June 1st!

Hey there Sexual Intellectuals!

Just a note to say that we know things have been a little quiet around here lately, but that LOTS of work has been going on in the last 6 months behind the scenes, and we are very excited to tease some great stuff coming up next month!

We will be launching:

  • Guides! Everything from foot massage to bootblacking, romance and kinky dating, and more!
  • SMUT Project Studios! Our first foray into both visual erotica and documentary content that is true to our vision and representative in the best possible way of kink and kink culture.
    The Sex Club Podcast! Real talk about real sex, from your friends here at TSP! Hear the voices behind the SMUT as we discuss kink, relationships, fetishes, and more!
    An update to our Fine Art Gallery! More great historical artworks featuring kink and fetish themes.

We can also announce that work has begun on our first full length novel, as well as compiling short story collections with exciting exclusive content, and our first three novellas are in progress as well.

In the meantime follow us here, on Twitter (@SMUTProject) and on Instagram (@SMUTProject) for more!

Anything Goes?

[WARNING: This post regards some things which should be disturbing to many readers. Please proceed at your discretion.]

If you’re involved in this community for long enough, whether as a creator, a participant, or even just a simple voyeur, you will invariably come across some things that will shock you, and some that will even trouble and disturb you in a real and serious way. Things that challenge and things that truly offend. Or, as such things are known more popularly, “some real fucked up shit.”

It’s simply a function of how lumped together people of all tastes and persuasions are under the umbrella terms of “kink” and “BDSM”; there may be real distinctions between people and groups within those categories, but in a lot of ways we weirdos are stuck having to associate with each other, with even the ones to whose beliefs and behaviors we object. It’s a lot like being American, actually. A New York liberal and an Alabama good ole boy may repulse each other but they are, at least in one sense, countrymen. And believe me, the commonality is often a good deal less comfortable, and less familiar, than that.

In many cases, it’s a question of what else there is to call one thing or the other when they are most overtly joined in not being “vanilla”, which is to say, not being what can safely be called normal or usual for the majority. What do a foot fetishist and a furry have in common? Not a great deal in substance I should imagine, but they both can freak out the squares.

So unique to this “community”, to this landscape of strange and unusual sexualities, is the need to negotiate the territory with a little functional pluralism. There’s a bit of the Golden Rule in this, in a form that asserts, “Judge not the persuasions of others in the way that you would like not to be judged for your own.” I’ll return to this point in a minute, but for now it is enough to say that this sentiment is widely held among those who, by one standard or other, either are weird themselves or participate in the weirdness of others. It’s a good deal of “live and let live” with a dash of “hey, I don’t get it but good on you for being yourself.”

It’s a somewhat noble sentiment, laudable at least for its friendliness and its affability, and there’s a measure of solidarity in it too. It’s a reasonably good attitude to have, and it functions well enough in terms of preserving the dignity and humanity of our fellow human beings, at least for most of the time. Unfortunately, however, there are occasions when this sentiment is applied to a fault, and it is that which I intend to explore today.

As a kinky person you are uniquely challenged by the question of where you “draw the line”, both for yourself, in terms of what you are willing to welcome into your own sexual experience and fantasies, and, yes, though some would balk heartily at the notion, for others. What is good for people? What is safe? What is healthy? These are moral considerations, and ones which I think a great many people, despite their compassion and their sympathy, think very seriously about.

And before I get too much further into the exploration of these questions and these ideas, I should state very clearly that I believe that this moral calculus is indeed the sacred right and province of every thinking person. While I don’t believe in judgment for judgment’s sake, or in judging unfairly or unsympathetically, I do think it is important that we are willing to call some things wrong, when we are able to see true harm and exploitation. Without that, I feel that we would be every bit as lost and debauched as they say we are.

I have written before about the need to separate, in the popular imagination, what is kinky from what is pathological (such as authentic sexual sadism that conscripts the unwilling and the ineligible), but as I reflect on what I have seen this week, and what I have encountered not altogether rarely in the past, I feel compelled to illustrate this same need for those within the community to do likewise.

The case in point involves a young man [for discretion’s sake, all parties involved will be kept anonymous] whose kink seems to revolve around being a “homework slave” for young women in college; he writes their essays, does their assignments, and so on, for which he asks nothing in return.

