Lotus Valley
Copyright© 2025 by Dylan Dekker
Chapter 9
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Lotus Valley, once the site of an experimental matriarchal commune, hides secrets of forbidden desires and power. When four college friends arrive for a birthday getaway, they awaken spectral echoes of wild, gender-reversed parties—where women rule and men submit. The group gradually succumbs to the hidden energies of female empowerment, and find unspoken urges inside them awakening. A romantic and sultry tale of femdom and male obedience.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Mind Control Gay Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Historical Horror Mystery Paranormal Ghost Magic Sharing BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking Group Sex Orgy Black Female Oral Sex Pegging Safe Sex
Toby removes Mel’s panties and looks at the task in front of him. He’s hesitant. Mel locks eyes with the queen in the painting, and places her hand on the back of his head, applying just a gentle pressure. He leans forward, once again not conscious of the force that is pulling him. It’s her hand, but it’s something so much stronger that’s convincing him to go along with her orders. He can’t even see her, but he simply obeys her. Nervously, he extends his tongue. It makes her jolt. That triggers a confident feeling in him. He starts to lick.
“Slower,” she says, “and softer.”
He resents the command. He resents it all. But he does as she says. Her foot, which had been on the stool next to him, moves to his shoulder. He places his hand under her leg, feels her weight holding him down. He could stand up at any moment, but her leg tells him he belongs on the floor. He doesn’t agree. Or maybe he does. Something here feels right.
He tries to open his eyes, but the flesh of her stomach is in the way. He can’t tell if she’s looking at him. Nobody else is looking at him. Nobody to entertain but her. His only confirmation that he’s doing a good job is her physical reaction, and her moans. Each one is better than a cheering fan. She adjusts her body a little.
“Not there,” she says. She puts her hand on his chin and another on his forehead and moves his head, as if he weren’t in control of it. At the moment, he might not be. He simply extends his tongue and licks where he’s told. “Oh shit,” she says. Her hand tightens, keeping him in place. He slides his tongue over her flesh repeatedly, feeling a thrust from her hips with each motion. That’s his reward. Her body rubbing against him, her foot pressing down on him. As her leg tenses, the pressure on his shoulder increases.
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