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Old 10-Nov-17, 10:55
Dark Rider Dark Rider is offline
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Default Re: Facesitting Freedom Fighters: Simone's Story

I recently published a new book – Facesitting Freedom Fighters! – on Smashwords. Set in the distant future – in which a woman’s role as second-class citizen and chattel has been enshrined in law – it follows the adventures of a group of women who have set out to overthrow the repressive male-led government that runs society. They have formed the Amazon Liberation Front – and use their bodies (and specifically, their bottoms) as weapons in their struggle.

I’m working on further Books in the series, which will show how the four characters from Book One (Helen, Donna, Lily and Simone) came to join the Front.

Here’s Part One of ‘Simone’s Story’. I hope you like it. If you do, I’ll post the rest of it. It’s all written, I just need to tidy it up.
If you want to read the first book, it’s available from Smashwords:

[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

Up until now, all my books have been published on Amazon but, apart from making it very difficult for people to find me, Amazon have recently banned a few of my books so I think they’re tightening up on what’s allowed. In future, if anyone here likes my books, the new ones will only be available from Smashwords. And I may have to remove all the existing ones from Amazon, too.





SIMONE'S STORY:PART ONE



‘Nice arse!’ said Michael, cupping his hand around Simone’s left buttock and squeezing it tightly. ‘Do you work out?’

‘No, sir,’ answered Simone in a thin, restrained voice. She wanted to punch his face, to kick him in the balls, possibly worse – but it was more than her job was worth. To strike him would be an offence, too. No woman was allowed to strike a man, whatever the provocation.

She enjoyed her work in the Ministry of State – up to a point, at least. A French national, her father had been English. Her knowledge of both languages had been a great benefit, allowing her to work as a translator – a much better paid job than many women had access to. But there, any advantage came to an end. She was still a woman, in a world where a woman’s status as a second-class sex was officially enshrined in law. Women existed to serve, and to give pleasure. Beyond that, they were the chattel of any man who claimed authority over them – whether it be husband, father, brother or employer.

True, not every man saw it that way, and there were those who had made their objections known. But the law was the law, and any protest – even verbal – was met with heavy sanctions.

Simone wore slacks in the office, rather than a dress. It was all too easy for a man to slip his hand under her skirt and try to fiddle with her private parts, especially on the bus into work. It didn’t stop them trying to touch her up, but at least they couldn’t get into her knickers.

Working for Michael Daventry afforded her a certain physical protection from other male employees, but not from him. Had he wished, he could have insisted she wear a skirt – he had that right – but he appeared to gain some perverse pleasure in cupping her buttocks through her slacks, and, on occasion, jamming his hand into her crack.

‘What do you think to that bunch of lesbians who are giving us so much trouble?’ he asked, detaching his hand for a moment and transferring it, instead, to her left breast.

His disparaging remark, she knew, was aimed at the Amazon Liberation Front – an underground network of women opposed to the power of the male-run state. The Front had come to public attention some six months previously, when they had kidnapped a junior politician. Though largely unknown to the general public, his capture had struck a blow at the heart of government.

The women’s demands had been simple enough: repeal the Male Superiority Act, dissolve Parliament and call free elections in which women, as well as men, could both stand and vote.

Not surprisingly, the government stood firm. What else could it do? The women gave a deadline which quickly passed and then another, which also passed. They had threatened to ‘make an example of this man in the fashion of the Amazons of old’, but were clearly reluctant to do so. When a third deadline was set and passed yet again, it seemed that the Front was already a spent force.

And then they had done what they had promised they would do…

Simone could hardly believe the report was true when it arrived in the office. All official documents were run past the censors at the Ministry, and her job was to translate them for transmission to mainland Europe.

‘At six o’clock this morning, having received no response to our latest deadline, the High Council of the Amazon Liberation Front was forced, with great sadness, to authorise the suffocation of the prisoner, Jared Kent. While the prisoner was forcibly restrained by four Council members, our leader took him into her bottom’s crack … and smothered him with her little hole.

‘We now give you official warning: this is not the end of our war of liberation, but only the start. We encourage women everywhere: rise up and use your bodies as the Amazons of old used theirs. If your husband, partner or employer abuses you or supports the subjugation of our sex, take him between your legs and smother him at the cunt or arse. Do it while he sleeps or disable him in some way first. But do it – for the good of women everywhere!

‘Signed: The High Council of the Amazon Liberation Front.’

The report had both thrilled and shocked her at the same time. That a woman could do such a thing to a man – take him into her bottom and smother him with her little hole – did not seem possible. Surely the man would have to be held down or weakened in some way? The Front had suggested smothering men in their sleep and, in the weeks that followed, there were unsubstantiated reports that several women had taken the call to heart and finished off their partners during the night. She had seen the evidence in official documents here at the Ministry of State, but the information had been suppressed for fear of encouraging copy-cat attacks. The women in question had been arrested, sentenced and promptly executed without trial. Men showed no mercy when they were under attack!

