Lesbian BDSM Stories: Unleashing Desire Through Fictional Dominance

Lesbian BDSM stories are more than just erotica, they’re windows into power, surrender, and identity. When written well, these stories don’t just arouse; they transform. They reveal the inner psychology of desire and domination, offering catharsis, exploration, and often, confession.

At ChatDominatrix.com, our collection of Lesbian BDSM Stories features both gentle surrender and intense psychological FemDom fantasies. Today’s featured tale, Crimson Collar, delves deep into extreme submission, emotional manipulation, and weaponized obedience.

But before you enter that world… Ask yourself:

What kind of submissive or dominant are you?

To find out, take our Free BDSM Test, designed to reveal your kink identity and match you with stories, scenes, and tools that match your desires.

👉 Take the Free BDSM Test at ChatDominatrix.com

Disclaimer: This article is for mature audiences (18+) interested in consensual BDSM, power exchange, and erotic fiction. It includes explicit themes and content. All play in real life should be based on consent, negotiation, and emotional safety.

Why Readers Love Lesbian BDSM Fiction

Whether you’re a dominant woman or a submissive soul craving control, lesbian BDSM fiction allows you to:

• Explore fantasies without judgment
• Understand emotional submission through a femme lens
• Experience Domme-led intensity where women command every inch
• Lose yourself in power, obedience, and ritual

Fiction allows us to test our limits in a safe space. And for those who resonate with fear play, objectification, or dark erotic dominance, it can be validating, even freeing.

Featured Story: Crimson Collar

A Noir Lesbian FemDom Story of Obedience, Gunplay, and Unforgivable Lust

Trigger Warning: This story contains extremely graphic depictions of consensual but intense BDSM. If you are not familiar with weapon play, forced orgasms, and psychological degradation, please proceed with caution. This is fantasy, not a model for real-life behavior.

🔗 Read the full story below or bookmark for your private reading time. This is raw. Relentless. And reverent to the darkest desires of submission.

Crimson Collar by Aita Goth

A Noir Lesbian FemDom Story of Obedience, Gunplay, and Unforgivable Lust

🩸 Extreme Content Disclaimer

She said her name was Ava.

I don’t know if it was true.

I only know what I saw:
Her legs crossed in the red-lit room like a femme fatale left behind by God, corset laced too tight for breath, collar buckled like a warning, and that pistol resting on the chair arm like a question no one wanted to answer.

And those cuffs?

They weren’t for decoration.

“Strip,” she said, voice low.

I hesitated.
So she picked up the gun.

Not pointed at me, yet.
Just… present.

Like a lover with bad intentions.

“I said strip.”

My clothes came off faster than shame could catch up.

She patted her thigh.

“Crawl.”

I dropped to my knees.

I didn’t crawl to her.

I crawled for her.

She grabbed me by the hair the moment I reached her. Wrenched my head back.

Her lips ghosted mine.

“You know what a crime of passion is, pet?”

I tried to answer.

She slapped me with the barrel.

“Doesn’t matter.”

She pressed the muzzle against my inner thigh.

“This one ends with you begging.”

She didn’t walk me to the back room.

She dragged me, by the collar, bare knees scraping across concrete, cuffs jingling around my wrists like a leash no one would ever take off.

The room was colder.

Black walls. No windows. A single metal chair bolted to the floor.

She shoved me into it.

Slapped me twice, open palm.
Once across the cheek.
Then across the soul.

I whimpered.

She laughed.

Then the gun came out again.
Sleek. Black. No fingerprints.

She rested it on my shoulder.
Trailed it down my throat.
Across my chest.
Between my thighs.

“You’re going to open your mouth,” she said, “and take it like my cock.”

She leaned in.

“If you gag, I’ll spit in your face and make you choke harder.”

I opened my mouth.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I needed to.

She slid the barrel between my lips.

Slow.

Then fast.

Then fucking brutal.

In and out. Gagging. Choking. Tears streaming.

“Mmm,” she purred, fingers tangled in my hair. “Sloppy little gunwhore.”

SLAP.
Across my soaked cheek.

“Fucking mess.”

SPIT.
Right into my open, gasping mouth.

Then her hand slipped down, beneath me. Between my thighs.

