Here Comes Your Man

My name is Joseph Wilson, if that rings any bells. You might know me from my Golden Dagger winning novel, The Wrong Defendant. Or for my British Fantasy Award winning short story collection, Ten Tales of Torment. Perhaps you remember the furore when I was longlisted for the Booker Prize with Teresa’s Graduation. And if you really embrace your geeky side, you might even know me from my Hugo award winning novella, Beyond the Depths, adapted for a big budget movie which flopped badly, largely because of a characteristically wooden performance from Ryan Reynolds. It somewhat irks that he continues to find work, whereas nothing of mine has been optioned for the big screen since.

            But let’s face it: the chances are, especially if you’re British, and unless you went out every Saturday night last autumn (and kudos if you did), you only know me from becoming the first author* to win Strictly Come Dancing.

*If you don’t count celebrities who have had books, usually autobiographies, published, but are primarily famous for other things. And reader, I most certainly do not count them.

*

I knew I wasn’t picked to be a contender for winning. You have the young pop starlets for that, and the soap actors, and the moonlighting or recently retired Olympians, and latterly, the social media influencers. The young, and the beautiful, radiating energy and fitness.

            And then you have the likes of me, the overweight, middle-aged dad dancers, there to provide a relatable contestant for the Average Joe, and comic relief for everyone else. But I wasn’t keen on being a figure of fun. That wasn’t what I signed up for.

            I’d played football to a decent level, had trials with Crystal Palace when I was 16, and had ran the London Marathon a few years back. Although I carried a little bit of extra thickness around the middle, I was fitter than I looked. I had moves too, from a fair bit of clubbing in the 90s and Noughties, and latterly I had taken up Zumba, giving me some experience of following choreography and synchronising with others. My musicality and rhythm were pretty strong too, having played bass guitar in an obscure grunge/Britpop crossover band in the mid to late 90s. So I thought I might last longer than expected rather than being the butt of all the jokes.

            My hopes were further boosted when I drew Ursula Romanowski at the launch show. I’d long been an admire of hers; she had the most innovative choreography, and her haughty, commanding aura was probably just what I needed to whip me into shape.

            Nevertheless, I was given a 100/1 quote by the bookies. Maybe not quite Leicester City in 2016, but definitely Foinavon in 1967. I had a cheeky little bet on myself, and advised all my friends to get on too. I was only half-joking.

*

And so it was on to the dance studio for Ursula to teach me all she knew, but it wasn’t long before an unexpected complication came up. All the way up.

            It started happening before we’d even touched. Her very first words were, “The only thing you need to know is that I am the boss, and you have to do everything I say.”

            Something about that melted me and made me swoon. I was blushing and sighing when I answered, “Yes, Ursula.”

            She smiled, and it was absolutely devastating. “Good boy,” she purred approvingly, “I can see you will give me no trouble or disobedience.”

            I certainly would never, could never disobey her, but the trouble I inadvertently brought was that when we danced together I was profoundly and palpably erect, and there was no way she could fail to feel it pulsing and throbbing, pressed in tight against her.

            “You bad boy!” she said, supposedly in indignation, but there was just a hint of glee in her voice, the ghost of a smile on her gorgeous lips, and an unmistakeable gleam in her eyes.

            “I’m so sorry,” I said, but if anything the humiliation was making the situation worse, not better. “I should probably go take a cold shower.”

            “No! Silly boy. It will only come back, over and over. You will need twenty cold showers a day and we don’t have time for that. We must drain it.”

            I must have misheard, or what she’d meant was lost in translation. “What?”

            “Take it out, silly boy, don’t keep me waiting, or make me say it again.”

            “Yes Ursula,” I mumbled, obeying her command. And there it was, raw and hungry, aching, raging, throbbing and bigger than I’d ever seen it.

            She took in her hands. “Look at me boy, look me in the eyes.”

            I obeyed, and as I fell into her gaze we both felt my cock pulse and twitch within my grip. “Good boy. Now keep looking at me, and repeat this mantra. I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            “Good boy,” she smiled, but keeping her eyes on me as she started pumping, rubbing, milking my cock. “Say it again.”

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            “Yes you will. Keep repeating. I will always have you repeat these words whenever I do this to you.”

            Always? “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            “Ohhh, Joey, I feel how close you are getting already!”

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            “Yes you will.” She sped up, finding a rapid rhythm I couldn’t resist.

            “I. Will. Dance. Well. For. Miss-.”

            “Cum for me now, Joey.”

            “-Ursulaaaaaaaa!!!!”

            And it all came flooding out of me, into her hands, onto the floor, splashing over both of us, while I whimpered and gasped in absolute ecstasy. But the occasion seemed less momentous for Ursula, who nonchalantly picked up one of the many towels we had around the place, and wiped her hands and the floor with it before tossing into the laundry basket with an adroitness which any netball player would be proud of.

            “You were very quick, Joey,” she said – no one else had ever called me by that name, but I guessed that was who I was now – “This is a good thing. It gives us more time to practice. And what will you do for the rest of day?”

            I fought to compose myself, to get my breathing back into a regular rhythm. “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

*

And you know what? I did dance well for her. My optimism before the start was quite well founded, and Ursula’s unorthodox teaching technique was remarkably successful. Our routine was regular and reassuring: every morning the first dance would make me rock hard, she would give me the hand job from heaven while I drowned in her eyes and recited the mantra, and from that point on I would be one hundred percent obedience, soaking up her instructions like a sponge. Curiously, I never got harder than a semi for the rest of the day: her milking technique so adept and absolute that she would coax out every last drop of my reserves.

            And although I was completely obedient on the training floor, she allowed me to make decisions about the dances. Most notably, she promised that our week one dance could be to my favourite song. I chose Here Comes Your Man by Pixies, and to my surprise, she accepted. We worked on a jive, normally dreaded so early in the competition, and I felt really good about it.

            Until the night of that first performance, live on TV, and with all the fans there at Elstree. That’s when the nerves kicked in. Intense, overwhelming, crippling nerves. These were the reason why my Britgrunge band remained obscure. Why I choked in the Crystal Palace trials. I crumbled under pressure on the big day.

