LITTLE RED RIDING BOOTS

Once upon a time a Girl called Little Red Riding Boots was on Her way to see Her grandmother. And, as always, She met Mr. Wolf along the way.
Good-day, Riding Boots, said he. Whither away so early?
To granny, if you must know, sighed She.
He stared at Her boots and shook his head disapprovingly: These are not riding boots, Little Red!
One word for you, Wolf, She growled: fuck off.
He said something very, very naughty and disappeared into the trees. One hour later She arrived at the cottage. Her grandmother looked very strange.
Oh, grandmother, said She, what hairy arms you have!
It’s true, child, I look like woolly mammoth nowadays. Better call me Hairy Granny from now on.
But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!
Yes, I’ve been sniffing some coke, and I’m tripping all over the place.
Grandmother, what an enormous dick you have.”
All the better to fu-
Little Red Riding Boots grabbed the slithering dick with Her left- and a large butcher’s knife from Her basket with Her right hand. She pushed the knife underneath his scrotum.
Hello, Wolfie! She grinned. Look in My basket.
He obeyed and screamed in horror.
Jesus! Are these … testicles?
Very good! Ain’t they cute? They belong, or should I say belonged, to My other victims.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, said he, with renewed confidence, I know this tale and this is not how the story goes.
True, said She, but this is how your story ends.

THE CONNOISSEUR

He took me down to the cellar and showed me a rack filled with wooden wine boxes.
I’m not a wine collector, he explained, sliding the lid of a box, I collect worn panties.
And lo and behold, inside the box was a plastic zip bag with a panty.
I have collected 217 panties already; Lady Anja, Queen Ti (aka Tea), Goddess Sasha, Mistress Ilse, Lady Marion, their panties are all here.
Explain to me how it works, I asked intrigued.
It’s a Birthday Box kinda thing, if you know what I mean. All boxes are labeled with a date. Today it’s Mistress Kate’s birthday for example, so during the day I will watch some of Her clips or look at a bunch of pictures. I’m putting the kettle on, so to speak. I’m warming up. And then, between eight or nine this evening, I will open Her sealed bag and take three long sniffs.
That’s it? Three sniffs?
One must not overdo it, you know, he explained. After that, I sing Happy Birthday for Her.
Online?
No, in the cellar.
Right, right. But … let me get this straight, you don’t touch the panties.
Of course not! Jesus, are you nuts? A worn panty means more to me than all the money in the world. So I handle them delicately and gracefully. Fresh, Fruity & Smelly, that’s the threesome I’m looking for. My goal is to have a collection of 365+1 panties. One for each day.

THE NEED TO BE HEARD

In short, Milady, we demand shorter workdays, decent wages, less stressful working conditions, full weekends off, better bathing facilities, nutritious meals and new beds. Oh, and an iPad.
Lady Lock had been listening with open mouth.
This is a Hard Labor Camp, you do know that, don’t you, slave?
Of course, Milady, of course. But we want to be heard, You see.
You want to be heard …
Actually, we DEMAND to be heard, Milady.
OK, slave, if you demand to be heard, then by God, you shall be heard.
Are You … are You teasing me now, Milady?
I’m not, slave. Your screams of pain and mercy shall be heard, I guarantee you that!
I understand, Milady, he quickly said, this is not the right moment. I’ll come ba-
Your screams shall be heard throughout the entire state, over the hills and across the seas. You will scream till your voice is gone, beg till you go not tears to cry.
I apologize, Milady, he said soothingly, I’ve crossed the line, I realize that now. Forgive me my behavior, I’m really, really sorry. But can we at least talk about free lotion, Milady? I have a very sensitive skin that gets dry very quickly.
We have not heard from him since.

BAGGED

They’d tortured him for days to get information, but he didn’t say a word. Then a gorgeous blond Lady with glossy lips, smokey eyes and killer legs stepped into the interrogation room. Thank God his dick couldn’t speak, because that bloody thing was ready to spill the beans.
I see you’re getting hard for Me, She said, let’s hope you’re also willing to die for Me.
She stood behind him, put a plastic bag over his head and squeezed it tight around his neck. He was tied to a chair, couldn’t move a muscle. The bag was expanding in and out, as he struggled for oxygen. He panicked and his eyes almost popped out of his head. He was about to lose consciousness. She let him breathe a few seconds and bagged him again. And again ….. and again. And yet again. She was a skilled and experienced torturer & interrogator and She allowed him just enough air to survive. It took Her less than fifteen minutes to break him. He told Her everything She wanted to know. And more. In the end She had to gag him to make him shut up.
A plastic bag costs a penny and is worth a million, She said. And you can’t argue with that.

A NEW BEGINNING

You live and work on My land, care for the animals and help maintain the estate. Eighty percent of what you grow and harvest is Mine, the rest is yours. But, in all honesty, everything you own and everything you produce actually belongs to Me. I can take whatever I want. Instead of money, you can earn certain privileges. The privilege to be in the same room with Me, for example. Or the privilege to clean My boots, drive Me to town, be whipped by Me personally … Those things are more valuable than all the money in the world, don’t you think?
You are not allowed to leave the estate without My permission. And even then, you are not allowed to leave for more than eight hours. Sexual relationships with Women, or men for that matter, are strictly forbidden. Should I, in the unlikely event, allow you to marry someone from another estate, then you must pay me a hefty fine. Which is impossible, since you are not allowed to earn any money.
Of course, you can always try to run away. I would strongly advise against it though, since you’re penniless and don’t have any papers that show you’re a free man. Trust Me, people will avoid you like the plague and no one will help you. On the contrary, they will notify Me right away and I will sent the bloodhounds after you. Your are mine, you better get used to the idea.
November 2118, Sarah Clarke – A New Beginning

EARL GREY

I could fetch a good price for you at the market, Sasha said.
He’d been smitten with Her from the moment he saw Her. Of course, She was way out of his league, he knew that. But when She’d invited him for tea, he had eagerly accepted the invitation.
He giggled: Flower Market? Fish Market? Flea Mark-
Slave Market.
Wow!!! Well, in case you didn’t know, slavery was abolish-
Slaves to Women.
He shifted nervously on his chair. Let’s enjoy our Earl Grey, shall we?
So, you don’t want to be sold?
He shook his head, slightly irritated.
Well, you’re worth quite a bit of money, so you will have to compensate Me for My loss.
Sasha! Drop it!
She snapped Her fingers. The door flew open and ten Women burst into the room.
Beat him up and cage him, Sasha commanded.
Stop!!! Jesus, what’s wrong with you! OK, I will compensate you. I’ll give you $50. Happy now?
Don’t be absurd. The price is $75.000.
WHAT!!! I’m not worth that kinda money!!
Take him downstairs, Ladies, and torture him.
Please, Sasha, please don’t do this to me. I beg you!
See? You’re a natural born submissive! I haven’t even started yet and you’re already begging!
Poor lad. He went from Earl Grey to Gray Early in a matter of minutes.

FEMDOM SLAVERY

According to many, the relationship between Mistress and slave is based on sexual attraction. She’s in charge, but She also listens to his needs (a daily blowjob for example) and respects his limits. So, at the end of the day, when all is mildly whipped and lovingly slapped, he is the puppet-master and She’s the puppet. Call me a primitive, but I believe in the simple and accurate definition of the word slave: someone who is the property of another person and is forced to work and obey. Come on, She doesn’t need our permission to punish us! And She sure as hell doesn’t need to take our limits into consideration. She can use and abuse us to Her heart’s content. Take our money, and our nuts while She’s at it, put our dick in the nick for months on end, sell us to the highest bidder or donate us to a vivisectionist. And what are we going to do about all this? File a complaint? For what? For being a slave? We chose the path of submission ourselves, no one forced us. So embrace it, regardless of how painful, humiliating, confusing it can be. Regardless of how much we dislike certain things. If you want to be a slave, then act like one. No limits, no restrictions, no rights, no way out. Anything less has nothing to do with slavery.

HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN

In the year 125 BC, the Romans captured the Warrior Queen Allovera, who was said to be the most beautiful Woman in the world. It made Anus Contanus, a guard in one of Rome’s most notorious prisons, very nervous, because the cells were downright filthy. Not worthy of any Woman, let alone a Queen. So he ordered Nilfisk, a Danish slave, to take the push-up position on the floor. Anus grabbed him by the ankles and moved him around, while Nilfisk sucked up all the cobwebs, ants, cockroaches, fleas and mouse droppings with his mouth. Then they cleaned everything with water and brought perfume, flowers and soft cushions to lay in the cells. Queen Allovera arrived the next day and was marched to Her cell by general Aprillis Maius. After he’d left, Anus went to Her cell, knocked on the door, awaited Her response, and went in. Her beauty literally took his breath away. Her face was gorgeous, Her skin flawless, Her eyes mesmerizing and Her dress exquisite. He pulled himself together, because there was nothing he could do to change Her faith. It was out of his ha-
Will you help Me to escape from this place?
His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Yes, Your Majesty, he whispered.
Submit to My will and obey Me without question?
Yes, Your Majesty.
Give Me power over your miserable life and your painful death?
Yes, Your Majesty.
Very well, I hereby take you as My slave.
Just like that.

THE DRAIN

I visited The Drain today, the shelter for dismissed, unowned and unwanted slaves. It’s a sad place, man, because most of these guys are addicted: to leather, panties, feet, spit, boots, heels, latex, piss, slaps, kicks, rubber; you name it, they crave it. These addictions will only grow stronger and stronger in time, we all know that. They will never go away or get better. Most of the guys down here try to make the best of the situation. Bill for example, part-time carpenter and full-time masochist, has turned to self flagellation; Fred bought a pair of boots and licks them like lollipops; Jordan slaps himself to sleep and ballbusting lover Tom is constantly trying to kick himself in the groin. Others fall back into old habits, like excessive masturbating.
Some save money to move away, but someone like Phil for example is still financially drained by his former Mistress and his salary goes straight into Her account. These men are damaged goods and their future looks rather bleak at the moment. But there’s always hope, as Anthony explained to me: I’m hopeful that a strict Mistress will find me eventually. I’m down on my luck right now, so the dream of servitude is my most precious procession.
T. Rondel – April 2096.

