My guest this week is billierose, with an excerpt from her femdom novella Enslaving Eli.
When Jasmine the beautiful Dominant meets tall, hunky Eli at the dullest party in the world, Eli wants to see her again. He doesn’t understand her reluctance, they’ve had fun together and it isn’t as if he is asking her to marry him, just maybe a cup of coffee. When Jasmine tells Eli of her secret life, Eli is intrigued and gradually he is initiated into a world of BDSM, that as Jasmine’s submissive, is impossible for him to walk away from.
Jasmine tells Eli tales of a secret, exclusive organisation, The Coterie. The Coterie is centuries old. Its members are Dominant women; their ethos in life is total submission of the male. Eli endures humiliation, depravity and absolute control, at the hands of Mistress Jasmine. But Eli and Jasmine are more than Mistress and slave, they have fallen in love. When Mistress Jasmine is killed in a road traffic accident, Eli is devastated. Officially, Eli now belongs to The Coterie. He is property. He is told that he is to be sold to another Mistress. Eli has other ideas.
She had commanded him to be naked and ordered him to light candles around the room. He’d counted them as he lit them. Sixty six candles of all sizes. The flickering flames threw dark, dancing shadows. Who would have thought that candlelight would be so bright?
When she commanded him to open the garden doors, he just did it, relishing the little task as he inhaled the scent from the rose garden. The night air was cool on his genitals. He felt a strange pride when she praised him, for what was a very simple deed. Then she’d order him to kneel at her feet as he listened to her soft, low voice, sometimes telling him tales of the Coterie and her strange life; at other times, cradling his head and stroking his hair as she chanted erotic sonnets to him.
Eli didn’t speak. He wasn’t permitted. He was content just to listen and to be mesmerised.
His cock was erect; always painfully erect. Pre cum leaking from the slit.
She tied his hands behind his back, looping the rough string in a figure of eight. First around one wrist, then the other, then she’d repeat it. She did the same with his ankles.
He was effectively immobilised. He was bound and naked. He was enveloped in the warmth of security. He had always felt a deep yearning to be tied up. When he had fantasised about such a scenario in the past, his cock had become hard and he had masturbated to a resounding climax. He had used the fantasy with some of his past lovers to arouse himself, so that he would be hard enough to penetrate them. Jasmine made the fantasy a reality.
She fitted him with spiteful nipple clamps, the tiny golden teeth biting into him. Her dark eyes always mysterious and cruel. She would twist his nipples as the teeth bit until a low moan uttered from his lips. The pain was excruciating, causing his abdomen muscles to contract, doubling him over. She played the music of Bach to give him something to concentrate on when the pain overcame him. The perfection of the music helped, and he would slip into a trance like state, where it seemed he was a part of a choral symphonic picture; the rhythm of the notes, their rhymes and tones made a river of language to float upon, taking him to a place where everything was richer, in brighter colour…exquisite beauty and pleasing pain.
She would stroke his hair and rub his ears as if he were a pet. She’d tell him that she was sorry, but it was for his own good. When the tears came and the snot drooled from his nose, she would dry his eyes and clean his snotty face. She’d praised him while she gently pumped his erection; she told him that it was an excellent sign that pain aroused him.
And the tales continued; a riotous carnival of words, new colours to wrap around him. One minute his heart would be breaking; the next she would lead him to a world of pleasure domes and gardens where he was overwhelmed by the scent of sweet herbs.
She pointed out that his cock was always hard throughout his suffering.
Yes, he was learning that pain did arouse him. As soon as he saw her retrieve the nipple clamps from the drawer, he was instantly hard. Already she was training him to associate pleasure with pain.
Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. It should not be. Surely he was an abomination? But he was content; the poetry of pain prevailed over reason.
Eli had knelt naked at her feet, on that night when she had whispered her tales of eroticism and intrigue. His wrists and ankles were again tied behind his back; the coarse, rough string cutting into his flesh. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore his throbbing erection. He closed his eyes and swallowed, willing his cock to be flaccid.
