Scents of Submission: A Male Chastity Femdom Fantasy

When corporate-climbing Miranda and her submissive boyfriend Alex are invited to a kinky mansion-party by Miranda's female boss, Alex thinks they're about to have the time of their lives ... and he's not entirely wrong, because his fantasy of helpless enslavement by sadistic, pleasure-addicted women is about to come true. The only snag is that another fantasy--a story he's been telling himself for a long time--is exposed as a lie. As far as Miranda is concerned it's business as usual, but for Alex there's only one direction for him to go: down.

Excerpt: The rain lashed down even harder as two people emerged from the house: a teenaged boy and girl, Alex thought. Old enough to greet guests, unload luggage, maybe even park a few cars, but a year or two away from being ready to join the party.

Then, as the pair drew closer, he realized that he'd judged too soon. He might have two or three years on the girl, while the guy actually seemed older. What was it about them, he wondered, that had persuaded him they were both so much younger than his own twenty-three years?

He decided it was probably the strange way they were dressed. Up-close he could see that their costumes were of some silk-like material, and completely unsuited to this autumnal weather -- a skimpy white tunic for the girl, draped loosely from her shoulders and gathered about her slender waist. The fabric was sheer, clinging so wetly to her breasts and hips that it concealed almost nothing. The man wore a loose, white, rain-spattered shirt, open at the neck and tucked into black pants. No buttons, lacings or zippers were anywhere in evidence, so that Alex had the impression that a quick tug might allow any of these garments to fall open, and perhaps to slip off entirely.

The girl's slim neck was encircled by an elegant-looking choker, adorned with a silver pendant ring that rested between prominent collarbones. The man wore a heavier collar, thick enough for several D-shaped shackle points to be set into the leather itself; more masculine, more businesslike.

Alex turned to Miranda. "Did we miss a memo about this being fancy dress?"

She just smiled at him. "Whatever we're supposed to have will be provided."

The boy and girl approached. Each held a furled umbrella but neither made any effort to use it for their own shelter. Instead they came straight to the car -- the boy on Miranda's side, the girl at Alex's -- and then opened the passenger doors. The umbrellas sprang up like a pair of graceful twins, perfectly timed to offer shelter to the emerging guests.

The green-eyed girl who ushered Alex toward the house was as petite as Alex was tall, so that he kept wanting to take the umbrella and shelter her instead. He resisted the urge to do so. She looked stunning, even with her blonde hair plastered wetly to her head. Her scent was alluring, too; so faint that he barely registered it, no more than a hint of something wholesome and sweet. Perhaps it was her natural fragrance, Alex thought, accentuated by the clean country rain that soaked her to the skin. He found himself becoming aroused, and half-wished that circumstances might permit him to test his clothes-tugging idea on that clinging shift.