She puts on the fishnets with no knickers. The tights are medium gauge, with holes just wide enough that you can easily stick a finger through to rip them. She’s never worn them like this before, and the cool air on her cunt feels strange when it’s also flimsily caged. Strange but good. Next she puts on the t-shirt he left on her bedroom floor last night. A faded black one with the logo of one of his favourite bands. If you’re joining me in this fantasy, feel free to pick whichever shirt has most resonance for you: maybe it’s the home kit from your football team, a flannel one that you wear around the house on lazy, happy days, maybe it’s merch from your favourite festival, whatever. Pick whichever you’re most likely to leave on your girlfriend’s bedroom floor. Whichever shirt you’d most like to dress your partner in before you fuck them. She puts on the fishnets and that shirt, then angles the mirror.

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When we walk in the door of the strip club, I can guarantee that the people his eyes are drawn to are the dancers. The one on stage half-naked, the ones hanging out by the bar flirting with customers, one or two emerging from the curtained-off booths at the back of the room. My eyes, on the other hand, are firmly fixed on the men – him included.

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This delicious audio erotica is written and read by The Gentle Domme. 

The young men stood in front of her expectantly, shifting their weight between their legs. They’d been standing for a good hour before she arrived. No words. Hands at their sides. Naked except for underwear that was largely insignificant. The lighting was dim. They didn’t know it, but she’d been observing them the entire time from a panel in a side door, taking her time, watching them as they didn’t know they were being watched, taking in their small movements, their stamina, idiosyncrasies. The way one scratched idly at his ankle with a toe. The way one yawned and then quickly tried to hide it, stretching his neck.

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This beautiful story of domestic dominance and foot worship is written and read by Ferns, and originally appeared on her website Domme Chronicles. You can find part two of ‘Coming Home’ here. 

I sighed as I walked through the front door, throwing my briefcase by the hall table. I smoothed my skirt, shrugged in my jacket, took a deep breath and turned to look into the lounge room.

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I like it when he wears my knickers. I like it when he wears short silk shorts, too – the kind he’s bought for me but that look too good on him for us not to share the pleasure. Given my love of seeing him wearing my clothes, it’s inevitable that one night I suggest to him: “Let’s swap clothes.”

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