NEW HALLOWEEN STORY – Trick or Treat…

Because we’re feeling festive, this story is NOW AVAILABLE for FREE on SMUTProject.com until Nov. 1. Click here to read the whole thing!


Synopsis: Bridget throws an impromptu Halloween get together for her friends, and gives them a naughty demonstration of her witchy feminine powers.

This F+ (Multiple Mistress Femdom) story features:
Foot Fetish, Edging, Orgasm Control, Spanking, Erotic Humiliation, Footdom in Socks, Nylons and Sandals, Trampling and Cum Play.


It wasn’t actually quite Halloween just yet, it was the day before, but as I approached the house, of course, you couldn’t have told the difference. There were glowing three jack o’ lanterns on the steps, each with their own cartoonish, exaggerated expressions, there were spider web decorations on the porch and in the trees, and there were green, orange, and purple lights along the side of the house, pointing upwards and making it look like the “spook factory” that I knew that Bridget delighted in having it be.

In fact, the house had looked like that for close to two weeks, an overeager Bridget having decorated as soon as she had the time, and I smiled as I walked past the skeletons “crawling out of” the yard. What could I say? It was her favorite holiday, and I liked seeing her go a little overboard. I liked seeing the glee and the scheming and the planning. I liked that she put so much effort in and paid so much attention to all the little details, crafting the world that most suited her for the one time of year in which it was suitable to do so.

It was cold, and a thin layer of icy snow crusted the lawn, with its skeletons and foamcore gravestones. She had said it was her ambition to be the scariest house on the block, and as I glanced up and down the street I saw that she had certainly achieved it. I smiled to myself, proud of her I suppose, and stepped up onto the porch.

A big, veiny eyeball stared at me as I rang the doorbell and searched my coat quickly for the stray blonde hairs of my dog, and shuddered a little in the cold. I didn’t know what I had to be nervous about. She had told me that it was just going to be a trial run for tomorrow, hanging out with some of her friends while we all made sure our costumes were perfect, and watched a couple of movies. I guess it was Samantha and Vanessa if I’m honest. We had never had problems or anything, it was just that when Bridget got around them her sense of humor took on an aspect that I never quite knew how to make sense of. It was still fairly early in our relationship, and while I loved her very much I never quite knew what to expect from her. I guess, if I’m honest again, that was one of the things I loved the most.

(…)


© 2018

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On the Power of Things: Sexual Fetishism

Sexual fetishes are among the strangest things for those who don’t possess them. It’s often simply a non sequitur for most people. Why feet? Why leather? Why balloons?

The word “fetish” was originally coined in the early 17th century to describe the amulets and charms of religious significance worn by West African tribespeople, objects to which they assigned great significance and power. This was observed earliest by the Portuguese, who called such an object a feitiço, from the Latin facticius (artificial) and facere (to make).

In its original sense a fetish was, like sexual fetishes today, a curiousity to those who viewed them from the outside. Why, those who studied them must have wondered, should so much significance and psychological value be bound up in these tiny stone carvings?

Over time it was put forward that many distinct objects of mystical or religious significance, and indeed the so-called “fetishization” of these objects, were to be found in religions throughout the world. The Christian cross for example, while often merely symbolic and representative, could be seen as a fetish object when it is shown by an exorcist to the supposedly possessed, or when in fiction it is used to combat a vampire; in order to affect or ward away anything it must be imagined that the object has a power unto itself.

Naturally, of course, this led to some disagreement within the church and among religious scholars as to whether religious fetishism indicated some form of heresy, i.e., that worship of or focus on the object was detracting from one’s connection to the godhead. This is a question to which we will return. Indeed, it is something I’m sure nearly every sexual fetishist has heard at one point or another over the course of their relationships; I feel like you’re more interested in my _____ than you are in me…

The modern interpretation of fetish theory, which takes note of its sexual manifestations, began with Sigmund Freud in 1927. To Freud the essential qualities of any sexually fetishized object were ultimately irrelevant because they were universally, quelle suprise, mere phallic substitutes, an idea which can only be explained through the mental acrobatics required to appreciate his castration theory, which is and are of no use to us here.

