PUBLIC PREVIEW – Crossing Kim (Our Neighbor, Part II)

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Part II in The Domme Next Door series!

Synopsis: Annie and her boyfriend make the mistake of breaking Kim’s rules, and have to suffer the consequences for their indiscretion.

This F/L (Couples’ Femdom) story features:

Punishment, Edging, Cuntbusting, Cum Play, Erotic Humiliation, Orgasm Control, Sock Fetish, Strapon Play, Dildo Play, and Chastity.


[THIS STORY IS SO NAUGHTY THAT WE COULD ONLY FIND THIS TINY LITTLE EXCERPT THAT WAS SAFE FOR A PREVIEW! ENJOY!]

…loud enough that we hadn’t heard her until she was right outside our door. It was hearing her keys that snapped us out of it. I stopped suddenly as my stomach tumbled, and Annie heard it too and snapped her head around to look behind us. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I think we’re in trouble.” I could see the shadow of her heels in the space beneath the door, and I shuddered as she stood there for a moment before continuing on to her apartment.

Annie stood up and pushed me back, listening, and then she reached back and pulled me out as she turned around. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the counter and mine did in my pocket, and when we checked them we each turned them around to show what the other one said too:

Come.

Then, a moment later:

As you are. Now.

“Shit!” Annie said in an emphatic whisper. “She knows!”

(…)


© 2018

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PUBLIC PREVIEW – Personal Trainer

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: In a tiny, private, urban gym, a tough and gorgeous athlete puts a weak slave through his paces.

This F (Femdom) story features:

A Competition/Lost Bets, Forced Exercise, Clothed Female/Nude Male (CFNM), Spanking, Ballbusting, Erotic Humiliation, Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, and Footdom in Socks.


I stepped up onto the curb and walked down the block past the fashionable little boutiques and the restaurants opening for lunch. I sought out the plain, deep blue door numbered 1441 towards the middle of the block, and found it, trying the handle and finding it locked. I peered through the border of the etched glass pane at the staircase and the exposed brick walls, and then turned to the brass intercom, slinging my gym bag higher over my shoulder.

The door buzzed and I made my way up to the third floor, past the vague sounds of people diligently working in offices beyond nondescript doors, past the ficus trees in large pots, and down a long taupe hallway to an isolated door behind a bathroom. Affixed to the door there was a little black placard indicating that I had found the right numbered unit, and a paper printout encased in plastic which read only, “Athletic Endeavors – By appointment only.”

It wasn’t that I was out of shape. In fact I had a job that was pretty physically demanding and I managed to keep up with my physique thanks to that, which was good because I didn’t really have any particular interest in exercise. But I had heard from a lady friend of mine that training with Miss Jenn not only produced results but was, to use her phrase, a “transcendent experience”.

I had looked at her with a little skepticism. “And what exactly does that mean?”

She had returned my gaze in an unusual way and paused, sizing me up a little, before saying, “Let’s just say it’s an unusual kind of workout.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought she might have winked at me. “I’ll make an appointment for you.”

“Oh, no, really, that’s okay. I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Just trust me. Knowing you, I think you in particular might get something out of it.”

I took a breath and rapped softly on the door.

“Well just give me her information then, and I’ll set something up.”

“She won’t do it, it’s referrals only. Her client list is very exclusive. And anyway I’m not sure she’d take you, being a man, but who knows? She might like the challenge.”

When it opened there was a full, statuesque vision before me in a black sports bra with flat, muscular abs stretching out to a pair of heather grey spandex leggings that stopped at her thick, muscular thighs. I caught myself having let my eyes drift down her body and snapped them back to her face. She looked Hawaiian, and had striking features beneath jet black hair that was up in a tight ponytail. Her deep, rich, dark chocolate eyes were calculating and tough, but there was a bright, lush, persistent elegance and gentleness like a waterfall flowing through her strong frame. I looked at her, breathless, floored by her vitality, and she sighed and began tapping her foot expectantly on the threshold. The sound drew my gaze quickly downward, and I saw her thick, white tube socks with thick black rings disappearing into her black and hot pink Nikes.

“Hi, uh,” I murmured as I looked up at her again. “I…”

“Yes,” she said, snapping her foot down a final time. “I know. And you’re late. Come in.”

She stepped aside and shut the door behind me as I entered the bright, open room. It looked like the small, historic building through which I came in from the street had been joined to the top floor of the one next to it, and the room took up an entire floor. The brick of the walls had been painted over in white, and the room was split down the middle into a mirrored half with a ballet rail and a dance floor, which had been covered with thick, blue, rectangular mats, and the other half had thinner squares of grey foam covering the hardwood floor, with a treadmill, an elliptical machine, a set of small dumbbells, a red, medium-sized exercise ball, a pull-up bar, and a rack draped with some colored Therabands. Opposite these were a set of four large, arched windows draped with sheer white curtains, which bathed the whole scene in pale, late morning light.

