MANHANDLING: Fifteen Tales Of Full Time Femdom by M.J. Rennie
Women of strong will, arise! M. J. Rennie’s latest celebration of dominant women and their submissive partners proves just how hot a relationship between unequals can be. In fifteen new tales of full time Femdom, an intriguing array of femme fatales assume a 24/7 control over the manhood of their masculine minions.
The opening story REUNION considers a capricious wife as she convinces an old beau to help her cuckold a sniveling toady of a husband.
VIRGIN GROOM features an advanced young woman who consummates a modern marriage by a ritual deflowering of her new husband’s backside.
The rarified atmosphere of power politics becomes haven to a sexually assertive First Lady in AFTER THE PHOTO SHOOT. The Presidential spouse discovers an unexpected ally in her lascivious schemes from a solidly supportive Second Lady.
A dominant but unfortunately weary wife farms her younger husband out to a widowed friend in MAVIS NEEDS SEX, with surprisingly stimulating results.
An outlaw feminist finds sanctuary masquerading as the prim wife of a wealthy, successful attorney in THE RADICAL AND THE LIBERAL. Behind the bolted doors of their boudoir, she rules her milksop mate with a white-gloved fist.
Title tale MANHANDLING follows a young woman as she learns the seven key signs of a submissive man.
These auspicious offerings and many more exquisitely adorn an arousing, artful collection.
The virtuoso of literate Femdom, M. J. Rennie’s provocative stories lift a vibrant erotic genre to hitherto unmatched heights of imagination. Along the way, we see how relations between the genders could be, often are, and perhaps permanently ought to be, for the sake of both.
Explicit adult content includes feminine domination and male submission, oral sex, anal sex, strap-on sex, intercourse, cross-dressing, homosexuality, bondage, threesomes, swinging, kinky lifestyles, discipline, and enforced Male Chastity.
Ariate and Randall had attended the prom not with each other but with other dates. However, after abandoning their dates for a sultry slow dance together, they arranged to meet later, agreeing to skip the senior party following the prom.
“Where should we meet?” Randall asked.
“My house. There’s a driveway in the alley behind it,” Ariate said. “Park your car in the driveway at midnight and I’ll come out as soon as my parents go to bed.”
This plan had many advantages as far as Ariate was concerned. It would be private, close to home, and reassuringly easy to beat a hasty retreat if Randall got too fresh or Ariate lost her nerve.
Most important was that it would put Ariate in control of what happened in Randall’s car—if anything. The worst thing that could happen, she figured, was discovery by her mother, who over the years had developed an insomniac habit of cruising through the house in the wee hours, just to see if everything was kosher. Knowing her daughter as she did, Ariate’s mother might be annoyed if she found her entertaining a boy in his car in back of their house, but she wouldn’t get unhinged about it.
Ariate had a strong admiration for her mother, who modeled in her own marriage the type of relationship Ariate would follow in the future. Not once did she consider the possibility of something else going wrong.
Five minutes after midnight, Randall sat waiting in his Dodge Charger 500 in the driveway on the alley behind Ariate’s house; the headlights cut and smooth jazz playing on the radio.
Except for a street lamp a block from the spot where Randall’s car was parked, the moonless night was pitch dark. Only the glow of his dash lights allowed Randall to see at all. Two minutes later, Ariate appeared, tapping on the passenger’s side window.
She wore a white, embroidered tunic-dress with a lace hem that doubled as a nightgown. On her feet was a pair of white leather sandals with medium heels. Under the tunic-dress, Ariate wore no bra and, more significantly, no panties.
As quietly as possible, Randall opened the car door and let her slide in, closing it softly. Without saying a word, they fell into each other’s arms and began kissing passionately.
Randall had turned eighteen the month before, and Ariate had been eighteen since the first of December the previous year. As far as the law was concerned, they were both adults, on private property, and with a reasonable expectation of privacy. Their kisses brought them into a state of fevered excitement neither had ever experienced before.
Suddenly breaking the kiss, Ariate panted, saying, “I’ve always wanted to kiss you like that, Randall Storm. There’s something about you I find absolutely irresistible.”
“I’ve always had a thing for you, too,” he admitted.
“Then why didn’t you do anything about it? I would have loved going to the prom with you instead of that twerp who asked me.”
Randall hung his head. “Because I was afraid. You have such a confident way about you, Ariate. You’re not like anything of the other girls, the ones who like being bossed around. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up with you—and I mean that.”
“You seem to be keeping up right now,” Ariate said, her fingers straying to his cock, hard and big under the fabric of the sky blue pants of his rented tux. With a deft movement of her right hand, Ariate got the zipper of his fly undone, and reached in to fondle him through his cotton briefs.