            Ursula could sense my discomfort, however much I tried to hide it. She had become well attuned to my moods and mannerisms by then, and she knew just what to do. “Why do you dance so well all week, Joey?”

            “Umm, because I have such a wonderful teacher?”

            “Cute. I like it, but you don’t have to suck up to me. You dance so well because you are relaxed and happy.”

            “Yes, Ursula, you’re right.”

            “Of course I am. And why are you always so relaxed and happy?”

            “Because you always give me earth-shattering orgasms, make me cum like a tsunami, and fill my whole word with comfort and joy.”

            “Oh, Joey,” beamed Ursula, radiant and mesmerising. “I do so love your way with words. I am so lucky to be paired with clever writer instead of silly famous, good-looking person with no brain. Which is why I’m going to do that to you again, right here, right now.”

            “What if someone comes?”

            “I am very certain someone will!”

            “No, not me-”

            “I know what you mean. Lock the door then. You are very silly clever person sometimes.”

            I locked the door and turned to look at Ursula, looking every inch the goddess in her tiny, shiny, performance dress. Just sight of her was making me hard enough, but when she asked me “What are you going to do tonight?”, I sprang up so hard, so fast that I was in danger of splitting my skin-tight velour trousers. It had become a Pavlovian trigger.

            “Good boy, take it out,” she said, and when I did she started peeling a condom onto it. “No mess on these outfits, silly boy!” she explained.

            She wrapped her hands around it, giving new meaning to the concept of me being in hold, and said, “Now begin your mantra.”

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            Those hands, that caress, her beauty.

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            This goddess, this megababe, this object of millions of fantasies, and here she was, doing this for me!

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            And I would. I could and I would, for her. I promised I would, and I could no more fail her than disobey her.

            “I will dance well for Miss Ursula.”

            The pleasure, the pressure, mounting, bubbling, pulsing, washing over me like an avalanche. I could fight the feeling no longer.

            Ursula giggled, feeling it rising up even through the condom. “Here cums my man!”

            I think being described as ‘her man’ really added to the intensity. And it wasn’t just a gallon of cum which came flooding out of me, it was all my anxiety and paranoia, my self-doubt, every bad memory, every single impediment to my confidence and wellbeing, gone. When she finished with me, I was empty, but I was complete.

*

We were the big surprise package that first week. I rode the natural high Ursula had given me, all the training had paid off, and I knew the song inside out. I just enjoyed the experience, didn’t even think about it being a competition, and next thing I knew we were getting three eights and a seven and finishing as joint leaders!

            My odds were slashed down to 10/1, but my scores were a bit lower for the next few weeks, solid but unspectacular, moreover I knew I was both getting fitter, and improving my skills. For movie week we chose Shrek and danced to Allstar, for Halloween we danced to Bad Moon Rising and I was a werewolf. But novelties aside I was getting better and better, scores going up and up and I climbed the leader board.

            Of course you already know this, you saw all the episodes. But what you didn’t see was that Ursula milking me to heaven and back became a key part of our pre-dance ritual, both in rehearsal, and every Saturday night, sometimes when the live broadcast had already started, while other couples danced.

            As we got further and further I got better and better. And when we did Here Comes Your Man again, in the grand final, this time we got four tens on our way to winning the trophy.

            The emotions ran high at the presentation, on air, and were still strong when we got back in the dressing room. I found myself giving a big farewell speech to Ursula, assuming we’d hardly see each other again. “I owe you everything, Ursula,” I said.

            “Yes I know, and about a hundred orgasms too!” She gave a little shimmy, and her dress fell to the floor. “And you don’t get rid of me until I’ve been paid back in full.”

            So I got to work, fingers, lips, tongue, everything to please her. Unleashing all my gratitude, all my affection, all my admiration, all my attraction … and maybe something else there too. I danced well for Miss Ursula. And I always will.

Converting the Clergyman

His muscles rippled, skin glistening, as he toiled hard under the hot sun in tight shorts and a white vest which, although as clean as his conscience when he put it on, was rapidly dampening with his manly musk. He stopped for a moment, allowing himself a brief respite, before he turned suddenly towards Holly and Alisha, as if he’d felt their unholy gaze peeling away what few layers he wore.

            “Hot work, Father,” called Holly, her voice still lilting and melodic even as the volume level rose.

            Father Josh smiled bashfully, “That it is, my child. But honest endeavour in the name of Our Lord is always worth it.”

            “Yes Father, it’s well worth it when your vest gets all wet and see-through! You might as well take it off and wring it out.”

            His smile turned to a full-on beetroot blush, and he made to reply, but the words jammed in his throat. Instead, he turned hurriedly away and resumed working with his back to girls, thus revealing an explicit view of his backside in those shorts.

            “Silly eejit doesn’t know if he’s demure or an exhibitionist!” giggled Alisha. “I think that’s called ‘presenting’ in the animal kingdom.”

            “Don’t you be making fun of my man, now,” chided Holly in mock indignation. “And I do believe those shorts are so tight at the back because I just made them stretch at the front.”

            “Oh my god, that’s exactly it!” gasped Alisha. “Look at his shadow – he’s like a human sundial!”

            “Fuck me, look at the size of it! Feck’s sake Alisha, why did you show me that? It’s making my panties wetter than his vest!”

            Holly licked her lips as she regarded the dark silhouette of Father Josh’s prodigious package. “I’ll tell you what, though,” she said, “A cock like that is too fine to go through life unused and neglected. It’s a crime against nature.”

            “But shagging him would be a crime against God, Holly. Why do you always want what you can’t have? You could have every boy in the village.”

            “I already have, Leash. This time I want to be with a man. You had an older man.”

            “Mister Fletcher? That was only to stop him failing me for English Lit. And at least he was experienced, you’re looking at a 30 year old virgin. He won’t even know what to do.”

            “He won’t know what hit him, more like,” purred Holly. “He’s inexperienced, naïve, and totally helpless against a girl like me.”

*

Alisha pouted petulantly as she sat on the corner of her bed, facing Holly in the chair alongside it. “Okay, I get it. You like him,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to talk about him every minute of every day.”

            Holly adopted her most seductive stare, both playful and predatory. “Aww, Leash, are you feeling jealous? A little threatened?”

            Alisha said nothing. She bit her lip and nodded tentatively, head bowed and looking downcast.

