The new assistant principal had already humiliated me in front of my students. In front of my co-teachers. My friends. Mocking my hair style as being childish. My clothing as being less than professional. Even my choice of perfume as being cheap. If her goal was to belittle and to intimidate, she was succeeding. So yeah, I was extra nervous when I heard my name over the school intercom to come to her office. But now, as I walked through the door, I immediately had trouble keeping my eyes off her chest. I could feel her triumphant grin as I was frozen in place for a moment, before slowly turning toward the door needing to get away.
“That’s a pity you feel the need to leave, Julia, because I was going to suggest a compromise. A way for you to get on my good side. You see, I’ve had conversations with others about you. I think I know what you need.”
My stomach was instantly ready to revolt on me, and my worst thoughts were now more than realized, as she slowly wheeled her chair back around from her desk. She was completely naked from the waist down. The smile of hers never changing as I suddenly couldn’t move. “Mmhmmm, just as I thought.” And with that she slowly opened her legs.
I don’t remember crossing the room. At one moment I was standing, frozen in indecision with my hand on the doorknob. The next, I was on my knees between her legs. Nothing else mattered any longer, as I was engulfed in my role, hemmed in by her thighs, and centered only on her sex.
“Oh that’s it, you delicious little slut. Mmmm yes. You just might be on my good side now.”
It’s where women like you and l belong.
Pleasuring others.
It’s what we do.
It’s why we exist.
Why else makes us whole?
She spotted it right away.
Dominant women seem to feel our vibe. They hunt for us. They don’t need guns. They use their iron will to break us the way we need to be broken.
A broken heart and a contrite spirit. They feel it and beckon us to their layer…. a we always do.
Holly strikes a nerve here doesn’t she? A little submissive nerve. You might not even consider yourself a lesbian yet. But you can’t help escape this need to give in, give in to the the stronger Woman. Give in to your desires you fight so hard against. At least Holly knows her place. Give in to your rival at work, let Her dominate you, let Her take the accolades you should be getting. Give in to your husband’s lover. She’s better than you too isn’t she? Do anything you can to help encourage Her to do the things that your not as good at. Leave them alone to fuck in your bed and encourage the better Woman. Give in to your schoolgirl bully. Give in to any bully. They’re stronger than you, they’ll just take what they want anyway. That’s a girl, edge to all the better Women in your life until you know the easiest thing is to just give in to them. Pay a prostitute to lick Her Feet but show Her the proper respect, She is better than you too … If She wants you to pay for extra services like, you know, licking Her, then give in to that too. There’s a good girl.
No, of course not. You know you’re not allowed on the furniture, it’s one of my rules and I don’t know why you’re even asking. Because Anne and Julie will be here in a few minutes? But they both know I keep you under the thumb. No, once you’ve made them both a coffee you sit on the floor by me and massage my feet while we chat. I’m sure they’d both appreciate a foot rub too.
When your bully is having friends over and really lays down the rules …
Amazing how just one photo, just one moment in time, one tiny moment where you let your guard down can change the course of your entire life. This was that moment for Trisha. Blackmail can be the most awful thing. Especially when you are caught licking the undies of your worst enemy and the head cheerleader. Within days poor old Trish was licking the underwear of not only the head cheerleader but then the entire squad. More photos were taken. Expectations grew. Trish could not be any more trapped, even if this was exactly what she had always hoped for.
When you had signed up for dance lessons you never imagined this. It’s not the first time your two left feet had got you in trouble. But when the dance instructor told you to stay back after class for extra lessons this wasn’t the type of corrective behaviour you were expecting. It started out simply enough, all the instructor wanted was for you to kiss the foot you kept trodding on. Things would escalate quickly from here …
Walking through an abandoned house with a dumb loser
Alison had read and seen the videos, she had role played online with dominant Women, she had cum countless times fantasising about being dominated and bullied by another Woman. With her kids safely at school and Hubby happily at work, nothing could actually prepare her for the reality of what the coming two hours she had paid for with an actual dominatrix would bring.