All this flashed through Simone’s mind as Michael Daventry briefly squeezed her breast, then returned his attention to her arse, cupping each buttock in turn.

‘I hope they are crushed, sir,’ said Simone, giving him the answer she knew was required of her.

‘They take men into their bottoms,’ he went on, attempting to force his hand between her cheeks. ‘They smother them’ – he swallowed hard and she felt him shiver with excitement – ‘with their little holes! Can such a thing be possible?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Simone, biting down her disgust.

Almost at once, Michael Daventry lifted his hand, and eased it beneath the waistband of her slacks. The bastard was trying to get into her pants!

She wanted to push him away, to tell him how loathsome he was, but she knew she didn’t dare. He was a man – and her employer, too – he could do what he liked to her. Though it went against every instinct in her body, she tried not to tighten her buttocks as he slid his hand into her crack.

‘You have a little hole,’ he whispered crudely, now searching for it with his finger.

‘Yes, sir,’ she responded in a shrill, anxious voice. She felt his hot, clammy touch against the well of her anus. He was pushing at the opening … trying to squirm his way into her passage!

Simone tried to empty her mind of everything as she felt him enter her. He leaned in close and breathed foul air against the side of her face.

‘They say the anus is a powerful weapon – these Amazons,’ he muttered. ‘They encourage women everywhere to rub it on a man’s face. To suffocate us with that hairy little mouth …’

The bastard was turning himself on with his own filthy talk! Swivelling round, he pressed himself even closer and she was aware of how stiff he’d grown. His cock was hard against her thigh and he was rubbing himself on her – dry-humping her leg!

‘Can a little hole do such a thing?’ he inquired madly – for she had no doubt that lust had driven him over the edge. ‘Can it truly smother a man to death?’

‘I cannot believe it, sir,’ said Simone, forcing out the words. At that precise moment she not only wished it were possible, she would have happily done it to him. The swine was already inside her up to his first knuckle!

And then the phone rang! It immediately brought him back to the real world. He had, she knew, been expecting a call from his superior. He could ignore it, of course, but then he would have to explain why. Michael Daventry, she told herself, might very well be the pox-ridden son of a pox-ridden whore, but he was diligent and faithful to the cause.

Reluctantly, he removed his finger from her back passage and, with some difficulty – his cock so erect it had clearly slipped out of his pants and was jutting up against the crotch of his trousers – crossed to his desk and picked up the receiver.

The call was a mercifully long one, long enough – thank God! – for his erection to subside. Better still – from her point of view – it seemed it was important enough for him to drop his interest in her bottom. For the moment at least. But from the way he occasionally sniffed his finger – the one that had been inside her! – and smiled dreamily, she doubted it would be long before he tried again.

It was at that point she made the decision that would change her life.


She would give him what he wanted – her bottom. But not in the way he wanted her to. She had no doubt he would try to enter her again and, after his finger, his cock would not be far behind. She would not allow him to enter her bottom again, and certainly not – heaven forbid! – bugger her little hole!

As he pored over his papers, his lust temporarily put to one side, she crossed to the desk and addressed him directly. It was now or never. If she delayed, her courage might fail her.

‘Would you like to see me, sir?’ she inquired hesitantly. ‘Here in the office, after work? So you can get to know my bottom better?’

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with astonishment. He didn’t reply at once. It was clear, from the way his mouth dropped open, that she had caught him by surprise. Finally, he said, ‘You mean it? I can have you?’ He swept his hand across the papers. ‘Here? Over this desk?’

Simone recoiled at the very thought, but she had made up her mind now, and there was no backing out.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied. ‘You can have me however you like.’ She leaned forward, forcing herself to smile. ‘I want to get on in the world, sir. I know who my betters are …’ She licked her lips in what she hoped was a sufficiently crude manner. ‘And I hope they will take care of me.’

He bought the lie completely as she knew he would. Whatever the size of his brain, like most men it was his cock that made the decisions.

‘It will have to be tomorrow,’ he told her. Gesturing at the paperwork on his desk, he snarled bitterly. ‘I have to sort this crap out first.’

‘Shall I bring wine, sir?’ she inquired. ‘So we can loosen up a little? Before we begin?’

Wine seemed to fit the bill as far as he was concerned and he said he would leave the details to her. But make it red – and nothing weak.

That suited her perfectly, she reflected happily. The stronger the better. But not for the reasons he had in mind …
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Old 20-Nov-17, 10:35
isaiapanduri isaiapanduri is offline
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Default Re: Facesitting Freedom Fighters: Simone's Story

thank you very much, sir. I can't wait to read the rest. It's very interesting
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