FEMDOM SMUTS (A ONE-SHOT COLLECTION)

He shoved me inside the dark, abandoned room of our college, locking the door behind him.

I was stunned, my eyes darting to him, my palms rising to strike his chest—but he caught them, spun me around, and pinned me against the dusty wood. Then again, I expected that from him. I had hit a nerve.

We loathed each other’s guts. From the time we were just kids, we could not stand to be in the same room.

I pushed him back and turned around, unlocking the door. As much as I enjoyed this game, I didn’t want to be late for my class, and I worried that if he fully locked us in, the broken mechanism would trap us.

Once again, he seized my wrists and pinned me to the door. “Are you really that angry?” I jerked my wrists against his grasp, trying to twist out of it.

He was quiet, stern, and furious, his large figure looming over me. His eyes stared into my soul as if I had murdered his lover. I wanted to laugh so badly.

“Am I being too lenient on you?” His grasp tightened, sending a sharp sting through my skin. He was talking about me throwing my lunch box at him—the scent of it still reeked through his clothes.

“Who are you to be lenient on me?” I snapped back, proud and unmoved.

Incidents like this only drew us uglier in each other’s vision.

Until one day, when we finally undressed our true selves to each other.

He was at a party thrown by his friend, where I barged in just to piss him off.

“You know, I kind of like you being a rogue animal, defying me all the fucking time,” he rumbled under his breath, his eyes gazing at me with a peculiar intensity. Once again, he had pinned me against the door of his parents’ room, furious at my unannounced arrival. I was amused by his anger, enjoying the way his blood boiled against my wrists.

He couldn’t create a mess outside; it was better to fix it in private.

He always used those flirty eyes against me, and that lustful tone. All the while, I thought he was just trying to get on my nerves with those tactics.

“If you told me to lick your shoes with that attitude, I’d do it,” he whispered in my ear.

My eyes dilated, the hair on my arms standing up. What did he mean?

He was going way too far this time.

I pushed him away, a burn simmering in my chest. How dare he say something like that to me? Did he really think I was that disgusting? I needed something to break through his delusion.

A jug of water was sitting on the side table of his parents’ bed.

I reached for it while he watched with a smirk, his chin tilted up. Before he realized what was happening, I poured it directly over his head and threw the empty jug aside. “I hope you’re sober now. I’m not one of your fuckbuddies,” I spoke, slivers of ice in my throat.

He chuckled, combing his wet hair back and licking the tip of his canine. The veins on his pale forehead were pulsing. “Are you serious? I’m totally sober, and I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

So, he was in his right mind. There was something dark about the way he was speaking and looking at me—it was chilling.

He prowled toward me, forcing my feet backward.

“I hate you so much that it burns,” he growled under his breath, his throat tight, his eyes eating my soul. “At least, that’s what I thought in the beginning. I didn’t understand what I was feeling for you, so I did what was best… Just like you. You don’t understand what you feel for me.”

I fell back onto the bed, the breath caught in my lungs, tremors surging across my skin. What had gotten into this dickhead?

The fact that I had fallen didn’t stop him. He kept coming.

He dug his knees into the mattress beside me and hovered over me, caging me between his arms. Water dripped onto my face from his dark hair. His skin was so close I could feel the damp warmth of his dangerous breaths. “Do you need liquor to understand what you feel?” he asked, his eyes dancing across my lips. A slight tremble coated his words—not because he was cold, but because he was feeling something intense.

Something I couldn’t comprehend at that point.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto mine. My chest heaved, my mind scrambling to grasp the situation when his face dipped dangerously close to my lips. I froze.

What the fuck was he doing?

Then, I shoved him away and slapped him, water splashing across my face from his wet hair, my breaths rushing erratic in my chest.

I stood over him, clutching the hem of his shirt. His tongue popped against the inside of the cheek I had just smacked. I could see a smirk curling the corner of his lips before his palm reached for his face, turning fully back toward me.

“Give me more.” He grasped my wrist, smirking like a villain, and pressed my palm hard against his reddening cheek.

I felt sick to my stomach, dizzy enough that the floor felt like it was disappearing beneath me. I instantly tried to jerk my hand away, but his grip tightened, his body weight pushing me back toward the wall beside the bed.

The ground was slipping so fast from under my feet. I was entirely disoriented.

My hips stumbled against the side table, my free hand knocking over the lamp. He tilted his chin, gazing from my eyes down to my trapped wrist before suddenly releasing it, as if he was giving me permission to hit him again. I hated that. As much as I enjoyed him losing his composure and showing me how angry I make him, this was making me feel weird.

“You know what…” I slapped him across the exact same cheek. “If this is what you want, I’ll gladly give it to you.” My voice was hoarse, and I continued striking him until he was on his knees, panting, clinging to my legs like a dog in heat.

He was flushing red, his eyes watery yet entirely satisfied, as if I had just pushed him to the edge of an orgasm. He was looking at me so strangely that chills ran down my spine; I was unable to look away, yet unable to fully face him.

He breathed with his mouth open. My eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his pink lips. Then, he leaned back, guiding my eyes down to something I hadn’t expected at all.