FEMDOM LINES

I’m not satisfied, She said (which made sense, because She wasn’t easily satisfied to begin with), you will write 500 lines saying:

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times,
(depending which side of the whip you’re on)
it is the age of Female wisdom,
it is the age of male foolishness.

I was exited and set off to work with a boner in my pants. Good old gullible me. Reality set in after the first page: this was going to be a monumentally boring task. My hand hurt like the Dickens, because I held the pen too tightly. The handwriting slanted from from upper- to lowercase and from to left to right, like a drunk on a bike. It was a monstrous task and it took forever. In the end I handed Her a stack of papers (written in blood, sweat and tears). She hardly even looked at them, but gave them to one of Her slaves instead.
Go through it with a fine-tooth comb, She ordered, and find everything that is incorrect. You will be rewarded for each mistake you find.
Nice touch!
She looked at me with a sadistic smile. The next time I will not be so nice, slave.
Thank You Mistress, I whispered, for teaching me a lesson.
I meant every word of it, because this simple and tedious task turned out to be a most effective punishment. She could double, triple, quadruple the amount of lines in a heartbeat. And that knowledge humbled me in a way I never imagined.

SWEAT FETISH

I will do everything for You, You know that, he said.
Really? Everything? She smiled teasingly.
Whatever You say I will do for You. I swear, Milady.
Alright then, clean My sweaty armpits.
He didn’t hesitate and dived in like a dehydrated dog in the desert. The smell of Her armpit was sour, salty and hot.
Take some deep breaths, She instructed. That’s it. Go on, I didn’t tell you to stop, did I? Savour the aroma and flavour. Good boy!
He loved it when She talked like that.
Go on then, lick them clean, show Me how obedient you are. 
He moaned as his tongue touched Her soft skin. Her sweat was so juicy, Her odor so intense; he licked and rubbed his nose in. He was working up a sweat, one might say.
What do you think of My armpits, slave?
You have the most magnificent, glorious, supreme and awesome armpits I’ve ever seen, Milady, he whispered.
That’s correct, My pet. Don’t ever forget it.

SCROTUM LEASH

♬ Her hand with the rope goes round and round
Round and round, round and round
Her hand with the rope goes round and round
All around his scrotum ♬

Lisa wrapped the rope around his cock and his balls five times, tied it off and pulled the loose end of the rope. She had already slapped, kicked, kneed, squeezed, clamped, caged and tortured the mangled remains of his manhood, so one pull was enough to make him moan in agony. And that was music to Her ears. She tied his hands behind his back and a short whipcord around his ankles. She grinned and started to drag him around the house like a dog on a leash. He tried to follow Her as fast as he could, but the whipcord only allowed him to take small steps.
Don’t be so goddamn lazy, She snapped, get a move on!
She tugged the rope hard. He gasped for air and screamed in pain. His balls turned from dark-red to purple and then into blue. Fascinating stuff.
She yanked him down the stairs, into the garden. He begged for mercy, begged Her to slow down, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Instead, She pulled the rope even harder. So much power, just by using a simple piece of rope. She loved it!
Please, Mistress, please not so hard, you’re castrating me!
She stopped and turned around with a big smile on Her face: Now, there’s a thought!

SHOES & VINEGAR

Fanny Murray (1729-1778) was allegedly the most beautiful and undoubtedly the most famous courtesan of Her generation. Novels were dedicated to Her, songs and poems paid tribute to Her beauty, ships were named after Her, as were racehorses and even gin cocktails (Fanny Murray’s Pick-Me-Up for example, or a Fanny Murray’s Nettle Juice). The men in those days certainly knew how to put a Lady on a pedestal! Nowadays we pride ourselves for cleaning a Lady’s shoes with our tongue. We honestly think that’s the superlative of submissiveness and a true token of devotion. But then again: we live in a time where getting out of bed each morning is enough to earn the hero status, so it’s not really surprising that doing the absolute minimum is considered to be a huge achievement. Many of Fanny’s followers would shake their heads in disbelief. Not only did they use Her shoes as champagne glasses, according to a famous anecdote a couple of Her most devoted worshippers ate Her shoes in 1747. Sliced and fried in butter, to testify their affection for the Lady. Compared to that we’re all oafs, wouldn’t you say? So, a worn shoe please, sprinkled with parsley and vinegar on the side. Yummy!

FEMDOM DATE

My friends hooked me up on a blind date with a Girl called Chanel. She’s very bossy and demanding, they explained, right up your alley. Turned out She was actually somewhat shy and not bossy at all. Not at first anyway. We talked about family, our jobs, favorite dishes, books, movies and hobbies. Hers were shopping (what else), traveling, dancing, cooking and needlework.
Needlework? I sounded surprised. Do you mean embroidery and such?
She looked at me as if I’d just walked out of the Old Testament.
That’s one way of putting it, She slowly said.
Three hours later we ended up at Her place. I don’t know how She did it, man, but She talked me out of my clothes in no time and tied me to a St. Andrews Cross. Must have been the wine, I guess. She then took a long needle from a tray.
Let’s start with the nipples, shall we?
What do you mean!?!
Needlework, She said with a smile.
Ah …
I will also stick a few needles right through your balls, how awesome is that!
I ‘m not sure, I said hesitantly, does it hurt?
She shrugged Her shoulders: I don’t know, I don’t have a scrotum, do I? But not to worry, in case of an energy, I will sew you up.
Screw me up??
Yeah, that as well.

FOREVER

John? Is that you??
His face lit up like a Christmas tree, because he’d recognize that voice anywhere.
Madame!!!
She offered Her hand and he kissed it passionately.
Buy Me a coffee, She said, for old time’s sake.
They talked for hours. About marriage, work, (grand)children, aches & pains and everything else under the sun (is it thirty years ago already, unbelievable).
You’re still well mannered, I see, She said, smiling approvingly.
Trained and drilled by the best, he smiled, touching Her hand affectionately.
That’s so sweet of you to say. I’m glad the others didn’t ruin everything I taught you.
I didn’t serve anyone but You, Madame.
She looked bewildered.
Are you serious? Thank God loyalty still exists in this world. So you haven’t been whipped, caned and tortured for more than thirty years then?
Gout & Rheumatism took care of that, Madame.
They laughed and She shook Her head.
I’m still a bit frazzled to be honest. You didn’t serve anyone but Me … how about that …
He smiled and touched Her hand once again.
I was already Your slave long before we ever met, Madame, he said, and I remained Your slave long after You’d gone. I was born to serve You … so I did.

SUPERHEROINE

Operations Manager Dick “The Bull” Adams was working late. Again. It was shortly after ten when he heard something.
Who’s there? Show yourself!
A Woman in a super-heroine costume stepped into the office.
Jesus Christ, he laughed, fell out of a comic book, did you? He looked at Her more closely: wait a minute … I know you, you are Daisy … Daisy … what was it? Duck?
Dawn.
Daisy Dawn, that’s it. Didn’t I sack you?
You did, that’s one of the reasons why I’m here.
He laughed out loud: Let me guess, stupid by day, super by night, is that it?
A flash of red and green knocked him off his chair and tore his clothes. She stood above him, hands on Her hips, smiling down on him like an evil Goddess. She lifted him off the ground with two fingers and threw him through the office like a discus with a dick. The next thing he knew, he was lying butt naked, on his back, on his desk.
W.what are You d.doing, he mumbled groggy.
I’m tying you to the desk, asshole! Then I’m going invite your employees to come over.
You … you c.can’t do that!
I’m already doing it.
Her rope was glowing gold and bright orange.
Is … is that the las-… the lasso o.of truth? he moaned.
Don’t be absurd, She said, you read way too much comic books.

HANDCUFFED

Patricia worked in the local bakery where he used to buy his bread. He was smitten with Her right from the start and over the months, loaf after loaf, they became friends. She wanted to be a police officer, She said, just like Her daddy. And lo and behold, a short while later She joined the police academy. One day they went out for a coffee and She told him She was going to learn how to take-down and handcuff compliant and non-compliant subjects.
You’ll need someone to practice on, and I volunteer, he giggled.
To his astonishment, She accepted the offer and three days later the cuffs were on. At first it was a bit awkward, weird and uncomfortable, but things got better and it didn’t take long before She threw him around like a rag doll. Being forced to the ground and handcuffed over & over & over again was a wet dream come true. At some point he lay face down on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back.
Time for a drink, She said.
Hello, he laughed, what about me?
What about you? You’re arrested, so shut up.
Yes, Ma’am, he meekly said.
Ah, you’re such a good friend, She smiled. Next week I’m going to practice interrogation techniques on you. It’s going to get rough, but I’m sure you’ll love it.

TUNNEL VISION

How long did it take for you to dig the tunnel? the Female Police Detective asked.
Seven years, eight months, three weeks, four days and nineteen hours, Ma’am.
Right, right. And how long is the tunnel?
Almost six kilometers.
She paused for a moment, tapping Her fingers on the desk.
Why a tunnel?
Why?? Because my Wife is extremely dominant, demanding and ruthless. My marriage is a prison, that’s why. I had to escape.
But … you were not locked up in a dungeon, not chained to a wall, not wearing legs irons, right?
Of course not, he giggled.
You used the car to go to work and you were even allowed to hang out with your friends.
That is correct, once a month.
Once a month, there you go. So … you could have left whenever you wanted to … Taken the car and driven off into the sunset. Why a tunnel?
He looked bewildered, his mouth opening and closing, with nothing coming out. His tiny little brain tumbled ’round and ’round in his skull like laundry in a washer.
Yes, well … if you put it like that, he finally whispered.
Now you have to appear in court and will be sent to prison.
Dear God, he panicked, I hope not!
Your Wife is the judge, right?
She is, yes.
Yeah, you will be sent to prison. Time for a tunnel, I would say.