“So,” she said as she closed and locked the door, “Karen’s told me a few things about you. I trust she’s told you about me?”

“Just that you’re quite the trainer,” I said, and she smiled at the word.

“So I’ve been told.” She eyed my gym bag. “She didn’t say anything about what I do though?”

I shook my head. “She was pretty cagey about it actually.”

“She ought to have been. I don’t think many of my clients would share too much about what I put them through. I offer a very particular kind of physical fitness service. It’s strenuous, demanding, and it’s designed to work your body, mind, and spirit. It’s a workout for your entire being. Do you think you’re up for something like that?”

“Well,” I said, feeling like I had heard that before and still unsure of what she had in mind. “That sounds like quite the experience, yes.”

“Good.” She went to the corner and adjusted the thermostat, and I heard the central heating system kick on. It was warm already and apparently it was about to get warmer. “I hope you brought water like I told you to. We’re going to sweat today.”

She turned back around and I shifted under her gaze as she stuck her hands on her hips and said, “You and I are going to compete against each other for several rounds, and depending on the outcome of each round there will be consequences or rewards for you, which we’ll discuss as we go.” I looked over her muscular body, and I nodded slowly. “As we go on, both the consequences and rewards get greater, and you’ll either leave here completely broken or on top of the world. It’s all down to you.”

I took a moment to consider the prospect, but I was feeling more and more hypnotized by her beauty, her prowess, and her apparent power. So I said yes, ready, or so I believed, for whatever would happen next.

“Good,” she said again.

She walked across the room to the edge of the mat and turned back to face me, crossing her arms and tapping her foot again. “Well?” she said impatiently, looking me up and down. “You think we’re gonna do this with you dressed like that?”

“No, I… I mean I’ll go change.”

“No you won’t,” she replied. “You’ll strip.”


© 2017-2018

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One Year Anniversary!!

Today marks ONE YEAR since the launch of The SMUT Project!

We’ve worked hard, and it’s taken us a long way in just a short time. We’ve:

  • produced over 100k words of FemDom and foot fetish erotica (including 15 completed short stories)
  • as well as 11 thought-provoking essays on kink, BDSM, and the intersection between sex and society
  • established a catalog on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads

AND

  • gained 122 followers between this website, Twitter and Tumblr. (Follow us!)

In the year to come we hope to be able to bring you even more! We’re looking forward to establishing SMUT Project Studios (home to our forthcoming visual and documentary efforts), bringing you new print works and merchandise designs, and continuing to build relationships with other kinky creatives!

Thanks to all of you for everything thus far!

Sincerely,

Mr. Yours Truly

PUBLIC PREVIEW – Chloe’s Gift

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: Chloe’s friends Kacey and Danielle want to have a lesbian sex party with Chloe, but if she wants to bring her boyfriend along he’ll have to become one of the girls.

This F+ (Multiple Mistress Femdom) story features:

Feminization, Chastity, Erotic Humiliation, Orgasm Control, Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, Footdom in Socks, Strapon Play/Pegging, Cunnilingus/Facesitting, Squirting, and Lesbian Sex.


I had begged and pleaded, but Chloe was firm and insistent, and I sighed and placed my head on her shoulder as she clicked the lock in place. She kissed my forehead and we looked down together, at the shiny metal cage around my manhood. She tugged gently at the lock, making sure it was secure, and then she held my locked dick in her hand. She ran her thumb over the thin metal bars sweetly and caringly. “Good boy,” she said.

She told me to pull up my pants and my underwear, and I felt the new sensation of the cage around my crotch, more than aware of its presence. I remembered Chloe dropping the news on me the day before. “Yeah,” she had said. “They want to do it tomorrow night. But there are a few conditions we agreed on…”

Chloe ordered me down onto my knees in front of her, and she sat back on the couch and held up the key, admiring it as it glinted in the light. I looked up at it too, and at her, and I realized how humbled I was by that tiny piece of metal, how much it symbolized her power over me. She reached down for a moment and attached it to the anklet on her right foot. I watched it hang there against her skin, and she smiled, and then she brought her foot up to my face and pressed it into me.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, bringing her other foot up and smothering my face with the both of them. “You’re a good boy for Mistress. Okay. Now fetch me my shoes and socks and let’s go shopping!”

