PUBLIC PREVIEW – Ash’s Punishment

This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!

Synopsis: Ash’s slave gets greedy, and she works up a little something to make sure he doesn’t misbehave again.

This F (Femdom) story features:
Punishment, Cum Play, Erotic Humiliation, Orgasm Control, Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, Footdom in Socks, Dildo Play, and Spanking.

I’m sorry ma’am. I’m sorry ma’am. I’m sorry ma’am.

The lopsided scrawl of the lines I had written sat beneath me, and my lip trembled as I looked down at them one last time, and came. My semen splashed across the page and I squinted hard, overcome by my orgasm and the humiliation of what she had instructed me to do.

“Good boy,” her message read as it arrived beneath the picture, and for a moment I thought it was over, but as the next one followed I knew I was still in trouble. “I’m gonna be done with work in half an hour, and in an hour’s time I expect you to be at my apartment with that letter in hand. Let me know when you’re on your way.”

I looked at the time and nearly ran into the bathroom to turn on the shower. The hot water splashed against the chill running down my spine as I replayed the events in my mind, anticipating whatever it was that she had in mind for when I arrived.

It had been a small infraction, or so it would seem, but in the short time I had been seeing her Ash had surprised me with how strict she could be. She had a thing for making me remove her socks using just my tongue, and she’d wait for minutes while I struggled. She would also sit on my face with little provocation, just to make sure I knew what was what. But today I hadn’t seen it coming at all. We had been texting while she was at work, and she had instructed me to imagine sucking her big toe while I masturbated for her, and when I texted back how much I wanted them in my mouth I had accidentally typed “toes” plural.

“How dare you you greedy little slut?!” she had responded. “If I was there right now I’d shove my whole foot in your mouth for that. You’re in trouble.”

In another 30 minutes I was knocking on her door. I shifted my weight as I waited, the smeared ink and dried cum staining the letter in my hands, and as the door opened she laughed.

“Geez,” she said. “Haha. You must be trying to get yourself in even more trouble. Get on your knees when you greet me! What do you think this is?”

© 2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.

Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!

Love Letter to a Femdom

From the first time I saw you I knew I was helpless. Defeated. It wasn’t like being excited, or infatuated. It wasn’t like other things. You arrived in my consciousness with a finality that made me feel like everything that was to come was an epilogue.

When you told me what you were, what you “liked” as you put it, I could tell you felt like you were divulging a secret but to me it was like speaking a profound and honest truth that barely needed to be said— “Water is wet.” “Sunshine is warm.” and “I am a femdom.”

At the time I didn’t really know what that meant, I didn’t understand in the way I do now, but a part of me knew exactly what you meant and how worthy you were of that title. If I’m honest I expected more… I don’t know, cruelty or… or something, and at first I thought of it as something I’d involve myself with out of grace and indulgence, something I would tolerate and humor because I loved you. I would take the pain. I would bear it, as a gift. But as time went on I found little by little that you were showing me what I was too.

We talked a lot in those early days about what was okay, about what would hurt and what would hurt, and the more we talked the more comfortable I became with the strangest things, the more my willingness and my boundaries grew with my trust. I came to know you, and to trust the heart that carried you through all the things to which you would subject me.

Your darkness wasn’t black, wasn’t heavy, wasn’t suffocating. As I looked and as I came to understand I saw a galaxy of deepest blues and purples and reds in you, saw the shine that catches the light like in a bottle of ink. I saw the richness in your depths, and like the bottom of the ocean I saw the clarity and cool in the waters of the murky abyss.

So I was ready. I was ready even as my instinct and body resisted, when it came time for you to enslave me.

It was simple at first.

“I want to give you a spanking,” you had said. And I almost laughed. Oh brother, right? And I took down my jeans, laying myself over your thighs, and I thought, fine, and for the first few smacks of your hand I thought the whole thing was silly. But then something happened.

You had slowed down, almost stopped, and I thought maybe you were finished, but in the split second that I decided to turn back to look at you you grabbed my underwear, the tight little black trunks you like with the white waistband, and you yanked them up into my ass before slapping me four times in a row, quickly, sharply. It took me completely by surprise and I looked back at you, and you snapped, “Head down!” as you hit me again, hard.

To my own surprise I did exactly as you commanded without hesitation, and as it went on I was suddenly heightened, expectant, and nervous. Your strikes began splitting through my mind as I felt the fabric pull against my hips and wedge into my asshole, and I felt my dick being tucked snugly into the shrinking pocket of my y-fronts. It was almost like you were grabbing it, but I could feel your fist on the small of my back and the sting of your other hand. You were lifting my hips off of your legs just the slightest fraction of an inch, and the sensation made me feel completely suspended and controlled by you.

