Stan's Journey Into Gentle Femdom

Author's note:

Bisexual Stan submits to his lover's sister, Shae, who takes him to a femdom club to explore his submissive side.

This story is a follow-on from the Connor on Campus series, and chronologically follows Connor, Stan, Darren and Shae: https://www.literotica.com/s/connor-stan-darren-and-shae.

* * * * *

Recap

"So, I will see you again?" Stan asks.

Shae sighs, and her gaze is troubled. "Sure. When I'm around..."

Stan can't keep the hurt out of his eyes.

"What, the last Thursday of every month? By appointment only?"

Connor's words come back to haunt him.

Have you ever fucked anyone you haven't pined for afterwards?

Shae grins, and puts a hand to his cheek, her thumb under his jaw. "Don't worry. When you need me, I'll find you."

Like some fucking mystical creature. He can't hide his disappointment. Why not just say it's a one-time thing if she doesn't want to see him again?

He puts a hand to her wrist, and she takes her hand away as he asks, "But you'll stay now?"

She combs a hand through his hair. "Connor said you were a needy wee thing."

Conner, her brother, one of Stan's other lovers, as dominant as his sister, as wildly attractive, but infinitely crueler.

"Yes, I'll stay." She kisses his forehead and he closes his eyes. "I do like you, Stan. To be honest, it's impossible not to."

Eyes still closed, Stan's smile lights up his face.

Shae shakes her head at that smile, thinking,

Trust Connor to take someone this amazing out of the gene pool.

She stays in his arms until the grey of dawn, drops one last kiss against his lips, and steals away.

* * * * *

It's been a month. A month of Connor lying on his bed in their shared room, glancing over at Stan as he reads a book, or works on his laptop, of Stan pretending he doesn't notice those looks.

"Hey," says Connor.

Stan glances up. "Yeah?"

Connor raises his eyebrows seductively. Stan snorts and goes back to his book.

"Want to suck my dick?" Connor asks. Normally, if he wants his dick sucked, it's a command, but his tone suggests it's a joke.

Stan looks at him again, unused to 'playful' Connor. "Why don't you suck mine?" he asks.

Connor sits on the side of his bed and spreads his legs wide. He nods down at his crotch as if Stan hasn't spoken. "Or, is this not what you want?"

Stan lets out a sigh and goes back to his book.

"Aw, come on, Stan, it's been a month. Shae says she's heard nothing from you."

"I've heard nothing from her," says Stan. "And I can't see her offering you that information without you pestering her."

Connor's quiet for a moment. "She likes you."

"I'm sure she doesn't."

"She does."

Connor gets off his bed and stalks over to Stan. Lanky, all hip bones and legs and angles under a crop of dark, messy hair, he takes Stan's book.

Stan sighs again. This is a very familiar situation. He doesn't expect to get the book back for a while.

Connor examines the book and makes a face. "Failure criteria for unreinforced single-span arch bridges. Fascinating."

"It is," says Stan. "Can I have it back, please?"

Connor shakes his head. "Nope." He tosses it across the room, and it lands on his bed. He leans over Stan, supporting himself on one hand while the other slides under Stan's t-shirt.

"You going to call her? It's rude not to call my sister back."

"She hasn't called," says Stan, and gets his nipple pinched in response. "Ow."

Connor retracts his hand. He slaps Stan on the knee. "Call her."

He heads back to his own bed, tossing Stan's book back to him across the room.

"I'm not going to call her," Stan says, finding his page again.

"You are," says Connor. He settles back on his bed, his arms behind his head, and begins to mouth the lines to his latest play to himself from memory. As far as he's concerned, there's no argument.

*

There's no argument. Stan likes to pretend there is, but there isn't. And Connor's right anyway, he should call Shae. He wants to... wants to more than he wants to want to. But he has two lovers already, and the last time he saw her, she made it clear, she'd find

him

when she wanted him. She hasn't found him; she must not want him.

But once Connor heads out to rehearsals, Stan puts his book aside and pulls out his phone. Shae never gave him her number, but Connor wouldn't have told him to call her if it wasn't in his phone. He searches for her name. It comes up.

Shae

.

Clearly Connor's been in his phone again, or more likely, at some point's instructed Darren to enter the number in there for him.

Stan presses the 'call' icon and holds the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Stan."

Christ, just hearing her voice sends a shiver through him. Stan props himself on his elbows, a flutter in his stomach.

"Hi." His voice is soft.

