Femdom Stories - Miss Irene Clearmont's Femdom Fiction

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This is the repository for writing that does not easily fit the other sections of my site.

Two Screenplays

A competition on a pornographic filmmaker’s website prompted me to write two short scripts for their contest. Needless to say, I did not win! The exercise was interesting, though. Both scripts are relatively short, only just over 2,000 words a piece.

Writing a script is, I found, a rather different experuience to writing prose fiction. The drama and description are stripped to leave the camera to do all that work and the director to interpret the scenes, mood and voice of the story. At any rate, I enjoyed writing both scripts, learned something and was lucky to find an experienced editor to check through the camera directions and all that special layout and vocabulary that makes film scripts such a mystery to a writer of prose!

First Two Of Seven

The Absentee Bidder


A poem written as a calling card for my correspondence.

Rose Garden Of My Thoughts

Asserting Female Authority
Non Fiction

Together with Jessica, a close friend, I wrote this small introduction for women who are looking for a method that is realistic, to purchase a little control over their partners. This book is mostly Jessica's work and my editing and writing skills are simply in the presentation! There are doubtless a million of these 'make a slave of your partner' books that range from fantasy and hypnosis to guides that have genuine worth. This book takes a slightly different approach to training a man to behave as a woman's plaything. it is based on a teaching method that uses reward and punishmentas the basis for training animals and children.

Men are both!

It is easy to claim that a 'self-help' book has been tested and used with sucess. Impossible to verify the truth of that assertion! All that I can say is that this is not a fantasy guide, it contains a well defined method that can be used effectively.

It is written for women who wonder how to get a grip on their male partners.

It gets them through that difficult phase, the one where they decide what they want and wonder how to move in the right direction. Do not expect a list of suitable products or how to tie knots! This book focuses on the psycological aspects of how to move forward, how to locate and exploit every man's weaknesses. How to create the partner that you always wanted, the one that cares for your every need, the partner who does what he is told with a wave of your hand...

This is not really a BDSM guide, rather it is a path through the organisation of moving a partner towards dependence and obedience through well tried and tested methods that are being applied in all sorts of varied teaching and supervisory roles. A logical and well laid out structure that allows the woman to discover the path that will best lead her man to doing what she wants.

The book takes you through the stages of deciding a strategy, implimenting a structure for those plans and then the implimentation. The road is not straight, neither is it plain and simple. But it is navigable... One other small thing... So many of these 'learn to' books are full of repetition and endless verbiage. I have tried to cut it down to the essentials, allowing the reader to concentrate on the simple principals and methods that will advance the user to her goal.

I cannot recommend this book for male readers unless they somehow pass it on to their female partners in some underhand manner. There is no fictional content, it is a guide book of some 30,000 words that takes the reader towards being the woman in charge of her partner in a realistic and clear manner.

Go for it girls...

Dans la Libre

There is no place quite like a library.

No place at all...

Unless of course you consider the second hand book shop, in all its chaos to be analogous. So when James entered the green-painted bookshop on Tottenham Court Road and smelt that dusty, dry smell of old books for the thousandth time he felt at home. The shelves ran at once lengthways down into the depths of the shop. But they were broken every few yards by piles of books to the cieling.

Ladders leaning against the shelves.

Other boxes that were stacked as if to block the way.

Of attendants, assistants or managers, James could see none... in sight.

So he moved the length of the shelves, an extended hand outstretched to feel the passing spines of those books.

Each one a world of its own as a little dust rickled down.

Engineering, history, erotica, chemistry, fiction and fact. Music and love, rose growing and horsemanship, sword making and religious mystery.  He loved them all for their own sake. He loved them as items, as stores of lore and he loved them as a gathering of places where he could disappear for days; to re-emerge refreshed and full of esoterica.

As he passed down the shop he stopped at a pile of leather clad books and admired the bindings.

One of them struck him as odd. Silver on a red. These were colours that no book binder would use. Like argent on yellow in heraldic design, they were a faux pas of the clearest type.

He lifted the volume and saw ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ as the title. A strange title, a peculiar volume because as he picked it up, it grew heavy and he found it impossible to open. Suddenly he needed to open the book, he needed to see if it was written in French, who were the ‘Amazones’? What could be the story or lecture that it would deliver? The weight of the book seemed to increase as he struggled to part the bindings and see inside.