When you suddenly stopped, apparently satisfied with your work, I couldn’t believe how much I craved the next smack and how little I wanted it to be over. My body was still but I felt like I was shaking from the waist down. I wanted you to throw me on the ground, wanted you to tackle me and wrestle me and push me around. I wanted to feel your strength and your dominance. I wanted more.

I had no idea you would bring that out in me, that I would respond so strongly to such a simple act, but from there it was only a matter of time.

A few days after that you put me at your feet for the first time, and that too took me completely by surprise. I didn’t realize until it was over what a significant moment that was in our relationship, how significant it was in the course of my life, but I remember I was down on the floor, on my knees already because I was looking under the couch for something, and you were dangling your slippers in a way that I now would know meant you were feeling the urge.

I pulled back my head from looking and in a flash you dropped your slipper, flexed back your toes, and stuck the thick, dirty cotton of your socks against my cheek. I didn’t laugh this time. I felt it immediately, the same combination of shock, fear, trust, and embarrassment. I knew you had me in your sights again, and that something was beginning.

I turned to look up at you, past those pajama bottoms you always wear, and you didn’t smile, didn’t sneer. You just raised your eyebrows and slowly brought your heel to my chin, laying your sole across my face and resting your toes on my forehead. You held the other one up so I could see, turning it back for a moment to inspect it yourself, and I couldn’t believe I was feeling myself swell beneath you. There was something so definite and matter-of-fact about your attitude, about the way you presented them, that I knew it would be futile to resist.

I felt myself tremble as a strange light bloomed in my consciousness, and I almost shook as you brought your other foot to my face. You pushed my head back and reflexively my hands reached for your ankles but without being told I stopped them and laid them back in my lap. It was almost as if I could feel them bound together.

When you made me sniff something screamed in my mind, unable to comprehend, and when I breathed you in I reeled as the stink hit me. But the stronger part of me felt so compelled by your power, so enraptured by your grace, and I felt determined to please you.

It was humbling and humiliating, and I felt the same way I did when you spanked me. I wanted to show you my commitment and devotion. Wanted you to test me. Wanted you to do your worst.

By the time I first took your strapon I had learned to revel in your power and in my subjection, to appreciate the glory and comfort in giving myself to you. You didn’t even have to suggest it. We were laying in bed one night ready to fall asleep, and I felt you against my back, felt the gentleness of your strength, and in the quiet stillness I said it, speaking the same truth you had when all this started. “I want for you to fuck me.”

You hardly even responded but I could tell you were smiling, and you squeezed me tighter and kissed my neck.

When the night finally came and you mounted me, me lying on my back with my knees up, it was dark but I felt I could see you so clearly. And yet, my senses were heightened and I felt I was seeing you with my body.

I wasn’t scared. Wasn’t nervous. But I couldn’t say I was calm. Instead it felt like a rain beginning, my whole atmosphere bathed in cold and swollen mist, and as you nestled between my legs I could nearly feel the sprinkles on my face. I felt you press against me and I could almost hear the heavy drops beginning to beat the distant ground.

“Ah,” I said, I sighed, I whispered. “Oh.” You pushed and suddenly I was opening up to receive you, and I felt the hard, stiff plastic of your girlcock filling me up. A sweet light overwhelmed me, and I heaved as I breathed and focused on relaxing, letting you in deeper.

“Oh fuck! Oh Christ! Oh god!”

I felt the head slip in and I took you deeper still, unable to believe it, in awe of you and failing to comprehend. I was sure you were almost there, and I wanted to feel your crotch and your harness against my cheeks, but I reached down to feel you and found I still had half of it to go.

It made no sense, and I knew I couldn’t take any more, and a part of me was ashamed I couldn’t take it all the first time. I wanted to be a good slut for you, but I was taking all I could, and I could feel my cum rushing through me like my penis was a tap that just needed switching on.

I plead with you to cum, and you agreed, and you only had to pump me three times before my orgasm spilled out of me so easily, and I gushed and twitched and almost wanted to cry.

It wasn’t until later that you actually fucked me, actually dominated me with your feet, actually beat me, and actually made me into your filthy little slaveboy. But now that you’ve made me your bitch, pushed me to such depths, and come so completely to own and control me, I’ll always remember those first times fondly, always think of them with joy.