"Connor said you'd call," says Shae. Her voice has a liquid satisfaction in it that Stan's dick responds to like a dog to the presence of a dropped steak at a barbecue.

"Did you want me to call?" Stan asks.

"Saves me having to waste my energy dialing your number," she says.

Stan laughs. "You really are his sister."

"You really are his bitch."

It should be an insult, but again, Stan's gut clenches and he gets tingles.

"Do you want to see me?" Stan asks.

"Yes. I've got an event this Friday and you're my date. I'll pick you up at seven. Dress nicely. Pack a change of clothes. I have everything else."

"Wha—?"

"Oh, and get any study done before Friday. You won't have time to look at your books over the weekend."

Before he can respond, his phone goes silent.

Stan lets the phone drop to the bed. For a moment his eyes move rapidly as he replays the conversation. Then he yanks open his jeans, pulls them down to his ankles, and masturbates furiously to a messy climax.

*

Shae pulls up at the bus stop outside the University at five to seven in a sleek, black car. Stan pulls open the door, and steeling himself, slides into the passenger seat. He's immediately enveloped in a cloud of perfume, but it's subtle. Maybe it's not all scent. Maybe it's the crackle of Shae's electricity igniting her scent in the air, leaving him twitching in his seat.

He pushes his bag into the narrow back seat, then greets Shae. "Hi."

She leans over and puts a hand behind his head, drawing him closer, but before she can speak, Stan says, "You can do what you want."

He's thought about this since he called her, knows she insists on consent. It's just easier to get it out of the way.

A smile curves her lips and warmth fills her eyes. "You really are a sweet boy, Stan."

She kisses him on the lips, a gentle, lingering kiss that sends shivers through him. Her scent up close is hypnotic, the light pressure of her fingers cradling his head emptying him of any interest in resisting. He's hers for the weekend, to do with as she pleases.

She ends the kiss and caresses his face with the back of her hand. "So smooth."

"I shaved."

"I can see that." She cups his jaw. "You're a beautiful boy, Stan."

He swallows. "Uh, thanks?"

She laughs and takes her hand away to put the car into gear. "We're going to have so much fun."

*

As she drives, Stan watches the flicker of shadow and light slide across her face. He forgets to speak, and finally Shae nods at the car's console. "Oi, plug your phone in and choose some music if you're not going to talk."

Stan doesn't argue, just connects his phone to the car's stereo and lets Spotify set the mood.

Shae nods her approval, and they drive through the night to their destination, Stan lost in his thoughts, staring unashamedly at his driver, unable to stop admiring her.

Her dark hair's grown a little longer since he last saw her and has more of the wave in it than her brother's. Her suit is chic-messy; black trousers, a white shirt with only the centre three buttons fastened, and a black, fitted jacket thrown over the top. And, curiously, he can see the waist band of her underwear. He can't be sure, but he thinks she might be wearing men's boxer briefs.

And is that...? Christ, is she packing?

She glances over at him. "Like what you see?" She gropes her crotch and grins, and Stan flushes with embarrassment.

"I didn't know."

"Know what?"

"That you were trans."

She smiles. "That's a big word. An unnecessary word. Some days I have a dick. You don't mind, do you?"

He shakes his head quickly.

"Didn't think so." Her grin makes him grin at himself.

"So, where are we going?" he asks.

"Where would you like us to be going?"

Stan's confused. "Is this a choose-your-own-adventure?"

"No, just curious."

He thinks for a moment. "I don't mind, as long as you're there."

She glances sideways at him, long enough that he's relieved when she looks back at the road. "Good answer."

*

They pull up in a gravel parking lot on the outskirts of the city. Shae straightens her clothes, and he sees the hint of a black bra that dives down into her cleavage. He also gets a clearer view of the shape in her underwear.

"Want to feel?" she asks.

He steps into her, feeling emboldened by the cool night air, and cups her crotch. It feels almost real—her bulge, though not as warm as a real penis would be.

"You can suck it later," she says generously, and Stan's eyes hit the gravel and don't rise again until she puts a hand under his chin and tilts it up. "You're adorable."

He glances away, though he doesn't dare pull away from her touch.

She takes a bag from the car; an over-the-shoulder satchel that's just a small rectangle of leather attached to a wide strap, and lifts the flap. From her bag, she takes a fine leather collar that has a metal disc the size of his thumb nail hanging from it. It's engraved with an 'S'.

"Does that stand for Shae or Stan?" he asks.

