First In: Femdom Stories of First-time Strap-on Sex by Brett Olsen, Elizabeth Colvin, Dexter Cunningham, Felix D'Angelo, Erica Dumas, Kendra Jarry
Authors: Brett Olsen, Elizabeth Colvin, Dexter Cunningham, Felix D'Angelo, Erica Dumas, Kendra Jarry
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me. She squeezed my
ass with a wicked smile "And many happy returns."
Sissy Lockdown by Kendra Jarry
I'm in the bedroom, arranging the
toys for our training session, when Jenny calls to me from the living room.
"Kendra?"
Again, I bristle at that name. I
hate hearing her say it so loud that the neighbors might be able to hear.
She says: "Kendra, why don't
you put some music on?"
"All right," I call
back. "What would you like to hear."
She names a particularly filthy
song that she's fond of -- one with a slow grinding beat and explicit lyrics
delivered in moaning female vocals about worshipping a man and being his
absolute slave. She names the remix CD that offers that song in a dozen
variations, each of them ten or more minutes long and filled with the
excruciating sounds of cracking whips and rattling chains, moaning women and
grunting men. It's basically porno in musical form.
"Put it on repeat," she
says. "I'm going to dance for you."
My heart soars. Just a few hours
ago, I was watching my wife fuck her boyfriend. I thought she'd never fuck me
again. She hasn't fucked me in months, anyway. She hasn't even given me a blowjob
or a handjob. But now, she's going to dance for me. I feel my heart pounding in
excitement.
Then I get a glimpse of myself in
the mirror as I walk to the shelf that holds the stereo.
My stomach swirls as I look at
myself. With the bright red lipstick, eye shadow, heavy mascara, blush and
powder, I look ridiculous. The hot pink tank top -- way too small for my male
frame -- makes me look even worse. I'm spilling out everywhere. My turquoise
stretch jeans are even tighter. My red boots have three-inch heels. Worst of
all, there's an evident bulge in the front of my stretch jeans... under which,
I'm wearing my wife's panties.
What does it matter of Jenny
dances for me the way a wife dances for a husband?
She's turned me in to something
bizarre, something abominable...and all I can feel when I look in the mirror is
that rush of sexual arousal that comes with my intense humiliation.
I try not to think about it.
I find the CD she asks for. I put
it on the stereo on repeat. The moans begin instantly, loud and repetitive.
Then the beat kicks in and the lyrics are delivered in a lilting moan: " I'm
your slave/I’m your whore/I'm your cunt/I'm your bitch/Take me/Use me/Fuck
me/Hurt me... "
It goes like that, the sexuality
and violence in the lyrics escalating as the beat grinds and the song becomes
louder.
I go back into the kitchen and
find Jenny rooting around in the refrigerator. She's gotten herself a beer from
the front of fridge, and she's managed to find a four-pack of old wine coolers
in the back -- from when my much younger cousin was visiting, months ago. I
didn't even know they were still in there. The things disgust me.
Jenny smiles and opens the first
wine cooler, pressing it into my hand.
The bottle is cold. It sweats.
Her face serious and seductive,
Jenny looks in my eyes.
She says, "Please,
Kendra?"
I know what she's doing. Sissies
don't drink beer. When we drink, guys get us drunk on wine coolers and take
advantage of us. Just like Jenny's going to take advantage of me...with the
huge strap-on cock I've just laid out for her.
My own pathetic cock gives a
surge, bulging through my pants. Jenny smiles at me flirtatiously and strokes
my bulge.
Reluctantly, I drink the wine
cooler.
Jenny hands me the rest of the
four-pack. She picks up a bottle of vodka from the freezer and drinks a couple
of slugs of it from the bottle as she pushes me into the bedroom. She throws me
on the bed and makes me do the same with the vodka, chasing it with the wine
cooler. I try to argue -- I don't like to drink, and certainly not vodka. But
Jenny won't take no for an answer, and I'm on the second wine cooler before
she's finally satisfied. My stomach revolts. We haven't eaten dinner. Well, I
guess I
ass with a wicked smile "And many happy returns."
Sissy Lockdown by Kendra Jarry
I'm in the bedroom, arranging the
toys for our training session, when Jenny calls to me from the living room.
"Kendra?"
Again, I bristle at that name. I
hate hearing her say it so loud that the neighbors might be able to hear.
She says: "Kendra, why don't
you put some music on?"
"All right," I call
back. "What would you like to hear."
She names a particularly filthy
song that she's fond of -- one with a slow grinding beat and explicit lyrics
delivered in moaning female vocals about worshipping a man and being his
absolute slave. She names the remix CD that offers that song in a dozen
variations, each of them ten or more minutes long and filled with the
excruciating sounds of cracking whips and rattling chains, moaning women and
grunting men. It's basically porno in musical form.
"Put it on repeat," she
says. "I'm going to dance for you."
My heart soars. Just a few hours
ago, I was watching my wife fuck her boyfriend. I thought she'd never fuck me
again. She hasn't fucked me in months, anyway. She hasn't even given me a blowjob
or a handjob. But now, she's going to dance for me. I feel my heart pounding in
excitement.
Then I get a glimpse of myself in
the mirror as I walk to the shelf that holds the stereo.
My stomach swirls as I look at
myself. With the bright red lipstick, eye shadow, heavy mascara, blush and
powder, I look ridiculous. The hot pink tank top -- way too small for my male
frame -- makes me look even worse. I'm spilling out everywhere. My turquoise
stretch jeans are even tighter. My red boots have three-inch heels. Worst of
all, there's an evident bulge in the front of my stretch jeans... under which,
I'm wearing my wife's panties.
What does it matter of Jenny
dances for me the way a wife dances for a husband?
She's turned me in to something
bizarre, something abominable...and all I can feel when I look in the mirror is
that rush of sexual arousal that comes with my intense humiliation.
I try not to think about it.
I find the CD she asks for. I put
it on the stereo on repeat. The moans begin instantly, loud and repetitive.
Then the beat kicks in and the lyrics are delivered in a lilting moan: " I'm
your slave/I’m your whore/I'm your cunt/I'm your bitch/Take me/Use me/Fuck
me/Hurt me... "
It goes like that, the sexuality
and violence in the lyrics escalating as the beat grinds and the song becomes
louder.
I go back into the kitchen and
find Jenny rooting around in the refrigerator. She's gotten herself a beer from
the front of fridge, and she's managed to find a four-pack of old wine coolers
in the back -- from when my much younger cousin was visiting, months ago. I
didn't even know they were still in there. The things disgust me.
Jenny smiles and opens the first
wine cooler, pressing it into my hand.
The bottle is cold. It sweats.
Her face serious and seductive,
Jenny looks in my eyes.
She says, "Please,
Kendra?"
I know what she's doing. Sissies
don't drink beer. When we drink, guys get us drunk on wine coolers and take
advantage of us. Just like Jenny's going to take advantage of me...with the
huge strap-on cock I've just laid out for her.
My own pathetic cock gives a
surge, bulging through my pants. Jenny smiles at me flirtatiously and strokes
my bulge.
Reluctantly, I drink the wine
cooler.
Jenny hands me the rest of the
four-pack. She picks up a bottle of vodka from the freezer and drinks a couple
of slugs of it from the bottle as she pushes me into the bedroom. She throws me
on the bed and makes me do the same with the vodka, chasing it with the wine
cooler. I try to argue -- I don't like to drink, and certainly not vodka. But
Jenny won't take no for an answer, and I'm on the second wine cooler before
she's finally satisfied. My stomach revolts. We haven't eaten dinner. Well, I
guess I
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