WHAT A KNOCKOUT

Victoria “Bone-Crusher” Adams was an experienced boxer. Joe “The Dick” Brown was not. The only ring he’d ever been in, was the Ring of Brodgar, a Neolithic stone circle. And yet, this loudmouthed dumb-ass challenged Victoria to a match. He was going to whoop Her ass, he said, show Her who’s boss. Is there anything more embarrassing than a loudmouth with an empty brain?
And so he stepped into the ring, all pumped up and ready to rumble. There was another Woman in the ring and he immediately punched Her in the face. The referee pulled him away: That’s the Ring Girl, you idiot! The bell hasn’t even rung yet, so calm down.
Victoria looked drop dead gorgeous, as always, in Her black, shiny, boxing shorts. The bell rang and Joe stormed at Her like a bad-tempered bull. He hit, hit, and hit …. nothing but air. Then Victoria landed a right hook, a short right lead, a hard left to the body and a solid straight jab to his nose. Ouch! She hit him again, this time with a flawless uppercut. Joe literally flew through the ring like a Frisbee on the beach. He was knocked out cold, man, just a heap of skin and bones on the canvas. Victoria stood over him, placed Her foot on his chest and showed us Her gorgeous muscles. What a Knockout!

FEMDOM VACANCY

When I saw the vacancy for a house slave, I immediately applied. Because who wouldn’t want to serve the gorgeous Mistress Emma, right? The application procedure consisted of four stages and after successfully completing all rounds, I reached the final along with three others. It was November and already quite chilly, but She wanted to meet me at the pond in the park.
Always listen very carefully, She explained, and obey Me unconditionally and immediately, without question or hesitation. Are you ready for the final test?
Yes, Mistress, I whispered.
Alright. Jump into the water and swim across the pond.
I admit, I had been trembling with awe, but I still had the clarity of mind to take my wallet and keys out of my pocket and put them on the grass. You see, not all men are idiots! Then, without further ado, I jumped in. Jesus Christ, the water was cold! My clothes pulled me down and I had to swim hard to get to the other side. And back. I came out of the water like a drowned rat. She looked at me in amazement and disbelief and told me to go home.
I didn’t get the job. In Her own words: I told you to swim across the pond, I never said anything about keeping your clothes on. One of the other slaves was smart enough to take them off.
Honestly, that never even crossed my mind.

FEMDOM RAID

In the year of our Lord two thousand and ninety-nine, dire portents appeared over our land. They consisted of immense whirlwinds and flashes of lightning, and fiery dragons were seen flying in the air. Fear struck in our hearts, and gloom and sadness fell over the land. Now the cloud was very black, and the storm would come upon us very sharp. In the beginning of June a large fleet of Femdommes arrived, speedy vessels to the number of seventy-three. These strong and powerful Women invaded our land like fearful wolves and overran our country in all directions. Terror rode triumphantly on a pale horse through our streets and broke into every house. Many a man was captured and taken away in chains. They drove them out naked and loaded with insults. The rest of the men fled their homes and hid in the forests and mountains for days. Once they were kings, generals and commanders, mighty men who ruled the world. Now the last of the free hid in caves and lived in great fear. They lamented bitterly over the terrible fate that would befall them. For they knew that the days of freedom were numbered and that a life in slavery was about to begin. Male Chronicles – The Beginning Of The End.

QUALITY TIME

There is a time to sleep and a time to slap; a time for Me to give a beating and a time for you to take a beating, a time for whipping and a time for wining (preferably white); a time to give Me your money and a time to take your money. So there you have it: there is a time for everything. Wasting My precious time is unforgivable and will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. So you get ten seconds to take off your clothes, for example. And make no mistake, I will be counting backwards: 10-9-8-7… If you can’t do it within that time-frame, you will be punished. Twenty strokes with the cane, to be precise. No, I don’t care if you’ve had a similar beating half an hour ago. Time waits for no one, slave, and certainly not for you. Thirty minutes to clean the windows in and out, eight minutes to clean the toilet, ten to clean the shower. I will check everything meticulously and if it doesn’t meet My requirements, you will be punished. Not tomorrow or the day after that, but immediately. Because there’s no time like the present. In the unlikely event that I want you to masturbate and cum for Me, you get one minute to get it done (aka out). Don’t look so shocked, slave. Trust Me, you’ll get used to it … in time.

CONSIDER THIS

The Queen dislikes men and surrounds Herself with hundreds of trustworthy, hard-working Females who are at Her beck and call. These are not ordinary housemaids though; they’re all armed to the teeth, dangerous and ready to kick some ass. Men are used for breeding purposes only and are not allowed to carry a weapon. Most of them are not even allowed to live in the palace. They live in nearby villages and hang around the palace walls all day long.
In times of shortage the guys inside the palace are thrown out as well, because they’re just another mouth to feed. And yet, in spite of everything, each and everyone of them is willing and eager to die for the Queen. Which is just as well, because that’s exactly what happens to the (un)lucky one who is chosen to have sex with Her. Immediately after spitting his seed, She cuts off his penis and leaves him to die. Rough sex, man.
No, no, you can’t meet the Queen, are you kidding! I’ve described a bee colony to you. She’s a bee Queen, you see. Funny isn’t it: there’s more Female Domination going on in one single bee hive than in 200,000 years of humanity. Fuck bee .. uh … me.

THE TALE OF TAILS

I get horn- … uh … aroused when I see a Woman with a ponytail, he blushed.
There’s no shame in that, the Female therapist smiled, it’s called trichophilia.
Oh, my God, he panicked, is it dangerous? Contagious perhaps? Is it curable?
She looked at him with new eyes and a mighty appetite.
Describe to Me what happens when you see a ponytail.
I get all dizzy and I lose the will to think, he whispered. It makes me feel so, So, SO submissive. And … well, yes, there’s something mighty happening between my legs as well. Terribly embarrassing when I’m in public or with friends.
This is more serious than I thought, She said with a heavy sigh and enough drama to start a TV series. It’s going to take a lot of sessions and a lot of money to get results.
Money is not the problem, he sobbed.
If I were a man, She thought, I would get a hard-on right here, right now.
All this happened seven years ago and he’s still in therapy. She always wears a ponytail, so She’s not really curing him, She’s feeding his fetish. She has complete power over him and drains him emotionally and financially. Mercy? No, man, She has no mercy whatsoever. She has a ponytail.

ANONYMOUS SLAVES

Hello, my name is Bob, I’m a slave to my Wife.
Hello, Bob, Carl said, welcome to the “Bruised & Battered” meeting of Anonymous Slaves. We gather weekly to listen, share, support and help. Does your Wife know you’re here?
No, She thinks I’m in the pub, getting blind drunk.
Nice one, dude, one of the group members said.
Does She humiliate you?
She does. On my knees all day, licking Her feet, smelling Her socks, having panty’s stuffed into my mouth, forced pee dri-
Oh, sweet Jesus, Sissy-She screamed in horror, no more, no more!
Sissy, sweetheart, Carl calmly said, I know it’s horrible, but let’s listen to Bob, shall we?
Of course, of course! Poor thing!
What about punishments, Bob?
Whips, canes, slaps, kicks, electr-
The BITCH, someone shouted. Please don’t tell me She controls your money as well …
She does, Bob sighed.
I’m sick and tired of these Women, a big bearded man growled. We should go over there and confront Her! That’s what we should do!
Hear, hear! We are men and we stand our ground.
We stand together.
We stand together on the ground!
Exactly! We are here to help! Let’s do it!
My brothers …. Bob reluctantly said, tried that once …
What happened?
She enslaved them both.
The room suddenly went deadly quiet and nothing moved for several minutes. There was an undeniable sense of fear in the room.
Well, good luck and all the best, man, Carl finally whispered, keep us posted, OK?

THE AMAZONS

My parents never went away on holidays or anything. Everyone went abroad, we stayed put. So I explored the neighborhood all on my own and one day I came across, what looked like, an enormous wilderness smack dab in the middle of my hometown. It was in fact an old city park called Westerhout (created in 1726). It was only 16 hectares, which is roughly 22 soccer fields or 29 American football fields. Bigger than my garden, but smaller than the Amazon jungle. Funny you mentioned the Amazon, man, because I was pretty convinced that the Amazons, the Warrior Women of the ancient world, lived in this man-made jungle somewhere. So I went off the paths and into the trees in the hope that they would capture me and keep me as their slave. Each day I went home disappointed, but the next day I was back. And the next … and the day after that. I wanted it so badly and I was willing to give my life (or toys, maybe that’s more realistic) trying to achieve it. Poor, poor, silly me. I didn’t know the difference between a park, a forest and a jungle, but I did know that Women were superior and that I was born to submit myself to their will. The park still exists, but the Amazons left a long time ago.
I think.

THE LAB RAT

Thing is, his roommate Elsa said, I’m going to be a professional Mistress, a Dominatrix.
Get outta here! You mean whipping people?
Whipping, caning, slapping, pegging; you name, you get it.
I thought you were more into embroidery and such. But what about your study?
Don’t worry about that. But listen, I’m looking for someone to practice on.
Don’t look at me, he hurriedly said, I’m not into this stuff.
Fine, fine. Then I will cut your balls off in your sleep, okay?
What?? That’s not funny, Elsa!
I’m not laughing, John!
And so he became Her lab rat, there’s no other word for it. She took his wallet, credit-cards and passport, just to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. She had him by the uncut balls, one might say. She quickly turned him into a 24/7 slave and he became as meek as a lamb. Which sounds so much better than: he became scared shitless. He cleaned, cooked, shopped, washed, suffered, screamed and begged from dusk till dawn. She had an insatiable hunger for power and She loved to dominate, torture and humiliate him. She did it, She said, because She was still learning and practicing. But according to John’s bruised & battered ass that was complete nonsense. She was a graduate cum laude right from the start.