            Holly continued, “Do you want to live up to your name, Leash? Is that it?”

            Alisha looked up with big, hopeful eyes, nodding and mumbling.

            “Use your words, Leash, do you want to live up to your name?”

            “Yes. Yes please Miss Holly, please, yes.”

            “Good girl!” beamed Holly, her smile radiant now. In one deft, well-practiced movement, she placed and fastened the collar around Alisha’s neck, and gave a gentle tug on the leash attached.

            Alisha rolled off the bed, and dropped to the floor, where she crawled on all fours before kneeling in front of Holly, looking up at her with that same pleading expression, whimpering softly.

            “Oh, Leash, you clever little girl. You know how that sound turns me on, don’t you?”

            Alisha nodded eagerly, tongue lolling as she panted, before she started whimpering again.

            “I think my good girl wants her tummy tickled. Do you? Do you? Good girl, roll over.”

            Alisha rolled onto her back, and Holly pounced, wrestling her deeper into submission as she peeled off the few layers of Alisha’s clothing, until she was flat out and nearly naked, eyelids fluttering, lip biting, body writhing and contorting with the exquisite anticipation. Holly sat astride her, nimble fingers teasing, tickling, tweaking, tantalising, touching her good girl in that special way that only she could. Gentle caresses turned to playful pinches and little digs in the ribcage, and on Alisha’s sides, her most ticklish spots, as she lay helpless, spasming with a heady mix of excitement and frustration. Alisha teetered on the edge of ecstatic oblivion, paralysed by pleasure and obedience, which only increased, intensified, as Holly’s wandering hands found Alisha’s breasts, squeezing, teasing, playing, kneading and massaging until she focused especially on the rampantly protruding nipples, which she rolled rapidly between thumb and forefinger, to whimpers and barely suppressed squeals of delight.

            Holly knew full well the extent of Alisha’s arousal; her panties were soaked through, and the air thick with her scent. Holly ran her fingers languidly towards the source of the tsunami, her hand crawling up Alisha’s inner thigh like a sexy spider stalking her captive prey. Until finally, she pounced, and that hand was inside those soaking panties. She trailed a single finger lightly around, as if to push it in, but never quite doing so.

            “You want me to push inside, don’t you Leash?”

            “Yesss! Oh fuck, yes please!”

            “Good girl. Soon I will, and we can have that pack of mini eggs you bought earlier.”

            “Yes Miss Holly, thank you Miss Holly.”

            “Here’s the deal though; I am going to push two fingers into you, and count the thrusts until you cum. For every thrust, you can have a mini egg, and I’ll have the rest. Does that sound fair?”

            “Yes Miss Holly, thank you Miss Holly.”

            “Good girl! Clever little Leash.”

            Holly leaned in and kissed Alisha with a passionate, feral ferocity, tongue raiding, exploring, marauding, as her fingers continued to tease. Then she broke off the kiss, and her plunged her two fingers in, deep and hard.

            “One,” said Holly, but it was drowned out by Alisha’s ecstatic banshee wail of orgasmic euphoria, as Holly felt the rush of juices splashing against her hand. Alisha sat up, her body jerking and pulsating, before she sank blissfully back down, beatific smile and dreamy eyes illuminating her face, making her more beautiful than ever.

            “Love you, Leash,” whispered Holly, “But you’re still only getting one mini egg.”

*

They sat watching pop videos on MTV 80s, Alisha still gently sucking on the single mini egg she was entitled to, while Holly shovelled hers in by the handful. “I’ve probably had enough now, Leash. I’d share them out, but you know, rules are rules. I’ll force them down somehow.”

            Alisha nodded obediently, as they tapped their feet to Kylie on the television, and she watched hungrily as Holly licked her full pouty lips, finishing the last of her chocolate binge. The next video on was Madonna, Like a Prayer. “Banger!” smiled Alisha, and they sang along, watching the video.

            “She was so fecking sexy back then,” said Holly.

            “Yeah,” agreed Alisha, “I bet your man Father Josh gets all tingly and funny when he watches this.”

            “Oh God, yes … yes! Leash, that’s it! Do you think he’ll be at karaoke tomorrow night?”

            Alisha shrugged. “Well, yeah, probably. I mean, there’s feck all else to do here on a Saturday night.”

            “Exactly. So that’s what we’re gonna sing this week. Me and you, and Like a Prayer making Josh all tingly and funny. And then we’ll see what happens next.”

*

“I still think we should have done B*Witched,” said Alisha, looking down at her own outfit with some suspicion. “You promised last time that we would. I had a lovely, cute outfit ready, and I’ve been practicing my jig all week.”

            Holly fixed Alisha in her mesmerising stare, her striking pale eyes with bold, dark centre always able to sink her friend, and anyone else, into a state of submission and/or arousal. Usually both.

            “I promised before Josh came into our lives. He was a force majeure, literally sent from God, and he negates any prior agreement. And I’m sorry Leash, but your little dance bit isn’t nearly as impressive as you think it is. Every girl here from two years old upward can do it, and half the boys too. Keep that shite for the tourists.”

            “Yes, Miss Holly. Sorry, Miss Holly.”

            “Good girl. You can wear your cute outfit when we do the song next week. But you won’t look nearly as sexy as you do tonight – we’re fecking gorgeous! Look around Leash, every man here is staring at us.”

            Alisha obeyed, and found that once again, Holly was right. She also noticed that Father Josh was furtively glancing over. No one could blame him; Holly and Alisha were dressed as nuns, or at least how nuns would look if they had a PVC, latex and bondage fetish. Holly absolutely filled a shiny black one piece, with even shinier thigh high boots below it, and her breasts absolutely exploding out above it. And on the million to one chance that they weren’t eye-catching enough by themselves, a wooden cross hung provocatively from her necklace in front of them, sometimes planting itself scandalously in her cleavage.

            Alisha was slimmer and less well-endowed, but a bra top and hotpants showed her toned stomach, and the happy little bruises where Holly’s fingers and thumb had dug in. She had high heels and fishnets, and made the whole ensemble more pious and respectable by wearing a clergyman’s collar around her next, albeit with the leash attached to it, and dragging after her wherever she went.