I helped put them on her, a pair of white, purple, and peach geometric ankle socks (the dirty ones she had already worn three times that week), and a classic pair of black and white Vans. Her anklet with the key on it dangled into the mix, and as I looked down at them I couldn’t help but sigh with the finality of it all.

“No dresses,” I said in the car as she drove.

“No? Haha.”

“No. If I’m gonna be a girl I wanna be a boi.”

“Haha, well we’ll see. Don’t worry, we’ll make you a rad, pretty lesbian. We’ll find something that suits you.” She held my hand and I watched the world streak by outside the window.

“Heyy!” she said brightly, answering the phone and smiling at the person on the other end, which apparently was Kacey, who was in many ways the mastermind of this whole thing. “What up slut? Are you excited?!”

I heard the enthusiastic cry from the other side of the line, and Chloe continued on. “Yeah, we’re actually just headed to the store now. Do you guys wanna come over about 6? I think that should be… Yeah… Oh! Okay, yeah, that’s great… Yay! Okay betch, see you soon! Mm, byee.”

The car was quiet for a minute, just the road noise, and in my head I played back the voicemail Kacey had left on Chloe’s phone. Danielle is down but he’s gotta be one of the girls…

Chloe turned on the radio and flipped around a bit, settling on the second half of Green Day’s “Minority” as we pulled into the parking lot of one of your standard big box retailers (the good one, naturally). I looked at her again for a moment, watching her head turn and her eyes look around for a parking spot. She was so beautiful.

It was Kacey’s birthday, apparently, or at least it was on Sunday, and she wanted (what else?) a lesbian sex party with Chloe and her girlfriend, Danielle. Chloe had insisted she be able to bring me along, but between the three of them they had decided that they still didn’t want any “boys” around.

“What?” I had said. “You mean like forced feminization?”

Chloe had laughed. “No dahling,” she said in that East Coast sophisticate way that she imitated whenever she said the word. “Not forced. Enforced. You are feminine! You have a beautiful feminine side. We’re just gonna make you show it. I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot lately. I’ve wanted to involve it in our play. If this goes well I might make you be a girl with me more often.”


© 2018

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Gender Blending: On Feminization, Sissies, & Sharing

When I think about what I generally think of as regular people, and when I think about the views and the image they might have about kink (to whatever extent they might think about it at all), I imagine how much of it would be a complete shock and surprise to them if they had any idea it existed. I think for most people, their knowledge and understanding of the territory begins with rumors and insinuations and ends with the moment in that scene in that movie, right before the camera cuts away and we’re all left to use our imaginations.

To put it simply, what people refer to under the blanket terms of “kink” and “BDSM” covers an incredible variety of practices and interests, most of which, I would speculate, would be complete news to the uninitiated or the plain vanilla. There are a lot of people for whom 50 Shades of Grey is the textbook, and believe me, it doesn’t cover all that much.

Describing oneself as kinky, then, could mean almost anything in practical terms. It’s one of those things you can tell when you see it, but the fact is there is no spectrum, no grades or levels. There are all kinds of kinky people who are into all kinds of different things that may or may not have anything to do with what other kinky people are into.

But then there are areas where these aspects and territories of sexuality overlap, and it becomes harder still to make sense of things when two categories of people do the same things (or some variety thereof) for vastly different reasons, with different motivations, with different goals and objectives, and with very different ideas about who, what, how, and why.

Among the most significant and timely examples of this is the question of activities and play that bend the genders, whether in physical terms or in terms of role or appearance.

We’ve all heard things about them, or at least insinuations. The “crossdressers”. In the early 1900s the term referred mostly to women who wore trousers (when they weren’t being called “bifurcated women”), but today it’s something we think of almost exclusively as the province of strange little men, the J. Edgar Hoovers and god knows who else. The Silence of the Lambs character “Buffalo Bill” comes to mind as well, but as unfortunate as that association is we’ll leave it well aside for the moment. In short, outside of the world of kink it is certainly considered abnormal, and it’s not necessarily something you want to be associated with.

But now, gender issues at large are, of course, some of the most pressing and salient social questions of our time, and while in public there is still (always) the fight for the rights and empowerment of women, and now for trans and queer people as well, in private there are all kinds of activities and play that take place in the uncharted waters of the interplay between them.

Gender identities and gender roles are often amongst the most central aspects of kinky sexuality. Almost everything that interests a kinky person will take place within a context of their relationship both to their own gender and to the genders of others. Their sexual orientation comes first, whether straight, gay, bi, or some combination thereof.