Was there any truth in what she’d told him? Or was the Coterie just a silly figment of an overactive imagination? All that Eli really knew at that moment was that his erection was unbearable. He would give anything for her to wrap her lips around his cock and suck him hard. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
She showed him photographs she had of a contraption, a machine, that she said was in the Coterie dungeons. He was impressed with the old device. It wasn’t in use now, it was hundreds of years old, and fragile, but it had been the blue print for a generation of pulleys. Copies were sold at BDSM outlets online and in sex shops the world over. By cranking a handle, a Dominant could raise her submissive’s arms above his head, lifting him bodily. The naked submissive could be kept in that position for hours, his toes just allowed to graze the floor. His Mistress doing with him exactly as she pleased. She could play and tease his erection, or have him flogged. It was up to her. If she wished, she could just ignore him, leave him hanging there while she attended to her other submissives, or surfed for pornography on line. His cries for mercy ignored.
Eli felt chilled and thrilled. A tremor shivered up his spine.
He felt a deep gratitude that he was finally understanding the reason for his deepest, darkest desires.
Jasmine had explained to him, as best as she could, how he could be trained to orgasm only at her command. It was a tried and tested method, she’d told him and had been used at the Coterie for centuries.
The submissive had to be completely dedicated to his Mistress; that was just the beginning. Pleasure and pain were inextricably linked, but so was fear of pain. Humiliation, and an overwhelming, blushing shame played a big part too. She’d frowned as she’d tried to find the words to make it make sense. She looked adorable in the candlelight. He wanted to kiss her; shove his tongue down her throat.
She knew that he was not concentrating and leaned into him, cruelly twisting the shiny gold clamp decorating his nipple.
It wasn’t just a question of obedience, she told him. When a submissive was fully trained, the urge to ejaculate would still be there. More than anything the need to ejaculate would be urgent. It would hurt him physically and his intense, profound pain would be a gift to his Mistress. The submissive simply would not be able to ejaculate while his Mistress withheld permission. The overwhelming feeling of inevitability would be there. But the anticipation would lead to nothing. The orgasm would fade; the erection would not. A submissive could be kept in such a state for days; days of sweating, agonising frustration.
She said that a submissive had once told her that it was like having a full bladder and not being able to piss.
What was she turning him into? Certainly not a eunuch. A puppet then; a puppet for her to torment and manipulate.
Her next words shocked him.“You need to ejaculate, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he panted. Could she read his mind, as well as turn him on without even touching him?
“Yes?” she queried, as if waiting for him to say something else. She tapped her foot impatiently.
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured.
“Then cum,” she whispered.
He must have imagined it, but it was as if something like an electric current passed between them. She leaned into him and ripped off the nipple clamps; pain roiled through him and he bellowed his fury. He exploded. He felt as if his testicles were emptying themselves of a lifetime of seed. He roared his orgasm, like a mating bull. He felt dizzy, he felt wonderful; the power terrified him. His spunk splattered onto her shiny black heeled shoes, onto her stockings and her black pencil skirt. And even after he’d emptied himself of every drop of seed, the glorious spasms continued. He laughed. He wept. He thanked her. He lapped and gobbled at her shoes, clearing up the mess he’d made.
Enslaving Eli is at
Amazon UK (£1.99 Kindle, £5.99 paperback) :: Amazon US ($2.91 Kindle, $7.99 paperback)
Sizzler Editions
People fascinate billierosie. What makes them tick; what are their secrets and lies. The effete guy in the bank; the blonde lady shopping in the supermarket, the elderly lady living in a care home. What stories could they tell? Perhaps erotic stories of sex, intrigue and fetish?
And fetish is high on billierosie’s agenda. The strange, haunting stuff that informs our darkest desires. It could be fur or feathers. Shoes, silk stockings, or toes. Poop or pee. An amputee’s stump. If we made a list it would go on forever.
billierosie has been writing erotica for about five years; she has been published by Oysters and Chocolate, Logical Lust, and Sizzler. She has two novellas, both published by Sizzler Editions; “Memoirs of a Sex Slave”. And “Enslaving Eli.”
Most recently billierosie has published independently through Kindle Direct Publishing.
billierosie lives in a pretty village in England. She doesn’t fit with village life; certainly not the Women’s Institute. billierosie loves the theatre, Art, film, books and all things eccentric. billierosie plans to have fun and stay young, writing erotica.
Billierosie Blog
Twitter: @jojojojude
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