You are a femdom. I am a slave.

PUBLIC PREVIEW – Performance Review (Katy Did, Part II)

This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!

Part II in The Office Slut Saga!

Synopsis: Katy goes back to work with a new job description and has to serve not only her boss but her co-workers too.

This L+ (Multiple Mistress Lezdom) story features:
Blackmail, Punishment, Bondage, Strapon Play, Anal Sex, Erotic Humiliation, Orgasm Control, Spanking/Slapping, and Cuntbusting.

I knew better than to be late, and it was 7:43 when I walked in the building. I went through the revolving doors into the lobby and past the security desk, giving all the outward appearance of normalcy and confidence, but inside I was shaking.

Last night had convinced Amanda I was worth keeping on, but both as she left and in text messages this morning she had made it clear that I was not out of the woods when it came to keeping my job.

I took the elevator to the 29th floor, shuffling in with all the other passengers, and I became acutely aware again of my clothes, or rather my particular lack thereof. As Amanda had instructed in her curt, deliberate texts, I had dressed for the day in my normal professional attire, but with a single, glaring omission; beneath my long khaki jacket, below my pressed cornflower blouse, and above my smart combination of knee high boots and socks, I wore nothing at all.

I had gotten up early to trim and shave my intimate areas, to make myself, as she said, presentable, rubbed myself down with coconut oil, and when I left the apartment the presence of the day’s unseasonably cool breeze was quite apparent indeed. It made my ride on the subway a fraught one, made me nervous as I descended the stairs to the platform, made me opt to stand even in the half empty car, made me nervous again as I climbed the stairs back to the street. It made me conscious, from the moment I awoke to her instructions, how under her control I was.

I stepped off of the elevator alone, into the empty hallway, and I was surprised to see a note taped to the glass door to our offices:

Closed for the day, 8/27
Please hold all deliveries

I peered through into the dark reception area, confused, and I pulled on the door to find it locked.

My mind went in circles, puzzling over Amanda’s very clear instructions, and I finally decided to try my badge on the card reader, something I had never had to do before. It beeped, and I heard the lock open. I pulled on the door, surprised again by the stillness and quiet in the usually bustling office.

I tiptoed through the welcome area and down the hallway, listening for signs of the other women’s presence but it appeared I was alone. I took out my key and unlocked the door to Amanda’s office, last night’s events flashing for the hundredth time in my mind.

She had told me to lock myself inside and wait for her arrival. When I turned around and switched on the light I saw that her office was neat and tidy as always, but on the desk, backlit by the window, there was the conspicuous addition of the same pair of thick black cuffs that had bound my wrists last night, and a long, jet black dildo gag with a leather strap.

I jumped as the door to her adjoining private bathroom opened and I heard her voice. “You’re here. Good.”

© 2017-2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.

Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!


To celebrate having produced over 100K WORDS of hot, sexy erotic content, TSP is having a giveaway! Simply follow this blog and leave a comment on this post for a chance to win FREE ACCESS to You’ll get access to 12 original FemDom short stories, thought-provoking social commentaries, updates and sneak previews, AND MORE!!

About The SMUT Project

The SMUT Project is a small, enthusiastic, sex/kink/fetish-positive organization established in 2017 for the support and promotion of the erotic arts.  Its mission is to elevate erotic expression in the literary and artistic worlds and to connect the curious to quality works that inspire, delight, and enrich.”


This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!

Synopsis: Annie and her boyfriend are new in the building, and things quickly turn kinky when they invite their fetching next-door neighbor over for dinner.

This F/L (Couples’ Femdom) story features:
Bondage, Cunnilingus/Facesitting, Cuntbisting, Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, Footdom, Cum Play, Erotic Humiliation, Forced Orgasm, and Strapon Play.

“That’s her!” I mouthed to Annie as we turned the corner, and sure enough there was a moment where we stood just a couple of feet apart at our doorways, and she let it hang in the air for a second or two before turning to us and smiling. She introduced herself and welcomed us to the building. We smiled back and in a roundabout way managed to say we hoped we weren’t too noisy, and she almost laughed but waved it off as we continued chatting a little in the hallway.

“Well we were just getting ready to make dinner. Would you like to join us?” I was surprised. Annie wasn’t usually very outgoing. She wasn’t shy exactly, just meek and a little nervous, but as I looked at her I could tell that something in her was drawn to the woman and wanted her company. Kim adjusted the laptop bag slung over her shoulder and smiled again, and she said she’d love to once she got settled in after work.