The architectures of these relationships can be deeply complex. For example, you might have a cis-woman, who is bisexual, who may be dominant with men but submissive with women, but she may further be dominant towards women who are submissive, and along the way there may be exceptions to the rules according either to a particular person or a particular circumstance. To truly account for all the variations you’d also have to account for both the sexes and genders of each person involved, and you would have to consider that in some cases the gender is non-fixed, meaning those dynamics were subject to change under depending on the circumstances.

I can tell I’ve lost a lot of you already, but for a moment let’s look at the subset of people who are kinky, who are cis-gendered and heterosexual, and who engage in female dominant play with a gender-bending aspect. Now, these people usually come in a couple of different varieties, but what they get up to typically revolves around three symbolic and, both psychically and physically, pleasurable acts: 1) some element of crossdressing, whether mutually or on the part of the male, and 2) anal penetration of the male by the female’s use of a wearable strapon dildo.

That much is common to each of the sexualities I will describe here, but that much is about all the similarity there is.

The most overt and recognizable form of this particular kink is the practice of “sissification”, in which “sissies” are essentially transformed into living Barbie dolls in wigs, heavy (and heavily exaggerated) makeup, and garish, over-the-top clothing, whether in specific costumes or particular outfits in latex, fishnet, etc., with an ostentatious preference for both hot and powder pinks. There is often a large amount of both humiliation and degradation involved, specifically revolving around the sissy’s now debased status, and very frequently there are two additional elements: 1) the inclusion of situational or permanent male chastity, through the use of a (usually pink and effeminate) locking chastity cage, and 2) the implication or actual inclusion of some element of “forced” or “coerced” bisexuality.

Now this, I think understandably to most people, represents one extreme of gender play, one particular, specific fetish that appeals to one specific subset of kinky people. But what about the rest of us?

For a lot of people, even within kinky circles, the whole dramatic, hyperstylized, and fairly surreal business, though perfectly tolerable in keeping with the “live and let live” culture of BDSM, is somewhat confusing and disorienting, even philosophically objectionable, and personally I’m inclined to agree. It’s one of those things that rings false to me when I see it, that just isn’t for me, but there is a way in which it approximates (to some degree) some elements of things that I find valuable to explore and consider.

For starters, let’s address the two elements I first described, and I’ll take them in order:

Crossdressing

Let’s take as read the prevailing cultural assertion that men’s underclothing is ultilitarian and women’s is ornate, that men are supposed to think about and involve themselves in this aspect of their dress as little as possible while a woman who does the same is considered less feminine.

In a way, the female purview and prerogative in this regard has an element of luxury which is theirs and theirs alone. Women are supposed to have exquisite, carefully crafted, beautifully form flattering and accentuating underwear that entices and arouses, while men are supposed to be basic, and if they put any thought at all into it it should be around the question, “Boxers or briefs?”

And, too, it must be said, that when a man wants to put a little effort in and find something sexy that suits his anatomy, the options available to most men are either plain, sporty, or in the case of what is sold in most sex shops, abundantly childish and tacky. It can be very difficult to find something tasteful, well-made, and attractive, even when you want to.

But what, then? Do the men who want to feminize just have “lingerie envy”? Perhaps, to some extent, but there are other aspects of the interchange as well.

For me, there is a particular element of wearing something sexy for my partner that is not only a representation of my desire to look good and be attractive for her, it’s also a desire to honor and do justice to her femininity by observing a certain amount of decorum. That much of it is an extension of the same desire that leads me to clean and groom myself before we interact or to make sure the sheets are clean and that the house is tidy, and so on. It’s being a gentleman. It’s the desire to be and act a certain way that reflects well on her and shows a gratitude and appreciation for her and her presence and attention.

To put it simply, if you have sex as if you’re interacting with and in the presence of a sublime natural divinity, whom you admire for her spiritual grace and sophistication, are you going to do so in a saggy pair of Wal-Mart Fruit of the Looms?

Moreover, if the underclothes in question are hers (or picked out by her), whether particularly feminine or not, there’s an element of sharing in her unique sensibilities of taste and style, of having that projected onto you. It’s letting that perspective and that disposition conform to you and letting it govern you. In the queen’s court, how does she dress her servant?

But let’s concede that, yes, there is something more to it when you add in the element of actually being represented as feminine or female yourself on top of wanting to be presentable, well groomed, and well dressed. How do we interpret donning feminine clothing for a partner on the grounds that it transmutes you in some way as to your own gender?

Leaving aside the possibility that you are genderfluid and that this act enables you to express that and sets the stage for a more accurate or appropriate version of your lesbianism, suppose first that it can indicate a measure of gender solidarity, meaning to say the desire to be “on the girls’ team”. It’s wanting to be accepted as one of their own even if that’s not what you are, and the underwear can be totemic of that, almost emblematic. That represents a lot of trust that they have for you as well as the trust you have for them.

