The Night Terror

Cover for Night terror Femdom Erotica Miss Opium London Asian Dominatrix sitting on top of a man

I used to send my slave a bunch of random topics and make him write me some femdom erotica for my other slave to read to me when I was taking a bath.

He was so creative and I always loved his stories I thought I would share one with you. 

It had started when she was just 6 years old, her parents didn’t know what to do. Their beautiful daughter would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and thrashing around with night terrors. It was a kind of half sleep, half wake stage, sometimes she’d recognise them as they tried to console her, other times she’d look blankly at their faces, or worse still scream and try to escape them.  Then after 15-20 minutes, she’d slip back into a blissful sleep and wake up the next morning sometimes unaware of the commotion the night before.

The doctor had told them it would pass, it was quite common for children to experience such things. But as she’d grown into a teenager, the terrors had only intensified. More and more snippets of memory built up and lingered to the morning, the dark faceless shadows pinning her down, slashing smoke like fingers whipping her body and she writhed and screamed to escape. Blood red nails on elongated black smoke fingers tearing at her flesh. The insomnia from the terrors and the hangover in the morning meant that she was constantly living in an exhausted half wake, half sleep doze. So her grades at school began to plummet.

By the time she was in high-school, although she was by far one of the most beautiful girls in the school, she was an outcast and a loner. She spent her lunches scribbling horror drawings in a notepad which were becoming increasingly sexual. The other boys and girls at the school avoided her and her life became a living hell. Her only escape was a blog that she’d started writing to purge the dark, twisted thoughts each day, before the next night’s horrors commenced.

She graduated from school, alone, friendless, sexually frustrated and depressed. She’d tried drugs, she’d tried counselling, but nothing seemed to shift the black horror that awaited every night. The only thing that was going well in her life was her blog, her stories were gaining a cult following and an army of erotic horror fans awaited every update.

Around a year or two after graduating she was offered her first book deal, and before long she was selling thousands upon thousands of books. A mix of dark horror and erotic fantasy all fuelled by her vivid dreams.  On the face of it she was a brilliant success, a virtual high school drop out, turned best selling author. She lived in a huge beautiful mansion, and her stunning looks all added to the hype. But inside she was slipping deeper and deeper into depression.

She lived alone, in a huge house and was completely unable to hold down a relationship. It was easy for her to pick up boys, but her screaming, thrashing fits each night guaranteed they were only ever one night stands. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d awoken to find the previous night’s lover had slipped out and disappeared without even a note.  One had even tried to sue her for her book writing millions after her unconscious thrashing had given him a black eye.

So she turned again to her blog, pouring out her heart to her army of fans. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, to be given such looks, such riches, but also cursed with nightly vivid nightmares of creatures attacking her, molesting her and beating her. She hated it,

It was on a Saturday morning that she first saw his message.

She was used to fanboys pledging their love for her. Every year at the conventions she had a queue of horny horror fans queuing up for selfies with her as she signed copies of her latest novels. But there was something different about this one.

For a start, thankfully, there was no gross dick pic.

But more than that, it was clear that he wasn’t trying to woo her into his bed at all, rather he wanted to serve her, to kiss her feet and to adore her.

It intrigued her, so she messaged him back.

Their conversations flowed, and before long she’d arranged to meet up with him at a local cafe.  They sat down in the basement as he poured out his heart to her. He talked of how he’d adored her books, but rather than being scared of them, there was something that turned him on. The abuse from the shapeless horrors triggers some primitive urge in him. Although the lead characters in the books were female, he fantasised about being the one pinned down, stripped, whipped and abused by the demons.

She wasn’t sure if she was horrified, or intrigued by his confession.  These imaginary creatures made her life a living hell, yet here was this cute guy, confessing that he wished he could swap places with her.  He was lovely, he was friendly, he was honest, but he was clearly fucked in the head.

But they continued to click with each other. Coffee at the cafe, turned into dinner and drinks, and before long she found herself unlocking her huge front door and inviting him in.

He was visibly shaking as she stripped off in front of him. All of his dreams were coming true, so many times he’d masturbated looking at her picture on the back cover of her novels, and here she was wearing nothing but a few scraps of beautiful red lace lingerie. Her beauty overwhelmed him.

Wary of her heart being broken by the stream of men that had disappeared before, she told him that there would be no sex tonight. All his submissive brain wanted to do was worship her anyway, and so he spent the night pleasuring her with his tongue. She had orgasm after orgasm, while she constantly teased his cock, but never quite let him over the edge. She quite enjoyed the growing imbalance of their relationship.

It was 2am and they were both feeling exhausted.  That was when he suggested it.