These days, the conception of a sexual fetish is reliant on our appreciation and understanding of parasexuality, which is to say that body of behaviors, interactions, and preferences of a semi-sexual nature which are distinct from formal genital copulation. In short, these are turn-ons that are not specifically acts of sex but which are at some level either sexually arousing or which engage specific emotions related to sex. Each of us has a unique relationship to our own parasexuality, and for some this relationship is more robust than others.

While the realm of sensual is not entirely lost on all but a few of us (many are those who may enjoy and have specific preferences regarding things like temperature, amount of light, presence or absence of music, and so on), there are some for whom parasexuality is as important or more important than formal copulation to their overall sexual experience, which can involve not only elements of sensuality, such as those referred to above, but also relational elements between themselves and their partner(s), which include relationships of power and circumstance as well as the way in which those things manifest through acts and experiences. These are the so-called “kinky people”.

What this means is that, for people who are highly parasexual, what others often do to “get in the mood” is an end unto itself. From instance to instance these things may or may not lead to sex, during which these themes and experiences may or may not be carried on, and when all is said and done the parasexual experience may or may not conclude. Sex itself may be a destination or a stopover in the sexual experience of someone like this, or in some cases passing it by altogether can be part of what’s involved.

In any case, among those so persuaded, the aspects of parasexuality can comfortably be divided into two categories: kinks, which describe acts and sensory experiences which one enjoys as an element of that sexual context, of which one may have many and any of which one could usually take or leave as the situation allows, and fetishes, which are either essential or semi-essential in the pursuit of the overall sexual experience. Put simply, kinks are the seasonings and fetishes are the meat.

Naturally, of course, man does not live by meat alone, and everything else on our metaphorical “plate” certainly matters a great deal, as does what’s on our metaphorical “table” and all that’s involved in our metaphorical “meal”, but a fetishist is one for whom a certain degree of participation in their particular fixation is what makes it all make sense.

To put it another way, for someone with a fetish, while many other things may or may not take place during a sexual experience, the fetish is that thing without which the experience would be incomplete. In many ways it’s the soliloquy in Hamlet; whatever the stage setup, props, lighting, and so on (the kinks), the play is simply not the play without “To be or not to be…”

But to continue with that metaphor for a moment, it must be said that, for those who remember, the soliloquy in Hamlet is not the climax of the play, and for many fetishists engagement with their fetish need not be the main event of the experience. In similar fashion to how the text is performed, though, if one is to condense the exhibition at all, the “To be or not to be” speech is quite unlikely to be cut, it exists satisfactorily on its own, and if it is done without it certainly remains, at the very least peripherally, in the minds of those involved.

So what are we to make then of fetishism, now that we understand what it is and how it relates to a person’s sexuality? What is its form? What is its nature? What is its relationship to those through whom it is experienced?

To begin answering these questions, we have to become more specific in our analysis, and to first make clear a number of salient points. In order to do this I must concede, as your author, that I myself am possessed of a fetish of my own which involves the feet and footwear of the object of my affections.

To start with, for myself (and I believe for most fetishists), the fetish object does not exist in isolation. Whether neutral or even aversive in its alternatives, it is only powerful as it relates to the person with whom I am enamoured. Specifically, while the feet, underclothes, and to some extent shoes of my partner are powerful indeed, a shoe or a sock or a stocking is as much an inanimate object to me as it is to anyone else until it is associated with her.

A pile of shoes is just that to me. A pair that belongs to her is significant. A pair that belongs to a man is repugnant. A pair that belongs to a child or an infant is inert, as are most shoes from earlier times or from different cultures. The only way that I respond to these things in the absence of someone to associate them with is when I can associate categorically; shoes that are made for women, socks I would like to see her wear, and so on.

