Tales of Love & Cruelty by Lance Edwards
A new collection of Slut-boy Stories from Lance Edwards. Femdom fiction featuring dominating wives, cunning vamps and sexy bitches weaving an erotic spell around male victims who are helpless to prevent their enslavement. In this newest collection of stories, Author Lance Edwards takes the readers from the sensuous power games between husband and wives to shocking t les of sadism and forced submission.
Slut-boy has A Killer Crush on his nephew's big-breasted Latino wife. But what starts out as an innocent affair soon turns him into a blackmailed, boot-sucking slut, and there's no way out! In Chat Doom, an eager submissive male is warned not to meet this ruthless Domme. But he insists, only to discover that his life will be shattered, turned into an unspeakable horror of total submission. Then in Crucio, Slut-boy has been featured at his wife Elektra's infamous parties as a human piata, a roasted pig, and now on this Halloween night, as a popular literary character who will spend his night wired, electrified, then whipped by a roomful of sadistic females. And in Triple Play, a submissive couple contacts Mistress Chantelle to help them determine who will be the Master or Mistress in their marriage. Slut-boy has no idea what awaits him as his once sweet wife Luani quickly blossoms into a terrifying Domme.
On the lighter side... It's Valentines Night and this new husband gets it in the ass for the first time. Then this Slut-boy's Reward for good behavior is a long awaited night of sex, flogging and bondage. And in Penis Play, Slut-boy gets hung from the ceiling by his live-in girlfriend, and is made to suffer clamps, CBT, hot wax, ice and electric shock, all before his ass is used.
These stories and many more, from the tame to the extreme. Caged cocks, forced chastity, cruel beatings, stringent bondage, electric play and plenty of ass-reaming highlight the graphic content in this collection of Femdom Stories. But that is just a start. Once again, Lance Edwards pulls out all the stops as he takes the reader through his Tales of Love & Cruelty. One thrilling ride for lovers of Femdom erotica.
With my beloved in tow I move back into the living room and stretch languorously out on that thick hot fur. Terry kneels next to it, sets the tray down and looks dutifully to me for further instruction.
“Fabulous,” I breathe. “Absolutely fabulous! Now take off your clothes for me. I want to see you utterly naked except for the flickering firelight.”
Adorably self-conscious he slowly strips. Down to the last sock he makes it last despite his obvious discomfort, clearly knowing this is what I want. Then once again he kneels obediently next to me, wonderfully humble in every respect except one.
Terry’s cock is as eagerly hard as I’ve seen it. Yet this night is all about me and mine, not him and his. Still, unable to ignore this impertinence I stroke it lightly up and down, inflamed more than ever by the hungry way it bobs.
“Pour us drinks boy,” I husk. “Then toast your beloved lady.”
Like a professional he complies, popping the cork without losing a drop and then filling us both up frothing flutes. He nods respectfully as he hands me mine, and then raises his own.
“Here is to you: my perfect woman, the lady I will love forever no matter what; the most exquisite epitome of her kind I could ever hope to find. Please grace me with your glorious favor forever! Let us find in tonight’s ecstasy a template we may replicate throughout all eternity!”
Bemusedly, I raise my glass wonderingly.
Naturally Terry has no idea of the import of his flowery words. But they are so obviously prophetic that I must accept them as indisputable sanction.
“So be it!” I cry. Then sealing the deal I clink his glass. Downing that delicious draught I am suddenly utterly convinced that nothing can possibly stand in the way of my carefully laid plans. Filled with renewed zeal I set my flute down and spread myself out.
That thick fur is so luxuriously warm and soft that I stretch and squirm and writhe my naked backside erotically against it, moaning wonderfully at the sensation. Encouraged Terry moves to join me, but I stop him short with an upraised palm.
“No, my love. I like you just the way you are: on your knees. Kneel there respectfully before me and feed me sweets on this, my very own special night.”
Smiling shyly he obeys, conveying chocolates to my mouth with his fingertips.
I savor each one slowly, occasionally ordering him to pour champagne into my mouth directly from the bottle. Soon I see that the heat of the fire is softening the chocolate considerably, almost to the point of melting. Forestalling Terry again I choose one for myself. Then grinning at his almost drooling reaction I rub it against my nipples until it disintegrates, leaving my nips and fingertips thickly smeared with warm gooey chocolate. I hold my hand out to be cleaned, and he humbly kneels there and sucks it off my finger and thumb. Then I beckon him closer.
“Lean over here,” I breathe. “Clean the rest of me.”
Still kneeling properly he bends forward, kowtowing worshipfully toward me like a Moslem facing Mecca. First I feel his breath, and then the gentle stroking of his tongue. Finally his lips fasten to the sensitive tip of my tit and he sucks the chocolate off me.
Oh how my nipple hardens in his mouth! When he moves on to do the other one it tingles coolly in the warm room, and I have no choice but to raise a hand and pinch and fondle it myself. Meanwhile I place my other hand on the back of Terry’s head and hold it in place, ensuring that he continues to service me. This he does, sucking dutifully at me just as I’ve taught him, with long, hard, slowly sustained pulls. Moaning in heavenly joy I lie back and let my breasts be beautifully pleasured, as the fire crackles on and the rest of the chocolates melt gradually away. Then finally other parts of me need worshipping.
“Okay honey, that’s enough. Now I want you to kneel at my feet. Take off my shoes, and give me a foot massage.”
“I…I’ve never done that!” he timidly warms me.
“Then learn,” I simply reply. “I won’t whip you or anything.”
Terry smiles uneasily at this. And again scenes of doing just that flash through my mind. Yes, some day I must certainly start carrying out that fantasy too. But not tonight – this night is all about love, not discipline. And while the two can hardly be separated, it will surely take my dear Terry some serious time and persuasion to finally appreciate that fact. So rather than withdraw a long-stemmed rose from the vase and whip him bloody with the velvety bloom and thorny shaft, I merely smile benign encouragement as he moves to my feet and carefully removes my shoes. Then he begins, and despite his initial ineptness it is heaven all over again.
This is another exquisite pleasure I’ve long dreamed of and yet been denied. Of course it’s not in the same league as tonight’s main event. But it’s clearly something else I must train my husband to submit to performing for me at my every whim. And luckily it doesn’t appear this will be difficult. He quickly develops an affinity for the task. Indeed he seems exalted to be touching me in this wonderfully intimate fashion. Looking up at my every moan of appreciation, carefully calibrating my response to each new approach, he constantly refines his technique with an eagerness to please that is madly gratifying.