That’s why, in feminization, panties are often a privilege, not a punishment. [There are valid and compelling ways of making them either.] They’re a way of saying, “You get to be this way because you’re special and this is something I want to give you access to and for us to share.” It’s an invitation, and a way of being included in something exclusive. And that’s being recognized as something special.

But there’s also something to the idea that it involves, by the same token of solidarity, a measure of symbolically taking on the woman’s unique burdens and strains, the idea of asserting that, “Whatever a woman is, I want to be that too.” Whether it’s being emotionally aware and involved, whether it’s being sensitive and vulnerable, whether it’s strength through resilience and compassion, whether it’s any of the things of which women are wondrously capable, a feminized man wants to express his desire to share that.

[I mean, I don’t know of anyone whose feminization involves imitating childbirth or the menstrual cycle, but the sentiment is there.]

Pegging

Which leads us to the other hallmark of feminization, or gender sharing, and that is the man receiving anal sex from his female partner, via the use of a strapon.

To me, and to many, the practice of “pegging” is the single most symbolic and profound form of gender exchange that a couple can engage in, because it’s the thought-completing foil to what I described above. It’s the yin to the yang, and the other side of the coin.

I once talked to a new Domme who expressed an anxiety that men who want to be pegged want, “to be dominated by male energy.” In fact, I would submit that the opposite is actually true. Pegging is about a man voluntarily and deliberately removing the masculine prerequisite for penetrative sex, or conferring that privilege to his Mistress. It’s abdicating what less enlightened minds would describe as his anatomical and biological birthright, and ceding that to her.

Giving one’s Mistress this power is a way of saying, “She has all of her own divine power as a woman, and now she has whatever I also possess as a man.”

And again, it allows the man to take over what it means to receive penetrative sex, which is the solidarity aspect combined with the desire to demonstrate his gratitude for when the tables are turned, and it’s a chance to physically submit himself to the burden of that as a way of showing love.

Additionally, the act of being penetrated as a submissive is further enhanced when viewed as a form of worship. In other words, just as a slave delights in worshiping their Mistress’ body with their hands or their mouth, being penetrated can be a way of embracing that extension of their partner’s body with another unique part of their own anatomy.

Humiliation and Punishment

Now, with everything I’ve described, it could be hard to imagine that erotic humiliation and punishment might play an important role. Like domestic servitude, like chastity, this is a persuasion unto itself for many, but it’s important to discuss the differences in approach between the humiliation of gender sharing from a D/s perspective and the more aggressive denigration associated with sissification.

In many depictions, humiliation is an aspect of any erotic feminization, and more often than not the feminization is forced feminization. Nothing wrong with this exactly, because who doesn’t like being forced to do something they love, but too often this centers around the feminine itself being what there is to be humiliated for.

This is present in what’s also called bimbofication, where apparently once one has arrived at their closest approximation of femininity, they resemble in both appearance and utility, a garish blow-up fuck doll. I, for one, object to that construction as symbolic or representative in any way of the female, and I also don’t know why if I was going to be feminized I wouldn’t want that experience to feel like it was an expression and extension of my self. It’s caricaturizing and depersonalizing, and I’ve never personally gotten on board with that.

But suppose for a moment that in submitting to feminization as an element of power exchange was really a question of enabling one’s Domme to assert control over the gender expression of their sub at her whim, whether as punishment or reward (and, of course, either gender expression could be characterized as either one). In essence, she takes on an almost shamanistic control over how you express yourself sexually, and that has enormous potential.

If she happens to amuse herself with this power, all the better! Imagine some transgression for which you lost either your masculinity or femininity privileges, or that participating in one or the other came with specific consequences, or that being one or the other entitled or dictated your circumstances and privileges. There are lots of ways to explore all kinds of kinky feminization without having to lower or berate the idea of femininity itself.

Conclusion

In all, I think I’ve illustrated what I meant at the beginning of this effort, which is that people have little or no idea how complex all of this is, and we shouldn’t rely on the highly visible trend of sissy pornography to account for it.

There are so many ways to explore this form of intimate companionship and dominance, and it deserves more respect than we give it.

In closing, because I’m a word nerd, I’ll leave you with a simple linguistic distinction between these two forms of gender exchange. An “-ification” comes from the Latin ficatio or ficare, which means “making equivalent to”. Think gratification, purification. An “-ization” comes from the Latin izare, meaning “to render or transform”. Consider crystallization, actualization. I think there’s something to that, but I think the latter has a better ring to it.


Click here for more insighful essays from The SMUT Project!

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
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