Revenge Bi Femme by Lance Edwards
Wronged women exact payback through forced feminization and worse ” much worse. A new collection of outrageous Femdom tales from author Lance Edwards.
Gretchen’s Vengeance befalls the fool who defrauded her into wedding a pitifully-endowed impotent. Then hugely-hung Morgan regrets forcing the issue when infertility saps his wife’s libido in Reviving a Dead Drive. Rock Bottom is living in your mother-in-law’s basement. The amazing Irma is a militarily bisexual biker, heavily-tattooed, hardened and domineering at thirty-three, while still fearsomely attractive.
Benevolent Developments are a matter of perspective for a manipulative psychiatrist’s husband. When her medical condition denies them a sex life, and her demanding he keep his fingers off his sinful “sex-bits”, it’s gonna be a hard life. While The Ring Deena installs in her own husband’s penis leads him unsuspectingly into the hell most befitting his slaveholding ancestors’ sins. And finally Filthy Billie is so twisted with illicit lust for his luscious cousin that he dives into his justified suffering willingly.
Stories feature bondage, torture, anal play, water sports, cuckoldry, orgasm control, body modification, forced fem & m/m.
Given the staidness of Mrs. Vanilla, I had been dreaming of and praying for just a simple, even unenthusiastic open-handed pants-on spanking. Instead heavenly Gretchen sets herself and begins to beat my bare, utterly unprotected ass with that length of oak just as hard as her good right arm can manage.
Clearly that isn’t hard enough. Seeing that I’m gasping in masochistic ecstasy rather than from any physical distress, that I’m truly in the damned’s paradise having my twisted craving finally being so spectacularly sated, she begins using both hands, swinging that spoon like a power-hitter in a baseball game. Still I continue to hump my pillow, alternately lifting my ass to maximize the impact and then burying my burning boner deeper with each searing surge of sensation, all while writhing erotically and gag-bleating my bottomless need.
Perhaps predictably, my obvious enjoyment only incenses Gretchen.
Bringing up further reserves of adrenaline she begins padding me so hard that at last she has me weeping and screaming and biting deeply into the soggy wad of my underwear, all while wrenching wildly at my implacably sexy silken tethers. Indeed with the last stroke ‘to grow on’ my flushed and panting wife hits me so hard that the spoon handle breaks, sending the paddle half whickering across the room.
Sobbing freely yet still writhing with wild arousal, my heart newly bursting with worshipful fealty toward my fearsomely majestic Supreme Being, I suddenly yelp with the keenest of pain-glee. She’s just used that badly splintered handle to viciously poke my deeply contused gluteus.
“Damn, boy! Once again I have to admit: that was actually fabulously gratifying. Look how black and blue and many shades of purple you are! I even almost had an orgasm on that last killer clout. Though thanks to that it looks as though I now need to buy you a tangible present after all. Perhaps a cricket bat, or even better, a canoe paddle. We’ll drill the blade full of holes and cut the handle down a bit, and the next time I won’t have to stop disciplining you until I do come. And here I went and already bought a treat for myself, a scandalously sinful sex toy excused only by your inability to otherwise satisfy me.
“Ah, well. At least I’m fired-up enough to experiment with hate-fucking you now. Something tells me that climbing on top, slapping and choking and crushing you with the most abusive kind of coitus really will be more rewarding than lying around all regretful while trying to endure your useless and pathetic attempts to impregnate me. Funny how I never even considered the idea before.”
And how unforgivable of me not to suggest it on our so terribly disastrous wedding night! Still as wildly eager as I am for the promised abusive man-ravishing, by the time Gretchen unties my ankles, orders me to roll over onto my extensively damaged ass and ties them back up just as securely, I’ve suddenly conceived of a different redemptive expedient. This is something else I’ve been too timid to yet suggest. The submissive frisson involved is so tantalizing though that I just have to bleat pleadingly into my briefs for my deity’s heed. Bless her benevolence again! Gretchen stretches her stocking free far enough to pull the wad of underwear from my mouth.
“You have something to say to me, sissy? It better be fucking important!”
“Please my gorgeous Goddess Gretchen! I know it’s criminally tardy to offer this too. I was afraid your uptight upbringing would forbid it. But the fact is, my tongue is considerably thicker than my dick. And it’s far more reliable. It won’t inconveniently quit on us.