He was hard.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I boomed, slapping him again. “You’re seriously hard because of the slaps? What kind of a sadist are you?”

He chuckled, looking down at his crotch and then back up at me. “You’re the sadist. I’m just someone who likes a sadist.”

Why the fuck did he have that look in his eyes?

“What nonsense is this?” I tried to rush out, but he grasped my legs. His expression suddenly shifted, turning vulnerable. “Did it not feel good slapping me?”

What kind of sorcery was this? My heart—why did it skip a beat just because he looked up at me like a lost puppy?

“What nonsense!” I jerked my legs, but his grip didn’t break.

“You feel surreal. Just accept it. I can see it on your face—the red blush.”

I blinked, pricked by such a dirty allegation. I peeled his hands from my legs and crushed the heel of my shoe down against his palm on the floor. “Stop spouting nonsense.”

He whimpered, biting his lip and looking up at me with that dark, twisted gaze. “The first place your mind goes is to torture me, and then you claim you’re not a sadist?” He chuckled.

I felt my blood turn to fire along my spine. “Stop talking nonsense, or else—” Gritting my teeth, I fisted my fingers into his collar and hoisted him up to his feet.

“Or else what?” He smiled, his eyes glimmering against mine.

That was it.

I shoved him back onto the bed, ripped his shirt open, and pulled a heavy pearl necklace from the drawer. I flipped him onto his stomach and lashed it across his back. “You like this shit, right? Then I’ll give it to you.”

The strikes began coloring his skin a vivid red, gasps and tender whimpers slipping past his lips. I expected him to fight back or reject it. But instead of tearing the necklace away, he sunk his fingers deep into the sheets, turned his head to look back at me with blown-out, bloodshot eyes, and murmured, “More. Give me more.”

“You really are sick.” My knuckles loosened. The necklace slipped from my grasp, and I stood there with a melted spine, simply watching as he rolled over onto his back.

His breaths were hitching, his chest sinking deep. His eyes met mine, holding still for a heavy moment before he dropped to his knees and began crawling toward me. The swift, swaying movement of his waist and hips made my mind dizzy.

Everything seemed frozen in that room. My eyes were glued, completely succumbing to his body—a body I had never before found endearing.

Was he right? Did I really like this?

His palms wrapped around my ankles like vines. His face nuzzled against the leather of my shoe, catching me so off guard that a sharp tingle flared in my chest.

Then, his lips pressed against my shoe, snapping my mind completely. He looked up at me with heavy, lazy eyes. “Look at your face. Do you still claim to dislike it?”

I blinked, trapped in my own head, while he stood up and towered over me. His face crossed the boundary I had spent years creating between us, dipping straight into the crook of my neck. “You like this,” he whispered, his hot breath jolting my skin, “and you like me. Just accept it.”

My palms pushed against him, but the soul in my body was aching for something I had never tasted before. My eyes traced the symmetry of his face, his bare chest, and the heavy ridge in his trousers.

My breaths were ripping away from my lungs; my skin was tingling.

I clenched my fists, my stomach knotting tight, and crushed my lips against his. He lifted me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist, and deepened the kiss as he bore me down onto the mattress.

I pulled away from his hungry lips, my hair a mess underneath my skull. “Do you really think I’ll fuck you today, just because I’ve given up to how I feel?”

He sunk his face into my neck nuzzling, “please, fuck me.”

“I’ll give you something as a token of the start of our new relationship.”

His lazy eyes found mine instantly, looking so eager.

“Take your toy out and start rubbing against my abdomen. That’s all you get today.”

“But–” his eyebrows creased.

“Are you denying my first command?”

“No.” He shook his head, pulled his dick out and began rutting himself over my stomach like a dog, whimpering into my neck, “it’s so good. I love being your little bitch.”

I should have hated those dirty words, but instead my clit quivered and spine shuddered with chills.

I grasped the back of his neck, and whispered, “Does my bitch want to cum?”

“Yes, I want it… please!” His hips paced, his breaths shredding. He needed it so badly and so quickly. But I wasn’t even surprised, seeing the things he’d moaned to and got his little friend hard were weird, but hot as fuck.

“Aghh! I’m going to cum, please allow me. Please say yes.” His voice trembled, needy.

I chuckled, enjoying him acting like my toy, opposite of the character he’d been showing. “You were always my little bitch yet you acted all mighty.” I yanked his head up, making him look at me.

“Aghh! Punish me for it, but please allow me, I can’t hold it in.”

His dick was soiling my stomach all sticky and damp.

“No.” I pushed him away on the bed and stood up, fixing my clothes. “You’ll have to earn it. Make me believe you deserve it and my body.”

He groaned, on his hands, looking at me like he’d been hit by someone and he was pleading them to stop.

“Do you have a problem with that?” I raised a brow.

“N-No.” He lowered his head.

“Stop looking like a hooker and get dressed. Act like you hate me in front of everyone. No one gets to know you belong to me yet, because you haven’t earned it yet. I don’t wanna ruin my reputation by dating my worst enemy.”

“Y-Yes.” He whimpered, picking up his clothes.

“And clean your parents’ room for heaven sake, or else they would be able to smell their own son’s seed on their sheets.”

“Yes.”

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