FEMDOM CHRISTMAS

Jingle balls, jingle balls
Jingle all the way!
Oh what fun it is to squeeze them every single day

May the miracle of Christmas bring you joy and happiness, slave. And pain, of course. Now, listen up, you empty sock, I’ve been thinking about a Christmas present for you. Isn’t that sweet?
He smiled and opened his mouth.
Shut the fuck up, She snapped, or I’ll knock you unconscious!
His mouth fell shut and he heard Her sigh.
So, a Christmas present. I wish I could give you a brain, that would be cool, wouldn’t it? From a hamster or so, nothing fancy. Just something to fill up the vast emptiness between your ears.
She shook Her head.
No such luck. Or what about a bigger dick! That’s priority number 1, I would say, because that thing between your legs … I mean, that’s just an embarrassment. And these – She grabbed him by the balls and squeezed them hard – what the fuck are these?
He danced up and down in pain: My b-a-a-a-a-l-l-s! Please, aargh!
What’s the matter with you! Can’t you be a little more Christmas-y? Come on then, let’s do a singsong: Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls, Jingle all the way …
She squeezed his balls even harder and dug Her sharp nails into the weak flesh.
I’m waiting Christmas boy, let me hear you!!
Jesus, so much for a Silent Night, man.

FEMDOM EMPIRE

Queen Emma was seated on Her throne at Gudinna Palace, which was filled to capacity.
Oh, most powerful Queen of the world, an eunuch proclaimed with a high-pitched voice, most brilliant in wealth and achievement among all Mistresses and Female Leaders of our time, famed and feared for the pains, miseries, sufferings and cruelties You have inflicted on Your male subjects, and the fear which You have instilled into the hearts of the unfaithful and rebellious asshol- excuse me, I mean: unfaithful and rebellious males.
Yes, only the Kingdom to the North had refused to bow to Her. The war between the two lasted until Queen Emma’s complete victory at Tallskog.
The defeated King prostrated himself before Her: I, Colossus III, King of Cocks, Count of Castrates, Lord of Losers, Earl of Everything, Knight of Nothing, surrender Myself to Your command, Your Highness, for I am vanquished and I am, from this day forward, Your humble slave and property. Most willingly and most faithfully, shall I obey Your commands, for Thou are the Owner of my body and my soul and I am the owned.
Everything went silent and you could hear a pin drop. The silence lasted for five never-ending, nerve-wrecking, nail-biting minutes, till the slain King trembled in fear and was ready to shit himself. Then Queen Emma moved Her foot forward and Her new pet kissed Her feet, Her knees and Her hands. Palace Paper, December 2134 AD.

DENTAL FEMDOM

They tortured me for days on end, but my lips were zipped & sealed. Then they dragged me into a dentist room and strapped me into a chair. I looked at the terrifying hooks and drills and I was ready to shit myself.
My name is Brenda, a Female dentist said, also known as “Brutal Brenda” or “the Mad Dentist From Hell”. I’m here to cause you unimaginable pain an-
St-o-o-o-o-op! I screamed. Have mercy on me and my teeth!!! I’ll tell you everything!!
And so I did: I revealed the names of the resistance group AFM (anti-Femdom Movement), the storage facilities, hideouts, meeting places, safe houses; the whole bloody package.
Well, I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way, She said. We’ve got plenty of time left, so open wide and let’s take a proper look at your teeth.
No, no, please don’t hurt me, I begged.
Of course not, you silly man, we’re not animals! Now open wide … that’s it …  don’t be afraid … a little bit wider … there we go.
She locked a mouth spreader into my mouth. She even didn’t bother to see if I had any cavities, man, She just picked up the drill and turned it on.
Thing is, She said with a cold look in Her eyes, I love to torture people, it’s my favourite hobby. So this is going to hurt.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS

Calling the Adult Chat Lines was great fun. Until the phone bill arrived, of course, that was never a laughing matter. Anyways, one day I told an anonymous Lady that I was looking for someone to sit on my face. Make Me a financial offer, She said. Two hours later the doorbell rang and there She was: a gorgeous ebony Lady, tall, slim, with long black hair and legs that went all the way up to the ceiling. We had a drink and a chat and then the doors of Heaven opened wide. She told me She’d never done this before, but She sat on my face like a Queen on a throne, man. It was fabulous, unforgettable and, needless to say, breathtaking.
Then, just before She left, She asked: Do you know where I live?
I was flabbergasted: Whe- no, I have no idea, I’ve neve-
I live just round the corner, less than a hundred meters away from you.
As it turned out, She had been living there already for two years. And yet, I’d never seen Her before in my life. What are the odds, right? True story! So yes, your future Mistress may live in a different city, another country or even on a different continent. But, at the same time; She might just as well be living in your neighborhood, just a stone’s throw away from where you’re sitting right now.

THE BLOWJOB

What a day! He’d been slapped, whipped, caned, kicked, kneed, squeezed, smothered and almost choked to death. Mistress was not in a good mood, you might say. And then, halfway through the evening, Her voice flowered down on him: Fancy a blowjob, slave?
He knew he was bamboozled, but still his eyes lit up like a six year old in a candy shop. She grinned, put on a strapon and told him to suck on it. There was a hint of hesitation in his eyes.
Or do you want Me to call Big Dick Dave and let him shove his missile down your throat?
His mouth fell open like a trapdoor. She grabbed him by the hair and shoved the dildo into his mouth. He squirmed and gagged, but She pushed it in deep.
There you go, you cock loving faggot.
He gagged and drooled. His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he struggled to breathe. It only seemed to invigorate Her. He didn’t know it, but She used a squirting dildo. So after a while She pulled the dildo from his mouth and ejaculated all over his face. He didn’t see that one coming and he screamed in panic.
Now, that’s what I call a blowjob, you cocksucker.

TWISTED OLIVER

Life in the workhouse was hard. Up at six, work till dark, allowing half an hour for breakfast, thirty minutes for luncheon and two quarters of an hour for dinner; in bed by eight in summer and seven in winter. Food was very basic: bread & butter for breakfast and lunch, potatoes and some veggies for dinner. Oliver didn’t know all this when he entered the workhouse. He was new and stupid; a recipe for disaster. So one day, after two potatoes and a spoonful of cabbage, he rose from the table and went to Mistress Cook.
Please Mistress, he whispered, I want some more.
Mistress Cook gazed in stupefied astonishment on Oliver.
What! She said at length, in a faint voice.
Please Mistress, replied the numb-nut, I want some more.
She hit him hard with the ladle on the forehead and the sound of emptiness resonated through the hall. Mistress Cook rushed into Staff Only room in great excitement.
Oliver has asked for more!
Horror was depicted on every face.
For more! Madame Blutwurst screamed with a pale face. He might have shown some appreciation, after all we’ve done for him!
Let’s hang him, Mistress Noose suggested, let’s hang him here and now.
An animated discussion followed and in the end they decided to donate him to a galley ship. So remember lads: be happy with what you’ve got and never, never ever, ask for more.
April 2113 – Young Slave Boys: ISBN 978-122430-422-6

FEMDOM NEWS

What the hell is going on here!
He almost catapulted off the couch and managed to turn the TV off in one swift motion. Nice move, dude! But too late.
I asked you to clean the room, didn’t I?
Yes, darling, y-
Don’t darling Me, Harold! I’m the boss here and you can address Me as Ma’am.
Yes, yes, of course, sweethe- … uh … Ma’am. I can explain everything, I assure You.
She laughed sarcastically.
Thing is, Ma’am, he hurriedly said, that I didn’t expect You to come home this early … s.so I thought had enough time to watch the news.
Is there a news bulletin at 10:40?
Blimey, he didn’t see that one coming! He looked utterly confused, opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I asked you a question, is there a news bulletin at 10:40, SLAVE?
That word changed his whole demeanor and he shrank in fear. He nervously wrung his hands: N.no, Ma’am, I’m so sorry! I panicked, I don’t know what got int-
Take down your pants, shorts too!
Please, Ma’am! I will clean the room, I promise!
Oh yes, I know you will! But you will do it with a bruised and battered ass. So, pants down! NOW!
He was in a world of trouble. As usual, so no news there.

IN THE MOOD

Loved it the first time I ate it, She smiled, it was delicious.
We’d been talking about holidays, movies, shopping, cooking and everything else under the sun. Just a perfectly relaxed afternoon with a lovely Madame. Not a cloud in the sky, not a worry in the world. Butterflies were dancing in the air, birds were singing.
If I fuck you with a strap-on, do you fantasise about a man?
Holy Moses, where did that come from? I had to pull myself together and said: Well Madame, i-
A simple yes or no will do! I didn’t ask for a fucking saga, did I?
Dark clouds rolled in with tremendous force. From a lazy Sunday afternoon to an all-hands-on-deck emergency in three seconds flat. How about that!
No Madame, I said meekly.
Are you trying to piss Me off, slave? No, to what?? The first or the second question? Her voice raged and thundered and there was lightning in Her eyes. The storm was about to devour me.
First or second question?? I was lost and had no idea what She was talking about.
They’d warned me about Her mood swings, but I’d laughed it away. But me, myself and my ass were about to find out that the rumours were true. Painfully true.

LIPSTICK & MARKERS

There were a lot of people at the party, but it was not insanely crowded. The Mistresses were in a rebellious mood and one of them ordered me to kneel down in front of Her. She took some lipstick from Her purse and started painting my face. Not gently, but as if She was smearing butter on a slice of bread.
Much, much better, one of the other Ladies giggled.
I had to take off my shirt and several Mistresses dug in to help and used my skin for canvas. Not only with lipstick, but with thick, black markers as well. A Woman’s purse is a thing of miracles and wonders, no question about it.
A Lady in red walked by and looked at my forehead.
By all means, She said and slapped me brutally hard in the face.
I didn’t know it yet, but someone had written SLAP ME on my forehead. There was also a red arrow on my cheek, pointing up, together with the words VACANT ROOM. And there was an arrow on my belly, pointing down, with the words: KICK-A-DICK.
Later that night Mistress pulled out a compact mirror and opened it for me to see. Man, my face looked like a lipstick massacre.
You look very cute, She teased.
I forced my Lancôme Absolute Rouge lips in something of a smile.