He’d read on her blog about the guys slipping out in the night, and so, in a meek and scared voice, he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and asked if she’d handcuff him to the bed post.

What the fuck? She thought. But she saw in his eyes that he was serious. Fuelled by orgasms and seeing his big puppy dog eyes and straining erection, she decided to give it a try.  He settled down at the foot of the bed as she slipped off to sleep like a queen in the bed above him.

She woke up with a start, it was daylight and her pussy was dripping wet. There had been no terrors! No nightmares of gnashing teeth and clawing fingers. No whipping, nothing.  And she felt fucking horny.

The boy, where was the boy?

She jumped out of the covers and saw his hand still cuffed to the foot of the bed. He looked up at her scared, his back had scratch marks all over it.

She was confused, but her pussy was pulsing with blood. “I need another orgasm”, she said, and sat on his face.

Mashing herself into him, she rode his face as his eager tongue flicked across her clit. Grabbing his hair and pulling him deeper into her, his face was soon a sloppy mess of her juices. Her orgasm approached like a train, and hit her hard. Screaming up at the ceiling she pulled his face into her as she climaxed.

His defeated face looked up at her between her knees as she recomposed herself.

Cleaning up in the shower with her, he’d explained that she’d attacked him in her sleep the night before, just after she’d gone to bed. Dragging her nails down his back and digging them into his tender balls and his erection.  He’d pleaded for mercy, but chained to the bed he had no-where to go. Then as quickly as it had started she left him and fell back asleep in her bed till the morning.

It took a long time for her to convince him that she had no recollection of what had happened.

After breakfast and a shower they’d kissed goodbye

She never thought she’d see him again, but three days later he’d come back.

He knelt at her door and handed her a pair of small silver keys.

“I want you to own me!” he said. Afterwards he explained that the keys were for a tiny steel chastity device that he’d locked on his cock. I want to be yours. She liked it.

Another night of fantastic oral sex followed. His talented tongue had danced across her body as his cock had swelled in the cruel steel device.

Again, at the end of the night, she chained him to the foot of her bed, and fell asleep above him.

Haze surrounded her, her half closed eyes blinked in the darkness, her pussy throbbed.

She felt soft flesh in her hands as a muffled scream came to her ears.

Panicked eyes.

A face, a hand, her pussy.

Her red nails dug into him.

She blinked again.

She felt an orgasm brewing.

More darkness.

A scream, her hand around a throat.

She was out of bed, she was on him.

She had become the terror.

Blinking she looked down on him a cruel snarl appearing on her face.

She was as turned on as ever, he looked so scared, and she liked that.

He struggled beneath her weight, but he was unable to escape.

She gradually became more conscious, she was the terror, she was mid orgasm, she had his balls in her hands, squeezing hard.

Orgasm flushed through her as she felt him buck beneath her.

She was wide awake, and this terrified him – she liked this a lot.

As she looked down on him, she knew she could half close her eyes, slip off to bed and pretend that she’d had no memory of this, but she didn’t want to stop.

She held his face in her hands, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

“Now free, now I’m your terror, and I’m never leaving you. You should never have opened this door, because it can’t be closed any more.”

“I own you, welcome to my hell”

For more femdom erotica, visit my blog page.

Opium Wars

Cover for Opium Wars Miss Opium London Asian Mistress

A Mob Femdom Erotica written by Miss Opium’s Pig.

The doorbell rang, and Beatrice walked towards it, she could already see the flashing lights of the police car reflecting in the glass, and the silhouettes of the two policemen looming in the doorway.  Being the wife of a mob boss, this wasn’t the first time she’d had the police turning up at 1am, but they usually hammered on the door rather than ringing the bell.

This worried her.

As she opened the door, their faces told her everything, she felt her heart fall to her feet.

“Mrs Gambino? I’m afraid we’ve got some terrible news, we found the body of your husband in the river about an hour ago. He’s been murdered. It looks like a mob killing, he was given ‘cement shoes’ and thrown in.”

“Mrs Gambino, may I call you Beatrice? There was something strange about it. He was naked, but he had a steel chastity device locked around his private parts. Do you know anything about that?”

She couldn’t focus, her head was spinning. Then, without speaking, she slammed the door closed and slid to the floor.  Beatrice could feel the tragedy within her turning to rage. Her husband, Michael Gambino had been killed by his own gang. It must have been one of his lieutenants.

Was it Frankie? Was it Marco? Surely it couldn’t have been Jimmy? How could this have happened?

