Fiction: Dominant Lady Seeking Handsome Gentleman

Free Thinking Writer has a new story posted on Femdom Fantasies. For a taste:

At work, you’re the one in charge. When you come home to me, you crave to let go, to surrender to my control. You relish the opportunity to please. You seek my strong hand, adore my quick wit, and appreciate the shiver of restraint. My love, isn’t it time we meet? I’ll order the wine.

Free Thinking Writer has a way of always leaving me wanted more with his stories and this is no exception.

Arafin has also submitted a new story, "Telling Fortunes", a wonderfully creative tale. His imagination is something that I truly envy as it yields stories that are always unique and a pleasure to read.

I'm sure you'll also enjoy reading their submissions ;)

I'll be adding more stories over the next few days so check back again soon if you're a femdom fantasy fan.

The Ghost Veil

THE GHOST VEIL

Arafin © 2008

It was so long ago since she first met him, that dark eyed soldier trying to make his way back home from some senseless conflict in a distant land under a strange and hazy sun. In his eagerness to see his homeland he had attempted a short cut through the mountains and mistakenly wandered into her little valley realm, a realm where she ruled with absolute authority, yet authority never in need of force. No. This lady of a forgotten time had at her fingertips a means of persuasion far more efficient than any sword or catapult, far more able to conquer than any massive assault or long siege. And it was with this persuasion that she had captivated the mind, body, heart, and soul of the young soldier with the dark flashing eyes.

Long ago when her forbearers had established this tiny sanctuary between the peaks of these remote mountains, the first queen in the long line of which she now held title, had woven a magic veil of white lilies, forgetmenots, and a little white flower found no where else on Earth. Into this gossamer cloth the ancient queen also wove all her magic and skills. Skills of bold hypnotic entrancement and of subtle conversational seduction. Skills of careful manipulation and of sweetest pleasures. For twenty one days she wove and then her work was done. In the frail white fabric were sewn spells which, in the hands of the rightful heir, could do to men’s minds what a prism does to white light, expand and color it into a rainbow of delicious jubilation. It could also do something else. It could absorb in ways too wonderful to fully comprehend.

The handsome soldier had only thought of stopping long enough to drink some water and perhaps ask where he might procure a meal, but the clever queen with hair like white gold had seen him and walked down from her terrace to meet him and work the magic she had worked so many times before. Approaching as if she were a schoolgirl, shy and wistful, (for she wore no robes denoting office), she let her gaze slip into his curious eyes. At once he found himself both aroused and bemused. Was she signaling him that she was willing to lay with him or just playing a youthful game? The answer to his unspoken question soon became clear as that little smile which had disarmed so many spread so slowly between the corners of her exquisite mouth that it seemed almost to stop time with it’s slowness.

Gazing like a statue he watched from within himself as this gorgeous creature raised the soft white veil above her head, swept it high, where it billowed on the still air for a moment before descending like a gentle mist over him, confusing his thoughts, jumbling his senses, and quite completely draining his will. She laughed now as he stared helpless and unable to move, his heart racing and his manhood straining against his leather breaches. With every fiber of his being he wanted this experience to both continue forever and climax in a fiery explosion of orgasm. She drew near to him now and bent her head to his ear to whisper.

A spell so soft and so clever was spoken then, combined with the spell of the veil, that the poor man had not even the slightest recollection of these events as the years passed and he raised a family and grew old in his home country across the wide mountains to the North. She had taken what she wanted and sent him gladly on his way with his satchel full of food and several skins of sweet well water to drink as he followed the little map she had drawn herself. He had found his way back to the main road and made it home after a fortnight, and she, she had gone back up to her terrace to savor that which she had taken and wait for the next handsome traveller to lose his way.

Whenever she was lonely for a mate she would don naught but the white veil, walk along the carefully crafted stone hallways of her high abode, and relish the sensations which emanated from that magic wisp of cloth. As sunlight touched this fairy mesh and she whispered the secret words, the veil would connect her to whatever lover she chose who the veil had ensnared, and in his dreams he would know passion such as waking life could never yield while she would waltz and shimmer to the music of the pleasure she had wrought. Only in his dreams would the young soldier remember the golden queen in the little mountain valley, believing it to be just that, a product of the mind. But she, she would savor for hundreds of years the joy she had known with him on that long ago sunny afternoon. The veil, like a ghost of dreamy love’s embrace, would hold these memories for her and all of her line that would follow.

Down through the ages the thin white veil would pass. Down through the ages would drift the dreams of love too sweet for even song to praise.

Begging

(c) 2007 by Kat's Grey Pet


I can still see you in my mind, although you've shut out the light from my eyes. I hear you move around the room, can tell you are very pleased with yourself, that you're smiling. The scent of your perfume fills my lungs.

I try to move, and you giggle.

"You're not getting loose," you tell me again.

"You cheated," I reply.

You laugh. "I did NOT cheat!"

"I almost won," I reply.

"But you didn't, and you won't get loose."

I fumble at the silk that binds my arms for a few moments. I can tell you're watching me, watching my struggles.

"You're not trying very hard," you tell me. And then I feel a fingernail on the bottom of my foot. I jump.

"Hey!" I complain. "Stop that."

You giggle again. God, I love the sound of your voice! I feel you as you climb onto the bed and perch on top of me, feel your hands caress my chest for a moment.