NAUGHTY DICK

A few months ago you told Me you can’t wear a Chastity Cage, because your penis suffers from claustrophobia. I thought that was funny and decided to let you off the hook. But I told you again and again not to masturbate without My permission, correct? Yes, I stuffed a sock in your mouth and taped your mouth with duct tape, but you can nod, can’t you? There we go, good boy. Yet, I caught you red-handed, wank-handed & dick-handed yesterday. I know you like caning and love whipping, so we’re not going to do that today. Because you need to be punished, not rewarded. So, on the first day of your punishment your balls will be in a wooden Humbler. And, because you’re so fond of whipping, I will whip your trapped balls into a pulp. I know, I know, you’re exited, but stop mumbling behind your gag, because I don’t understand what you’re saying. On the second day your family jewels will find peace in a Stainless Steel Spiked Ball Stretcher. Isn’t that fun? No? Well, we’ll see about that. And on the third and final day of your punishment your scrotum will be inside a cock-and-ball board. Don’t look so scared, slave, the unbearable pain will go away within three weeks. Or four. Sometimes five. Max six to seven weeks. And then you (and you alone) have to choose between a real-deal Chastity Device or an appointment at the Slave Castration Service (SCS).

TRACES OF FEMDOM

Goddess Inanna (aka Ishtar) was the enforcer of divine justice and was believed to be the first dominatrix, forcing Gods and men into submission. One day She approached the gates of the Underworld and said to the gatekeeper:

If you do not open the gate for me to come in,
I shall smash the door and shatter the bolt,
I shall smash the doorpost and overturn the doors,
I shall raise up the dead and they shall eat the living:
And the dead shall outnumber the living!

Holy Moses, that’s my kinda Goddess! Traces of Femdom can be found in books, manuscripts and diaries throughout history. In 1840 there were at least twenty Houses of Discipline in Londen alone: It is very true that there are innumerable old generals, admirals, colonels and captains, as well as bishops, judges, barristers [.] who periodically go to be whipped. Susan Brockway stated in 1725: He gave Mary Gardner money to fetch a penny-worth of rods, [..] for us to whip him to make him a good boy. Theresa Berkley was the most famous flagellant of Her time and one of Her customers wrote: a pound sterling for the first blood drawn, two pounds sterling if the blood runs down to my heels, three pounds sterling if my heels are bathed in blood, four pounds sterling if the blood reaches the floor, and five pounds sterling if She succeeds in making me lose consciousness. From Goddesses, to Priestesses, Empresses and Female Farao’s, and from the 18th century Houses of Discipline to the famous House of Pain in the 1970s in The Hague; Female Domination is of all times.

THE COMMUTER

He missed the train by a whisker, so he called his boss and told him was going to be late. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Because suddenly ten, fifteen, twenty Women of the FPS (Female Police Squad) raided the platform. Man, they looked hot in their uniforms and his dick sprang to attention as they approached.
Freeze! Get down on the ground!
Whoever they were looking for was in big trouble! He looked around to see who was standing nearby. It was nerve-wrecking and exiting at the same time.
You sir, in the red T-shirt, get down on the ground.
ME??? he asked, pointing at his red T-shirt.
Yes you!! Get down NOW!
He was complete in shock. He was an accountant for Christ’s sake!
This has to be a mistake, he pleaded, I didn’t do anything.
But he went down on the ground anyway, because he was absolutely terrified. Moments later they were all over him, jamming their knees into his back. He was slapped and handcuffed and one of them pulled a hessian sack over his head. They dragged him down the platform and down a flight of stairs.
Please, he begged, You’ve got the wrong man.
They punched him hard and told him to shut up. They drove him away with sirens blaring.
The life of a commuter is no bed of roses, man, hello no!

THE WHIPPING ACT

In the reign of Queen Sasha in 2142, the Whipping Act was passed, directing that disrespectful, disobedient, lazy or downright stupid slaves were to be taken to a square, market place or other public place and to be publicly whipped from the middle upwards. Whipped until the body should be bloody. The notorious Judge Victoria II, once said to the Lady Torturer: I charge you to pay particular attention to this piece of shit. Scourge him soundly, scourge him till his blood runs down! A few months ago, at Nottingham, a young slave, aged twenty, was found guilty of lying and was, by order of the Court of Quarter Sessions, tied to the tail of a cart and whipped all the way up from Maid-Marian-Road to High-Heel-Cross. There are 129 whipping-posts in the city of Nottingham alone right now. The male slaves lament their woes, but to no avail. Because men have mistreated Women over the centuries, and what goes around comes around, as the old saying goes. March 2167, Madame Ellen – The Downfall Of Men.

WHATEVER YOU DEMAND OF ME

Student Mircalla is in fact the resurrected vampire Carmila Karnstein (gallery pic 1). She’s the most breathtaking, most powerful Woman I’ve ever seen and my dick becomes taller than me. But then this guy called Richard scares the bejesus out of Her by showing Her a cross (pics 2 & 3). The bastard! God, I hate cruelty towards Lady Vampires, I really do. But then he turns the cross upside down and kneels in front of Her (pic 4).
I could have told them what I knew about You, he says, but I stayed silent. I want only to worship You, be Your servant.
That’s better, my boy! The cross slips through his fingers and falls to the ground.
I will do whatever You demand of me, he cries.
She smiles down on him with the superiority of a Lady who reigns over life and death (pic 5). She isn’t looking for a pet though, so She drinks him like Glühwein (pic 6).
It’s summer and the local cinema is showing these ancient old Hammer movies every Sunday afternoon. I’m eleven years old or so and I limp home with a high-explosive dick in my pants. The damned thing remained rock solid for 8 years, 6 months, 3 weeks, 24 days, 11 hours, 24 minutes and 9 seconds. I had to do a handstand on the toilet seat in order to pee, it was ridiculous. In hindsight the movie wasn’t that good, but this particular scene changed my life forever.

ONLY THE BEST

Have you served a Mistress before, slave?
Yes, Mistres.
When was the last time?
Two weeks ago, Mistress, he said, smiling by the memory of it.
So, I’m second best, then, at best.
His smile collapsed instantly. He opened his mouth, but before h-
Spare Me your excuses, slave! Well, this is cer-tain-ly not, I repeat NOT a good start. Take off you clothes and don’t make Me wait.
He hastily obeyed. Two minutes in and he was pretty messed up already. His head was spinning and he was sweating all over the place.
She walked around him and inspected his body. His back was covered in marks.
Did I do this, slave?
No, Mistress, he whispered.
“No, Mistress”, She repeated sarcastically. You wanted someone else to do that. How nice. And now you’re here for some pony-play, face-sitting and foot-worship, correct?
I … I … y.yes, Mistress, if tha-
It’s not going to happen, slave. You do realise that, don’t you? 
Y.es, Mistress.
Good! Because I’m going to give you a punishment you will not forget as long as you live. It’s time to leave MY mark.

CUM OR GO

When I order you to cum for Me, I expect you to be quick and snappy about it. I’ve got better things to do than watch you play with your needle. But, you know Me, always willing to help, so I’ve got just the solution for you!
She put a large plastic bag over his head and wrapped some tape around his neck.
I know, I’m breathtaking, She grinned. Now, cum like a geyser or go forever, it’s up to you.
Thank God for a naughty dick, because that thing was already on its feet. True, he panicked a bit and gasped for air. And yet, it made him even hornier. He was barely able to see anything as the plastic got all sweaty inside. It expanded and contracted with each breath. He began to see black spots and his vision became blurred. There was no air left and he sucked the plastic into his mouth. Which was both terrifying and extremely exiting. He screamed and came violently. Sperm spewed into the air. He didn’t know it at the time, but a jet of sperm landed on a framed picture of Her sister. For which he paid dearly later on.
She ripped the plastic and allowed him breathe. Good old oxygen flowed into his lungs again.
Good, slave … but we’re not there yet. Next time we’ll use a smaller bag.
And She sure as hell didn’t mean an airbag, man.

SPITTING

I’d been a nuisance and a pain in the arse for much too long and Karin simply reached a breaking point. She’d kicked me against the shin and dragged me by my hair across the schoolyard. I like to think She began to realise that a firm hand would keep me in line, because the following weeks were a mixture of happiness, frustration, beauty and suffering. She was very harsh with me and She had me eating out of Her hand. I was now on my knees in front of Her, looking up at Her like a puppy. She ordered me to open my mouth and spat in it.
Do you like it?
Yes, Karin, I whispered.
SAY IT!!
I love Your spit, Karin!
That’s right! Don’t you ever forget it.
One minute later saliva dripped from Her lips. I opened my mouth even wider, but She sucked the spit back in again before it touched my tongue. I moaned and begged Her with my eyes. She laughed out loud.
We were still so young and I can only speak for myself when I say that I didn’t really have a clue what was happening. I only know I loved being in this vulnerable and submissive position. It was the best feeling in the world and I wanted it to last forever.

ASIAN MISTRESS

She looks so petite, so vulnerable and so innocent, doesn’t She? A beautiful, but fragile Pearl of the Orient. But make no mistake, this Lady can make the heaviest sumo wrestler cry for his mama. Without breaking a sweat. She’s that strict, that brutal and that merciless. She’s not interested in your silly fantasies, boy, She interested in power, real power. She’s hungry for it and will not stop at anything to get it. She wants it all and no doubt you’re going to give it to Her. Beware tough: once She has Her claws in you, there will be no turning back. You can beg as much as you want, but She’ll never let you go, never. You see, you once had a past, but She owns your future. And your money, your car, your home and all your dirty little secrets. You will be Her property and She will tell you what to wear, when to work, when to rise and when to sleep, when to eat, when to speak, when to cum and when to breathe. Hell, She will even tell you when to piss and when to shit. She will punish, humiliate and torture you whenever it pleases Her and you will learn to obey Her blindly.
So, who’s looking fragile and vulnerable now, eh?