            There were murmurs of disapproval when Holly and Alisha went up to sing. Some of the older ladies actually crossed themselves at the sight of them. But all eyes were on them, with the menfolk shifting in their seats, draining their pints to quench their suddenly dry mouths.

Father Josh was staring just as keenly as the rest of them, and Holly stared right back at him, never wavering from her unbreakable gaze for the whole five minutes of the performance. She sang the whole thing to him, a personal serenade in a public place, maintaining eye contact through every bump and grind against Alisha, every seductive and borderline indecent shimmy, and even when she dropped to her knees whenever the line in the chorus demanded it. And when the song finished, it was Father Josh who led the raucous standing ovation, and roars of approval. But only for a moment, before he realised how apparent his arousal was, and hurriedly sat down again, blushing. But not before Holly noticed, and saw exactly what Father Josh thought of her.

*

Holly never made it home that night. Doing the song, and seeing the way everyone looked at her – especially Father Josh – made her so turned on she had to go to Alisha’s instead, and demand that her subby friend service her with an array of sex toys all night. If Holly narrowed her focus, and fixated only upon Alisha’s priest collar, her imagination could tell her she was there with Father Josh, Holly came and came, over and over, and for the first time in ages, Alisha got her fair share of the mini eggs.

            Having not been home, Holly had to wear the same outfit to church on Sunday morning, but she didn’t mind. It was fully in keeping with her plan. Alisha went the other way, demure to the point of parody. She looked like a schoolgirl again, with her knee length socks, ruffled skirt, and pristine white blouse. If she was trying not to look sexy, she was failing badly, but Holly didn’t need to tell her that just yet. It was a conversation, and maybe a fun little roleplay, for another day.

            This day was all about Father Josh, and Holly – as thick skinned as she was full figured – ignored the tuts and grumbles of the congregation to take her place in the front row, within touching distance of the new young priest as he tried to deliver his first sermon in his new parish. Holly noticed him shudder, and sigh dreamily as he caught a wispy waft of Holly’s perfume, which she had copiously applied to her mountainous cleavage. He fumbled, and stumbled, and tried desperately to regain his composure.

            Holly was in no mood to let him do that. She pouted and posed, crossed and uncrossed her legs, held his gaze and licked her lips as she ran a hand up and down each shiny boot. She fingered her cross in the unholiest way, and when she knew Father Josh was watching, she took it in her mouth as well. Then she smiled, releasing the cross to fall into the vast, enticing valley of her cleavage, where it bounced around, making trails of spit along her breasts as it did so.

            The poor priest nearly fell off the stage at this point. He faltered and flustered, visibly trembling, forgetting his lines, or his train of thought entirely. He was blushing deeply and vividly, taking frequent sips of water or wine, which he could barely get into his mouth without spilling, spitting, and having it run down his chin. And the more he struggled, the more embarrassed and lost he became, the more it turned Holly on, the state she had him in, the power she had over him. Soon her own arousal was too much to resist.

            Holly rested a hand on her own thigh, and began inching upwards, luxuriating in the soft suppleness of her own skin. Then she teased her hand under the tight latex, as quietly and as subtly as she could, so nobody behind her could hear, but Father Josh could see everything. This show was all for him. Her finger slid inside, then another, and they danced within her as she caught Father Josh in that beguiling, tractor beam stare, her already beautiful face transcending into divinity with the euphoria of onrushing orgasm. And then it hit hard, and Holly shook and trembled and spasmed where she sat, body wracked with a tumultuous ecstasy which she no could no longer subdue. She let out a long, blissful, ululating exhalation, rising in pitch and volume to a stentorian crescendo, before she sank back down again, eyes rolling back briefly before returning to resume eye contact.

            “Yessss …” gasped Father Josh, before attempting to regain his composure, and thinking on his feet. “Yes,” he repeated, “Yes, alleluia indeed. This is how it feels to embrace God.”

            Father Josh smiled nervously, thinking he had fooled everybody. And he might have, had it not been for the rampant, throbbing protrusion at the front of his cassock, and the unmistakeable dark and wet spot at the end of it.

*

“I’m sorry Daddy,” purred Holly, seductively. “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

            “My child, the phrase is ‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned’. Wait, is that you, Holly?”

            “Yes it is. Have you been waiting for me? Locked in your little box, thinking of mine? Longing for me to come to you?”

            Father Josh made a rasping, strangulated noise, real words suddenly lost to him.

            “You want to hear my confession, Father? Oh, I think you do. For I have sinned a lot, Father, and I have fecking loved it. I loved it when I led Alisha around on a lead like a pet puppy. I loved it when I teased her to the point of insanity. And I loved it when one single plunge of these two fingers made her cum like a fountain.”

            There was no reply, only rapid, heavy breathing. Holly continued.

            “And I loved it when me and Alisha looked so sexy singing Karaoke, Father. I loved that every man there was staring, and drooling, and lusting after us. Even you, Father. Weren’t you? Remember it’s a sin to lie.”

There was a long pause, followed by a soft, meek voice. “Yes I was.”

Holly grinned widely. “Thank you Father. I got turned on that night too, and I loved it when Alisha pleasured me with plugs and dildoes. I loved that she wore a clergyman’s collar, and I could imagine it was you doing it to me.”

“Yessss, yes, my child, please continue.”

“Begging already, Father? I love to hear it. Almost as much as I loved sitting in the front row and touching myself right in front of you. Making myself cum to the sound of your voice, while looking right in your eyes. You loved that too, didn’t you, Father?”

There was silence from the other side, other than what Holly could have sworn was the sound of blushing.

“Answer me, Father,” she pressed. “No lying allowed.”

“Yes, Holly, I loved it.”

“It was the most aroused you’ve ever been in your life.”

“Yes.”

“Until right now.”

He sighed. Holly recognised it as the last shred of resistance leaving him.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Good boy,” she purred. “And I’ve got one more confession to make, Father. That thing I did during your sermon – I’ve been doing it in here all these time. Hush now, Father. Listen.”

He did, and the gentle sploshing was unmistakeable. As were Holly’s little murmurs of pleasure, and the sweet aroma of her excitement.

She pushed a finger through to the other side. “Now, take communion of me, Father. Taste me.”