“If you would choose to sit on my face first, I would be honored beyond all euphoria to service your sacred font of femininity to as many orgasms as you can manage. At the very least I could lick your entrance all wet and ready, you know, for more easily mounting me.”
Gretchen laughs nastily, sneering down her patrician nose at this.
“Oh, like I might actually feel an insertion this time? Give me a break, pico-penis. Still, I believe you’re correct. I would have slapped your face swollen for offering to eat me out before. But why not? I’m going to be slapping you silly anyways. And you’ve already got me breaking any number of cultural rules and taboos.
“All right pig. Disgusting, germ-spreading oral activity it will be. Let me see what you can do, cunt-sucker. I’ll give you the length of time it takes me to smoke a cigarette. Then I’m going to punishment-fuck my sinning husband like Jesus himself would weep to see!”
Gretchen unhooks and drops her bra.
Oh, the gloriously morphing, limitlessly alluring shapes those usually precisely symmetrical breasts take as she leans down to extract a cigarette from her pack, to bring it to her naturally plump, ruddy lips and light it up! I could sing a million paeans to the appeal of her nipples alone, so big and red, succulent as fresh ripe strawberries… Look how the naturally projecting aureoles just thrust forth their stiff, thimble-size tips! But then my sneering spouse turns her shapely back on me, deliberately facing away. Now wearing only her high heels, her jewelry and that sexy black half-slip, she backs up, swings astride me, lifts the rear of her slip and sits down atop my face – all in the exact manner she settles daily onto the toilet seat. With my nose now buried right in her anus, it’s hard not to notice those associations. I don’t let them deter me however. Indeed the idea of being turned into my goddess’ lowly commode, forced to live off her rejected excreta, adds an additional sick frisson as I begin frantically obeying her order to “Now eat up, piglet!”
Unfortunately it’s more than a bit shadowy under that slip. And our positioning makes it impossible to see what I’m doing anyway. Finding the fabled clitoris under these conditions is hopeless. Still I tongue Gretchen’s slit and lips with more than manic diligence. Clearly my inept efforts are no more compelling than my cock has been however. Bored already, I feel my deity tap ashes (and a painfully glowing coal!) into the cup of my belly-button. Then she begins using that cigarette to singe off the sparse hairs sprouting around my own pinkish little nipples.
Fresh agony galvanizes me. Each touch of fire to those erogenous buds, each fresh ash/coal deposited in my navel spurs me to lap more urgently away, to push inside and poke rhythmically to the very limits of my speed and reach. Not once is it lost on me that each of those dropped coals means there’s that much less left of that cigarette, and thus my shrinking cunnilingual window. When I begin to feel my time is running out without having elicited a single sigh or erotic cry, desperation compels me to shift my head back a bit, so that instead I can lick and probe at her most luscious holy asshole. I might never get another chance…
Too bad. I’ve barely begun when celestial Goddess Gretchen rears furiously heavenward.
“You disgusting fuck!” An enraged deity whirls to condemn me. “What is wrong with you? I’ve never been so repelled by another creature in my life! You will never kiss me again, piglet! Open your mouth now and stick out that bacteria-infested tongue! I need to seriously sterilize it!”
When I comply Gretchen grinds her cigarette out right in the center of my most densely packed bed of taste buds. Tears streaming, choking back screaming while struggling not to puke, I feel my hard-on straining harder than ever before as my spittle-spraying deity shrieks at me.
“Putrid pig! Maybe that’ll teach you to keep to your proper place!” Dropping that stubbed smoke in my mouth she clamps an implacable hand after. “Eat that butt, disgusting ass-licker.”
Somehow I chew and choke that stinky filter down, my flaming tongue complaining of every gritty bit. Rather than be placated though, my goddess only grows more condemnatory.
“Look at you! I’ve never seen your teensy weenie sticking up so stiffly! You enjoyed auditioning to be my new ashtray, didn’t you, bitch?”
“Absolutely, Goddess,” I croak out. “Please use me so at every opportunity.”
“Very well. If you insist. Right now however I’m going to give Mister Useless one more try.
“I want and deserve offspring and I want and deserve orgasms, lots of both. And you damn well better provide me all that I feel I’m entitled to! Otherwise this kind of vengeful-harpy hate-fucking will barely be the beginning of what you’ll suffer as my husband!”