SILENCE IS GOLDEN

A serious slave should take 1) the vow of poverty (surrendering all earthly possessions to his Mistress), 2) the vow of obedience (for She knows everything), 3) the vow of chastity (She is the rightful owner of his pathetic penis) and 4) the vow of silence (also known as: only speak when spoken to). The vow of silence is generally considered to be an ordeal, because most slaves love to hear the sound of their own voice. Polluting the air with nonsense is his favourite pastime, so it’s time to shut him up and put him in his place. So, what do do? Rip out his cackling tongue and feed it to the dogs? Optional, but somewhat drastic, I should say. Nail his tongue to the antique salon table? Again: optional, but such a waste of a lovely table, wouldn’t you say? Back in the day they used a brank to silence someone: a iron framework, which was placed on the head, with a plate of iron in front which was to be placed in the mouth of the victim. At the end of the plate was a ball with sharp iron pins that would pin the tongue and effectively silence even the noisiest one. The ball gag is a modern and more humane version of the good old brank. And, most importantly, just as effective. Like its predecessor, it will reduce Your slave to a mute and drooling idiot. Peace and quiet at last!

THE LEASH

The collar was there, all it needed was a leash. Because a collar without a leash is like a clamp without a nipple, a strap-on without an anus, a boot without a heel, a kick without a groin, a prison without a cell. It took a while though, but then, one glorious day, She clicked the leash onto his collar. Suddenly She was bathed in light and shone more brilliantly than the sun. She slapped him in the face and destroyed the beautiful apparition in the process. The Bitch. Still, it was an unforgetabble moment, because to him a leash was like a umbilical cord that connected a lowlife piece of shit like himself to the divine beauty and power of a Lady. It was pure magic, as far as he was concerned.
She took him to a Fetish Party and ordered him on all fours. I don’t want any pressure on the leash, She said. Her voice send legions of shivers down his spine and he almost got misty eyed. No pressure on the leash was easier said than done though, because he had to crawl through a forest of legs. Mistress was not pleased with his performance and She beat him black, blue and purple. Still, he loved every second of it. This happened at least a year ago and She never used the leash ever since. But he does not despair. Because he knows that someday, somewhere, somehow he will be re-leashed.

THE STEPMOTHER

So, we finally meet, his brand new stepmother said.
Halle-fucking-lujah, the teenage lad said sarcastically.
She slapped him once, and almost unconscious.
No swearing, young man! I will not tolerate that.
Shit that hurts! Are you nuts, or what? My dad wi-
The second slap was even harder and he flew through the kitchen like a pancake gone wrong. His head was spinning round and round and his jaw was burning like a fireplace on a winter’s day.
Your dad is My slave, he will do whatever I tell him to do.
W.what??
Oh yes! I’m a dangerous Lady, young man. I can torture your nipples, or genitals, leave you breathless under my ass, fuck you senseless with My strap-on or whip you in half. Do you want Me to go on?
No, he whispered.
No, what?
N.no … uh … stepmother.
Don’t be absurd, no one calls his stepmother stepmother. You can address Me as Ma’am.
Yes, Ma’am, he said meekly.
There we go, like father, like son, mmm? All in the family. From now on, I will spank you if you misbehave, cage you if you go out without asking Me first, or castrate you if you masturbate without My permission. Now, that’s a lot to take in, I understand that. So go to your room, lights out at ten.
Ten?? I … that’s absu… uh … ok, fine … fine, Ma’am.
God, She loved the married life.

FEMDOM HOTEL

Welcome to the Femdom Hotel, sir. I see you’ve booked the all-inclusive, extra-deluxe, special package! Seven nights, no less! Talking about stupi- oops, sorry about that, slip of the lip, I meant: talking about brave. As you already know, wearing the hotel Chastity Device is compulsory. It’s a nasty device, sir, with vicious spikes in them. So, happy days, right?
Well, I-
Exactly! Your top quality room has no bathroom, no toilet, no flatscreen, no minibar no nothing. Your day starts at 06:00 sharp with some face-slaps, fitness with nipple-torture and a shower of piss. Hard labor and a brutal whipping in the afternoon, followed by a Strap-On Invasion in the evening. One of the Ladies will then smother you to sleep. Any questions so far, sir?
Ye-
Good, good, excellent. Now, let’s talk about sleeping. You’ll either sleep tightly tied to the rack by your wrists and ankles, in the standing cell or hanging upside down from the staircase. Like a giant bat, one might say. Isn’t that hilarious?
I thin-
Of course you do. Now, you get your passport back after paying a ransom of $750. Before you open your mouth: shut up. It’s a pittance, no need to go on and on about it. So, I wish you a very unpleasant and painful stay, sir, and I hope you will visit our hotel again in the future. NEXT!!

WHAT’S IN A NAME

The thing is, slave … I don’t like to be called Mistress.
Blimey, he didn’t see that one coming! His mouth fell open and his pants fell down.
Ohhhh! I apologise Mistr- … uh … Madame? Milady? Empress? Duchess? Baroness? Queen? 
Nah, don’t like that at all.
Man, he was caught in a fucking nightmare. These beautiful and honourable titles distinguished the Mighty  & Powerful from the braindead pricks. Surely you could not address such a Lady with Betsy, Agatha, Theodora, Molly or Dolly! Let alone with sweetie-pie, doll or babycakes.
“I’m going to whip you in half, you piece of shit.
“Whatever makes You happy, apple-of-my-eye.”
“Don’t call Me that, slave!”
“I’m so sorry, Eugenie.”
No, no, that wouldn’t work, that wouldn’t work at all!
I want you to call Me by My first name, She said with twinkling eyes.
Triple shit, what the fuck was the world coming to! Damn you first names! But, you know, he was a slave and slaves were not allowed to think for themselves. Besides, he was the proud owner of a pair of testicles, and he wanted to keep it that way, thank you very much.
Ask Me what My first name is, pet.
What is Your first name, he asked without any enthusiasm whatsoever.
It’s Goddess.
>

FEMDOM TWIST

You get hard at the sight of My boots, My shoes, My feet, My legs, My ponytail, My dress, My jacket, My skirt, My blouse, My nails … I mean, come on, man, what’s wrong with you! Mistress Summer shook Her head in disbelief. You’re not a man, you’re an idiot, a freak, a complete and utter failure. You don’t need a Mistress, you need a therapist and a straightjacket! God, you probably use the empty space between your ears to store boxes and stuff, don’t you? Hush!! I’ll tell you when it’s time to say something stupid. And look at that thing between your legs, that’s just disgusting. And it’s not exactly mount Vesuvius either, is it? It’s a pimple, at best. You have to use tweezers to jerk off. And a search party when you need to pee. Jesus, you suck as a human, suck as a man and suck as a slave. That’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? You’re just an inferior creature; a waste of time and a waste of space.
The door opened and a second Mistress entered the room. The Ladies talked a bit, then the newcomer pointed at the slave: Who do we have here?
That’s My husband, Mistress Summer said with a sweet smile, I love him to bits.

FACT OF LIFE

She is elegant, sophisticated and educated. She drives a pair of horses like a charioteer, is at home on a race course or the deck of a fast yacht. She is a power at the theater or the Opera; and none is more brilliant at a dinner party. She dresses with taste, class and style and stops men in their tracks. When She walks everyone follows, when She speaks everyone listens. And obeys. Her voice is calm, direct and powerful. She never shouts, because showing anger is unladylike, and, more importantly, a sign of weakness. When a Lady loses control over Herself, She will effectively lose control over Her slaves. Women are the upper-class of society, which means that Women should always be an example for their slave. Superiority means high quality leadership and high standards. Always. She can be persuasive and manipulative, a seductive huntress who always gets Her prey. She has enslaved hundreds, if not thousands, of men. It’s not even a challenge, because most men are eager to submit. They accept their submissive position and are proud of it. Women are born to rule, just as men are born to submit. It’s not a choice, it’s a fact of life.

HOUSE OF CARDS

Take two decks of cards, shuffle them together, and divide them into two piles of 52 cards. Each draw a card and the highest card wins. Even I understood it!
If I win, Mistress Angela said, I will pick a punishment for you. In the unlikely event that you win, you can pick any punishment you like. How’s that?
I smelled a rat, I didn’t like it.
I like it, Mistress, I said with a pokerface.
She won the first three in a row, which resulted into severals kick in the groin, nipple torture and bastinado. Bloody hell, we had just started and I was bruised and battered already. But then I started to win. Not once, not twice, but over and over again. So foot-worship joined the fun, facesitting, ponyplay, ass-worship and much more. I started to love this game.
I’m starting to hate this game, She said with a clear threat in Her voice.
It’s a game of luck, Mistress, I panicked.
She drew a card: three of diamonds. I began to sweat like a waterfall in spring. I drew mine: Queen of hearts. If looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now.
I’m going to take you to Hell and back for this, She fumed.
So there you have it! No matter how successful, important, populair, rich or victorious you might be; you are, and always will be, a fucking loser.

HOLY NUN

Being at the fetish party in Paris was a thrilling experience and a feast for the eyes. So many people and so many gorgeous outfits! And then, in the sixth hour, I saw this divine apparition, dressed in a long, shiny black, habit. Of all the uniforms in the land, this is by far the most powerful one. My heart was racing, my lungs were burning. Flee for your life, I thought, don’t look, don’t look, for you will be swept away! But it was already too late, my eyes were glued on Her. I stood there for the rest of the night, like a salt pillar with a granite dick.
Quite strange, because I did not see the inside of  church until I was sixteen years old. So God knows why I’m so obsessed with nuns uniforms; but I really am. And I know: buying a box of condoms doesn’t make me the world’s greatest lover, and putting on a habit doesn’t make Her a nun. And yet … that uniform gives Her a level of authority and power that’s not from this world.
Truth is, I was way too salty and intimidated to say something to Her Holiness in Paris and I’ve not seen a fetish nun since. But I’m hoping and I’m praying, literally praying, for it every day.
So much for for being an atheist, right?

