Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus (27 page)

My dark haired lover takes a pair of purply red snail shells from a large open clamshell we use as our toy box. He lifts me up from the bench just enough to fasten these to my nipples. Hot, searing pain lancing through them from the tight pinch and I gasp from the sensation. When he lays me back down against the bench, the shells bite harder into my skin and my nipples stiffen and throb. The arousal stirs a pulsing in my clit and cunt.

I hear watery murmurs from the crowd and my blond master speaks, “Mistress, you cannot come until we tell you. Small moans are allowed, but screaming,” he pauses long enough to kneel and stare into my eyes, “will be severely punished.”

My pussy twinges hard from his promise. I try to still my breathing, calm my nerves, as we begin.

First a sensation oil is rubbed all over my skin, into my clit, over my nipples. I sigh and feel as if every muscle melts as they caress away my knots, my tension. Then one of them walks to the head of the bench and grabs my hair. He yanks my head up and tells me to suck on his hot, thick erection. I do so with gusto, slurping at his pre-cum slick head and curling my tongue around his rosy pink shaft. He moans and guides more of his cock deep into my mouth. I enjoy the salty, slippery taste of him, sucking strong until my cheeks collapse and then letting up. He fucks my face faster, his thrusts growing carnal thanks to my talented mouth.

The lover behind me massages more oil into my ass cheeks then he probes my anal canal with one, two fingers while he brushes the surface of a tawse made from sunken ship wood over my ass. As he fingers my rectum, the wood leaves my skin then swishes down to deliver a strong, stinging thwack. I moan around the cock in my mouth and my hands fist inside their manacles.

He now moves his fingers to my sex, where he rubs my clit in long strokes that make it tingle like mad. My hips rise off the bench, trying to bring his fingers to that sweet spot that will deliver an amazing orgasm. But he teases me, taking his touch away from my swelling clitoris and sweeping fingers between my wet labia. Then he dips down and buries his head between my legs, poking his tongue in my hole and then flicking it over my clit until I have to fight off an orgasm before I’m disciplined for having one without their permission.

The cock I suck is pulled from my lips as my master tells my other lover to join him up front. I know what’s about to happen. It’s a form of punishment and pleasure designed to test my restraint and I can’t wait to watch, but I hope they don’t make me wait too long before one of them fucks me.

The dark haired man gets to his knees and presents his ass to my master. My master gives me a wolfish smile before he kneels behind our lover and dips his head. He licks the man’s asshole with the tip of his long, pink tongue, laving it up and down our lover’s crack and then swirling it over his balls. Then he pokes it inside the man’s ass while he reaches up with one hand to tug and tweak our lover’s scrotum. The dark haired man groans, but he is warned that the rules apply to him, too, and if he screams too loudly or cums without permission he will also be punished.

My pussy throbs from watching and I wish I could touch myself, rub my clit and make myself come. But still I have to watch on. My breathing grows shallow as my lust grows hotter.

After he lubes up the man’s ass well with his spit, he pins me with a narrow eyed stare as he drives his cock deep into our lover’s asshole. The dark haired man rears up and his back arches deeply. All his muscles go rigid and his face contorts as pleasure rockets through him. I moan with him as our master pumps his cock in and out in long, slow strokes while he gives our lover a hand job.

He watches me as he fucks him, gauging my reactions, enjoying my torture. The dark haired one slits open his eyes to watch me, also, and he smiles through the faces he makes in his desire. I lick my lips and grow hungrier for my turn.

Finally he drives his cock deep into the dark haired man’s ass one last time then draws out and cums all over his back. He takes his time licking our lover clean, torturing me more until I can’t stand it.

“
Fuck me!” I demand, and the crowd lets out a collective gasp. “I want your cock in me right now.”

My blond master gives me a scowl and shakes a finger at me. “You were told not to scream without our permission.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I fear the performance will stop.

My dark haired master rises up and speaks. “But we’ve already tortured you enough, I think. And, besides, I want to bury my cock in that sweet ass of yours.”

My face and whole body heat from his carnal words. He and the other master move behind me. Soon one is underneath me, laving at my clit and fucking me with strong fingers while the other slowly nudges his thick cock deep inside my lubed ass.

