Femina's Carol (Ff) Part 1 of 2 by Wilma, 6/23/94 in which Carol's surrender to Femina is related in an example of sensual domination My Goddess Femina, to whom I joyfully belong, enjoys a form of D/s play she calls sensual domination. No surprise, so do I. I like it so much, I even submit to *men* who know how to do it. As Femina practices it, there are no devices or props and no costumes. Just bodies and minds. We have all we need in that. There may or may not be any pain involved, but if there is, it is sensually inflicted, the emphasis throughout remaining on the domination and not on the pain. In our case, there is always sexual release because the action and the thoughts become so intense after a while that orgasm is both unavoidable and expedient. Not to orgasm, I have sometimes thought in these scenes, would be never to leave the experience and to expire therein from privation. Like some drugs, the only upper tolerance limit seems to be death, for not even loss of consciousness eases the insistent thrumming of maddening pleasure that drums inside me during sustained erotic domination. Fortunately, the smaller death of orgasm rescues life and sanity, and nothing short of it, I believe, would allow recovery. "Sensual is slow," Femina likes to say, "and never loud, awkward, or dependent on gadgets or dress." The domination is intensely physical, and the minds of the participants determine the fullness of the experience for them. Once into the mood, there are no coy looks or out-of-scene distractions; the participants are too caught up in it for any response that requires backing off and objectifying one's reactions. Play- acting ceases altogether, and the participants are enmeshed in the sensations and cathexis of prolonged sensual domination. Physical attractiveness and personality enhance the experience for me, and in both qualities Femina has no equal. Her natural charisma is arresting, her beauty startling. Even though her slaves and her key employees see her everyday, the experience stuns us into momentary inaction when she walks in. She's over five-eight, exquisitely featured, and as perfect in shape and coordination as heaven can make a woman. Breasts shaped by a loving creator are Femina's breasts, flawless, young, large, softly firm, the color of blushing cream. Her nipples invite one's lips to pucker and the lymph nodes to ache. If perfection can be imagined, you can see her likeness in your mind's eye. Her long, sensual torso and her gorgeous legs are incomparably lustworthy, indentations and soft ridging and muscle-flesh interplay in a vision that could stop your heart. She is all over ideally proportioned for maximum appeal. Her graceful arms, her hands and fingers, her feet and toes, her bone structure and her sinews, her divinely inspired feminine features every one are severally desirable and come together into a woman envied by Beauty Herself. A bright smile from Femina alters the flow of blood in all who are graced by it, and the faint of heart should know she will be their last vision if they dare look upon her unprepared. The idea of her took shape in the mind of the Almighty when He foresaw Eve mucking about with the serpent in Eden. He thought about it a few million years, tested thousands of near- perfect designs for hundreds of millennia, and ultimately begat the consummate Woman, a creature worthy of God's own lust. And it came to pass in the course of time that Femina grew and acquired her first permanent slave, one Carol by name, who was the Goddess's social studies teacher in high school five or six years ago. It was Carol, by the way, who invented the name by which we call the Goddess; for narrative convenience, however, I will use the appellation as though that title were already her name at the time of the events I here relate. As my guide, I have access to a manuscript in which the beginning of their relationship is described. I use it here with permission. * * * * * Carol was about twenty-seven years old. Her lesbianism was not public knowledge and manifested itself mostly in fantasy. There were rumors about her, though. Some girls thought her eyes lingered on them a little too long, and some gleefully gave her a show when they had their heads down taking a test. Days on which majorettes and cheerleaders wore their outfits to class were occasions for nasty comments and vile little grins. Some girls had deliberately teased her, and they liked to bragged about how nervous they had made her. But no one had any hard evidence that Carol was a lesbian until the term in which Femina changed Carol's life forever and radically altered both their careers. When word got around school that Femina had signed up for Carol's class, jokes and anticipations ran rampant through the student body and were even known to occur among faculty and staff. The sensation-mongers were not done out of a spectacle. On the first day of class, Femina glided in with a skinny little four-eyed genius named Isabel, a senior who carried Femina's books and did whatever else she could to please her. Carol sucked in her breath and held it when she saw Femina. Her eyes did a helpless survey down and back up. Femina smiled broadly and winked at her, and Carol suddenly got very busy with papers on her desk. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that this class would set an all-time high in attendance that term. Femina turned in no homework at all. When Carol gave the first quiz, Femina handed in a blank sheet of paper. Femina reads at over a thousand words a minute and has an IQ higher than 97% of the population; getting an A would have been a snap. She had decided, however, to make Carol take the leap. Carol looked at the blank sheet of paper and asked Femina to come to her room after school to discuss her work. "Your lack of work, I mean," Carol had said, and it was the last sharp remark she has ever made to Femina. After school, Femina walked into Carol's room wearing a denim wraparound skirt and a tight, blue T-shirt. She wore nothing underneath. As was the fad at the time, she wore high heels and little-girl white socks with the frilly tops folded down. Isabel, her pack mule, humped along behind her struggling to keep from dropping everything. Carol was seated at her desk. Femina walked over to her as though the whole scene had been scripted and stood right against her, pressing her body against Carol's shoulder and arm. She looked down at her and watched the teacher try to get her breath. "What can I do for you, teacher?" she asked softly. Carol's mental struggle was brief. She turned her head away and let out a pitiable little moan of self-hatred and surrender. Femina reached around and grasped Carol's lower lip with her thumb and forefinger and pulled the teacher's face back around. She stood there with no expression on her beautiful face and simply looked down at Carol, twisting her lip and watching her eyes tear up. Carol made no move to escape. She just sat