"Halloween" - Femdom stories

Discussion in 'Stories' started by Susan Strict, Oct 25, 2009.

LIFE TIME Keep2Share PREMIUM
  1. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict Member

    "Halloween" is a collection of new Femdom short stories by Susan Strict, just published. The very short story below is from that collection:



    Paradise

    The gates were golden, inlaid with mother of pearl. All around was swirling mist.

    “Where am I?”

    “Where do you think you are?” The voice came from inside the gates. A man appeared, or something very much like a man. He was tall, and dressed in flowing white robes.

    “Who are you?”

    “I’m Peter. Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

    “I’m dead.” The realisation came suddenly. “And those are…”

    “I have to decide,” said the man in white.

    “You have to decide what happens to me?”

    Peter sighed. “It’s never easy, you know. You really wouldn’t want my job.”

    “No,” Philip agreed. “I suppose not. Am I really dead?”

    Peter nodded. “Of course. That is probably the only fact we can be sure about for the moment. Now, let me check.”

    He appeared to be reading something, but there was nothing visible. Finally, he looked up.

    “I see you had a fetish for facesitting,” said Peter.

    “Is that a problem?” Philip asked, suddenly worried.

    Peter shook his head. “Not at all,” he said, much to Philip’s relief. “In fact, I think it might be perfect.”

    “Perfect?”

    “How would you like some of the most beautiful of women you have ever seen to sit on you?”

    Philip gulped. “Sit? On me? Beautiful women? Facesit me?”

    Peter nodded, a smile on his face. “Forward, reverse, all ways. I can arrange it. That’s what I’m here for. Let’s see… yes, you prefer to be helpless, don’t you? Tied up or strapped down. Is that right?”

    Philip nodded, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. Although speculation about whatever might happen in the afterlife was not a subject that had occupied much of his time when he was alive, somehow it had not really seemed likely that it would involve any sort of fetish, let alone his own particular fantasy.

    “Don’t just stand there,” said Peter, “Come in. We may as well get started, and I’ll explain it all as we go along.”

    Philip was led into a huge, white room. There was only one piece of furniture: an extremely large bed with ornate, carved posts at each corner. To each post there was attached a thick strip of leather, and at the end of the leather strip was a padded cuff.

    “It’s actually very straightforward,” Peter told him. “The cuffs will be attached to your wrists and ankles, and some most beautiful women will take it in turns to sit on your face. Some may orgasm. Some may not. Some may press your face between their buttocks, and some may turn the other way and press their thighs around you. Some may orgasm. That is, I think, the sort of fantasy you prefer?”

    Philip nodded, speechless.

    “Now, this is important, so pay attention,” said Peter seriously. “As you already know, you are dead. You do not need to breathe. Also, you don’t need to eat and you don’t need to visit the bathroom. That makes this type of activity very much easier to organise. All we need is you, the bed, and a succession of suitable women.”

    “Yes,” agreed Philip, “But I was going to ask: you did say most beautiful women?”

    “I did,” confirmed Peter. “Most beautiful women.”

    As Peter spoke, there was movement from across the room. Figures were gliding towards them, female figures. As they drew closer, Philip could see that indeed they were extremely beautiful. They were, in fact, some of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Although all dressed the same, in white flowing robes, they were far from being identical. Some had a figure that was the perfect hourglass shape, many were positively voluptuous, and some were slim and petite. Some were blond, some dark, some redheads.

    As Philip gazed at them, wondering whether this was a dream and, if it was, hoping that he would never awaken from it, those that had arrived first began to undress. It was not a complicated procedure. As each of them reached the side of the bed no more than a few feet from where Philip and Peter stood, she reached across her chest with her right arm and pressed a clip on her left shoulder. The white robes fell to the floor. She wore no other clothes or undergarments.

    “Are you ready?” asked Peter.

    Philip nodded eagerly.

    The women crowded around him, removed his clothes, and gently pushed him back onto the bed. Carefully, they attached his wrists and ankles to the soft, strong cuffs that were already the exact length and in exactly the right position to hold him spread-eagled on his back on the bed.

    The first of the women, a redhead, sat astride his chest. With a gentle sigh, she moved forward onto his face, pressing down with a gentle shudder of pleasure…

    *

    “How are you doing, Philip?” Peter looked down at the naked man spread-eagled on the bed.

    “Thank goodness you’re here!” said Peter, his voice sounding weak. “I need a break from this. They don’t stop! Just look at them.”

    Peter turned and regarded the seemingly never-ending line of women in white robes, those near the front already naked. He nodded approvingly.

    “And that’s not all,” Philip continued. “You said they were all beautiful. They’re not. Not all of them. Some are downright ugly, and there was one really big one – she almost crushed me!”

    “I said they were most beautiful,” said Peter gently, “Not all beautiful. Most of them are, aren’t they?”

    “I suppose so,” grumbled Philip. “But I really don’t see why I have to put up with the ugly ones. This is supposed to be Paradise. It should be perfect. Anyway, I’ve had enough for the moment. More than enough. I need something so I can stop them when I need to. They don’t seem to be able to hear me. You have no idea how frustrated I am. None of them touch me, and I’m desperate… All they do is sit on my face.”

    “They can hear you,” Peter confirmed. “They just don’t take any notice of you. That’s what they have to do. Those are the rules.”

    “That is a ridiculous rule,” said Philip. “Half the time I can’t breathe either. They shouldn’t do it like that.”

    “You don’t need to breathe,” pointed out Peter. “You’re dead.”

    “Yes, but it feels like I need to breathe,” Philip objected. “It feels like I’m suffocating.”

    Peter shrugged, and turned away.

    “Hey!” called Philip. “Let me go now. I just said: I need a break. I’ve had enough. I’ve been here for days. You don’t know what it’s like.”

    “Oh, I think I know exactly what it’s like. And no, I’m not going to let you go. Definitely not.” Peter turned away again.

    “Stop! Come back. What the hell is going on? Look, you, Saint Peter. Please, I need this to stop.”

    “I’m not Saint Peter,” said Peter. “Wherever did you get that idea? You’ve been here for exactly eight hours. It’s not very long really.”

    “You’re not? You must be. You were at the Pearly Gates, weren’t you?”

    “I was at the gates,” agreed Peter, “And yes, I suppose they are rather pearly.”

    “So let me go. How long am I supposed to stay like this? This is ridiculous.”

    “I’m really surprised you don’t understand,” said Peter, “But it’s obvious you don’t. Perhaps I should explain: you stay here. The women sit on your face. That’s all there is to it.”

    “What sort of Heaven is that?” demanded Philip.

    “Oh, it’s not Heaven,” said Peter. “And you chose this torment yourself. You really can’t complain about it.”

    “How long do I have to stay here?” shouted Philip, not completely understanding what Peter was saying.

    “How long?” asked Peter. “For Eternity, of course.”

    He walked slowly away, smiling to himself.


    [​IMG]
     
LIFE TIME Keep2Share PREMIUM

Share This Page