She’d have to move fast, one of them was clearly gunning to be the new boss, wheels were probably already in motion, she picked up her phone and dialled the first number…

An hour later, Beatrice’s car pulled into the carpark of the Italian restaurant. The lights were already on, and there were two big mobsters standing by the door. Walking towards the door her Louboutin heels clicked on the concrete announcing her arrival.

She was a sight to behold, her red hair was curled up above her head, her makeup was dark and intense, her red leather coat hugged every curve of her slim body down to her beautifully curved hips.  Her stocking tops also peeked out as she walked in those killer heels. She looked every bit the vampy mobster’s wife.  She was wheeling a bright red suitcase behind her.

The two men, bowed their heads as they stepped aside and opened the doors for her.

Walking in, she could see that the whole Mob family was assembled. That is to say, the three lieutenants, the hit men, the foot soldiers, the lot of them.  Smoke filled the air and the hubbub of excited chatter was bouncing off the walls.

As she approached the table, the room fell silent.

Frankie started to rise from his chair “Beatri…”

“SILENCE!” she cut him off.

Confused looks flew back and forth.



The room recoiled and wide eyes stared back at her.

“Gentlemen, someone murdered my husband, your boss, tonight. Someone in this room was responsible, but they’ve made a terrible terrible mistake.”

Marco went to open his mouth.

“DON’T you fucking dare” she hissed at him.

“As I was saying, they made a terrible mistake.  This meeting of our family is to decide who should take over as the head of the mob, but the head of our mob is still alive.”

Confused looks reverberated around the room.

“Michael was never the boss of this mob. Sure he was your boss, but he was never the top dog. I was, and I still am.”

“You all thought I was some hot trophy wife, the glamorous moll on his arm that made him look good, but you’ve had it all wrong all along.  You’ll read in the papers tomorrow about how the police found him with his little dick locked up in a chastity device.  That’s because he was my little bitch, my faithful little slave. You think he made all the decisions around here? He was simply my hot little secretary, and one of you ungrateful fuckers killed him! You’re going to pay for that”.

She stood with her hands on her hips at the head of the table and let it sink in.

“I’ve been running this fucking mob for years, yet the police haven’t got anything on me. But I’ve got plenty on each and every one of you in this room. I’ve got names, dates, times and motives for enough crimes to put you all behind bars for lifetime upon lifetime upon lifetime.  So you’d better start listening to what this hot little moll has to say”

“Fucking bitch” cried out Marco

“Don’t you fucking dare Marco. The Allied holdings job, the hits on Scarpuco and Davis, the money laundering, you’d rot in the fucking cell the amount I have on you. It’s the same for all of you.”

Frankie went for his gun.

“Nobody fucking move” Beatrice screamed out “All of this, everything is documented and packaged up with my team of lawyers, if anything happens to me, it all goes straight to the police, so sit the fuck down and listen to me”.

She pulled her suitcase up onto the table, and unzipped it.  Flipping open the lid it was full of weird little steel cages.

“I’m going to take over this mob, right now. My best little slave has gone, so you’re all going to have to make up for it. I want every single one of you to drop your pants right now and lock one of these onto your cocks.”

“What the fuck lady!?!”

“You think I’m fucking kidding? I’m not, if you’re not all locked up tight in the next five minutes you can start contemplating the rest of your life behind prison bars. Strip now bitches”

Suddenly, she grabbed Frankie by the scruff of his neck and yanked his trousers down, his cock sprung out, and in seconds she had him stuffed into one of the cold steel devices. She clicked the lock shut, and turned to Marco “You’ve seen how to do it, you next!”

Within minutes the 20 mobsters were all naked and locked up in tight steel devices. She then surveyed her work, the macho men standing awkwardly in the room covering their locked up cocks with their hands.

“You, you and you” she said pointing at three of the younger more handsome men in the room. “Come with me now, the rest of you, I’ll see you back here in a week, if anyone even dares to contact me, I’ll throw away the key to your device and send your file to the police”

She turned on her heels and clicked out of the room.

The three naked mobsters followed her to her car, they were to be her new personal slaves.

One week later she strolled back into the restaurant, it was a very different sight to behold. They’d all seen the police pick up Kenny during the week and heard the stories of him being sent to prison with his cock still locked up tight.  After that none of them dared to step out of line.

They were all sat around the table, stark naked with their cocks squished into the cruel devices.

Beatrice walked in like a queen, followed by her three personal slaves. She had them all wearing matching red collars and was leading them by three red leads.

“How have you all been boys?” she said as she slipped off her red leather coat.

There was a collective groan as they all saw that she was wearing nothing but red lingerie and stockings underneath.  None of the tough guy gangsters had cum in a week and it showed, there balls were churning and the stunning Beatrice knew exactly how to taunt them.