"Both. Now, turn around."

He does, and she fastens it around his neck. He shivers as her fingertips brush his skin, then lets out a tiny exhalation of air as the disc tinkles against its metal ring.

Shae caresses his throat and shoulders from behind, then turns him back to face her.

"Magnificent."

"Where are we going?"

She cocks her head. "To a place you'll enjoy. You said, 'blanket consent'?"

He nods.

"Can others touch you?"

Others? The idea sends a thrill of both fear and exhilaration through him.

He nods again.

"Sexually?"

He pauses, thinking. He

has

two committed lovers.

"They don't care," says Shae, and he knows she's right. They really don't.

He nods again.

"Good. Now, the rules for tonight. Do as you're told, don't touch unless you're told to, and keep being adorable."

She turns him around again and gives him a little push that makes him stumble on the gravel, then steps in front of him and keeps walking.

"Stay close."

Stan follows her, instinctively staying a step behind, to an unremarkable door set into the wall of what looks like an ordinary warehouse. Shae knocks on the door and it opens, revealing a woman dressed in a long, fitted dress that's a combination of red velvet, leather and straps. The red velvet skirt is split from hem to thigh, and shows off her long legs, clad in dark, thigh-high stockings.

"Mistress Diostella," says Shae, handing cash to the woman.

The woman takes the notes and checks a clipboard. She checks Shae's name off the list and gestures her inside.

As the door shuts, Shae opens her bag and removes a lightweight leather leash. She fastens it to Stan's collar and wraps the other end around her wrist.

He lets her do it without comment, the simple weight of the leash sending a pleasurable sensation crawling downwards from the top of his skull, emptying out his mind, relaxing his shoulders, flowing through is body so he's left compliant, obedient, and incredibly horny.

Shae leads him to a booth and guides him inside. "Take off your clothes but leave your underwear on."

She folds her arms, and Stan strips as she watches. He's glad he gets to keep his underwear, and is soon standing in nothing but his boxer briefs, his clothes bundled in his hands.

"Fold them and hand them to me."

Stan looks around for somewhere to set his clothes while he folds them and finds nothing. He slings his coat over his shoulder and drops his jeans on the floor, folds his shirt and hands it to Shae, then does the same with his jeans.

Shae takes both, along with his coat. "Wait here."

She hands his clothes to the woman, who places them in a locker, then passes Shae a tag that she drops into her bag.

"Right." She collects the end of Stan's leash again. "Let's go give you the night of your sheltered life."

*

They step through a heavy black curtain and into a space created from panels wallpapered in black and gold. Stan's never seen anything like it. No amount of watching porn couldn't have prepared him for the reality of this place.

This is no grimy sex club, this is an elegant cocktail lounge that seems to have materialised from nowhere. He can see that nothing is permanent, and the décor is created from, as far as he can see, large, theatrical set pieces, but it's seamless.

The lounge is filled with long, elegant couches on which women in all manner of dress lounge, their near-naked or naked 'pets' as Stan immediately thinks of them, kneeling at their feet, sitting on their laps, or in one case, being used as a footstool.

The 'pets' are both male and female, though predominantly male, and the women are a mix of feminine and masculine. Stan sees some bulges, and instinctively understands that in this place, such things are irrelevant.

The bar is made of brass and glass, with women sipping cocktails on elegant, padded stools, their arms around their pets, or their pets wound around their legs. Potted palm trees, accented by lights set into their pots and delicate fairy lights tangled in their fronds, complete the impression of relaxed decadence.

"Do you drink?" Shae asks.

"Yes," says Stan, then frowns. "Should I call you mistress Diostella, or...?"

"Mistress is fine," says Shae. "But don't use my real name here under any circumstances. Hmmm, what shall I call you?"

She steps back and considers him, a hand to her chin.

"I think 'boy', for tonight."

Stan says nothing. He doesn't mind what she calls him.

She tugs on his leash, and he follows her to the bar.

"Give me a couple of Moscow Mules," she tells the bartender, and hands a glass decorated with a sprig of mint to Stan once it arrives.

It tastes of ginger and lime, and it cools and refreshes him, relaxing him just enough to not be a vibrating wreck of anxiety at being unclothed in this lionesses' den.

As she drinks, Shae examines their surroundings. She recognises a leather-clad woman across the room and exchanges a nod, though as far as Stan can tell, the rest of these people are strangers to her, as they are to him.

