Beneath The Mask – A short story about discovering a nerdy camgirl’s secret [MF][Femdom][Cosplay][Persona5]

I tapped a button on my laptop, then swung my head in time with the music that began to play in response. A soundtrack from my favourite game, and I hummed along, singing to myself as I clicked fire from the hob and poured oil into a wok.

*Where have you been~ Been searching all along~*

I flipped over the bowl of chopped vegetables, dumping them straight into the pan. Sizzling filled the air, along with the smell of onions, peppers and garlic. I tossed the mixture, let it settle, repeated the process until everything browned. A dash of soy sauce, a splash of sherry; the sizzle became a bubble, the smell more complex. Perfect.

“Jake!” I screamed. “Dinner!”

He didn’t reply, so I turned down the heat, drained the noodles and set off upstairs. Jake had been quiet of late. To tell the truth, I’d barely seen him. Not that we knew each other well, we’d only been living together for a month. He liked sports, running around, outdoorsy things; I liked videogames and sewing. As far as I knew the only things we shared were financial troubles and a need for a new housemate. Even so, I’d noticed that as of a week ago he’d started spending more time alone in his room. Cramming, maybe. Or an internet girlfriend. No reason to miss dinner.

A short story about the time I helped my World of Warcraft guild vent some frustration [FemalePoV][FMMMM][Masturbation]

I slammed my hands onto my keyboard, hammering out a precise pattern, deviating in response to innumerable digital prompts. On the screen in front of me Buffstorm danced through a whirlwind of masculine destruction, sword and shield weaving deft strokes through the air. The fire-god smouldered above him, striking with an axe ten times as high as my warrior was tall, but Buffstorm shrugged off each blow, what damage he did take healed by a flurry of holy light. I was so focused on keeping up the rhythm of Buffstorm’s actions that I didn’t notice when the titan’s health bar dropped to twenty percent, and a voice screamed into my ear.

“EXECUTE!”

The battlefield lit up with the cast off energy of forty trinkets, blazes of arcane power, and a myriad cool-downs firing all at once. Bolts of frost and shadow filled the battlefield, and a hail of arrows fell towards our target. The relentless assault of quick-stabbing knives and blades continued, and the melee dynamics underwent a sudden shift as every warrior began acting as one. I joined my martial guildmates in hammering a single key as fast as I could, and Buffstorm joined their warriors in adherence to a single aggressive goal, striking at the heart of our enemy and unleashing our pent up fury to dispatch him once and for all.

A Haze Of Insecurity [FemalePoV][FF][ENF][Dubious Consent][Masturbation]

I strode away from the Dean’s office, his words still ringing in my mind. Too many fuck-ups, too many skipped classes, too many ‘flagrant displays of disrespect’; one conclusion. I had too much time on my hands.

His ultimatum had been clear. Join one of the university clubs, attend every event for the entire semester, throw myself into something productive. Be a *good* girl. Or get kicked out. Permanently.

Expulsion wasn’t an option, so I pushed my way into the student centre, charged up the stairs to the activities office, barged in and found myself staring at a small man sitting behind a cheap looking desk. A nameplate in front of him read: Jeffrey.

“Name?” he said. His voice was high pitched and nasal. I wondered if something about bureaucracy caused that. Maybe it just helped you get hired. Cause and effect could be so difficult to pin down.

“Elizabeth.”

“And why are you here, Elizabeth?”

“Clubs. I need to join one.”

“My my, I’m afraid we have little left at this late stage. Already weeks into the semester, yes? Everything is full, see?” He indicated a stack of papers with his hand, as if it proved a point.

A short story about being handcuffed to a bench – [FemalePoV][FMM]

“You want me to *what*?”

“Take off your clothes. Go into the men’s changing room. Handcuff yourself to a bench. Don’t speak a word, and let them do anything they want. I’ll come in and set you free in half an hour.”

“But mistress, I-”

Sophia lay a hand on my cheek, gentle and affectionate and leaving no room for further argument. Her lips touched mine, a brief whisper of a kiss, then broke away.

“Yes, mistress,” I said.

“Good *girl*.”

My heart leapt at the words. I knew I didn’t have to do as she asked, it wasn’t like I was beholden to her in any way; she had no real power over me. I was an adult, confident, more than financially independent, and yet every part of me desired nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even, or perhaps especially, when what she wanted was something I would have never imagined myself doing otherwise.

I started to disrobe and twin fires burned within me, the one in my cheeks matched by another between my legs. I wasn’t sure if arousal or embarrassment led the race going on between my physiological responses; my hands shaking with nervous energy, my heart rate climbing precipitously as I started to pull my top over my head.