eBook Details

Torments and Humiliations

Series: Female Domination Tales , Book 2.0
By: Constance Pennington Smythe | Other books by Constance Pennington Smythe
Published By: Romance Divine LLC
Published: Sep 14, 2012
ISBN # 9781935757665
Word Count: 15,881
Heat Index      
EligiblePrice: $5.99

Available in: Epub, HTML, Adobe Acrobat

Categories: Romance>BDSM Romance>Contemporary

Description
I am often jotting down ideas in notebooks, pieces of paper and on my computer. Sometimes they are complete scenes, other times simply ideas or notes. Some find their way, in whole or in part, into my longer published works. Others languish, waiting their unveiling to the general public. I have decided to gather a selection of these and aggregate them into this collection. The topics range from titty and nipple torments, to boot feeding, high heel trampling, chastity, cuckolding, devious punishments and humiliations, and other assorted items that will, it is hoped, tease, titillate and torment the submissive male. Inside you will find short vignettes titled Nipple Agony, High Heel Ritual, Greeting the Black Masters, Lifetime of Chastity, Boot Feeding, Foot Worship, A Sissy’s Day, Mistress Joanna’s Sissy…and more. Enjoy…and perhaps suffer a bit for MY amusement. Mistress will be pleased. Mistress Constance
 
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Sensuality Rating:   Not rated
Excerpt:
Excerpt 1:

Cocksucker Hubby

“Depth and endurance, Darling,” Corrine Belgarde sipped her coffee from a bone china cup. She glanced at her husband, who struggled with the cock that was filling his mouth. “You’re fighting it, and you’re not even halfway there.”
Her attention was drawn to her Blackberry. She placed her coffee on the matching china saucer and picked up her electronic lifeline. Her elegant hands and beautifully manicured nails tapped at keys and scrolled to the newest message. Damn it, Karl! I need those charts before the two o’clock meeting!
She checked her husband’s feet; his heels were nearly touching the floor. She picked up a leather riding crop and struck him three times on his naked thigh. “Tippy toes, sweetheart. Up!”
He immediately rose higher on his toes, as the red welts rose on his skin.
Corrine crossed her legs and sat back on the stool at the breakfast bar. She took a moment to study her husband. He was naked, save for the small, dainty, white lace apron. It was tied in the back with a large frilly bow and the small front did nothing to hide his nakedness. Not that there was much to see; his cock was safely ensconced in a chastity device, a CB-6000. He stood on his tiptoes, bent at the waist, with his hands clasped demurely behind his back. His mouth was hovered over a realistic phallus, attached to the breakfast bar by its suction cup base.
“Half-hearted efforts simply will not do,” Corrine said. “Remember when you used to watch football? Sat on that fat ass of yours and watched TV? Before you confessed those secret sissy desires?” She saw that look in his eyes as he tried to remember a life before submission, before pain and humiliation. She patted his head, “Don’t strain yourself, baby, that was a different you. But you still have a position on my team. You’re a wide receiver, you go long and deep.” She smiled, pleased with her little joke. She poked his ass with her crop, “And you’re my tight end, it’s your job to get open.”
The crop lashed out again, a stinging blow that made him wince and issue a muffled squeal past his cock filled lips.
“Tip Toes! Up!” Corrine lovingly stroked the crop over his back; the continual mix of pain and pleasure, love and scorn, kept his psyche continually off balance. “I realize your feet and legs hurt,” she cooed, “but this is training, conditioning. If you can do it with no support, think how much easier and effortless it will seem with shoes, even if they are five or six inch spike heels.”
He mumbled an unintelligible reply past the cock in his mouth.
“I’ll take that as agreement. Now, I want you to back off that cock and get up as high as you can on those tip toes.” She watched as her husband lifted his mouth from the cock and struggled to raise himself higher on his toes. His feet and legs were obviously screaming sheets of pain. But to disobey? That would invite something infinitely worse.
Corrine studied the object of his torment. Its glossy surface now glistened with his saliva. It bobbed hideously from the suction cup base that held it fast to the expensive granite breakfast bar. As cocks went she supposed it was average sized, perhaps a bit larger than average? Certainly larger than his, one of the reasons that quite useless tool is now locked away. Corrine had discovered the joy of real cocks, and she was committed to ensuring that her sissy hubby also learned of their joy, in his own manner. The object of his affection this day was six inches long from the realistic balls to its bulbous end. It measured nearly five inches in circumference; certainly a mouthful this morning. But he’ll learn to take all manner of cocks, that’s what this is about, that’s his fate.
She poured herself more coffee, taking her time, noting how his legs began to quiver. Poor thing must be in agony. “Some men,” she began her lecture, “are simply going to pull you down on them, fuck that pretty little face of yours. Others might relax and let you do the work, let you woo and seduce their cock.” She smiled at the image of her husband on his knees, with Rick’s magnificent cock filling his mouth. She looked at her watch; there was time for one more lesson. “I want you to go down on the cock, slowly walk down its length with your lips. All the way, darling; I want to see a lipstick imprint on those balls. Relax, breathe, and keep your eyes open.”
He took a deep breath, opened his lips and took the head of the cock into his mouth. He slowly worked his way down, feeling the cock penetrate further and stretch his mouth wider. Her imagination seemed cruel and endless; he was precariously positioned on his toes and his mouth, a balancing act of discomfort and humiliation. The further the cock penetrated the more he fought the urge to gag.
“Not bad,” she commented, “almost there. Granted it’s not as big as Rick’s cock, but you’ve got to begin somewhere. All the way down, I want that lower lip to caress those balls.”
He felt her hand on the back of his head, pushing him down those last few precious millimeters.
“Stay,” she whispered. “Feels good doesn’t it? To have your mouth filled with a cock? Think how nice it will be with a real one, one that’s warm, with blood pulsing through the veins, sweet pre-cum on your tongue.” Her hand caressed his check, “Relax and breathe.”

Torments and Humiliations

By: Constance Pennington Smythe
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