I want to give a hot mean girl all my boyfriends contact info and then have to make regular payments to her so she wont talk to him. I want to be at her mercy knowing that if I miss a payment by one day she’ll slide into his dms or if she decides to up the payments I’ll have no choice but to comply.
Ooh, I love this scenario … Imagine if the Girl that gets the info is mean enough not just to make you pay Her, but also to force you to kiss Her Feet and ass and beg Her not to contact him.
So there’s a girl I met on tumblr and we’re become close in a very short time. Recently I happened to fly over her part of the world. It was late night and as I sat by the airplane window looking down at the dazzling cities and tiny flickering towns slowly roll by, I found my thoughts drifting to her as they do all too often… Did one of the tiny dots of light down below belong to her window? Did she grow up in a big city or a tiny nondescript down? How was her family life? What school did she attend? Was she a popular girl growing up or mostly kept to herself? Was her childhood happy? As I was thinking about all these things, a sadness filled my heart at the realization of the distance between our worlds… Even if I was right over her home in that moment, we will always be physically separated even if we share our time and a close bond.
I’m generally a positive person who sees life as ‘glass half full’. I’m thankful for getting to know this incredible, smart, kind, beautiful, sexy woman, someone I would have never even known existed had it not been for tumblr. I am thankful for the time we spend talking, getting to know each other. I am thankful for the way she makes me feel every time I see her message pop up… but I will never know her little quirks that she herself doesn’t realize. I will never know if she runs her fingers through her hair a certain way or what her laughter sound like. I will never know the warmth of her touch, the taste of her lips or the intimacy of her scent. I will never get to touch her, feel her heat against my body, or her fingers curl into my hair… I will never physically feel her passion, embrace her to celebrate her success, share her sorrows or bask in the warm fuzzy glow of her affection. I will never know the feeling of her wrapped around me at night or how her lips might feel on my forehead… such is the blessing and the curse of the internet.
I didn’t know how long I was thinking of her or how long I had been crying. At one point I became aware of hot tears rolling down my cheeks but I made no effort to stop them… I just felt a profound sense of loss for something I never had in the first place. Looking back, I think this special someone deserved my tears as much as she deserves my thoughts and fantasies.
At the end of the day, I just want her to know that somewhere far away is a silly girl who is thinking of her, cares about her and roots for her. I think she is just perfect and I love her.
This is really touching! Thanks for sharing it with us all ☺️
So while we’ve been in the lockdown Daddy has been laying out my clothes at night so I know how to dress in the morning without waking her. If I have a class I get clothes obviously and when I don’t it’s often lingerie or, well, a pair of heels. It’s fun and I like how it keeps me from having to make at least one decision daily. After all I’m at my smartest when Daddy does my thinking for me. It also gives me a hint what kind of mood she might be in.
So Sunday I did something a little daring. I woke up, dressed in the clothes Daddy had laid out. She had me in a sheer pink crop top so short it didn’t quite reach the bottom of my breasts, knee socks and a white skater skirt so I already had a feeling she was dressing me to fuck me. It’s funny but if the outfit is lingerie or heels she probably wants to look at me more than use me. If I get clothes on a day I don’t have to be on a call I’m probably getting fucked.
So then I laid out clothes for her. She has this pair of boots that aren’t her usual style. Her style is stylish, elegant feminine knee boots. Some a bit more fetishistic than others. Some flat (she’s tall) some heeled. But she has this pair of boots that are like combat boots but dark red and knee high. So many laces heh. I’d seen them but never seen her in them. So I set them out with a pair of jeans and a black tank top.
