “It’s not about abuse; it’s about both of you getting what you need and desire from your partner. My partner has orgasms like he’s never had before when I have finished with him. He swears that me being dominant is the sexiest feeling he has ever experienced. And, what do I get from it? I get someone who worships me and who is willing to do anything to keep me happy.”