As he did so he realised that the book was not just getting heavier. Like Alice before the caterpillar, he seemed to be shrinking or else all about him was swelling! James managed to place the fifty kilo book back on the pile and then realised that his feet no longer touched the ground. He dangled as he shrunk and the book loomed over him like a roof, an immovable overhang until at last he was nothing more than a small figure hanging from the lip supplied by the cover of ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’.


He hung and realised that soon he would drop to the floor that seemed miles below. A fall that might well be, to his death.

So he struggled and could not pull himself up!

At that moment an enormous figure approached. A woman who wore glasses and a high collared blouse. Smiling and laughing at his distress...

She stooped over the pile of books and looked down at James hanging onto the cover of ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ and smiled as her huge hand came up to lift him into her palm. She said something, but the depth of her voice was almost too low to hear. He tried calling to her, but all he got was laughter in a low register in reply. Standing on her palm he was perhaps just a couple of inches high, a miniature man on the hand of a huge woman whose hand was closing.

He cried out in shock as the hand closed and he was imprisoned before the hand tipped.

James was at the lip and looked over the cliff of her palm as it tipped.

He saw a hand opening the ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ book.

He heard her say something in that barely to be heard rumble.

He looked down and saw the open page of the tome.

He fell free as the hand that held him tipped.

James fell and saw the illustration that awaited him. As he fell he noticed that the figures almost seemed to be moving. The fall seemed to slow it seemed as though he was floating down. Far to the left the huge hand held the book open, the voice bellowed in its bass tone and the woman consigned him to the hell which amused her as she sat in the shop at night and climaxed over the small pictures that would soon change - just a little - as James took the place of every male victim in the book!


Nightmare or real?


James could see the two women looking up at him as he drifted into the picture that filled the page. An Edwardian drawing room and the women moved. One was dressed in a long dress and smiled as he drifted into the story. The other held a long whip in her hand and waited until he had found his way into the picture and discovered that he was naked, chained and kneeling before the two women who were about to punish him.

For a moment he looked up and could see out of the book that the store assistant had dropped him into.

He could see her hand slipping under her skirt, he could see the rapture on her face and he knew that he was her amusement.

Gradually the outside world faded and James realised that the two women in the illustration were for real...

They spoke a few words in French and laughed as the half-naked woman with the whip cracked the whip and then cut him with the first blow. A spray of blood, a few drops as the skin was cut and James howled with agony.

The woman in the dress pulled a pincushion from her dress and smiled. She spoke a few words in French and pulled the first pin free of the small pad.

James cried out and begged for mercy. He sobbed and pleaded he implored and entreated and they laughed before they pulled on the lace-up masks to enjoy his fear all the more...


No one ever lasted more than an hour or two in  ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’, thought the store assistant, but those women surely made a good show as they tortured their latest victim and made him suffer alternate climax and agony, orgasm and ejeculation and anguish followed by whippings, needles and razors. Soon, in just a day or so, James would fade from their world and find himself in the next book down on the pile to live out its adventures. He would fall through the stack if she allowed him to. Elaine, the shop assistent picked a book from the shelf and checked its spine. '120 Days Of Sodom. The unexpurgated version.' proclaimed the cover.

'It is so much better tha having a real boyfriend,' Elaine thought to herself as she watched the six inch pins being used on James by the two women in the old French book of erotica. 'I just love watching them silently scream in agony... and then coming on command!'

Carefully she lifted the ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ where James was being whipped by an expert and she placed the De Sade volume below it!

Soon he would be present in France before the revoloution and then she could watch him suffer the hundred and fifty complex passions of De Sade. She frigged herself to ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ and climaxed when James was tied to the altar in front of the house's evil mistress. If Elaine remembered she would then move ‘Dans la Maison des Amazones’ underneath De Sade again and let him enjoy all that terror again, and again...

The second time around...

...it was always so much more arousing!


James fell into:

‘Dans la Maison des Amazones.’ by Bernard Montorgueil
'120 Days Of Sodom.'           by The Maquis De Sade


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