When we got inside Annie hurriedly put down the grocery bags she was carrying on the counter and spun around with wide eyes and an excited expression. “Oh my god!” she whispered, and I smiled back as I set down my bags too. “She’s gorgeous!”

I agreed that she was, and Annie looked flushed as she said how hot it was to hear her masturbating while we fucked. We whispered briefly about the night’s potential, excitedly considering the possibilities, and then Annie started scurrying around to tidy up while I started cooking. She put on a little background music and misted the room with some essential oil spray. She came up behind me at the stove and kissed my neck, putting her hands on my hips, and I turned around and we were kissing when we heard the knock at the door.

“I hope we’re having something that goes with red,” she said, holding up the bottle of wine she had brought over as Annie let her in. She had changed out of her work clothes and adopted a slimming black top and matching comfortable pants and sneakers, but even dressed down she looked well put together.

“Perfect!” Annie said with a grin, and she poured us each a glass and invited Kim into the living room and they sat down on the couch together. We all chatted for a while, what we did for work, what we did for fun. We learned that Kim was in marketing and that she lived alone, spending most of her spare time at the gym or watching movies.

“That is, of course, when I’m not…” She laughed.

“What?” Annie prompted her.

“Well, haha, you know, I’ve got another major interest. You could almost call it a hobby.” She grinned again and we waited for her to elaborate. “I mean, these walls are thin so you must have some idea. I think our beds actually sit against the same wall.”

I stirred the sauce one last time and turned around, and I saw Annie blushing as she stared, transfixed, at Kim.

“What can I say?” she continued. “I like to show myself a good time.” We all agreed that was a good thing, and I set the plates on the table and told them it was ready. “I mean,” she said as we all sat down, “I don’t know why the sexual experience isn’t a central interest for most people. I don’t know how anyone can just ignore it or not care about it. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Our forks and knives scraped and squeaked on the plates as we discussed this, as we talked about sexual identity and sexual expression and exploration. I bristled when I felt the side of her sneaker brush against my calf, just for a moment, and then I felt a chill as she stopped.

“Well that was just delicious,” she said happily, and Annie kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for cooking as she got up to take our dishes to the sink. “Does he do all the cooking?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Annie replied over the sound of the water. “When we don’t eat out. He does a lot of the cleaning too, he says he likes to take care of me.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at me, and I felt Kim’s sneaker return to my leg.

“Wow! Haha. Does he serve you?”

Annie dropped the fork she was washing. She picked it back up and looked over her shoulder at Kim. “What do you mean?”

Kim finished her wine and smiled again. “Well, I mean, have you got him trained?” Her eyes fixed on me. “Is he a good boy?”

Annie shut off the water, wiped her hands, and turned around. “You mean…” Kim giggled and leaned back, withdrawing her leg and bringing it up to the edge of her chair.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” she said. “I just wondered what the score was around here.” Annie and I exchanged mildly puzzled looks. “Ah,” she continued. “I see. You two haven’t worked that out yet.”

Annie stepped back to the table and poured the last of the wine into Kim’s glass. “Do you mean… like are you into…” She couldn’t seem to finish her sentence. Kim raised her glass and took another sip before answering.

“I just think there’s an order to these things. A natural way about them. I think everybody’s happier when they know their place.”


© 2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.

Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!

PUBLIC PREVIEW – The New Roommate

This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!

Synopsis: A convenient living arrangement gets complicated when it turns out that Elaina is a domme with a fetish.

This F (Femdom) story involves:
Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, Footdom in Socks, Trampling, and Domestic Servitude.

I slid open the door to the patio of my apartment and stepped into what felt like a sauna, squinting in the harsh July sunlight. I felt the thickness of the hot air on my face as I sat down at the little patio table and lit my cigarette, and as I pulled out my phone I decided to check the temperature– 96 degrees. I cringed as I saw it and flipped back to the text message Elaina had sent me just a few minutes before:

“On my way home.”

We had entered into an unusual arrangement over the last nine weeks or so. I had needed a roommate to afford the ungodly cost of housing in my city and when it happened that she was looking for a place at the same time it seemed to make a lot of sense. I had known her through being friends with her younger sister, had met her a few times here and there, and I found her quite attractive so when she suggested moving in together I was pleased, not least of all because I thought even if nothing ever happened between us it would be nice to have her around.

