An Education in Femdom: Tried and Found Wanting (Femdom, Discipline, Submission, and Exhibition)
Romance, Erotica
| Author: | Nina Nauheim | ISBN: | 9781310728143 |
| Publisher: | Nina Nauheim | Publication: | August 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Nina Nauheim |
| ISBN: | 9781310728143 |
| Publisher: | Nina Nauheim |
| Publication: | August 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Adam's mistress Naomi has always been a gentle and forgiving dominatrix, often indulging his whims and preferring to let him play his part rather than resort to harsh discipline or exploit his naturally trusting ways. But Adam's obedience has begun to slip, and Naomi is forced to accept that a change is needed. To begin anew, she invites a fellow dominatrix and her submissive to dinner, thinking that their much stricter relationship might provide the eye opener she is loathe to inflict directly on her supposedly fragile submissive. Adam is excited at the prospect, but soon realizes that the evening will be far more intense than he is prepared for. As the night escalates, he will find herself torn between his natural reservations and the need to prove himself an equal of the visiting submissive in the eyes of their women. In shockingly little time, the drive to prove his devotion and obedience will have him doing things he never thought he could do … and still falling short.
Excerpt:
I looked up. Unintentionally, my eyes flicked first to the woman standing on the threshold. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, and her cheeks were high-boned and elegant. She wore a soft green blouse and tight skirt, unapologetic of the ripe, sensual body beneath them. A coat was folded over her slender arm. Quickly I looked away, knowing I had permission only to seek out my counterpart.
I followed the direction the woman's hand indicated and took in a man of slender build, perhaps a year younger than me. His hair was soft brown and short and a studded leather collar adorned his throat. His clothes were simple black cotton. Both the pants and t-shirt were tight enough to reveal the lean muscularity of his form but not so tight that they seemed like obvious fetish-wear. Only the tightness at his crotch seemed to toe the line of propriety, where the fabric stretched over an unmistakable bulge that he made no attempt to obscure.
I gave him a small smile, thinking that it was my role to welcome him into the penthouse. He only returned my look with very large eyes and a meek expression that did not seem to acknowledge my existence.
"Show him into the dining room," Melissa instructed me. "Naomi and I have some things to discuss in her office before dinner."
"Yes, mistress," I said.
I turned and led him out of the entrance hall and around into the dining room. His even footsteps were resounded softly on the hardwood floor.
I went to offer him a chair, but when I turned I saw that he had taken a kneeling position on the floor a few steps back from the chair I had offered him. Were we not allowed at the table?
A little taken aback, I watched him. He was sitting back on his heels with his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. His posture was stiffly erect and expectant, his chest was thrust out and his hands were clasped behind his back.
His behavior made me second-guess myself. I had assumed we would sit at the table, but now I didn't want to do anything out of turn. The point of this dinner was to learn, after all.
A little dubious, I walked over and lowered myself beside him. I did my best to imitate his position as well, but looking first at him and then back at myself I found that I couldn't entirely manage it.
"Have you and Melissa been together long?" I asked, feeling a little silly as we knelt together on the floor.
Peter did not respond right away. He shifted slightly, still staring intently at the floor. "Mistress says it's wrong to talk to other submissives without her permission," he said.
"Oh, sorry," I said at a loss.
I cast a sidelong glance at his rigid form. Was this what was expected of me? Was this the standard I was going to be held to? I didn't really know what to make of it. He obviously took satisfaction in being this way, and I couldn't deny that it turned me on a little bit the way Melissa controlled him, completely and unequivocally even in absentia. Would I be that way? Would I be able to be?
Adam's mistress Naomi has always been a gentle and forgiving dominatrix, often indulging his whims and preferring to let him play his part rather than resort to harsh discipline or exploit his naturally trusting ways. But Adam's obedience has begun to slip, and Naomi is forced to accept that a change is needed. To begin anew, she invites a fellow dominatrix and her submissive to dinner, thinking that their much stricter relationship might provide the eye opener she is loathe to inflict directly on her supposedly fragile submissive. Adam is excited at the prospect, but soon realizes that the evening will be far more intense than he is prepared for. As the night escalates, he will find herself torn between his natural reservations and the need to prove himself an equal of the visiting submissive in the eyes of their women. In shockingly little time, the drive to prove his devotion and obedience will have him doing things he never thought he could do … and still falling short.
Excerpt:
I looked up. Unintentionally, my eyes flicked first to the woman standing on the threshold. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, and her cheeks were high-boned and elegant. She wore a soft green blouse and tight skirt, unapologetic of the ripe, sensual body beneath them. A coat was folded over her slender arm. Quickly I looked away, knowing I had permission only to seek out my counterpart.
I followed the direction the woman's hand indicated and took in a man of slender build, perhaps a year younger than me. His hair was soft brown and short and a studded leather collar adorned his throat. His clothes were simple black cotton. Both the pants and t-shirt were tight enough to reveal the lean muscularity of his form but not so tight that they seemed like obvious fetish-wear. Only the tightness at his crotch seemed to toe the line of propriety, where the fabric stretched over an unmistakable bulge that he made no attempt to obscure.
I gave him a small smile, thinking that it was my role to welcome him into the penthouse. He only returned my look with very large eyes and a meek expression that did not seem to acknowledge my existence.
"Show him into the dining room," Melissa instructed me. "Naomi and I have some things to discuss in her office before dinner."
"Yes, mistress," I said.
I turned and led him out of the entrance hall and around into the dining room. His even footsteps were resounded softly on the hardwood floor.
I went to offer him a chair, but when I turned I saw that he had taken a kneeling position on the floor a few steps back from the chair I had offered him. Were we not allowed at the table?
A little taken aback, I watched him. He was sitting back on his heels with his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. His posture was stiffly erect and expectant, his chest was thrust out and his hands were clasped behind his back.
His behavior made me second-guess myself. I had assumed we would sit at the table, but now I didn't want to do anything out of turn. The point of this dinner was to learn, after all.
A little dubious, I walked over and lowered myself beside him. I did my best to imitate his position as well, but looking first at him and then back at myself I found that I couldn't entirely manage it.
"Have you and Melissa been together long?" I asked, feeling a little silly as we knelt together on the floor.
Peter did not respond right away. He shifted slightly, still staring intently at the floor. "Mistress says it's wrong to talk to other submissives without her permission," he said.
"Oh, sorry," I said at a loss.
I cast a sidelong glance at his rigid form. Was this what was expected of me? Was this the standard I was going to be held to? I didn't really know what to make of it. He obviously took satisfaction in being this way, and I couldn't deny that it turned me on a little bit the way Melissa controlled him, completely and unequivocally even in absentia. Would I be that way? Would I be able to be?
