I used to think I knew what obedience felt like. Kneeling. Kissing her heels. Holding her coat while she flirted with other men. I thought those were the moments that defined submission.
I was wrong.
Obedience doesn’t live in posture. It lives in what you’ll drink without question.
She had teased it for months. The threat lingered in her voice every time I pleased her too well,
“Keep begging like that, and I’ll let you drink something truly personal.”
March isn’t a month of love. It’s a month of reckoning.
And in the third volume of Aita’s Diary, the reckoning is merciless.
Now available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited, Aita’s Diary: March of Obedience continues the bold, addictive BDSM erotica series that’s already gained cult status among readers who crave power exchange, psychological seduction, and real emotional submission.
This isn’t just another chapter in a Dom/sub romance.
This is the beginning of the end of who she used to be.
Femdom erotica has captivated readers for centuries, exploring the deep psychological and physical dynamics between dominant women and submissive men. Whether it’s through power exchange, teasing control, or strict discipline, these stories offer an intense and thrilling escape into a world of submission and dominance.
For those who enjoy the thrill of female domination, we present five sensual and stimulating femdom short stories. Each one delves into different aspects of power play, from psychological dominance to physical submission. Prepare to be drawn into the alluring and intoxicating world of dominant women who command total devotion.
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The suite was drenched in luxury, marble floors, dim lighting, the soft scent of leather and perfume clinging to the air.
And at the center of it all, lounging effortlessly in a velvet armchair, was her. Vivienne.
Leg crossed over knee, a crystal glass of red wine in one hand, she exuded pure dominance. Her dress, black silk, draped over her body like it had been made for sin, barely moved as she tilted her head, studying the man on his knees before her.
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The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and candle smoke. The private bathhouse was old, the walls lined with dark marble, the dim lighting casting golden flickers across the heated water. Steam curled toward the ceiling, the space unbearably warm. Intimate. Suffocating.
Noah knelt naked on the wet tiles, his muscles tense, his head bowed. His hands rested on his thighs, obedient, waiting. He could feel the humidity clinging to his skin, the heat curling inside his chest. But none of it compared to her.
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Emma knew what kind of night this would be the moment she stepped through the door.
The room was dimly lit, warm, the scent of leather and musk lingering in the air like an unspoken promise. A single chair sat in the center, a throne of control, draped in deep shadows. And in it, him.
Gabriel.
He was already waiting, legs spread, one hand lazily resting on his thigh, the other curled around the length of a black leather leash. It connected to the thick collar around her throat, the same one he had fastened on her before she left the house. A reminder.
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