EXTRACT FOR
Awakening The Mature BBW Domme
(Miranda Birch)

Pete had popped out that Sunday morning to get the papers. His girlfriend Jenny was still in bed when he left. It was a bright, clear morning, and he whistled happily on his way back from the newsagents. With a bit of luck, Jenny would be up and have breakfast on the go by the time he rejoined her in his flat. He was a lucky guy, having this sexy, buxom blonde to share his bed and look after him when she was up in London. 



Breezily he sauntered through the living room door, newspaper under his arm -- and stopped dead. Jenny was up right enough, and dressed -- but there was no sign of breakfast. She was sitting there on the sofa, arms folded and a face like thunder. Scattered all over the floor in front of her was his entire femdom magazine collection. Some of the magazines were torn and ripped, others still intact. Pete had popped out that Sunday morning to get the papers. His girlfriend Jenny was still in bed when he left. It was a bright, clear morning, and he whistled happily on his way back from the newsagents. With a bit of luck, Jenny would be up and have breakfast on the go by the time he rejoined her in his flat. He was a lucky guy, having this sexy, buxom blonde to share his bed and look after him when she was up in London. 



Breezily he sauntered through the living room door, newspaper under his arm -- and stopped dead. Jenny was up right enough, and dressed -- but there was no sign of breakfast. She was sitting there on the sofa, arms folded and a face like thunder. Scattered all over the floor in front of her was his entire femdom magazine collection. Some of the magazines were torn and ripped, others still intact. 



"What the bloody hell is all this?" Jenny demanded of him angrily. 



"I..." 



"Well?" 



"Oh, look, it's..." 



"It's pornographic rubbish, is what it is!" she interrupted angrily. "And you've got contact magazines here with some ads marked -- what's that all about?" 



"Oh, I didn't..." 



"What?" she interrupted again, her voice strident. "How many of these old slags have you been with? Eh?" 



"Oh, none! I didn't..." 



"Oh, no, I'll bet you didn't", she said even more loudly. "Of course you didn't! So why are the ads marked? We both know the answer to that one!" She paused, glaring at him angrily. He was speechless, and couldn't meet her gaze. 



"I was wondering why our sex-life had dropped off a bit. Too busy wanking to your wank-mags, no doubt!" 



She held one up and regarded the rather plain woman on the cover with distaste. 



"Prefer this slapper to me, do you?" she asked scornfully. 



"No, no! That's not..." 



"Oh, save the excuses." 



Jenny flung the magazine to the floor. Her first outburst of furious rage had begun to dissipate, but she was still very, very angry. 



"Right, I want these all in a bin-bag and in the bin, now!" 



He did just that. What else could he do? When he came back she was standing erect, hands on hips, looking formidable. 



"You want to be dominated? I'll bloody give you domination! Get your clothes off!" 



"What? But, I..." 



She moved close and before he knew what had hit him, had delivered two stinging back-handers across his face. 



"You'd strip off double-quick for one of those slags, wouldn't you?!" she roared furiously. 



Pete was utterly dumbfounded. She had never been violent before. His immediate response was to hit back, but... you couldn't hit a woman, could you? And he was in the wrong, sort of... 



He took off his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. 



Jenny had resumed her seat. She was wearing a white blouse and black skirt. She crossed her legs, exposing a generous amount of stocking-clad leg. 



"Come on, move it!" she instructed imperiously. "Everything off!" 



He got his shirt off, and moved to hang it over the back of a chair. 



"Just drop 'em! It's me that does your ironing anyway. More fool me!" 



Bemused, he obeyed. He dropped his trousers, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Finally the shorts came down. He stood naked, his clothes lying about him. 



"Give me that belt!" 



He un-looped the belt from his trousers and passed her the long, thin strip of black leather. She rose from her seat. 



"Bend over!" 



"What?" 



"I said, bend over! Now do it!" 



Pete bent over, feeling foolish. That feeling disappeared at once as he felt the sudden pain across his rump -- the bitch had hit him with his own belt! 



"Hey!" 



"This is what you want, this is what you get!" 



And she gave him another hefty cut with the belt. Jenny belted him until her arm was sore and her anger had flown. She felt sorry for him then. She dropped the belt. He straightened up, looking cross and humiliated. He avoided her eyes. She knew that look. She approached him, touched him hesitantly. They embraced wordlessly. "Take me upstairs," she whispered. And he did. 



In the bedroom, she told him to kneel and watch. Then she did a strip-tease for him. She was wearing the sexy black undies she knew he liked: lacey black bra struggling to contain her 40DDs; skimpy black panties; black lace suspender belt taut over her ample belly, sheer black stockings encircling her generous milk-white thighs. 



When she was nude after doing a bit of a twirl she stood next to him and turned her back. 



"Kiss my bottom and tell me how sorry you are!" She tried to sound cross again, but her heart wasn't in it 



Pete feel to his knees and began to kiss her bottom lovingly, just the way she liked. He was the first boyfriend who had ever paid such attention to her big bum. She had been surprised when he first did it; now, she expected it, wanted it.