First I knew she was awake was when I was doing the dishes (Sunday morning, always chores) and listening to music so I didn’t hear her come up to me. I just felt a hand take a firm grip of my hair and pull me back against her while her other hand was on my belly gripping me tight. She said good morning and then immediately started beating my tits. She spanked them upwards so she was getting what was hanging out below the crop top and she just steadily spanked them until the bottom half of my breasts were bright red. While she did that she explained to me that a lot of toys have a purpose. If i had offered her a flogger she’d assume I wanted to be beaten. If I’d offered her rope she’d assume I wanted to be tied up. But I had offered her that particular pair of boots. That they too had a purpose. She asked me if I knew what that was and I said no. The boots I had picked out were a pair she liked to wear to step on girls, to grind their tits and pussies under her boots. To step on their faces. They’re not for being “nice” in and she asked me if I’d still have suggested she wear them if I had known that.
Her fingers had found their way inside me and so I said yes.
She dragged me down to the floor then, right next to the open dishwasher in the kitchen. No set up for a scene, no theatre or pageantry just a dominant woman and her submissive girlfriend lying on the kitchen floor in front of her. She used the toe of her boot to move my skirt up and then she ground the heel of her boot into my cunt. Not gently either, not playfully. The tread on those boots is deep and sharp and she was raking my flesh with them.
That lasted long enough that I was wet from it when she walked around and placed the sole of her boot on my belly instead, just planted it there. She had her hands on the counter so I don’t think she used all her body weight at first but she pressed and I reacted. Her other boot went on my chest and then she was standing on me. My Mistress stood on me like a welcome mat.
There were definitely times she used all her body weight on me, there were times she put a boot sole right on my face and pressed. I moaned and whimpered a lot under her and when she was done standing on me she pulled over a chair and sat while I thanked her in the most appropriate way, by licking every inch of those boots.
The last thing she did to me was bend me over the kitchen table and beat my ass until I was sobbing for neglecting the dishes.
—-
So I found this in my drafts and it’s from like … I dunno, some time last year. Not long after lockdown started. I have no idea why I didn’t post it at the time but with being stood on coming up on my feed today it seems like the right time to post it ^_^
She went to the work today and as always I helped her in the morning with all the routines.
But before getting dressed and leaving she led me to the bathroom, commanded me to get naked and sit in the tub.
She climbed inside too, and I realized what she is up to. I leaned towards her crotch, thinking she wants me to swallow it, but she strongly slapped me in my cheek.
“Down!”, she commanded and I went down, almost lied. She pissed on me, on my face and my hair, on my neck and collar on my breasts, on my stomach. The warm stream doused me.
I looked up at her filling ultimate humiliation and submission. How gorgeous she looked! Then she commanded me to go out of the tub, and said to use my towel to wipe myself. I did it, while she was washing her legs.
Then she said I shouldn’t get a shower whole day, and then she put her clothes on and left. Though I now was dry, I still felt her scent. I put my home clothes on, even dried out my hair with the hair dryer. But I still feel her scent. Even now. It is everywhere.
I had some calls on my work, and of course I was sitting there feeling her scent on me. To be honest, I couldn’t concentrate on work, just the memory of her standing on me, pissing and the flash pain on my cheek from the slap. So perfect, so intense.
I already texted her few times saying how much I love her and appreciate her. She is absolutely perfect. She marked me and made me to feel her dominance even when she is not here.
True love … I love lesbian d/s relationships so much
Amazing how just one photo, just one moment in time, one tiny moment where you let your guard down can change the course of your entire life. This was that moment for Trisha. Blackmail can be the most awful thing. Especially when you are caught licking the undies of your worst enemy and the head cheerleader. Within days poor old Trish was licking the underwear of not only the head cheerleader but then the entire squad. More photos were taken. Expectations grew. Trish could not be any more trapped, even if this was exactly what she had always hoped for.
I need a little desperate dyke prancing around in a maid outfit following orders. Scrubbing my floors on all fours. Taking the trash out in skimpy clothes in the snow. Bringing me coffee refills.
Most days I simply stand outside Mistress’s shower holding her towel and waiting for her, but once a week or so, Mistress invites me in for a “deep-cleaning”.