THE SPITTOON

I’m on my knees beside the sink. She squeezes toothpaste on Her brush and glances down at me.
Tingling-fresh! Ice-fresh! She says with a sales-pitched voice. This toothpaste is actively caring for My teeth and gums!
I have no idea what She’s talking about: I’m sorr-
She slaps me once, twice, thrice with the back of Her hand.
You’re a spittoon and spittoons don’t talk!
Jesus, my head is spinning and my jaw hurts like the dickens. She starts to brush, moving the toothbrush in tiny circles over Her teeth. My dick and I look up to Her in quiet admiration.
Anyway, She says through the foam, this toothpaste means sparkling whiteness for My teeth.
She leans over and spits in my mouth.
Now, that’s a gorgeous mix of saliva and toothpaste, I hope you appreciate that.
Thank Y-
She slaps me again, only harder this time. Much harder. The fillings rattle in my teeth.
One more word from you, spittoon, and you’ll end up in the garbage truck!
I keep my mouth shut and open.
Let’s not forget the gums, She says, as She continues to brush Her teeth, because for the gums this tingling-freshness means even more!
She spits the toothpaste right into my mouth again.
Isn’t it ice-fresh in your throat right now, slave?
Yes, M-
She almost decapitates me with a vicious slap. The bathroom heels to starboard.
You did it again, didn’t you, spittoon!

MY FINEST HOUR

When I was younger, I used to play fight a lot. I loved it, became obsessed and addicted and craved for more and more. Alas, puberty put an end to this and it made me feel utterly miserable. It felt like being fucked up the ass by a Cold Turkey, one might say. I tried everything to get a shot of happiness and it took me more than a year to convince, persuade and bribe Eve to put me in a headlock.
I’m so sure, I teased, that you can’t hold me down.
And so, after giving Her my money, She told me to lay down on the grass. I almost teared up between my legs when She wrapped one arm around my head and squeezed me in a tight headlock. Her face was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of Her breath on my face. Then She placed my left arm in an armlock and squeezed. Holy Moses, I didn’t see that one coming! I erupted in pain and tapped out quickly.
Don’t move, or I will hurt you a lot more, She said.
I tested that theory two or three times, and learned She was right. So I gave up struggling and lay there helpless and unable to move. It didn’t seem to take Her any effort at all to keep me down, which made it even more special. I was in Heaven, and looking back on my teenage years, I can honestly say this was my finest hour.

A DAY IN COURT

Name?
Slave Tingle, Your Honour.
Ah, Tingle, yes. You removed your chastity device without permission, is that correct?
It fell off, Your Honour.
You sawed the padlock off.
Correct, Your Honor, and then it fell off.
He just stood there as relaxed and comfortable as could be. He was simply too simple, too ignorant, too naive and too stupid to think through the consequences of his actions.
The gorgeous, smashing, breathtaking judge sighed.
Why did you take it off, Tingle?
I was horny, Your Honour, my balls were burn-
Thank you, Tingle, I get the picture. 
She looked at Her papers and said: I give you the choice between castration an-
I take the second option, Your Honour, he hastily said.
You don’t want to hear the second option?
No, thank you, Your Honour. I’m too attached to my balls, thank You very much. 
Fine by Me. Then, without further ado, I hereby sentence you, slave Tingle, to ten years in prison.
Ho-ho, wait a minute, Your Honour. Did you say ten days or ten weeks?
Years, Tingle. Ten years behind bars.
Oh dear. Is that with or without a chastity cage, Your Honour?

SLAVE CONTRACT

I came this close (look at my fingers) to signing a slave contract. The contract was there, the day was set, the witnesses ready … and then, just forty minutes before the ceremony, the Mistress changed Her mind. I was devastated, like being fucked up the ass by two-thousand short-temperted, all-horny, ready-to-rrrrumble Vikings, but I showed no outward signs of emotion. Because it’s not done, better said: fucking rude, to question a decision of a Lady. So I didn’t ask and She never explained.
Now, a slave contract has no legal binding whatsoever, of course. It’s as worthless as you and me. Because slavery is illegal, even if both parties desire it. Take it to court and you will probably be fined for waisting their time.
Still, I would have given my left toe and my right testicle for a contract like that. Because those meaningless signatures still mean something, you know. Because no self-resprecting slave should, could or would ever walk away from the promises and duties he signed up for in a slave contract. In that respect a slave contract is far more binding than the law wants us to believe.

SUMMER SALE

By Mistress & Madams Auctioneers (aka M&M’s): On Monday the 16th April 2096, at 2 o’clock P.M., will be sold at the Femdom Hotel in Chicago, the following described slaves:

Dick, aged 26, cook, carpenter & cleaner, energetic boy with a small penis
Fetch, aged 33, human dog, loves being butt scratched, play fetch and tug-of-war
Jack O’, aged 41, aka Of-All-Trades, quiet, humble and obedient, face-slap lover
Rebel, aged 22 , unguided missile, looking for a strict and firm Mistress
Albert E, aged 37, gardener, rare specimen, shows signs of intelligence, foot fetishist
Julian, aged 59, experienced housemaid (Julia) with a fetish for high heels (for himself)
Jeeves, aged 48, head butler, trustworthy, impeccable manners, weakness for shiny satin
Ed, aged 27, human horse, very easy to ride, suitable for dressage or jumping
Billy, aged 40, (aka Idea-Ikea) human furniture, to be used as footstool, doormat or floor lamp
Mark, aged 51, servant, hardcore masochist, bruised and battered item
Digitalus, aged 30, computer nerd, goofball, drinks spit by the gallon
Will, aged 57, bookkeeper, good subject with a piss fetish, nicknamed Pee Willy

All the above slaves are fully guaranteed against the vices and diseases prescribed by law. All slaves can be seen, slapped, kicked and mildly whipped by applying at the office of the Auctioneers. Purchased items can be castrated on request.

A LITTLE PUSH

Let Me get this straight. There is a red button on My website, saying Don’t Click Here. Correct?
Yes, Mistress Valkyrie.
So, what did you do?
I clicked on it, Mistress, I said wit a guilty voice.
Yes, you did. Then what happened?
A dialog box popped up, Mistress, prompting me to apologise for my bad behaviour.
Go on …
I closed the dialog box, I squeaked, because I panicked you see. I put my computer to sleep and went to bed with a book.
And a boner, no doubt.
I nervously giggled: Yes, Mistress Valkyrie.
Why?
Because of Your demanding words in the dialog box, Mistress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The next morning I clicked the button again and wrote a sincere apology.
That’s right. And now we’re on the phone, talking about you behaviour. You told Me you are still a novice slave, but you disobeyed Me and you have to be punished. And I’m not talking about paying a fine, I’m talking about a punishment in the flesh. So you have to book a session with Me. That’s a direct order from Me to you, slave. I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it.
And that’s how it all started for me. If it hadn’t been for Mistress Valkyrie, I would still be a novice slave, endlessly waiting for the right moment.

SLAPS

SLAP
SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP

ONE KISS AWAY

You’ve been staring at My feet for months now, She said, I think you’re ready to kiss them.
He wriggled nervously in his chair: No, haha, thank You. Yes, You have beauti- but no, no, haha.
He was a quiet man, a bachelor and a passionate bookkeeper. He lived in a small house with four goldfish, named Ollie, Mollie, Hollie and Fred. He lived a perfect life and never asked for more. But then he met Lady Grace and everything changed. Even his scrotum, which had been in lockdown since early childhood, was now boiling and steaming like a geyser.
Kneel down, that’s all there is to it, She said.
Oh, heavens above, he blushed, no, I would never do that, never ever.
She crossed Her legs and dangled Her heel from Her foot.
Are you sure? She asked with a teasing smile.
His eyes were glued to Her foot and he was breathing heavily. Turned out his “never-ever” lasted only 27 seconds, then he slid off his chair onto the floor and crawled to Her feet.
That’s better. You may address Me as Princess Ingrid. And now I want you to beg for permission to worship My feet.
Oh God, p.please Princess, I humbly ask Your permission to kiss Your feet. I beg You.
She smiled down on him. He had no idea he was just ten centimeters away from a new, everlasting addiction, and just one kiss away from a life in slavery.

I DO

Karin, do you take this piece of shi- I apologise: do You take this man to be Your lawfully wedded slave, to love, guide, punish and humiliate him as long as You shall live. If so say I do.
I do.
john, do you take this lovely Lady to be your lawfully wedded Mistress, to love, to obey, comfort and honour Her, surrendering yourself to Her alone as long as you shall live. If so say I do, you lucky swine.
I do.
Now Karin! Grab john’s ear and repeat after me.
I Karin take thee, john, to be My loyal servant, My devoted slave and My brainless punchbag, from this day forward, to use and abuse, to whip and to cane, to kick and to slap, till death do us part. I pledge to you My guidance, My cruelty, My short-temperedness and My unstoppable need for Power.
Now john, look up to your Lady Owner and repeat after me.
I john are taken by thee, Karin, to be my Mistress, my Lady Owner and Goddess, to obey and to worship from this day forward, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. I pledge to You my obedience, my loyalty, my patience, all my earthy goods, including the Märklin train-set.
Karin, place and lock the collar around john’s neck and throw away the key.
By the authority given to me by Her Majesty, I now pronounce you man and Wife. You may now whip the groom.

FEMDOM SHRINE

I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to create a shrine in your house. An altar of adoration, a sacred place of worship. A shrine dedicated to your favourite Mistress for example, your favourite actress or one of your favourite fetishes. Even your favourite comic book character will do. Because let’s face it, boy, the chances of you ever even seeing, let alone serving a Mistress in real life are a million to one. Optimistically speaking.
We giggled and elbowed each other.
Anything goes, as long as the object of your affection makes you feel small and your dick feel big. A shrine can be anything, from a few pictures on the wall, a statue or figurine on a stand, the worn shoes of a Lady on a pedestal, to a decorated wall with framed pictures, an entire room with an altar, candles and whatnots. Next, place 100 slips of paper in a box. Fifty of the slips are marked 1 hour, thirty are marked 30 minutes and twenty are marked 15 minutes (additional: add to ten of them the words allowed to cum). This will decide how long your worship service will be that day. Because you will be at your shrine every day without fail. So, get to work and send me a picture when you’re finished!
A buzz filled the hall as we discussed what to create and who we would worship.

