Femdom

There are many things I love about femdom. I mean, I hate the fact that it sounds like one of those stupid female contraceptive plastic bag thingies, but otherwise- yeah. Totally love it. Love reading about it, love writing about it, have made a list of all the things I love about it:

1. 95% of the erotica/erotic romance I read features alpha males. It's good to get a break, sometimes.

2. Male vulnerability is orsum. Yes, I know that men are big and tough. I know that it's great that they swing in at the last second to ruggedly save someone in a ruggish fashion. But just occasionally, I like it when Indiana Jones gets punched and looks like he feels it.

3. I'd make him feel it, all right.

4. The dynamics are so different to what's expected. I've always loved stories that push against barriers, be it actual literal sci-fi forcefield barriers or just barriers around propriety or good sense or any other number of things. The tension in a story is highest when people aren't allowed to do stuff, or maybe they just think they shouldn't be allowed, or maybe society does a frowny face when they try and allow themselves. It's easy to explore this stuff in femdom, and when I read it there's always this delicious frisson of gender subversion and other naughty stuff.

5. It's hot. It just is. And I think more people would find it hot if they encountered the really well done stuff. Because it's so rare, the proportion of actually well written femdom is much, much finer than the proportion of well written alpha male stories.

So now I'm going to go over my favourite all time femdom stories.

1. The Top of Her Game, by Emma Holly

It's a modern cowboy story. That I actually like. That's some kind of miracle all on its own. But the main and most important thing about this book is that the hero is not some simpering, living in a cage obsessed buffoon. And the heroine doesn't have to give up her illicit femdom ways in order to find happiness. Nor does she discover that actually, secretly, she's really a submissive.

2. Taking Care of Business, Megan Hart

I'm just going to talk about the Megan Hart portion of this book, here, because the Lauren Dane portion is not femdom. Here, again, you've got a hero who isn't a cipher or a whiner or some other stupid thing usually associated with femdom. He's big and handsome and orsum, and the action is hot without a hint of "oh what a little pathetic idiot he is". I can handle the doubting, am-I-a-weirdo-for-liking-this attitude of the heroines in both of these books, because...well. I can understand why they feel that way.

3. Blackberry Pie, Bonnie Dee

It's not technically femdom, but there's something about the dynamic in it that veers close. There's just something about a religious man giving in to carnal desires that ticks all the boxes. And I feel that Bonnie Dee has the potential to write awesome femdom, if she ever tried her hand at it.

4. A Baumgartner Reunion, Selena Kitt

Again, it's not technically femdom. But HOMG the scenes with Henry in them... He's everything that I love in a femdom hero: horny, handsome, big, eager and just waiting to be bossed around. I was desperate to get my hands on his story, and though it didn't live up to those little snippets in Reunion it was still totally fab. Selena Kitt always writes the best male characters, and especially when they're bonking. She makes them vulnerable in their horny eagerness, which is something you hardly ever see in erotica/erotic romance.

And that's it. I think there are others. Joey W Hilly writes some great femdom heroes, for example, and other writers dare to create beta heroes. But the fact that I can't think of very many other femdom books I love when I've read every erotic novel ever written says a lot, I feel.

Which is why I wrote one of my very own! The ravenous zombie-like craving for femdom just became too much, and I had to feed my fix myself. Which is weird because I can't really read my own writing and enjoy it, but I can at least hope that you do, gentle reader.

Here it is:







And here's the blurb:


Clarissa Levinson’s boyfriend has asked for a very unusual birthday present this year. He wants her to fulfill three wishes, and all of them require Clarissa to push her own personal boundaries and become the boss not just at work, but in the bedroom as well.

His kinky demands initially make her nervous, but the more she gives him what he wants, the weaker her inhibitions become. In fact, she’s starting to really like being the one in charge. Who knew domination could be so much fun?


And the link:


http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8883-giving.aspx


And an excerpt:




“Are you shocked?” he asked. His voice sounded dry, like it was desperate to gulp right in the middle of the sentence.


“I don’t think shocked is the word for it.”

It was true. It wasn’t. Instead, she had to press her thighs together against the rising tide of feeling. Sweet tingles threaded through her body, tightening her nipples and swelling her sex as they went.

“Is disturbed the word for it?”

She had to laugh at that. He always thought the worst of all the things he wanted. Like he shouldn’t take that extra slice of pie, and if he did, people would think he was greedy and disgusting. Like he shouldn’t tell people he liked watching figure skating, because they would think he was weird and unmanly. Like he shouldn’t confess things he’d been feeling ever since he caught his first girlfriend being spanked by another man and all he could think was—

I wish I was the one being spanked.

She knew what he thought. She’d seen it in the flush all over his cheeks and the nervous stammering and the questions he didn’t need to ask, like—Do you think girls leave guys because they know that secretly the guy is kind of soft inside?

But how do you reassure someone about something so simultaneously complex and ridiculously simple? None of the things on the list even remotely suggested a softness about him. They were largely mean, cruel sorts of things that took all kinds of strength to endure or admit to.

Yet the fact remained that he wanted them because of some deep-seated needs and long-held desires, and she couldn’t just unpick these things by patting him on the head and telling him not to be silly. She couldn’t just suggest to him—Don’t be embarrassed. This stuff turns me on too, apparently.

Showing would likely work out better. Just showing him that it was okay. That would work out right, wouldn’t it?

“You don’t have to do any of them if you don’t want to. I mean—they’re just ideas, really. Outlines, if you will. Nothing set in stone. And if you don’t want to at all then that’s okay, because I love doing the stuff we do. I really love it. At the very least, you actually act like you want to have sex with me.”

Sometimes she could understand why he said things like that. When they’d met he’d had no idea about clothes and spent his days in brown corduroy or even worse—purple corduroy. He’d side-parted his hair and worn sweaters just for everyday living like the one he was wearing now, and he’d found his glasses in the bin marked “die alone” at Specsavers.

So she could see how he often wondered why anyone had ever wanted to have sex with him. She really could. Apart from where he was absolutely and obviously gorgeous underneath all the derp-itude and the corduroy, like the ugly-duckling-to-swan movie She’s All That only stupider.

Hadn’t anyone been able to see his outrageous potential? The size of his hands, the broadness of his shoulders, that jawline like something out of Strong and Firm Magazine’s wettest dreams. And he was sweet, too. And smart and funny and not like any other man she’d ever met. She knew he was, because here they were spending his birthday together and she’d never spent birthdays or holidays or any of that kind of thing with anyone. Not even her own mother.


“I always want to have sex with you. I’d be having sex with you right now if you weren’t wearing a sweater with dancing bears on it. In fact, even that cutesy image isn’t really putting me off.”

He chuckled.

“You’re such a goof.”

She loved him for doing things like calling her such a goof. He said it with such warmth and affection, as though her being silly meant something good, instead of how her other boyfriends had felt about it—that being goofy or silly made her a scattered flake who didn’t fit into their career plans.

Unfortunately, considering their various points about her only made her think about how relevant being goofy was to the idea of becoming some kind of sexual Dominant. Probably not very, right?

Until words came out of her mouth. And they sounded so businesslike and almost alien that her entire body thrilled all over again.

“So. When do you want to get started?”