Holly expected a delay, maybe even an initial refusal, while Father Josh played out his internal conflict. But no, he clamped his thirsty lips around her fingers like a hungry baby at his mother’s teat. And she knew now, beyond any doubt, that she had him.

“Come on out now, Father,” she commanded. “I can’t be doing with this silly partition between us.”

Father Josh emerged from the confessional booth, looking helpless and defeated. “Oh no,” he wailed, “The other parishioners – what will they think to see me like this?”

“No one can see you, Josh,” said Holly. “Leash has cleared everyone out, and locked the door, so it’s just the three of us here now. She’s a good girl, is Leash, she’ll do anything I say. Just like you, Josh. Leash, get him out of his habit.”

Father Josh stammered and flustered, trying to form coherent words through his dry mouth and blind panic. “It’s not called a habit,” he managed, “That’s what nuns wear.”

There was delicious mischief in Holly’s smile. “Oh, you silly boy. There are a lot of habits you’ll be getting out of, and even more lovely new ones to take over your life.”

“No, I … I can’t,” protested Father Josh, even as Alisha was stripping him naked. “I’ve taken vows, I must obey them. I must be obedient.”

Holly stood before him, looking utterly authoritative in a tiny military fatigue style camouflage dress, and her most domineering shiny black thigh high boots.

“Yes Josh,” she intoned, holding him in her penetrating stare. “You must be obedient. You must obey me.”

Holly repeated the words, holding his gaze and his attention so completely that he didn’t even seem to notice he was naked now. His erection throbbed, bobbed and twitched wildly under his exhilaration and arousal. It was an impressive, enviable length and girth, but Father Josh showed no sign of pride or vanity. He was the epitome of vulnerability.

Alisha stood alongside him, hands gliding seductively over him, caressing Father Josh’s exposed, naked body. “I must be obedient,” she repeated back, robotically. “I must obey you.”

And finally, defences destroyed, Father Josh broke completely, and joined in with the mantra. “I must be obedient. I must obey you.”

“Good boy,” beamed Holly, illuminating the church with her brightest, loveliest, happiest smile. “And good, obedient boys are well rewarded.”

With her victim now completely docile and subdued, Holly had no need to dress authoritatively. She had no need to dress at all. So she stripped, slowly, giving Father Josh plenty of time to stare at and savour every inch of her perfect, voluptuous body. She loved the enraptured expression on his face as he drank in her beauty, completely.

“Lay him down flat now, Leash, and lose your panties. You get to take his face.”

“Yes Miss Holly.”

“And I get to take the first load he ever shoots into a woman. I get to take his virginity, his seed, and his fucking soul, forever.”

“Yes Miss Holly,” came the reply, in unison this time. She had them both so deliciously deep under her spell.

Father Josh adopted the position, flat on his back apart from his thrusting, throbbing erection, and with two beautiful girls looming over him.

“Look at me, Josh,” commanded Holly. Their eyes met. “You will be desperate to cum from the moment you enter me. But you will not do so. You will hold out until I tell you to cum, and you will do this because I must be obeyed. Isn’t that right, Joshie?”

“Yes, Miss Holly.”

“Good boy. Leash, get on his face. And you can cum as fast, as hard, and as many times as you like, and don’t keep quiet about it. I want to know, and I’m sure Joshie does too.”

Holly and Alisha lowered themselves down, facing one another, love, lust, and hunger in their eyes. Alisha perched herself upon Father Josh’s defeated face, and immediately began grinding into it, relishing the rare chance to be placed in a position of dominance. Holly had a trickier job, holding his cock in place and pushing down onto it – damn, he was so big! – and when he was fully inside, hitting deeper inside her than anyone ever had, she came, right away, just like that. The power trip had taken her so close to the edge, and that was all she needed.

Luckily there were no sweets or chocolates up for grabs this time, but Alisha’s first climax was not far behind anyway. She herself had been driven right to the edge by subspacing, and Holly’s orgasmic groan was easily enough to tip her over.

The one who hadn’t cum yet, who couldn’t cum yet, was poor Father Josh, left to endure the sweetest suffering while Holly and Alisha took their pleasure, exchanging grunts, gasps, and groans of ecstasy as they used the fallen priest as a human sex toy. It sounded like a women’s tennis match, and every sound heightened Father Josh’s unbearable need to release his load.

Holly rode his hungry cock like a bucking bronco, ramming, slamming, riding, bouncing, up and down that greasy pole with all her youthful athleticism, hip and thigh muscles working overtime, going into overdrive, as she took a pounding inside her which Father Josh would have been far too gentle to deliver from the top position.

Alisha watched Holly, and the sight of her Mistress, her Goddess, was poetry in motion, and did at least as much to spur her towards multiple orgasms as Father Josh’s innocent, inexperienced, amateurish licking, flicking, and slobbering beneath her. Nevertheless, she coated his face with her delicious juices, over and over again.

Holly herself was now reaching a massive crescendo. The sight and sound of Alisha, in control for once, cumming over and over. Joshie’s complete subjugation and subservience to her, and oh!, that pulsing cock, so hard, so deep inside her, filling her completely, and bubbling away like a volcano, boiling over, ready to erupt.

It was time to let that happen.

“Cum now, cum Joshie, cum, cum, cum!”

He didn’t need telling five times. He was shooting into her like a tsunami, a lifetime of abstinence ended by 30 years of unspilt seed gushing into Holly, running through her, so strong, so intense, that she thought she might burst as she rode out her own shuddering, earth-shattering climax.

They stayed in place while the shockwaves rippled through them, gradually settling down to let them bask in the afterglow. Alisha rolled off first, allowing Holly to look the fallen priest in the eye once again. “Tell me, Father Josh, have you ever felt as close to Heaven as you do right now?”

“No, Miss Holly,” he admitted.

“Good answer, good boy. I’m going to let you stay a priest. You’ll do a lot of good for this village, and the pay’s good enough to buy me nice things. But never forget, I’m your God now, and I’m the one you worship. Forever.”

Father Josh’s cum-soaked face looked utterly angelic as he accepted and embraced his new reality. “Yes, Goddess Holly.”     