The academic dishonesty of it aside, let’s suppose that this much is reasonably harmless, at least as affects himself. Let’s say he feels good about this role and enjoys seeking out the means to fulfill it, and in so doing he provides some measure of benefit to the “partner” with whom he engages. Even this much is certainly more complicated than that, but the purpose of bringing up this young man is not to analyze him or to put him and his desires under the microscope. What matters, is to look at what happened next.

[NOTE: The details here are a little fuzzy, due to their discovery revolving around an exchange of messages and Tweets on Twitter, some of which were deleted. The parties involved either could not be reached or declined to clarify.]

Apparently, the young man was unable to complete a particular assignment for a particular young woman and, overcome by shame at this, he decided he was deserving of some form of punishment. For a BDSM submissive, this in itself is not particularly unusual; punishment and so-called “funishment” often play a significant role in a healthy D/s relationship.

However, in his desire to correct the balance of his transgression, he elected a very extreme behavior which he wanted to be induced to perform: his suggestion was to boil a portion of oatmeal and pour the mixture over his face.

Now, I am not a squeamish man. But it seems it should be apparent to anyone that this is something which any person who wants to should in all attempts be prevented from doing, and that the motives to do so must be investigated because they imply a serious degree of mental pathology. If you yourself are unconvinced, let’s take another moment with it shall we?

Boiling water, so employed, would be bad enough, and certain to cause burns. The mixture, however, would render the substance not only gooey, but sticky, and this means that instead of the majority of it mercifully splashing away it would cling, almost certainly causing serious and permanent damage. This, again, could be bad enough if it were done to an appendage or some less fragile part of the body, but applied to the face we are now talking about disfigurement, and if it were to affect the eyes could potentially cause blindness. [TO BE PERFECTLY CLEAR, this is highly extreme behavior which would fail to dismay only a small proportion of those who practice kink and D/s.]

So we must, to begin with, try to see his perspective, and ask ourselves what it would take in order for that punishment to fit the crime. In any case, no matter what we might think of that would cause us to think of this as appropriate for anything, the things that would, in any world, balance that scale are orders of magnitude more grave than failing to give a coed the means to skate through her education. In short, this person’s means to evaluate these things were so distorted that they contributed the worst thing they could think of in order to square what they could only have imagined to be the worst possible thing they could have done.

It certainly qualifies as cruel and unusual, and if it had been at someone else’s behest we could safely consider them a psychopath. To go so far beyond the pale, to so exceed any reasonable boundaries with regard for safety and wellbeing, and to inflict such a terrible degree of harm is self-evidently pathological, and if it were done to someone else it would be abhorrent. But sadly, the tale of a dangerous desire is not where this story ends.

Apparently, out of contact with and unable to receive the reprisal of his choice from the young woman to whom he had given this perceived injustice, he went in search of someone willing to administer the same. Imagine it; again, so out of whack and so distorted was this person’s reality that he was approaching strangers (online) in order to get them to induce him to commit this grievous act of harm against himself. And, I am sorry to say, he found one, who reportedly was willing to pocket $100 of his money for her troubles.

Now, personally, I am deeply dismayed and disheartened by this. It reflects poorly on sex workers and their clients, it reflects poorly on the kinky, it reflects poorly on young women… It troubles and sickens me that such a thing would take place, that this person would be unable to get the psychiatric help that they need and would find not only a venue for a terrible extension of their illness but would be indulged in it by someone who took time enough to profit from it before laughing all the way to the bank. It is nasty, it is twisted, it is wicked, it is evil. But I’m sorry to say, ladies and gentlemen, it does get worse from there.

What is supposed to have happened next is that, among those in this woman’s circle, another young woman in the community objected to this, it made the rounds with many who felt likewise, a backlash ensued from friends and supporters of the first one and then…?

We don’t know. At the time of this writing the young man’s account has been silent since before the incident. We have backtracking and apologies from the whistleblower to the profiteer, and after a bit of gloating from the latter party both of their feeds have gone back to normal. And now what? Now I sit, writing this article.