“Let me help,” Randall said, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and briefs to his thighs. Ariate could feel her heart thump in her breast as she gaped at Randall’s stiff, manly organ.
“Oh, my goodness,” Ariate whispered, “it’s soooo huuuuge.”
“Please, Ariate. Touch it, feel it, stroke it,” Randall whispered. “There’s nothing I would like more.”
“I want you to touch me at the same time,” Ariate answered, spreading her legs apart. She pulled her tunic past her waist. “I’m not wearing my panties,” she added, “as you can plainly see.”
Randall gulped, then swallowed. The state of arousal he was currently in was climbing faster than a Saturn rocket. Placing his hand gently between her thighs, Randall rubbed the warm cleft at the center of her body. The hair was downy and softly curled.
“Ooooh, yeah,” Ariate said, her voice dissolving into a moan. “Ooohhh… uh-huh uh-huh… yeah.”
Randall’s middle finger slipped easily into Ariate’s pussy. He moaned too, unconsciously imitating Ariate, as her left arm went around his neck, her right hand caressing the bloated head of his cock.
“Ooooh… uh-huh uh-huh…”
Their mouths clamped together again, in a wet, slobbering kiss of soaring, heedless desire. Ariate abruptly broke the kiss.
“I wanna make you cum,” she breathed. “Make you spurt.”
“I wanna spurt,” Randall answered hoarsely, his throat clogged. “Rub me some more and I’ll surely spurt.”
Soon after their lips locked again, a beam of light shone through the driver’s side window, illuminating Ariate’s hand on Randall’s penis. Then it moved away. Neither Randall nor Ariate noticed it at first, their eyes being closed and being otherwise occupied.
Using his flashlight as a knocker, a police officer rapped hard on the driver’s side window. A harsh voice barked: “Open up!”
Frantically, Randall and Ariate extricated themselves from their embrace, Randall shoving his cock back into his pants, Ariate pulling her tunic down. With an angry curse, Randall rolled down the window.
“What is it, officer?” he said, in a withering voice.
The Slateville police officer was middle-aged, heavyset, and wore a lewd grin, which Randall could not see because of the light shining in his face.
“First, I want to see your identification, and then I want you to step out of the car,” the officer answered.
“This is the rear driveway of my house,” Ariate said, her tone frightened. “We’re not doing anything.”
“I ain’t talking to you, girlie,” the cop said. “It’s your boyfriend here I’m talking to.”
Randall passed the officer his driver’s license and the proof of insurance card he kept with it. The officer studied them under his flash for a long time without comment. He handed them back and Randall returned them to his wallet.
“All right,” the officer said, “get out of the car.”
“Why? We’ve done nothing wrong. I’m just sitting here with my friend and we’re minding our own business.”
“I suspect you’ve been drinking,” the policeman answered.
“I told you to get the hell out of that car, sonny.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet, but you soon will be unless you do as I say.”
“I’m not getting out.”
“Please, Randall,” Ariate said urgently. “Just do what he says. I don’t want my parents coming out here.”
With an aggrieved snort, Randall pushed open the car door and climbed out. Only then did he see another police officer, standing not far away, smirking. And further down, under the street lamp, was a parked cop car. They must have followed him.
“We saw you sneak in here,” the first officer said. “It’s an old trick of burglars in this town to use the alleys to park their rigs.”
Randall passed his hands over his prom tuxedo. “I’m certainly dressed the part of a burglar,” he said sarcastically.
“Don’t get smart with me, sonny. Walk over to my partner.”
Confidently and soberly, Randall strode towards the other cop. Before reaching him, Randall executed a pirouette and stood, his shoulders straight and his feet apart. “Satisfied?”
Ignoring Randall, the first cop said to the second, “Go around front and wake up the girl’s parents. Let’s find out what they have to say about this cute little scene.”
“No!” Ariate practically shouted. “That isn’t necessary.”
The first cop bent down to shine his beam in Ariate’s face. “If my daughter was in the alley with some punk and her dress was halfway up to her neck, I’d think it was necessary.”
Ariate tried pleading with him, but he ignored her.
“Don’t waste your breath, Ariate,” Randall said to her, seething. “They are obviously intent on humiliating us.”
Ten minutes later, with Ariate’s parents awake and standing in the alley with the cops, a terrible scene took place. The idea that their daughter had slipped out of the house, only to be discovered partly clothed by two policemen, brought out the worst in them. There were tears, threats, wild accusations, and recriminations.
In the midst of it, the second cop went back to the squad car to take some calls. The first cop—Muldoone, stood around, smiling happily. Ariate’s mother became ill and had to rush inside for her blood pressure medication, taking Ariate with her. Several of the neighbors, awakened by the fracas, came out to rubberneck.
They gossiped about nothing else for weeks afterwards.