A sigh becomes a whimper as I begin to thrash in my bonds. My rectum and pussy are on fire with pressure and throbbing, but neither sensation is unpleasant. They rub my g-spot from back to front while one sucks my clit deep into his mouth. I soon buck uncontrollably on the bench, gritting my teeth and hoping they allow me to come soon.

“
Come now, Mistress. Come hard. Squeeze my cock and squirt all over me.”

I do as he commands. An intense pressure that makes me feel like I have to pee builds in my pelvis and then bursts, making me shiver and scream out as a strong orgasm rocks me and makes me squirt all over his chest.

The crowd applauds and cheers. After the men cum and finish up with me, they untie me from the abalone bench and gather me in their arms, carrying me to our bed chamber. My heart fills with love and contentment as I ponder a lifetime spent as a queen and giving many more performances like this.

***

Bonus Story: The Reluctant Femdom

By Anita Lawless

“
Millie,” Dmitri said, ignoring his coffee. “Go to the club. You’re a major shareholder in Surrender, and you haven’t even been in any of the establishments we own. For that matter, you haven’t even set foot in Sanctuary.”

I smiled at my best friend, a giant of a Russian Canadian with emerald eyes that saw right through me. Surrender Inc. was our new business venture. Well, relatively new. We’d designed and launched the corporation three years ago. Surrender Inc. was also our brand name for our exclusive chain of sex resorts and sex clubs that catered to a range of clientele, from middle class to the wealthiest of wealthy. Our clubs and resorts prided themselves on being clean and safe. Every member had to be thoroughly tested for any sexually transmitted diseases, and their criminal records were also checked. We offered sex services ranging from bdsm to full body massage to birthday party orgies, just to name a few.

Sanctuary was the top of the top--the board members little present to themselves. It was a resort set up in an old, sprawling mansion the board members had bought and refurbished. Only they or their close friends were allowed inside Sanctuary.

And here I was one of those board members, owner of a trendy sex franchise that was getting press in some of the most well known erotic magazines, and I’d never set foot inside any of our clubs, resort, or Sanctuary itself.

“
No,” I can’t.” I waved him off with a well manicured hand, blew away a lock of blonde hair that had fallen from my loose topknot. “I have work to do.”

Dmitri scowled at me, and when the waiter left after refilling my coffee, he said, “Dammit, woman, you’re always working. You need to play, too. How long has it been?”

I sighed. Rarely did we butt dominant heads, except for that brief time we tried to be lovers. We’d both clashed mightily, and the chemistry just fizzled as we’d started to resent one another. To save our friendship, we mutually agreed to call it off. We both punched way too many holes in the walls of our apartments over the four months we’d given it a shot. We made great pals. Lovers? Not so much. But he was the closest thing I had to an older brother.

“
Since that club in New York,” I finally told him, when he continued to glare at my silence. “The one you and Roxy told me about, before she left…”

He shook his head. “I haven’t been with Roxy in over a year, so that means--”

“
Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “It’s been a year and a half.”

His sigh dripped frustration. “You know, you let your old patterns creep back in every time you deny your dominant side.”

“
Don’t psychoanalyze me today,” I snapped. “And don’t bring up my mother.” Then I sipped my coffee and hoped he’d drop it. But I knew my tenacious friend too well. He wouldn’t. In addition to running Surrender Inc., Dmitri and I both worked as psychiatrists. He specialized in sex therapy and I in abnormal psychology. I wondered then, was it irony that a woman specializing in abnormal psychology couldn’t conquer her own mental demons? Every time I thought I won the battle, somehow I let them come creeping back.

He took my hand then, studied my face with eyes that showed compassion. “You’re lonely. I know. And you’re not a failure as a female because you’re dominant. Your mother was wrong. We both know that. She was just too stuck in her paradigm to see it.”

I nodded, then I growled at him, “I thought I told you not to bring up my mother?”

He sipped his coffee, then in his trademark deadpan, quipped, “Wanna fight about it?” A stoic, quiet man, he never cracked a smile when he cracked a joke, and when I first met him I couldn’t tell if the bastard was kidding or serious.