Two fingers. Dry. Fast.

She didn’t ask.

She shoved them in.

My cunt clenched instantly, dripping down her palm. Shame made slick. Terror made tight.

“You’re wet?” she whispered. “While I’m fucking your face with a pistol?”

I tried to answer. She shoved deeper.

“Fucking say it.”

“Yes, Mistress. I’m wet. I’m…I’m your little hole.”

She twisted inside me.

Three fingers now.

Curling.

Destroying.

“You’re going to come,” she growled, voice gravel and hell. “And when you do, I’m going to spit on your face and tell you it was worthless.”

She pulled the gun from my mouth.

Slapped my cunt with the wet barrel.

Then pressed it back against my lips.

“Come. With my gun in your throat.”

And I did.

I shattered.

I screamed into steel and came so hard my legs convulsed against the chair restraints.

She smiled.

Pulled away.

Spit in my face again.

“You were always a criminal,” she whispered.

“Just took a loaded weapon and a ruined cunt to make you confess.”

She didn’t let me speak.

She just pushed the barrel between my lips again and walked me down the hallway by my hair. I was naked. Filthy. Dripping down my thighs from the last orgasm I hadn’t been allowed to have.

My face was streaked with spit.

My body shook.

And still, I followed.

The next room was smaller.
Bare.
Just concrete, a drain in the center, and one chair bolted to the floor.

Same setup.

But this time?

She had a box.

And inside that box?

A single bullet.

She held it up between her fingers, kissed it.

“Russian roulette, slut,” she said. “But not for your head.”

She loaded it.
Spun the chamber.
Clicked it shut.

The gun was heavy again in my mouth.

But she didn’t pull the trigger yet.

She crouched in front of me.
Spread my legs.
And whispered:

“Every time you come without permission… I pull the trigger.”

I tried to beg.
She shoved her fingers back inside me.

Fast.
Cruel.
Fisting me raw while the gun clicked between my lips.

“No gagging,” she hissed. “Just fear.”

I came.
I couldn’t stop it.

She smiled.

Removed the gun.
Pressed it to my temple.

CLICK.

Empty.

I sobbed.

She shoved it back in.

“Again.”

Her fist slammed into my cunt like it belonged there.
Flesh on fire.
Nerves begging.

I screamed and came again.

She pulled the gun.
Pressed it to my throat.

CLICK.

Empty.

“Lucky little hole,” she whispered.

By the fifth orgasm, I was shaking.
No words. No voice.
Just drool. Just pain.

She pressed the muzzle to my clit.
Cocked the hammer.

“Come one more time, and I paint this floor with your name.”

And I did.

I came while screaming.
Pissing.
Trembling.

She pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

Still empty.

She dropped the gun.

Spit in my face.
Slapped me so hard I fell from the chair and lay there, legs open, cunt ruined, sobbing.

Then she leaned down.

Kissed my forehead.

“You lived. For now.”

And walked out.

Leaving me alone with the loaded gun.

Emotional Aftercare: Why Dark Fiction Matters

Reading a story like Crimson Collar can leave readers emotionally stirred, aroused, or even shaken. That’s the power of well-written dark FemDom fiction.

But just like any BDSM scene, it deserves aftercare:

• Reflect on what aroused you (and why)
• Journal your reaction, especially if it surprised you
• Talk to a kink-aware friend or partner if needed
• Revisit your BDSM Test results, did this story challenge or confirm your identity?

You’re not broken for being turned on by control, pain, or fear. You’re simply honest.

Recommended Stories to Explore Next

• The Obedience Chamber – A literary FemDom novel about psychiatric ritual submission in a shadowy behavioral facility
• Roommates – A sapphic slow-burn romance with a power-exchange undercurrent
• Aita’s Diary – An erotic confessional of submissive thoughts, obedience, and psychological surrender

📚 All titles available on Amazon, just search for Aita Goth.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

Conclusion: Submit to the Story. Then Submit to Yourself.

Lesbian BDSM stories like Crimson Collar don’t just entertain, they mirror our darkest fantasies and shine light on what we dare not say aloud.

Let yourself be claimed. Let your fear become obedience. Let your body confess.

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