Barring the even more twisted possibility that all of this is an elaborate “mindfuck” on us all, a hoax of some kind, presumably the young man is in a burn ward or (hopefully, at least) a psych ward right now, having to explain how he got this way, as he probably will have to for the rest of his life. The profiteer is back to being her usual self and not only feeling good but smug about it. The whistleblower has been embarassed into silence. And the catalyzing tweets were deleted, sweeping the whole thing under the rug.

So, supposing that nothing new comes to light, where does that leave us? What do we make of all this? What can we learn?

The first thing that must be said in response is that, as in the rest of society, mental illness, and in particular untreated or extreme mental illness, has to be addressed more clearly in the kink community. For all the dreck that you hear about kink being like or better than therapy, and for all that it is authentically therapeutic for the right people, the entire world of BDSM is not a substitute for mental health treatment and care. If anything, this example illustrates clearly how dangerous these things can be in the wrong hands, and when explored without conscious care and support, in isolation, without the connection to and engagement with loving and protective partners, all of which are conditions that apply in spades to those who are profoundly mentally ill. They are uniquely subject and vulnerable to versions of these things which are not just unhealthy or strange but which will cause them serious harm. You may as well send someone who is crippled and drunk to run with the bulls.

And those of us who struggle with mental health issues as a disability, who have the upper hand when it comes to managing it, we need to call it like we see it and encourage others into care when we see someone who is unwell, who is hurting themselves. We can’t let these social media tools become just television, with nothing but advertising, programming, and self-congratulation. Imagine the kinky social media universe being your only point of connection to other people and ask yourself what it would be like if no one just treated you like a real human being, and looked out for you when you were ill and confused.

The second thing to say is that we have to stop perpetuating the idea that this is all just a game, by which I mean that’s it’s just amoral playtime that exists in a vacuum. Kink affects people very deeply and very seriously at all kinds of levels and in all different ways, and you are playing with fire if you don’t have respect for that. We have to start saying that, along with consent and aftercare and all the other things we preach about so endlessly, what is inherent and indispensable in kink is at the very least a decent human respect and care for those with whom you engage.

And the third is to recognize that the InstaDomme mentality, which neglects in its entirety the whole of what I’ve just said, is more than just the offensive nuisance we’ve all come to live with it as. It used to be that a prostitute (because that used to be the only kind of sex worker there was) had to live in a town or a city and had to cultivate relationships with the people she worked with and with the environment in which she lived. It used to be we had to live with each other, and those who provided a service had to see and interact with their clients as human beings.

The good ones still do this today– they provide their services, they build a reputation, they participate in the community, they contribute to the welfare and the ecology of their worlds; they are upstanding people who care about what they do and what they put out there, and about how that reflects and feeds back on them as professionals and as people. But this modern incarnation, which is only achievable through the distance and disposability made possible by the Internet, is opportunistic, it’s shallow, and it treats the world like fast food customers; like hunger, that is just waiting to be turned into dollars.

And by the way, if you’re thinking that what they do doesn’t really have anything to do with the so-called “Real Thing” and that it’s not important enough for you to worry about, you’re wrong. Content creators and sex workers, whether you like it or employ them or not, are at the center of kinky identity and culture, and if you don’t think that feeds back on real people and especially the younger generation, you’re wrong.

What’s at stake isn’t just the fate of the lost ones, like the young man in this story. It isn’t just the “paypigs” and their money. The risk is that kink moves from this generation into the next as nothing more than another way to make a quick and dirty buck, that people use like a bad drug, with an attitude that makes it all just masturbation.

Please, whether you’re a creator, a provider, a consumer, or just a participant, please take kink and your kinky practice seriously. Don’t take it as a license to stop asking yourself if what you’re doing is good, or ethical, or real. Don’t use it as an excuse to stop being human, and to stop letting others be it too. If we don’t remember that what we do as kinky people matters, and if we don’t remind each other, then we’ll never be able to reconcile what we do with who we are, and we’ll never become what we’re truly meant to be.


[UPDATE: Apparently a third domme has been implicated and much of the confusion has revolved around the involvement of the domme who was originally blamed. Further bulletins as events warrant.]


© 2018

Click here for more insightful essays from The SMUT Project!

