The Dominatrices: Françoise [feminist femdom][political][dungeon][F/M/M][20s-60s]

“A groundbreaking new bill, Bill 202, will provide all previously working postpartum mothers a 12 week maternity leave, paid by the state. They will receive 55% of their gross income. The bill has been nicknamed the Sophia Bill.”
-The Reddington Gazette

When Tom spent time with Françoise, he felt like he time traveled to a different era and to a different place. That was what being with Françoise felt like. An alternate reality, in a sense.

Of course, she was French, so cultural differences could account for some of this.

She was the most intimate person he had ever met, from the way she cooked beef bourguignon in her white floral lace garter, to the way she dragged him by the tie to his bedroom the very first night he took her home. She had a no-bullshit resting bitch face that delighted him; a countenance that rivaled Bond’s sexy accomplices. It certainly made up for the hell that was the nasty divorce last year.

Françoise had introduced him to kink. Tom hadn’t considered himself vanilla; after all, he could make a girl wail in a variety of positions. He wasn’t stuck on missionary and was open to trying anal sex – although few girls he had been with had wanted to.

Chastity Express [Chapter 1][MMFF][chastity belts][swinging][direct swap][steampunk inspired]

The train took little time to pick up speed. The passengers in the last car – the only ones aboard who called the train by the name Chastity Express – took this as a signal to begin their mingling. After all, the trip was only supposed to be three hours long, and they had lots to do. The car was outfitted in dark, velvet fabric of sumptuous colours. They were draped in such a manner that the train’s actual, bland interior walls could not be seen. A hint of Gothic in the form of wrought iron bars crisscrossed the windows. Beautiful antique books with golden pages adorned shelves which spanned one whole side. Many of these books, Francesca had said with wiggling eyebrows, were empty receptacles. The way she said that word was sexy and caused a perceptible stir. There were button-tufted cushions and thick, comfortable mats on the floors, and curtains running down from tracks on the ceiling, carving out little semi-private nooks in the space. 

I felt my cheeks burn. While the erotic idea had made my bucket list, and I truly was on a bucket list streak this year, I couldn’t help feeling a little bashful now for having dragged a fellow journalist colleague whom I’ve only known eight months. Eight months! I had come far, far beyond my comfort zone. Maybe I had come far enough.