“
Will you promise never to bring up my mother again if I go to Sanctuary this weekend?”

With a smile, he held out his hand to shake. “It’s a deal.”

***

I don’t hate my mother. Let’s get that straight right off. I’m not one of those affluent kids who blames my parents for everything. I loved her, I miss her, and I wish she and I had come to fully understand each other before she died. But life doesn’t always give us what we wish for. Mom meant well when she was alive. I know she thought what she did was right. She was just operating on an out of date ideology she thought was universal. I get that. It’s just, every now and again, the guilt comes back and gnaws. Reminds me why I am the over achiever I am.

‘
Girls are girls,’
she would say.
‘And boys are boys.’
 

‘
Girls wear pink. Boys wear blue.’

I hate pink, for the record.

‘
Girls shouldn’t be aggressive. Why are you so aggressive, Mildred?’

‘
You got your dress all dirty, Mildred. Why can’t you be like other girls and like dolls?’

“
Stop torturing yourself,” I said, and slapped my forehead as if it would shake the thoughts from my mind.

But there were good memories, too. A lot of them. Like how she had come to accept me before she passed away from a slowly failing heart. How proud she was of me when I graduated from university with honors.

‘
You’re so smart, my darling. Yes, I wish you’d have gotten married instead of going to college, but…’
 

Or after I set up my own practice, and she came to visit me in the city.

‘
I know we’ve had our quarrels, darling, but I want you to know I’m glad you succeeded. Oh, yes, I wanted different for you. Would’ve liked grandchildren. I’ve never hid that. But I’m proud of you just the same, and I love you.’

So Mom was always a mixed bag of emotions. I never resented her, because I truly believe she didn’t use passive aggression with malice. She was simply doing what her mother did to her, and she thought it was how you handled a kid. She and I were never close when I was little, because, back then, she seemed to keep me at arm’s length out of her disappointment. I wanted her acceptance so badly, I strove to hide my aggressive side, but my ambition and need to be who I was always won out. She distanced herself, as if she couldn’t handle I wasn’t the child she wanted me to be. I feared I’d broken her heart, feared her rejection, and the guilt cycle started then and there.

But as I drove up to the expansive grounds and palatial manor that encompassed Surrender Sanctuary, I put thoughts of mom to rest. Now was my time, and my stomach fluttered with a mixture of excitement and fear. I couldn’t chicken out, or I’d never hear the end of it from Dmitri. And though he and Roxy, his own partner and playmate, had recently amicably parted ways and he probably wouldn’t be here tonight, I knew he’d hear through the Surrender grapevine if I didn’t show up. That thorough bastard would be sure to check in and see if I did, indeed, pay the visit I had promised to make.

“
Hello Ms. Monroe,” said the young lady with almond eyes and flawless, champagne colored skin. She stood behind the guest desk, waiting for me. “We were hoping you’d join us tonight.”

I quirked my eyebrow up. “Dmitri already called to check on me then?”

She tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t. “Yes, actually, he did.”

I scrawled an “MMM” over the dotted line. My full name is Mildred Millicent Monroe. How’s that for kicks and giggles? I tell people to call me Millie and forget the rest.

It’s been over a year and a half since I played as a femdom. I can’t deny I enjoy the role and the role playing. I love exerting erotic control over a male, to will when he comes, to watch him writhe from pleasure I conjure within him. Give me a submissive, sweet, shy man and I’m as happy as a kid in a sandbox. But sometimes my guilt rears its ugly head over my enjoyment of this more aggressive side of me. That and Mom also tried to teach me sex was always bad for the woman, and only men enjoyed it. So, of course, since I developed intense sexual urges with puberty, I felt it was just one more thing to make me a disappointment in Mom’s eyes. Girls, after all, weren’t supposed to have those.

But Dmitri was right. I had to conquer my cycles and enjoy my life. All work and no play would make Millie a dull girl. Tonight I’d opted for the royal treatment, even though I did fight twinges of guilt for doing so. I held so much guilt, you would’ve thought I was Catholic instead of an atheist. I’d signed up for the Surrender Submissives Ball, and a selection of submissives would be displayed for our choosing.