InstaDomme: FemDom and Kink on Social Media

It’s not infrequently that I browse the “FemDom” and related hashtags, particularly on Twitter because that’s where we at the SMUT Project feel there is the most to be done when it comes to connecting with those who think seriously about the topic. I look for things to share, thoughts and content to promote, things that inspire me or with which I feel a sense of common cause, things I feel connected with or represented by in a positive and meaningful way.

But more reliably than anything like that, what I find in much greater proportion is a slew of what is, in essence, merely advertising. Not for prodommes, not for pornography, but for a special breed of person that I only became unpleasantly aware of in the last couple of years, and which I’m fairly comfortable in believing not just did not but could not have existed until sometime around then: the “InstaDomme”.

She is, in short, at least as defines the typical case, a very young woman (I should say most often in the range of 18-22), with a relatively new account that has a relatively low number of posts, the sole purpose of which is to provide herself with 1) an income stream under the guise of what is called “financial domination”, and 2) an outlet for her distinct and abundant immaturity.

A typical feed reads as follows (quotes taken anonymously from actual tweets):

  • “Your just a looser #findom #femdom”
  • “Where are my #LittleDick losers? I know you’re lonely and feeling vulnerable. Come to me, weakling.”
  • “bow down to your superior and start $ending cucks”
  • “i’ll humiliate you, spit on you, take all the money you have in your wallet, then make you crawl to the ATM like the pig you are to give me the amount I deserve. and you’ll be begging me for more #findom”
  • “RT Game. $2/$2/$2. 1 Comment per 15 min. Drain this fucking loser #findom”
  • “makeups expensive. New foundation costs me £45. #reimburse me for it losers. #reimbursement #findom #paypig”
  • “money makes me so horny”

And make no mistake, there are accounts like these by the hundreds, even by the thousands.

And why not? Can you imagine the perverse simplicity of it? Imagine being that age and coming across the idea that instead of working hard, whether to produce content or cultivate relationships or even just to interact in a healthy and productive way with those around you, instead of suffering from the pressures that life puts on us all, instead of letting that pressure subject you to the pains of growing into a stronger and better human being, all you had to do to achieve success and provide yourself with cash is to create a couple of social media accounts and accounts on sites to process payment, give yourself a title like “Princess” or “Goddess” or “Queen”, fill your feed with bile, and wait for your rewards to come pouring in.

And oh, do those rewards ever floweth. It’s not just the evidence they post, in the form of screenshots declaring their account has received another $100 or $200 or more, the trophies of their “tributes”. It’s not just that they persist in a way that clearly indicates that it’s working for them. It’s the flood of dozens to hundreds of engagements with what they post; the likes, the retweets, the encouraging and prostrating comments, and followers, followers, followers.

A great many of these accounts have followings from the hundreds well into the several thousands, and the phenomenon is within itself a little subculture. There are promotional accounts solely devoted to circulating this kind of dreck, there are similarly devoted “slaves” who do likewise. The little communities play “retweet games” where their “finsub” or “paypig” has pledged a certain amount of cash for each engagement, and over a certain period of time the girl will delight as notification after notification signals the growth of her payoff.

Supposedly this is an outgrowth of BDSM. It’s a kink, we are meant to believe, and surely, the whole ridiculous sham wouldn’t perpetuate itself without a lot of people somewhere jerking off to it in earnest. But to someone who grew up before and in the early days of the Internet, someone who is old enough to know any different, and someone who knows the kinky persuasion to have the capability of being profound and sacred and deep (namely myself), this characterization reads as both cheap and abundantly cynical.

Calling findom a kink asks us to believe that, for all time, there have been people with a quiet desperation to walk up to a stranger, be spewed upon, give them money, and call it a day. While I find that hard to believe, I find it even harder to believe that the procedural aspects of the practice make any sense before the combined existence of the Internet, social media, cashless finance, and the ability for both parties to be isolated in the exchange. It’s true that we don’t have another word yet for something that arouses a person sexually without some relationship to formal sex (one that while making that distinction could further distinguish something like this from that which corresponds to real BDSM), and I don’t dispute that the whole thing revolves around being a turn-on for people. I’ll even go so far as to recognize that the roles and power dynamics at play bear some resemblance to the practice of kink. But to whatever extent it is an authentic extension of D/s, it’s one that, in my estimation, completely misses the point.