"Tell me, do you think I could tie your legs, too?" You scootch down, a little, pinning my legs to the bed. I pause, considering, resigned.

"Probably," I admit after a moment.

Your hands move to my belt, pausing.

"I'll give you a choice," you offer. "Cooperate while I remove the rest of your clothes, or I'll tie your legs and tickle your feet."

In emphasis, you reach around and run another fingernail up the bottom of a bare foot. I jump, but you've got me pinned to the bed.

"Oh god!" I breathe. "Please don't, Love."

"Cooperate then. You know you want to, anyway."

I don't say anything, but as your hands return to my belt, I shift to make it easier for you to remove my remaining clothes.

And continue to struggle with well-tied silk.

You return to your perch on top of me, watching my silent struggles for a moment, then turn around.

"What are you doing?" I ask I feel a scarf wrap around one of my ankles.

"Tying your feet."

I start to jerk away, but it's too late, and you pull the silk taut, pulling my leg sideways. I squirm and try to pull away, but you quickly secure the silk and pounce on the remaining leg. After just another moment, I'm spread eagled on the bed, breathing heavily.

"You're a brat!" I tell you.

In response, you climb back on top of me, sitting over my hips. Suddenly, you grasp my chin, pulling it forward, then lean down and kiss me. I moan.

I love your touch, and I melt to your kisses.

"If you call me that again," you tell me, "I'll gag you."

"No you won't," I tell you. "You like kissing me too much."

"With used underwear."

"Mmmmm."

"YOUR used underwear," you finish.

"Ewww."

You kiss me again, teasingly. I strain, trying to lengthen the kiss, but you pull away, just out of range. I can feel your breath, but can't quite reach you. I slump back to the bed.

"It's time you learned how to beg," you tell me.

"I love you."

"I know you do. And I love you."

And then you hop off me again. Suddenly, you grasp one of my ankles.

"Hey!" I complain again. "No tickling!"

You laugh. "Try to stop me." And I feel fingernails on the bottom of my foot. Not moving yet, but the threat is there.

"Please don't," I say quietly.

You fingers twitch, and I jump.

"Tee hee. I love it when you're ticklish."

"Oh god!" I exclaim as you begin tickling in earnest. I try to jerk away, but the silk is taut. I squirm madly. "Stop! Please stop!"

You pause for a moment, allowing me to catch my breath, then begin again.

What's The Story?

Image by Killerfall

Lady Julia's note:

Periodically I'll post a photo in my YahooGroup and then pose the question, "What's the Story?" Below is one of the more recent creations submitted. Nicely done, Hypnoboth.

What story do you see in the photo?


By Hypnoboth


The men around the table were faceless in the single light from above. Only their voices identified them.

"He has resisted our strongest warriors. How can we bind him for the Inquisition?"

"By using something other than a warrior."

"You speak in riddles."

"No. There are powers other than arms."

"Stop prattling, old man. I want practical answers, not vague generalities."

"Then stop thinking with your crotch. I will have him bound by sundown."

A short silence.

"He has defeated my finest. Do not promise what you cannot deliver."

"I say it again. By sundown."

"A hundred gold pieces says you lie."

"Done."

And there was silence.

She was small and delicate, with dark hair and white skin. She moved in a way that seemed to show the supple body beneath the modest robe she wore. In defiance of convention, she was alone in the square. She sat down in the small inn and when the wife of the innkeeper came to her and asked her in a dubious voice what she wanted, ordered watered wine. Then she buried her face in her hands.

To approach an unaccompanied woman defied convention just as much as being unaccompanied. Her evident distress was too much to bear. The soldier was of good family, and happened to be alone. He spoke to her. "Pardon me, Miss, but you seem distressed."

She looked up at him doubtfully. A soldier speaking to a young woman could have only one thing on his mind. "Please, sir. Do me no harm." The innkeeper's wife hovered in the doorway uncertainly.

"You mistake me. You seem so very troubled. I mean no discourtesy."

Her face remained doubtful. "Thank you, sir, but my troubles are beyond your help."

"Are you so sure? I am a skilled warrior."

"My difficulties are not of this world."

He seated himself. "Surely there are parts of your troubles a strong arm can help."

"I think not, good sir."

"Please tell me. Perhaps I can assist."

She looked at him again. Her eyes were dark and large. "Good sir, my family was visited by a stranger. He came to my father, and my father sent for me. The stranger looked deeply into my eyes. He spoke of how weary I was. He said how good it is to relax deeply. He said how strangely heavy my eyes looked, as yours look now good sir, and how difficult it is to keep them open. He said to me, how sleepy you are, and how good it is to sleep deeply. Yes, to sleep and dream, to dream of soft and gentle things, good sir. Such gentle sleep as we have not felt since childhood, soft beds and warm fires, when your eyelids get heavy and your eyes close, yes good sir, like that, your eyes close and you dream, dream on and on........

He awoke chained to the wall of the Inquisitor's cell. She was against his chest, her eyes closed. "Thank you, good sir. Your heart is pure, and your motives are pure." She pressed her lips against his chest, and he moaned. "Please, sir, confess quickly. I should be sorry to think I caused you overmuch pain." She turned and ran away
quickly, and he moaned again.

The Inquisitor moved forward. The smell of hot iron filled the air.