Tonight we’re going to start my interrogation to find out what happened to my slave. Frankie, you’re up first.”

“Boys bring him over here.” The three slaves grabbed Frankie and dragged him to her, throwing him at her feet.

“Kiss them” she said, pointing at her pretty heels.

The once proud gangster puckered his lips and delicately kissed her toes.

“Put him over the table, and you two hold him down” she instructed as she picked up her red leather flogger. The rest of the room looked on as she started to beat him with a fury none of them had ever seen before.  He squirmed, and he squealed, but the two slaves held him tight.

“Tell me what you know” she screamed, as the rough tips of the flogger cracked against his backside. He roared with pain but protested his innocence. Crack, crack, crack the blows rained down on him.

Her face was on fire and she called her third slave over and got him to kneel in front of her. Then, peeling down her knickers, she pulled his face into her pussy as she continued to beat Frankie.

The others in the room were tugging at their devices, their erections bulging against the tiny confines of their cages.

Soon, Beatrice was approaching orgasm, mashing her pussy into her slaves face as Frankie’s welt covered arse writhed under her whip.

Crack, crack, crack, crack “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” she screamed.

The next week it was Marco’s turn.

She had him bound to the table and unlocked his device. He groaned as her soft hands worked him up to a full erection.  Then the rest of the room, none of whom had come in two weeks, now groaned too.

Pulling out a small leather case, Beatrice picked a long metal rod which skewered increasingly sized metal balls.  She ran it down her tongue, then placed the tip of it at the head of his penis. Slowly and methodically she worked it into him as he struggled and squealed.

“Tell me what you know” she said as she pushed the sounding rod deeper and deeper into his erect cock, the balls popping through the tiny slit at the top of his cock. He squealed and begged.

“Tell me what you know” she said as she started pumping the cruel device in and out of his cock. He was gurgling and shaking from tip to toe, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, but unable to get the release he desired.

Beatrice was fingering herself with her other hand as she pumped his cock with the steel. Losing track of his wails, her orgasm washed over her, as his body convulsed from the insane riot of sensations. Then, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, she pulled the rod out of his cock and left him hanging there, his erection bouncing in the room.

Jealous eyes from everyone else watching, he was incoherent, a dribbling wreck. He hardly reacted as her personal slaves brought in the bucket of ice water and plunged his cock into it, before locking him back up once he’d shrunk.

The next week it was Jimmy’s turn.

The room was throbbing with hormones as she sauntered in, her heels clacking. The twenty gangsters hand’t cum in three weeks now. They were wriggling in their chairs, their tongues hanging out as she slipped off her leather coat and they saw another beautiful red lingerie set underneath.

She had Jimmy tied to a big X on the wall and pulled out a violet wand device.

The electricity cracked as she spoke to him “Tell me what you know”.

Starting with his sides, then working on his nipples she soon had him squealing with the shocks from the electricity. She had one slave knelt in front of her, and one behind her as she worked. Their tongues pushing into her holes as she made Jimmy dance in pain.

He begged for mercy but she kept on zapping him, eventually holding his nuts in her hand.

The room could see that she was shaking from the steam train of an orgasm that was fast approaching her. Meanwhile, Jimmy’s eyes pleaded with her as she looked down at his delicate balls.

The two eager tongues lapped at her, as she started to shake and moan. Running the wand down Jimmy’s screaming body she felt it hit his balls as her eyes glazed over. He was screaming and shaking in pain as she was screaming and shaking with her orgasm.  “Fuuuuuuuck!”

By the next week, her mob of gangsters were putty in her hands, and they were deliriously horny and had turned into eager little puppies. She slid off her coat to reveal a red latex leotard and matching latex stockings.

“Kneel” she commanded and the twenty men sunk to their knees.

“Look at you my pretty boys, my slaves. You’re all mine now”

Beatrice climbed up on a table and stood with her legs wide and her hands on her hips as she looked down upon her new harem of slaves.

“I had another visit from the police today boys, they had something very interesting to tell me, apparently there was some CCTV footage from near where they found Michael.  They saw three figures carrying a struggling man before throwing him in, they’re still trying to work out who it was, but they showed me the footage to see if I could help. Of course I pretended I’d never seen them before, but it was obvious from the moment I saw the silhouettes who murdered Michael.  It was Frankie and his son and daughter!”

Frankie looked up in horror and made a bolt for the door, but the other men quickly grabbed him.

“Bring him over, and put this o-ring gag on him” she instructed as they wrestled the man towards her.

Her three slaves dragged in a giant bucket full of wet cement. Frankie’s arms and legs were cuffed together and then he was bent over and plunged into the thick grey liquid up to his calves and forearms. Her personal slaves held him still as the quick drying liquid slowly became more solid.

