It’s hump day Wednesday, and I thought I’d share a little erotic fiction to spice up your week.

Submit to the Queen
by WiseWild

I was standing around the dungeon talking to friends, when he noticed the riding crop stuck in my hand. “That looks harmless,” he quipped. “Would you like to try it?” I replied. He obligingly turned his back. I patted him ever so gently on the behind. “Not the ass,” he requests. Envisioning some childhood trauma that has left some bad memories I immediately oblige. We are friends, we have flirted, yet he always runs away. I respect his limits. Within reason.

I run the crop over his left shoulder muscle, then thwap. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asks. The circle surrounding us laughs. Right side, upper back, no warm-up no warning. THWAP. Again he challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?” The crop slices through the air, that oh so satisfying sound and then THWAP. Other side, THWAP. SWOOSH THWAP. Without a small yip, he takes off across the kitchen and looks back with an aren’t you going to chase me look. BRAT.

I stare at him. “I am not going to chase you,” I tell him with disdain. “You are too big for a take down slave, and I have no desire to injure myself for your shenanigans. You can keep running, and I will never f*#k you. Or you can come over here right now, and tell me all your heart’s darkest desires.” His cheeks pink, he shrugs, and shuffles back to stand in front of me. I run my nails up his bare left arm, and step in closer. My breasts are just lightly grazing his shirt front. His eyes dart, and come back to lock on mine. My right hand comes up behind his neck and grips him hard.

“Get down on your knees,” I whisper in his ear, “and you can smell how much your submission pleases me.” He sinks to his knees on the linoleum, forehead touching my lower belly. I caress his head, place my left foot ever so lightly against his crotch, and push his head back to look up at me. “The next time I hit you, it will be because you begged me.”

The room is totally silent. My crotch is throbbing. I can feel him hardening beneath my platform shoe. He licks his lips and his voice is barely a croak. “Please.”