They finish their drinks at the bar, then Shae tightens Stan's leash.

"Right. Let's go speak to Mistress Bel."

Shae leads him over to the woman. Seeing they know each other, the woman sitting next to Mistress Bel rises, leading her pet, a stunning dark-skinned woman dressed in an outfit comprised of polished brass chain, to the bar.

Shae takes a seat and tugs on Stan's leash. He sinks to his knees, unsure what else she wants from him, and sits back on his heels to await further instructions. But once he's on his knees, Shae turns her attention to her friend.

"Nice to see you out and about again," says Shae. "Is this your new sissy?"

"Isn't she lovely?" asks Bel, proudly gazing down at the boy dressed in an ornate corset and slinky black miniskirt at her feet. "Her name's Mia."

"Truly beautiful," says Shae.

Mia's eyes light up. The boy looks no older than Stan, somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, only his features are delicate, feminine. Stan realises he's wearing makeup, artfully applied to accentuate his full lips and thick, dark eyelashes. And, perhaps his eyebrows have been shaped, as they arch high over his wide, blue eyes.

"And who's this stud?" Bel asks. "He's new too, isn't he?"

Shae smiles. "He's on loan from Conner. One of his many."

Bel chokes on her drink. "Christ. You share now?"

"Whaaaat?" Shae says, tugging Stan closer. He isn't sure what she wants, but as she runs her fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes, lost in the sensation.

"Honestly, your brother's such a greedy slut," says Bel.

"Pffft, you can talk," says Shae.

Stan takes it all in through a haze of pleasure, his eyes closed, his attention on her fingers against his scalp.

"How many boys do you have now?" Shae asks.

Bel's answer is lost to Stan as he rests his cheek against Shae's leg, his concentration elsewhere.

They stay like this for a time, until Stan feels a light caress against his bare shoulders. It's not his mistress; she's still stroking his head. This touch belongs to someone else.

He opens his eyes reluctantly and finds Mia nuzzling him.

The boy looks askance at Bel.

"You have my permission."

Mia turns her questioning gaze to Shae.

"You have my permission," says Shae. "He's clean."

Mia moves closer to Stan and nuzzles his neck. Stan isn't sure what he's allowed to do, so stays still as the boy caresses him. It seems Mia is in a mischievous mood, as caresses turn to nips. Stan's shoulders twitch as the boy teases and pinches his nipples, then runs her tongue along his arm to suckle on his fingers.

Kneeling opposite him, erotically making out with his fingers, Mia clearly has something on her mind.

She glances at Stan's solidly stretched underwear and Stan gives a slight nod. Excitement thrills down his spine as the beautiful boy removes Stan's fingers from her mouth and gets on all fours.

She tugs Stan out of his briefs with one hand and puts her lips to the end of his leaking cock.

With a look of mischief, she slides her tongue across his slit, running her tongue across her lips immediately afterwards as if to say, 'delicious'.

Shae pulls Stan back so that he's kneeling between her legs, and caresses his neck from behind, as Mia positions herself with her delectable ass in the air and her mouth around the head of Stan's cock.

Stan can't believe how arousing it is to have someone this beautiful want to pleasure him. As if to heighten how little control he has, Shae pulls his arms behind him, and he wraps them around her legs. She strokes his head in approval, and Stan leans back, letting Mia do as she wishes with his body.

The skirt she wears is so short, the silky nylon bunched around her waist, her pert ass cheeks are clearly visible to Stan as she runs her tongue along his length. As she tongues and licks him, keeping his cock dancing, he can't help imagining entering her from behind, sliding between her smooth buttocks, feeling her heat enclose him.

Mia's tongue is hot and wet, and her hand has the firmness of Stan's male lovers. The visual confusion of masculine and feminine only heightens his arousal. He swells hard and long, and she closes her mouth over his flared head and takes him deep into her mouth.

Her tongue caresses him as she bobs her head, sliding her lips and tongue along his length, then suctioning him exquisitely. As she works his cock, she keeps her gaze on his face, a smile in her eyes.

Stan's head is fogged with submission and arousal as Shae's fingers in his hair and the heat of her body against his back leave him feeling helpless. As Mia uses her skills to bring him ever closer to climax, he begins to shudder uncontrollably. His mind is empty, but his body is alive.

As his orgasm reaches its crest, he explodes in Mia's mouth with a whimper of joy. She swallows his spurts with practiced enthusiasm, her tongue massaging the last of his cream from his balls.