submissively and let Femina hurt her and hurt her and hurt her. [[ cont. in Femina's Carol, Part 2 of 2, by Wilma ]] Femina's Carol Part 2 of 2, by Wilma Femina let go of Carol's lip and put her arms at her sides. She felt the profound exhilaration deep inside her of watching all resistance drain out of a woman as Carol surrendered to her. Carol closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up at Femina as her hands moved up the Goddess's bare legs and around her hips. She pressed her face against Femina's body and hugged her down there. Femina just stood there and let her teacher swoon in submissive lust, accepting her worship. "Kneel," Femina told her in a normal voice. Carol slid out of her chair to her knees in front of Femina. "Put your hands flat on the floor, palms down." Femina stepped on one hand and pressed down hard, then stood on both of Carol's hands and loosened her wraparound skirt. In a single coordinated movement, she removed the skirt and tossed it to Isabel who was frozen in her chair wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Carol gasped at the sudden exposure of Femina's beautiful legs and pussy above her. Still standing on her teacher's hands, Femina pulled off her T-shirt and tossed it into Isabel's face. Carol was lost in her drooling lust for the Goddess, so entranced by the exquisite and sudden sight of woman flesh so close to her face that she momentarily disregarded the punishment her hands were enduring. Femina placed her own hands on Carol's head for balance and hunched slowly forward until her full weight pressed down on the backs of Carol's hands. Carol whimpered but sought no surcease of the pain, for the new position had thrust Femina's naked young legs into her face, and Carol was straining to reach the Goddess's pussy with her mouth. Femina let her stretch for it, then helped her stretch even further. She held her by the face and pulled up while bouncing a little to hurt Carol's hands more. With her head being steadily pulled off, Carol was unable to breathe, so Femina eased the pressure briefly and then resumed the slow, painful, steady torture when her teacher was again able to take it without losing consciousness. Again she eased her hold, and again she applied the tormenting pressure, again and again, until her need for sexual release became so insistent that it could be forestalled no longer. She stepped off Carol's hands and shoved her moistening muliebria down into her hungry, slurping mouth and fucked without thought for Carol, greedily, selfishly, sensuously, using her pretty teacher without conscience to dissipate her demanding, salacious energies. She pulled her face tightly between her legs and let her suck as she humped and undulated, then pushed her down and threw her leg over her face and wiped and rubbed and ground her cum- slick crotch and legs and juicing sex into Carol's face, holding her by the head, by the face, by the neck as she hunched and cum and hunched and cum and hunched and cum. To finish up, she slow-fucked Carol's eyes with circular movements punctuated by hunching undulations, ordering her to keep her eyes open that they may be bathed in the acidic fuckslime generated by Femina's torrid lustpit of erotic passion. When she was done, she wiped herself as dry as she could on Carol's face and hair and let her drop to the floor. Carol's eyes were ghastly, and her face a slimy mess. Her lip had been split in the facerape, and blood from it was smeared on her cheeks with pussy drool. Femina put the arch of her high heel on Carol's Adam's apple and held it there until she heard Carol gurgle and saw her eyes get milky. "My clothes, Isabel," she said without taking her eyes off the woman beneath her foot. "Lick her face clean and give her an orgasm." As she dressed, Femina watched her skinny, bespectacled servant lick Carol's face and suck her mouth as she masturbated her. She was forcing Carol's eyes open and licking her eyeballs clean as Femina left, a deleriously sexy practice I sometimes add to my stories because the act sends me right over the edge into ecstacy. Carol's orgasm was inevitable. The next day, Femina was surprised when Carol walked into class instead of a substitute teacher. Her eyes looked like they had nested larvae all night, and she had trouble talking with her busted lip. Her hands were in such pain that she kept dropping the test papers as she returned them. When she dropped them near Femina's feet, she took her time picking them up and made no pretense of her submissiveness to the teenage goddess. Femina crossed her legs and surveyed the class calmly as everyone watched the suggestive little scene in shocked silence. They all knew what must have happened, but they could not overcome their incredulity nor take their eyes from the evidence before them. Femina got back her blank sheet of paper marked with an A+, and Carol walked slowly out of the room never again to return. Femina was expelled the following week for twisting Isabel's arm and pulling it out of joint and sitting on her face until she passed out for want of oxygen. Isabel's parents took her out of school and moved to another state. (She is now Femina's chief accountant and sometime financial advisor, by the way.) Femina's years since these events have been years of maturing. She moved in with Carol after being expelled and went to work in her father's small health food store. Carol worked as a waitress and returned to school to study for her doctorate in sociology which she earned in four years. Femina expanded her father's business and rapidly branched into the restaurant and grocery business and then into physical fitness centers. She acquired the male while in college, and took a teenager out of the depths of drug addiction and put her to work, accepting her as a slave when the girl had been sober and clean two years. Last year, Femina completed her MBA. During her annual birthday week celebration last August, a cocktail waitress from Reno whom she had met through a bbs was brought in as the entertainment and was kept. Femina said she needed someone around who can write like an educated eighteenth- century English pervert. heh-heh. Femina is the president and CEO of her own business, a wealthy young woman not yet twenty-three, with a full and balanced life who learned in time to love as well as dominate. I have elsewhere written of her character, of her wisdom, and of her loving ownership of us. Her qualities were hard-earned, a story of spiritual growth that would repay study. In the process, she has enhanced the lives of large numbers of her fellow human beings, many in very special ways. Two of her slaves, Pussycat and I, would probably be dead had it not been for her. She is a phenomenal woman, a lovely, caring, exciting, uplifting, wide-ranging, and inspiring woman adored and respected by all who are fortunate enough to have known her. -- end of Femina's Carol -- Written in love and by permission, Femina's Wilma