She was tall, about 6′ 1″.  Taller than me certainly, and when we saw the place for the first time I couldn’t help noticing that her high ponytail was nearly brushing the ceiling. She had a slim and alluring, but powerful shape, an extremely casual style (she was usually seen in a long sleeved t-shirt and pajama bottoms when at home and she rarely wore anything fancier than jeans when she left), and a “chill”, laid-back attitude.  She laughed often, smoked a little weed now and then, and was more than comfortable hanging out with me at nights.

There had definitely been something between us when we first met, flirting a little here and there before we had even thought about living together, but for a couple of unimportant, incidental reasons nothing had ever come of it. It was something of a shock then, in the early days of living together, to see her lounging around the house, to hear her in the shower, and to find myself in her room and on her bed from time to time.

We were good roommates.  We didn’t argue about bills, or cleaning, or noise.  We would have little parties and do things together, little shopping trips and home projects, and we became friends apart from just being people who lived in the same apartment.  But by the second or third week together it was apparent that we were becoming something more.

We had been unpacking some boxes in the living room and putting stuff up on the walls, and the whole apartment was starting to get hot because of the season. I was hanging a framed print of hers on the wall, an oddly appropriate vintage poster for Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman actually, and when I turned around to ask her how it looked I was surprised to see her laid out on the couch with her feet up on the arm of it, shaking her ankles for a moment before kicking off her worn black, low-top Converse.

“I’m tempted to just let you hang all of my stuff,” she said, closing her eyes as she put her hair up in a ponytail and wiggling her toes in a pair of faded royal blue ankle socks. “My feet are killing me.” I knew, from a moment of uncontrollable curiosity I had indulged a few days prior, that she wore a size 13, and I could see that her socks were wearing, and damp.

“Oh yeah?” I replied. “You’re just gonna lay there, all comfortable, while I do all the work, is that it?”

“That’s right,” she said with a tough, satisfied smile, “and when you’re done with that you can rub my feet.”


© 2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.

Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!

PUBLIC PREVIEW – Slave to Her Slippers

This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!

Synopsis: Lily decides to indulge her slave, but with a humiliating twist.

This F (Femdom) story features:
Cunnilingus, Foot Fetish, Slipper Fetish, Footdom, Erotic Humiliation, and Forced Orgasm.

My eyes traveled down Lily’s body as she came around the corner in her bathrobe, putting on her glasses, her dark hair up in a towel, and I cringed when I saw, as expected, that she was wearing those slippers again. They were so worn in, so used, and it wasn’t that she didn’t seem to notice, it was that she actually seemed to relish slipping her tired, stinky feet into them every night, whether wrapped in the smelly black ankle socks from her shift or bare and clammy from her sweat.

They had once been pink and semi-fluffy, basic in their design and construction, but the outsides now had dulled slightly and I knew the insides were matted and flattened into the shape of her soles. And here she was, fresh and clean out of the shower, with her feet wrapped in those horrible, sweaty slippers. I actually think they made her feet sweat more when she wore them, but I couldn’t really tell for sure. Whenever we’d be sitting together watching TV, with her above me on the couch, and she’d decide to tease me with them or use my face as a footrest, if she had been wearing those slippers and decided to take them off her feet were always a little moist, especially when she hadn’t been wearing any socks.

I knew that in five minutes her fresh, clean feet would smell again from wearing them, and she sat down on the couch and pulled her legs up underneath her. She turned on the TV and pulled out her phone, scrolling through one thing or another, and as she shifted I could see her pussy from beneath the flaps of her robe. A minute or two ticked by, and she reached into her robe and started rubbing gently on her crotch, and the time ticked by as she worked herself up, and I got hard as I watched her, until finally she looked up at me and signaled, pointing to a spot beneath her on the floor, and I came to the edge of the couch and sat down on my knees before her.

She reached down to her heel and pulled off one of her slippers, pausing for a moment to inspect the inside, and then she turned it around and shoved it into my face. Instinctively I squirmed and rocked back slightly, my cuffed wrists raising just a tad off my thighs, but she just grinned and mashed the dirty, sweaty slipper onto my nose and mouth.

“Sniff it,” she said, holding the back of my head with her other hand, a smiling curling in her lips. “Come on.” I did as I was told, as I always did, and she went back to grinning as the thick, musty smell filled me. I winced and sniffed again, astonished by the stink of them. It was horrible, and I grimaced as I sniffed and sniffed. “Good boy.” She looked down between my legs and saw that I was hard for her, the way she had trained me, and as she opened her robe I thought I knew what was coming next.


© 2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.

Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!