Beatrice hopped up onto him, sitting side saddle on his back.

“This man murdered my favourite slave” she said, addressing the room. “He murdered your friend Michael”.

“And now he’s going to pay”

“pleashh, pleashhh donthh killthhh meeeth” Frankie spluttered through the gag.

“Oh no, what do you take me for” Beatrice laughed down at him. “That would be much to simple, so dull, I’ve got something much more fun in mind”.

The cement had dried and Beatrice hopped down from her perch on his back. Frankie was doubled over, his arms and legs set in the solid block.

She strolled around to his face, now level with her crotch, grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Then rubbed his nose into her latex covered pussy.

“I’m not going to kill you, you’re going to play a very important part in this mob from now on Frankie.”

She nodded at personal slaves and they left the room for a moment, then came back in carrying Frankie’s son and daughter over their shoulders. The two were in their early twenties, both had been stripped naked and tied up and gagged.

Frankie set them down on the floor.

“You two little shits helped your halfwit father murder my favourite little slave a month ago, tonight I’m going to give you a choice to pledge your allegiance to me instead, or join him in his fate.”

She turned to Frankie who was wriggling and struggling to escape the cement.

“Frankie, if I’m going to run an effective mob of chastised little slaves, I’m going to have to give them some hope that they’ll get to orgasm again one day. Once a month Frankie, I’m going to invite the mob over to this restaurant, and if the boys have done a good job I’m going to unlock their chastity devices and let them cum.”

Beatrice started to laugh while grinding his face into her clit through the thin latex.

“You’re going to be our mob cum dump Frankie, every month for the rest of your life you’re going to be pounded by the entire mob, right here. And tonight your very own son and daughter are going to demonstrate on you.”

The two of them looked up at Beatrice wide eyed from the floor.

“Joe and Daniella, if you don’t want to end up bound in cement like your father, you’re going to fuck him tonight in front of the whole mob.”

Her personal slaved untied them and they realised they had almost no choice. Then, slowly, they got to their feet regretting ever helping Frankie in his mad bid to take over the mob.

Frankie felt something cold on his arse, then suddenly something very firm pushing its way into his arse. It felt like it was splitting him open, slowly, constantly sliding into him and opening him up. Daniella had strapped on a big red rubber cock and was pushing it into him, tears running down her face.

His daughter started working up a pace, pounding his arse with a big rubber strap-on cock. Beatrice stood aside as Joe, Frankie’s son, took her place.  She then continued talking as Frankie saw the erect cock in front of his bulging eyes.

The son and daughter now had Frankie spit roast between them, his mouth and anus stuffed full. He tried to squeal, but the gag held his mouth open and willing.  He tried to struggle but the cement held him still.

“Look at you Frankie! Is this the life you expected as a Mob Boss?”

Beatrice was squealing with laughter as the guilty trio performed their crude porn show. In short, it was a mess of lube, flustered faces and tears.

“In fact, it’s been a month since I locked everyone up hasn’t it Frankie?”

The room of locked up gangster slaves looked up at her hopefully.

Frankie struggled as the pair continued to fuck him. His backside burned, and before long the cock in his mouth started to bulge even more. He felt hands holding the sides of his face as suddenly he gagged on a load of cum gushing down his throat. Finally, and unceremoniously, Joe pulled his cock out through the o-ring gag and out of Frankie’s mouth. Tears were streaming down his face, cum was still dribbling out of the end of his semi erect cock.

It was too much for Daniella, she pulled out at the same time as the rubber cock made a huge ‘plop’ sound. She ran from the room naked with the cock bouncing in front of her, skipping under the arms of the mobsters and out into the night.

“Oh no, Joe, your sister’s abandoned you” teased Beatrice. “I guess there’s only one thing for it, if I can’t trust the pair of you to follow my lead, then it’s cement boots for you too! I guess that means my Mobster boys will get two orgasms a month rather than one!”

They dragged another bucked of cement into the room, and they plunged Joe into it.

“This is going to be a long night Frankie and Joe, in fact it’s going to be a long long life”

“I guess you Mob boys better form a queue then.” Laughed Beatrice

It was certainly clear that the man who’d killed her husband realised his fate was set…

Outside, hiding in the bushes of the carpark Daniella looked in at the scene through the window of the restaurant. She was determined to take revenge on Beatrice and the Mob.

And now after watching Beatrice take command by locking up their cocks she had a blueprint on how to do it.

Tomorrow she’d call her uncle Vito from Italy, before long she too would have a hareem of horny, enslaved gangsters. Before long, she’d have her revenge…