From these examples it should be clear that, even for someone who possesses the ability to be moved powerfully by an object, it matters a great deal to whom and in what capacity that object relates. I don’t just “like shoes” or socks or even feet. I like the ones that go with those to whom I am attracted.

And yet, even within this the objects are not entirely equal. I may prefer her sneakers to her flats, I may prefer her new sneakers to her old ones (or vice versa), I may be especially excited when she wears one pair or another from her collection and almost nonplussed when she wears another. It all relies on the appreciation of a number of different factors that relate both to my own experience of these things and to the objective variations within them.

But even within these preferences there is more going on. There’s also the extent to which she relates to them temporally. The ones she’s just been wearing are much more attractive than ones she’s had sitting for months in her closet, regardless of whether I may prefer the others abstractly. There’s a freshness to her connection with the object that dies away within a fairly short span. This much indicates that, again, it isn’t so much the object as it is that object’s connection to her.

Which leads us back to the question of worship through an object and worship of an object. I believe I have made clear that worship of an object is only marginally at play, but we are still left with the question of why, then, if the object itself is not particularly important, should it be important to engage with the object?

For this we must suppose that while my appreciation for my partner is vast it is also broad and multifaceted; when I like someone I like everything about them in lots of different ways, and when we focus our attention entirely upon each other as takes place within sexual congress my awareness of these things, even at a subconscious level, becomes more and more heightened. I like and am attuned to so many things about her at the same time that a fetish provides a welcome relief in that I can, not isolate one thing to like, but collapse all that attention into a single thing. A fetishistic persuasion, then, provides a focal point to which all that energy can be devoted.

In short, I don’t have to be internally conflicted by trying to like her hair and her face and her eyes and her neck and her collarbone, etc., etc., etc., all the way down, a little bit each, all at the same time. Instead, I can turn my attention to her feet and like that one part of her body a ton as a way of liking everything I like about her, all in one place.

But not only is this true of her physicality, what goes along with that is the ability to like the intangible things about her at the same time. How do you make love to a person’s generosity, or their sense of humor, or any of the other things that make them who they are without being able to fit it in within that same collapsing of attention? That’s why it’s so intense and overwhelming, why it’s so powerful, because everything that attracts you to that person gets bundled and focused into that one singular experience.

And how, once it’s all in one place, does one explore that kind of love and attraction, in a way that leads one to orgasm?

It should be noted here that the fetish experience, as I have alluded to above is not a static and isolated thing. Once I have the feet of a beautiful woman for whom I have this love in front of me, and my genitals are being stimulated, it’s not as though I want her to keep still and leave me alone with them. In fact that’s the last thing I’d want. It’s the way she moves, it’s what she says and how she says it, it’s whether I can tell that she’s reciting a script or speaking from the heart, all this incredible minutiae to which I remain alert while being flooded by that emotion, and the tug of war between those two things is what pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

And that, in a nutshell, is kink. That is what the parasexual experience is about. It’s toying with attention and involving both oneself and one’s partner in both mitigating and exacerbating one’s tendency to become overwhelmed, exploiting the patterns and preferences by which one navigates that territory, and indulging the emotions that go along with it all.

I hope this explains a thing or two to those who were formerly confused by those with sexual fetishes. Obviously I cannot speak for fetishes with which I am not as intimately familiar, or for fetishists whose experience differs from mine, but I am willing to believe that I am a reasonably representative example, and that there are parallels and common ground in spite of the differences.

As strange and as odd as we may seem to many, even most of those who are not like us, there is nothing unusual about what we go through and experience in the course of our indulgence, except to whatever extent it is stronger, more powerful, and more profound. If you are one so constructed, consider yourself lucky. I do.


© 2018

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PUBLIC PREVIEW – Crossing Kim (Our Neighbor, 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 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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