Willowbay’s White Hot Reads 2021

Reins or Collar – Jocelyn Gray

Femdom duplex featuring pony and puppy play, selected for the victim in the first story being named Jason. The pony play story, featuring Jason, is decent and functional, but it’s the second, puppy play, which really hits the mark. Written in the second person, the tease and humiliation served from author to reader is absolutely crushing in the most delicious way.

5 Stars

Educating Peter – Arabella Maghri

Age gap erotica with light femdom subtext. I have a weakness for gentle femdom, and this might just be the gentlest, sweetest femdom I’ve read. Far from being a victim of the narrator’s honeytraps, Peter is a very lucky boy indeed.

4 Stars

Final Babysitter Bondage – Zatanna Dark

The female domination is strong and powerful in this one, with the bratty teen babysitter showing a deliciously dark, and highly inventive side.

4 Stars

Open Wide – Jessie Sinclair

Cuckold erotica, with an unfortunate victim who happens to be named Jay. Exciting female domination and male victimisation, made all the more intoxicating by the submissive cuck sharing my name.

4 Stars

Office Hour Obedience – Michelle Means

Femdom erotica, featuring professor and student.Builds on a well-established theme, featured in both my anthologies, and delivers a stern but scintillating take upon it.

4 Stars

Everyone Loves a Trilogy

Three is the magic number, sang De La Soul, Embrace in their live set, the National Lottery adverts, and countless kindergarten teachers. The power of three has long been a staple of storytelling, from the boy who cried wolf to Ian Dury’s reasons to be cheerful. Star Wars takes it to the nth degree with a treble of triples, a triumvirate of threesomes. Because ultimately, everyone loves a trilogy.

I myself am no different, as both a fan and a creator. Which is why it gives me such pleasure to announce that my recent singular projects are in fact part one of three.

Okay, you may have guessed that for The Femdom Factory, with the suffix of Volume 1 giving some kind of indicator that there’s more to come. But I hope I can garner a smidgeon of excitement by announcing that it is officially now a trilogy, doing a cover reveal for the last two parts, and promising that Volume 2 is only a couple of weeks away!

What’s more, lover of routine and repetition that I am, Volumes 2 and 3 will follow the same format as their predecessor: two poems to start with, followed by seventeen short stories, and in keeping with this post, a trilogy within a trilogy! After three of the stories in Volume 1 formed a series, so will they in the next two, and in the very same slots, 4, 11, and 18. Okay, maybe I am a tad OCD when it comes to this sort of thing. But the trilogies themselves are different. The first volume showed a man losing his freedom in a bet over a game of pool, and then followed him in his new life. The upcoming volume features a hard-nosed gumshoe, cynical and worldly-wise – apart from his submissiveness. And the final collection will show a beautiful woman taken under the wing of a mysterious mentor, becoming the heiress to her skills and power, although that won’t be published for a while yet.

I’d intended editing an anthology to be a once in a lifetime thing, a bucket lister if you will, but after the positive reception for He Will Obey, including scooping a Silver award at the Golden Pigtails, plus the enthusiasm of the authors to write more, has led to it becoming the first of three. First follow up has the title coined by Victory Von Stryker, The Femdom Coven, and is out now as we approach Halloween. You might have longer to wait for the final anthology though, as we’ve pencilled in Valentine’s 2023 for that release.

Before then I hope to have finally finished a co-write I’ve been working on, and at some point in my busy schedule I have a lot more fun and frolics in store for my original character, the Shagnasty. But if you can’t wait, and I don’t blame you for that, look out for his guest appearance in Femdom Factory: Volume Two. If you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it, you’ll be smiling all day.

Willowbay’s Wonderful Reads 2020

Class Pet – Jocelyn Gray

Intriguing concept, with the sexual scenes well written and the submissive psychology sufficiently conveyed.

4 Stars

The Student Learning Initiative – Shay Sands

Mind control erotica, great concept, with a dynamic, flowing storyline. The sex and submission scenes are beautifully and sexily rendered, with the femdom scenes taking it to another level.

5 Stars

Professor Gone Wild – Shay Sands

A different perspective on the first, with a confident female professor reduced to slutty subby bimbo by the self-aware computer programme. But there’s a real, gripping sci-fi adventure here too, and as adroitly realised as the sex scenes.

4.5 Stars

Anything for Amy – Shay Sands

Striking first-person narrative from a detached and almost robotic voice, fully believable as coming from someone unaware of the way their behaviour was being altered. Is the most effective of the series from a speculative viewpoint, but still retains the eroticism.

4 Stars

Amy’s Revenge – Shay Sands

Builds strongly upon a fascinating concept and gripping storyline, while simultaneously delivering red-hot erotica and femdom, and showing self-pleasure as something beautiful too.

4.5 Stars           

Duel of the Campus Dommes – Shay Sands

Delivers comedy, thrills, a compelling final showdown, and one of the biggest group sex scenes ever written.

4 Stars

Her Boss – Amanda Carver

Hypno femdom erotica, chosen for having a subject named Jason. Great understanding of the dynamic, a really powerful subjugation of a deserving victim, and so exciting having a character with my own name on the receiving end.

4 Stars

The Power to Persuade – Amanda Carver

Beautifully written, in suitably mesmerising prose, although this domme uses scents and sensuality to completely ensnare and enslave her prey. Seeing it presented in first person from the victim’s point of view makes it all the more compelling.

5 Stars

Daring Cruelty – Jocelyn Gray

Deploys an unusual narrative technique, more tell than show, and made all the more compelling and penetrating by being written in the second person, being put in the position of the victim, being torn between envy and pity of him as he is dragged further into enslavement by the deliciously devious domme.

5 Stars

Brainwashed: Her Sissy Maid – Keary Hayes

Hard femdom with a heart of gold, this makes you want to follow the subject through their journey, and with the irresistibly hypnotic tone of the narrative, it feels very much like you are.

5 Stars

He Will Obey – edited by Jay Willowbay

It would be poor form to review my own story, but there are 20 others here, all of which had a profound, electrifying effect on me. The most impressive thing is cow convincingly and accurately some female authors can write from a male POV.

5 Stars

He Will Obey Advent Calendar Day 24: Christmas DeLights by Lindsay Crook (Part Two)

I love the sharp pinch, the hint of pain as she kisses down my chest, around to armpit, and to my shock starts clipping shinny baubles down my sides. The sting making my erection throb even more.