Let’s concede for a moment the assumption that at the heart of all of this lies a true appreciation of something and a deep desire to glorify, adore, and promote it. Let’s suppose that that drive animates the whole process, and that at the end of it all both parties are satisfied and fulfilled in their true and essential nature. What, then, can we say that this particular process hinges upon? What, if we even broaden the idea to include the whole “brat” persona, can we say is really being set on the altar of worship? In answer, I can only find some of the most hollow, vacuous, and ultimately contemptible things.

I feel we must take as read the self-evident proposition that these attitudes and behaviors are not things that most of us would honestly support or encourage in real life and in the real world. I think most of us, even the tolerant ones, would say that these things are reprehensible in and of themselves, and that they are really only tolerable to the extent that they represent a phase through which we all must pass. These are things for which we forgive our loved ones because for a time they are incapable of knowing any better. But instead of waiting politely and sympathetically while they grow out of it while enforcing the social discipline that they need in order to learn that that mentality is not a suitable or appropriate one for dealing with other human beings, this so-called kink thrusts it into the spotlight, showers it with praise and both tangible and intangible benefits, and then prostrates itself before it and presents it with the most essential biological approval.

“And so what?” you may say. “They’re just playing. Why can’t they just be left alone with their kink?”

But kink is supposed to be a mutual thing, an exploration of two or more parties’ selves that lead them all to be in touch with the way that they best are able to be, and there is no way for her to participate in this kink without lowering and debasing herself until she is petulant and abusive and exploitative and divorced from her sensitivity, her care, and her love. The practice is, on its face, one-sided, but it is as though we are looking at it through a mirror; the imbalance doesn’t favor her simply because she is in receipt of something as pathetically hollow as money. No, in fact it is the other way around; it enables a man to pay her to get her to be her worst self.

But what’s worse than that, supposing that we can imagine that these things do not take place solely within the ejaculatory vacuum and that it actually has an effect on this young woman’s life, how can she ever grow and develop into an authentic, self-actualized, profound human being who is in touch with and in control of her highest and best self when the world specifically rewards her for doing the opposite? Does the supposedly unassailable right of her counterparts’ exuberance come at the cost of her future, and of the quality of her life and relationships? Does the willingness to idolize her adolescent misapprehension of the means by which to assign value to herself and her world arrest her development into adulthood? I think these are fair questions, and worth asking.

Women shouldn’t be celebrated for being brats any more than they should be celebrated for being bimbos, or bitches, or any of the other things that are less than their most engaged, fulfilled, and powerful selves, that’s why this species of what is called findom has no relationship to the practice of FemDom, despite the supposed interchangeability of their hashtags.

The women who can rightly call themselves Goddesses or Princesses or Queens, the ones who are truly worthy of the adoration and worship they receive, are inspiring. They’re something to be proud of, something to be admired because of what they have achieved in themselves. They have a glory and a majesty that isn’t free, and that you don’t get for nothing just by being female. But if we teach these young women that it’s only because of their anatomies and their gender, they will never know that that level is theirs to pursue.

In all of these accounts and these personas there is a common thread that the domme should be worshipped for what she is rather than who she is, and we have to let FemDom be about more than that.

A woman’s true divinity is something that is explored, and developed, and nurtured, and earned. It’s what elevates her beyond the mundane, the pedantic, and the cheap, and submission is supposed to be about getting in touch with that, both for her and for the sub. But if we continue to let young women believe they can have it for nothing, and keep paying to convince them it is so, the only thing we will buy is that the real thing will be rarer, and all the fewer will be those who possess it.


NOTE: It is true that some men also participate in the practice of financial domination, in a fashion almost entirely similar to what I have described here. I don’t know how this relates to members of the gay or bisexual communities, but I expect there are adequate parallels. The whole thing reeks to me of a similarly exploitative charlatanism and nonsense, but I haven’t begun to explore the dynamics there, nor am I inclined to personally.


© 2018

Click here for more insightful essays from The SMUT Project!

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

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!
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SMUT Project Press!

MEMBERSHIP GIVEAWAY!

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 SMUTProject.com. 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.”

PUBLIC PREVIEW – Our Neighbor

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

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