Posts Tagged ‘bottom’

Domme vs. Santa

December 23, 2007

Love this! From Flickr user Jean-Luc Diabolique

And may I remind you that She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission makes a perfect holiday gift for that special submissive man or loving domme in your life?

And guess what I’m doing this weekend? Proofreading Yes, Ma’am so it can be sent off to the printers!

Here’s a little snippet of Chris Cooper’s story “Exhibit A” from Yes, Ma’am for you:

I snap back to the present as a waiter clad in only a pair of Speedo-tight pants comes by with flutes of champagne. I, of course, don’t even think of taking one, but the hostess does, her long, red nails clinking against the skinny glass. She’s the belle of the kinky ball, dressed in a stunning silver latex gown that hugs every gorgeous curve of her tall, generous body. Once again, I see my mistress across the room, also elegant in a black silk dress loosely draped against her, blood-red shoes raising her several inches off the ground. Save for that brief ocular warning, she seems to be studiously ignoring me while I stand shackled here, unable even to lightly stroke my dick. The torment is both agony and fantasy fulfillment at once. The hostess peers around the room, surveying her shining sea of dommes, smiling slightly to herself as she takes a small sip of champagne. My cock is going wild as I slyly steal glances at her. Her home is everything mine isn’t, not only separated by a borough—hers on Central Park West, mine deep in the bowels of Brooklyn—but by class, taste, comfort. Hers is elegance personified and I wonder what her husband (because there’s got to be one behind this whole setup) knows or thinks about her little soiree.

My staring must have subtly alerted her attention because she turns around and beams her all-seeing eyes into me. She penetrates me with her gaze until I look down, properly reverential. Mistress Karen has told me to do what any woman here asks of me; my orders from her are to treat these women, every last one, as my dommes for the day. My cock is theirs, no questions asked. She told me this earlier while fucking my face with a huge black dildo, her melodic voice drifting down to my ears as I dutifully swallowed the massive toy, feeling my dick jerk each time its head scraped the back of my tongue, so I may have missed some of the subtleties of what she was imparting.

I swallow hard, vowing to be everything she wants me to be, to live up to her standards and impress her friends. I’m not sure if they are all serious players like us, or professionals, or women who just want to capture a little of the power their husbands wield with the snap of their fingers. These are women who trade in fur coats, fancy lunches, and fast fucks in high-end hotels, who travel in a world of luxury I can only vaguely imagine. The thought of being Mistress Karen’s full-time slave has passed through my mind before, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that, or if she is. I spend most of my free time with her when she’ll have me, but sometimes I need to retreat to my crash pad, my old futon and comforter slapped against the corner of a stark room, my meager belongings putting me back into the world I’ve always known.

The next thing I know, the hostess is standing before me, her gaze landing at my chin. She’s in shiny black heels and sheer black stockings in addition to the dazzling dress, the first things I see from my view with my head down. I’m grateful Mistress Karen has secured my arms over my head, because they’re already getting tired. Hostess steps closer so the latex of her dress is almost touching the extended hairs on my legs. “You make a nice piece of artwork on my wall, kind of a living sculpture,” she mused, trailing a long red nail from my hip up my flat stomach toward one erect nipple. She rakes her pointy talon over my bud, causing an exhalation of breath. “It’s too bad you look so lonely over here,” she says, now pinching my nipple between two fingers, tugging on it. I glance upward enough to see her lips curving into a smile that gets bigger the harder she pulls on my nipple. I don’t wince, even though my body quivers where she’s touching me.

“I enjoy it, Ma’am. I want to be accessible to all the women here, just like Mistress Karen told me to be.”

“Forget about Mistress Karen,” she says, twisting my nipple even more fiercely. Before I even sneak a peek toward the rest of the room, I know they’re all watching us curiously. Their chatter has quieted down from its previous din as they wait to see what she’ll do to me.

Is she a sub or a domme?

December 13, 2007

At first, when I saw this photo on Flickr, I was just drawn to her ass. I thought she was a sub. But the crip, and the URL, and maybe the tattoos, show that she is a domme, perhaps just waiting to be worshipped.

A teaser from Yes, Ma’am – “Secretary’s Day” by Rachel Kramer Bussel

December 8, 2007

A little teaser to pique your interest in Yes, Ma’am – well, more than the cover and introduction have. From my story – you’ll have to wait for the book for the rest!

Yes, Ma'am cover

Secretary’s Day
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

The day of my interview with one of the top law firms in New York City, I’m sweating through my brand-new designer suit, desperately mopping at my brow as I try to look composed. I’m fresh out of Rutgers, making my way through round after round of Manhattan office buildings, steep high-rises filled with bankers, lawyers, editors, and businessmen. Being a male applying for a job as an administrative assistant in the year 2007 is no easy task, let me tell you. Sure, we’ve said that we’re all about equal opportunity, but to the minds of most bosses, the job is still that of a secretary, and she should be wearing a suit, heels and pearls. I’ve done plenty of temp work, can type one hundred words per minute, and am prompt and efficient, not to mention having edited the school paper, but so-so grades and a major in American studies have landed me here today.

Well, that and the fact that women in suits make my cock hard. Unbearably hard. So hard it’s almost painful. Women with power, the power to tower over me, to snap their fingers and make me obey; women who need their phones answered, need coffee brought to them, need a man “ready for anything,” as the classic David Allen business book advises. The kind of woman who’s got so much going on, who’s turbo-charged and needs someone to keep her action-packed, meeting-filled day running smoothly, those are the ones I dream about.

I’ve never told anyone about these fantasies, but I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. While my buddies went for the hot cheerleader types or the sweet girls-next-door, I was after the valedictorian, Audrey Hayden (and occasionally fantasized about our very prim and proper English teacher, who was actually British). With Audrey, I loved the way she raised her hand so knowingly in class, the smug look on her face when she finished a test, and, most especially, seeing her in her interview suits. She looked so efficient, so strong, like she could take over the world, become president or an ambassador. Power wasn’t something she questioned, but something she owned, and rather than wanting power of my own, I wanted her power unleashed on me. With Audrey, I never got up the courage to tell her how I felt, just looked longingly at her from afar.

Aside from my fetish, the fact is, if I want to move out of my parents’ house in Hackensack, I need to get a job fast. I’ve been grilled about my background, ambitions, and educational history, usually by creaky older guys who look like they could barely get it up in the sack, let alone submit to a woman if they were smart enough to know how exciting it would be. Or could be, I guess I should say, since I’ve never actually realized these fantasies. I’m just starting to drift off into my go-to jerk-off material, where I’m down on all fours getting my ass inspected by a woman with sharp, spiky heels, bright red lipstick, and a voice that could cut glass, when I hear my name called…by a woman who looks like she’s walked straight out of my naughty daydreams…

This one’s not out until March (but I promise it’s worth the wait), but what is out now is She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission:

She's on Top cover