Next from the box comes red and white striped candy canes, and a filthy smile passes her lips as she drops down to her knees. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, breathing deep, hoping for her mouth. But instead she runs a candy cane around the head of my cock through the pre-cum beading there, circling the head, a hint of peppermint causing a slight burn that makes me shudder and shake as she dips the cane under my foreskin. Teasing me with the confectionery makes me sticky and so fucking needy, much to her own evident amusement and arousal.

She removes the treat and holds it in front of my mouth, so I open up and suck, tasting myself as well as the peppermint. Taking it back, she runs it down the crack of my ass and pushes it into my hole, pulling a shocked curse from my lips. I gasp when she takes another, sucking it before returning to my cock, sliding her candy cane filled mouth down my shaft. The simultaneous pleasure from both sides has me seeing stars as she continues with the candy canes, waiting till I’m on edge, needing to cum, when she stands up and steps back.

I nearly cry at the loss of tight wet heat and the tingling fresh zing of the peppermint. She flips the switch of the plug socket and the string of lights turn on, lighting me up as the human Christmas tree she had planned. Looking so pleased at her handy work she takes one more thing out of the box, an old-fashioned Polaroid camera, and starts snapping picture after picture of her living Christmas tree.

Photos fall, littering the floor, and I’m so mesmerised by them that I almost miss her seductively removing her clothes. First her jeans, which she shimmies down her long legs until she’s flicking them somewhere behind her.

The faint sound of Silent Night is playing somewhere in the house, making her strip tease even more heavenly. Her vest is next, balled up and tossed aside. She’s not wearing a bra, and I wish to a hundred different deities that my hands weren’t tied up so I could worship all that creamy smooth flesh. She stands before me in just a pure as snow, white lace thong, and my mouth waters. I know she tastes sweeter than the red and white peppermint treats she teased me with, but I wait, eager to see what happens next.

She stands on her tiptoes and places a sinful kiss on my lips, licking and nipping. She  flicks the baubles on my sore nipples, making me cringe and grunt, and she does it again, my pain turning her on so much that the damp patch on the front of her underwear gives her away.

My fingers twitch. I want to touch her so bad, but she shakes her head. She knows what I want and instead takes hold of my still hard cock, stroking her fist up and down my length. I groan in pleasure, loving her hands on me, making me impossibly harder. I grit my teeth, teetering on the edge and once again she backs away, leaving me frustrated and tense.

In front of me is my Christmas miracle, a real live angel bent at the waist, her thong pulled to the side, her folds dripping wet and shiny. Looking over her shoulder she tells me to be still: after all Christmas trees don’t move.

She backs up on to my cock and both of us groan in pleasure. Her tight wet heat is my every wish come true. She rolls her hips, taking what she wants, moaning when I hit her g-spot, sending her wild. She uses me like one her toys, fucking me hard, her ass bouncing off my groin, the slapping of our flesh drowning out the haunting sounds of hymns playing through the hidden speakers. And just as the choir hits their crescendo, she hits hers too and she screams out my name. I’m seconds behind her, no longer able to hold it back, and I let it all go, let everything go.

She stands on shaking legs with a huge smile on her face, her blonde hair a sweaty mess like a halo atop her head. She gathers up the photographs and her fallen clothes, and says with a satisfied sigh:

“Good boy … and Merry Christmas.”

He Will Obey Advent Calendar Day 23: Christmas DeLights by Lindsay Crook (Part One)

It’s Christmas Eve and a text message on my phone wakes me up. I fumble around my bedside table, knocking over anything in my way until my hand lands on the beeping gadget. Typing in my passcode and tapping the message app I see what or who has woken me up.

The message is from her, my mistress, my domme, my angel. It instructs me to be ready at 4 o’clock, showered and clean. It says tonight is special. That we are going to get a tree, and that the tree is going to be me? I flush at the humiliation, and the vision has me reaching under the covers squeezing my cock just once just to relieve some pressure. The message says to be waiting in nothing but … oh god crotchless knickers! I gulp and take a deep breath. I can do this, I want to do this.

I’m hot and turned on and I’ve still got hours before she arrives home. I spend the day in a daze, the time ticking by slowly, making me anxious and excited. I try to watch TV but I can’t concentrate, so I opt for Christmas music before finally deciding to get ready for the festivities.

I take my time in the shower. I shave and wash my hair, and scrub myself with my favourite body wash until my skin is shiny and clean. Stepping out of the bathroom, I hear the front door slam shut and my excited nerves became electrified. I breathe deeply, in and out before drying myself off. Then I slip into the garment I’m instructed to wear and make my way downstairs.

I look at the clock from where I’m stood – I’m in the corner, just like I’ve been told, counting down the seconds till 4 o’clock. Hands behind my back, head up and back straight, wearing nothing but red crotchless knickers. The feel of the silk against my skin makes my cock twitch and my cheeks flush with heat. I don’t know what she has planned. I just know I’m eager and ready. I’m so excited my hands tremble.

She walks into the room, so fucking sexy in tight blue jeans and a white vest of mine tied in a knot at the front, showcasing her slender hips and perfect bellybutton. Her feet are bare toes painted a deep dark red, sending a shiver down my spine. Looking me over humming in approval, she puts the box she was carrying just out of sight.

She stands in front of me and pulls out a red Santa hat with a giant gold bell right on the pointy end. Smiling, she runs her hands over my shoulders and down my arms, her nails lightly scratching, leaving goose bumps everywhere she touches. Then she turns back to the box, pulling out a string of Christmas lights, and tells me I’m about to become her living Christmas tree.

I huff out a laugh but her beautiful face tells me she’s serious, her chocolate brown eyes sparkle with mischief, and I know I’m in for a world of trouble. She starts at my ankles, kissing each one before wrapping the string around them, then up my calf where she licks the behinds of my knees, making them wobble and weak. She carries on around my thighs, kissing and biting my hip, causing me to moan deep in my chest. She moves higher with the lights around my stomach and I try not to clench my muscles. Further up my chest she stops, sucking a nipple hard enough to pull a whimper from me.

God, we’ve only just started and I’m ready to explode. Over my shoulders and down my arms till my wrists are tied together. The feeling of being restrained always turns me on, and she know it. She stands back to admire what she’s done, dipping her hand in the box and pulling out baubles, each one attached to a clip. She smirks as she looks at me, her glossy plump lips tipping up at the corners, and before I can work out what she’s planning with that mischievous look, she leans forward she bites my nipple.

I yell and squirm, but she doesn’t stop, she sucks and nibbles more, doing the same to the other side, making my nipples so tight they ache and tingle. Just when I think I can’t take anymore she clamps a gold shiny bauble to my right nipple, a glittery red one gets clipped on to my left, and I moan out loud making her giggle. She loves hearing my pleasure, so I don’t hide how I feel.

TO BE CONTINUED …

He Will Obey Advent Calendar Day 22: Ruan Willow

Ruan Willow is the erotica author pen name for a multi-genre author living in the United States. She loves wine, working out, and sex, of course. She enjoys cooking, being outdoors, yoga, and prides herself on being a bit of an amateur photographer. Her passion is writing about love on multiple heat levels.

  • How long have you been writing?

I wrote even as a child and teenager. I was one of those young kids who took an empty notebook and wrote stories. I drew pictures too and it was a great outlet for me, one I enjoyed very much. As a teen, I went crazy writing poetry. My French teacher got me really going on writing poetry. She had us writing in a journal and I often wrote poetry in French. She really encouraged me and said she loved my writing; it lit a big spark in me to continue to pursue my dream of becoming a published author. It was quite therapeutic to write the poetry as a teen because I was going through a very hard time after the loss of a parent. I did take a break from writing for several years when I was working in other fields. I write in multiple genres and I am published under more than one name. All of my erotica writings are under the pen name Ruan Willow.

  • Did you have a muse for your anthology story?

Well, all my female characters have some of me in them. I feel this just happens naturally for me and pieces of me spill into each female character I write, some more, some less. A friend helped me develop my storyline and I was very grateful for male input.

  • Have you ever experienced anything close to the erotica you write?

Yes. I have done many things I have written about, but definitely not all. I have a great imagination and my brain goes to all places good and naughty, deeply naughty at times. Sh! Don’t tell! Or do…I’ll love it!

  • Female domination or Female submission what’s your preference?

I’m definitely a switch. I can go either way. I usually write characters as a female sub, but I have the great and uncanny capacity to allow my dominant brain waves to take charge and be a Domme. I’m also bisexual, so this adds another flavor to my writing. I have also written lesbian Domme/sub stories. It works for me because I can identify with both characters.

  • Who are your writing influences?

I read books across all genres, so this is hard to pinpoint. I even write nonfiction. I’m constantly reading and critiquing other author friend’s books plus I read books for current market popularity in the genres I write so I seriously cannot nail it down to a few. I’m influenced by all I read.

  • Will you be filling any stockings with our anthology this festive season?

Well, I don’t know. We shall see, but I know a few who want signed copies.

  • Are there any links you’d like to share?

Laugh out loud! The first time I read this I thought it said kinks, not links! Anyway, here are my links, filled with my kinks!

My erotica short story website is: https://ruanwillowauthor.com

I have an audio erotica channel on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/c/RuanWillow

I have two Twitter accounts: http://twitter.com/RaunchyIs

I have two Instagram accounts: http://instagram.com/ruanwillow

http://instagram.com/ruanwillow1

I am on Pinterest as: http://www.pinterest.com/ruanwillow

MeWe: https://mewe.com/i/ruanwillow

He Will Obey Advent Calendar Day 21: L.K. De Blas

L.K. De Blas writes mesmerizing hypnokink stories, and makes fantasies come true one keystroke at a time.

1) How long have you been writing?

Since summer 2019

2) Did you have a muse for your anthology story?

Not really. I had a pretty specific idea of what I wanted in this story. So it basically wrote itself.

3) Have you ever experienced anything close to the erotica you write?

Yes. A few of the chapters are based on my own experience.

I have a multitude of requests from people who want to experience it as well almost daily, but don’t have the time to engage with them.

4) Female domination or Female submission what’s your preference?

I enjoy the slow and inexorable submission of a woman.

The realisation of how good it feels to submit turns the initial resistance into a burning desire for willing servitude.

5) Who are your writing influences?

I’ve consumed hundreds of stories from MCstories.com. Slowly complementing my own writing style with elements I found to work in each story.

And of course, hypnosis and mind control in all forms of popular media has stoked the fires of my writing.

6) Will you be filling any stockings with our anthology this festive season?

I expect a few of my fans will be buying the book to support the other authors and myself.

7) Are there any links you’d like to share?

Should anyone want to read my other short stories and support me further, they can do so through this link:

He Will Obey Advent Calendar Day 20: Victory Von Stryker

Mistress Victory Von Stryker is a pen name for her writing and Online Personality. She is a Real Dominatrix living in the Carolinas, working under a different name. She has a degree in Clinical Psychology and has always been intrigued by what makes a person tick. When she exited a bad, abusive marriage around 10 years ago, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands, make things fairer in her own special way.

She began writing as a child, it has always been her favorite emotional outlet, and now she writes fictionalized stories based on her life as a Bad-Ass Domme Queen.  

1) How long have you been writing?

I started writing when I was in middle school.  My mom and dad were always fighting and there was this huge, peaceful field in our backyard.  I would run out there “to the field” as I would call it, and write in my journal for hours.  Emo poetry, fantastical stories about magical animals, future dreams about being rich and famous.

2) Did you have a muse for your anthology story? 

Yes, it was based on an actual role play Hypnosis/pegging session with one of my submissives. 

3) Have you ever experienced anything close to the erotica you write?

Yes, my stories are based on my real life as what I call a Southern Sensual Dominatrix

4) Female domination or Female submission what’s your preference?

Femdom Nation Baby!  Female Domination All the Way!

5) Who are your writing influences?

Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson, Amber Anthony, Golden Angel, Gena Showalter, Sherilyn Kenyon, Laurell K Hamilton

6) Will you be filling any stockings with our anthology this festive season? 

I don’t really celebrate Christmas but I will be getting copies for myself and my close friends and family.

7) Are there any links you’d like to share? 

I would love for you guys to listen to my podcast if you have an interest in such things.  Thanks and I am looking forward to enjoying everyone’s work.