THE STORY OF ARISTOTLE & PHYLLIS

One upon a time there was a Greek philosopher named Aristotle (384-322 BC). He had a brain the size of a Greek island and a dick the size of an Olympic swimming pool. He was the tutor of Alexander the Great, who had a crush on a Lady called Phyllis. Aristotle was not amused: do you want to be great in bed, he asked, or great on the battlefield? A tricky dick question and Alexander decided to go for the battlefield. Alexander the Great Idiot, one might say.
Now it was Phyllis’ turn to be pissed. She decided to seduce Aristotle and teach him a lesson. One day She walked by barefooted, which was the equivalent back then of making a porn movie. Aristotle was smitten with Her and begged Her to have sex with him. Not a romantic dinner, not a walk along the beach at sunset, not a good conversation about psychology or the latest iPhone, no sir! Just wham-bam: Phyllis, I wanna fuck You. The brute.
On one condition, Ari, Phyllis said, you will come to my chamber crawling on hand and foot, in order to carry Me like a horse. 
Aristotle obeyed, put on saddle and bridle and went on all fours. She grabbed a whip and spurred him on with a vengeance. The members of the court watched in awe and admiration, as Phyllis humiliated this great man.
Come on, full throttle, Aristotle! She demanded.
And from that moment on, dear children, everyone called him Aristhrottle.

A STANDING OVATION

Lay still, Becky snapped.
Jack whined, but obeyed, because Michelle, Eveline and Suze were standing around him and they were ready to kick the shit out of him. Again.
I was a mere spectator, watching from a distance. Dry mouth, wet dick; that was me. Becky removed Her shoes, stepped on Jack’s face and muffled his groans with Her bare feet. She moved Her feet to an fro and I could hear his smothered screams and the snot in his nose moving around. She allowed him to breathe three breaths, then stepped back on his face again with a wicked smile. Oh God, how I wished it was me! Becky shifted Her weight to one leg, and no doubt Jack’s dentist rubbed his hands in glee. Jack however had other things on his mind, because he was in desperate need of oxygen again. He clutched at Her legs and She had to spread Her arms for balance. Michelle and Eveline grabbed Her hands. Becky allowed him to breathe and he squealed like a pig. Tears of a) happiness b) agony c) both rolled down his face.
Before that day, I didn’t know what jealousy was. Turned out I was a quick learner.

SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE

Good old insomnia, the doctor said with a wry smile, what would we do without it!
Sleep, I guess, he yawned.
Exactly! Now, let’s see, She sighed, thumbing through the papers, you used sleeping tablets, drank a river of Sleeptime Tea, threw away $250 on a  bottle of sleeping oil, took yoga classes and went to a sleep coach. Who, you wrote, fell asleep during the session. You’re on a strict diet, stopped smoking, stopped drinking and you had no sex in seven years. You stopped living altogether, one might say. And still sleepless?
Yes, Ma’am.
Well, you’ve come to the right place, sir. The Femdom Sleep Clinic has a worldwide reputation for putting people to sleep. So, you’ve got your pyjamas on … She paused and looked at them with new eyes … Bambi pyjamas, seriously, sir? Oh well, whatever gets you through the night, right? Now, I will put your head between My legs … don’t worry, sir, it will be fine. You just close your eyes and think of happy things. 
She started to squeeze Her legs together and his eyes popped open again.
My neck!
Yes, sir, that’s correct, that is your neck. She squeezed Her legs tighter and tighter. His face became as red as a tomato. He struggled, but his body started to feel so heavy and everything became blurry. He lost consciousness and slept like a baby. Just like the doctor ordered.

SCRAMBLED EGGS

The six of us gathered at the park, exactly as Mistress had ordered. She gave each of us a spoon and an egg.
Now, place the spoon in your mouth and the egg in the spoon. Keep your hands behind your back during the race. If you drop the egg, you’re out. The first to reach that tree over there will be the winner. And the winner, numbnuts, is allowed to worship My gorgeous feet!
We looked at each other with murder in our eyes, because Her feet are worth dying for.
Are you ready spoons? GO!!!
I walked slowly, eyes focussed on the egg, wiggling like a duck with a cucumber up its ass. But slave Burt went like a bullet out of a gun. Jesus, the man was in a hurry! I accelerated, but he was hard to keep up with. The others were already way behind us and it was now a neck and neck between me and that rotten egg just ahead of me. We almost sprinted to the finish line, but he was just too fast and he reached the finish line with sixteen lengths to spare over me. May have been seventeen lenghts, eighteen even, but who cares. He was now blessed with the honour of worshipping Her gorgeous feet, while all I could do was suck on my stinking egg.

FEMDOM CAGE

A good old-fashioned dungeon cell has thicker-than-dick walls, heavy doors and restricted light windows. The cell is freezing cold, damp and unhygienic. No furniture, except a wooden bunk and a bucket. If you are lucky. A cage is a different kettle of fish altogether. A cage is an elegant and sturdy piece of furniture which looks good in a bedroom, study, hallway or living-room. Put a glass top on it and use it as a one-of-a-kind coffee-table. Sweet! Invite your friends to come and watch this caged hound (that would be you, by the way), this bruised and battered piece of Neanderthal (you again, I’m afraid), this still life of stupidity (wait, wait …. yeah, that’s you again, I’m sorry). A caged slave is a piece of furniture and a piece of shit in one, one might say. If he has to stay in there for 23-hours a day, then so be it. Who is he to complaint? It’s nice and warm in the living-room, he can watch (or listen to) the television and, most important of all, he has a room with a view. He can look at his Mistress and worship Her with his eyes. Unless She covers the cage with a Good Night Caged Asshole Cover, of course. In that case (aka in that cage) he can’t see shit.

BLACKMAIL

You begged for it, didn’t you? She warned you, but your dick wouldn’t listen. And so you gave Her the login codes to LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook and the email accounts and phone-numbers of your parents, friends, brothers, uncles, nephew’s, nieces and colleague’s. And tons of compromising photos and clips of yourself. A bit like digging your own grave, wasn’t it? She posted five photos on Her website and you were forced to pay to have them taken down. You loved it, because it was unlikely that anyone of your friends knew about this website. Then She posted the next set of photos. And the next. The tempo went up. As did the price. You wavered and begged Her to slow down. She opened your Facebook account and wrote: Who wants to know my secret? You paid quickly. This wasn’t a game, or at least not the game you thought it was. The thing was, She had many, many slaves, She lost count. Ruining your life was just in a day’s work. So you obeyed when She demanded new and more compromising photos and clips. She had you by the balls, and there was nothing you could do about it. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you? As long as She had complete and total control over you.

STARS & SCRAPS

There is a similarity, I think, between NASA scientists and unowned slaves. The former is searching for alien life in the universe, the latter is searching for dominant life on planet earth. The difference between the two is that NASA hopes to find life in the cosmos within the next ten to twenty years, while most slaves will never-ever-ever serve a Mistress in real life. They’re destined to remain unnoticed and unowned till the end of time. Their time, that is. They have to settle for Femdom scraps, little bits and pieces that brighten up a submissive day. A Lady in shiny boots in the supermarket, a Young Goddess in leather pants on Main street, an arrogant look, a bitchy remark, a cheap movie-clip on the Internet; anything will do. These insignificant moments set in motion a chain of thoughts, dreams and longings that propels them to other worlds, lightyears away from this dreary place called earth. Far away in the universe are planets where Women rule and men are slaves, where Femdom is a fact of life and not an earthly fantasy for the highest bidder. So maybe we should put our submissive faith in NASA, because who knows what matriarchal surprises the universe has in store for us.

LADIES IN JODHPURS

You are new here, young man?
He turend around and saw Her standing there. She looked stunning in Her black riding boots, jodhpurs and white shirt.
Yes, Miss, I’m one of the new volunteers. Brushing the horse-
And you didn’t bother to introduce yourself to Me properly?
His face turned red. I … I … You … actually I … no one …
She silenced him with a wave of Her hand. You’re a very lucky young man, you know. Because I have plenty of time on My hands today to show you the ropes and teach you a few valuable lessons. So that this won’t happen again.
He was very thankful and eager to learn, he said. That changed when She ordered him to drop his pants. Are you crazy, he screamed, and: fuck off, I’m out of here. That changed as well after a devastating kick to the groin.
What’s going on here! a Female voice said. A second Lady in jodhpurs entered the stable.
He was still salvaging his balls, but there was enough adrenaline in his voice to hose the stable. For God’s sake, help me!! This bitch is dangerous! Please, help me!
I’ll help you alright, ungrateful young rascal, the Lady hissed. Tie him to the door, Anna, while I fetch the riding crops.
You can’t do this, he screamed, I’m a volunteer.
So are we, Anna said, and smashed his face against the stable door. We won’t charge you anything, so stop whining, this is a free ride.

POST-HYPNOTIC SUGGESTION

I will then implant a post-hypnotic suggestion into his subconscious mind, the mesmerising Lady said. All that’s needed is a trigger to activate it. A trigger can be anything: a specific word, a place, a song, a scent etc. Even time can be a trigger. For example: I can tell a slave to visit the house of Mistress X in 17 days, 14 hours, 59 minutes and 34 seconds from now. He may forget all about it, but at the appointed time he feels an unstoppable need to go to Her house. And if it turns out that all the bridges in the land will be open for the next twelve hours, he will row, or swim, to the other side in order to get there.
Her words caused some laughter in the crowd.
It’s not a conscious choice, She continued, something urges him to do so. Another example: your slave is constantly horny. All too common among men, I would say. So the hypnotist puts the suggestion in his mind that he can’t  get an erection until his Wife gives him permission. That’s it, from hardware to software in the blink of an eye. You can make his penis as lifeless as an ancient burial site. One more example: he will be spanked at 17:00 hours. Each day, every day. Not by You, not by anyone else. There’s no one there, and yet stroke after stroke brands his bottom. The possibilities are endless! So bring out your slaves and let’s get to work!

REHABILITATION CENTER

Mister Dick, the receptionist said, going through his file, you’re here to collect your punishment, because … ah, here it is: because you made sarcastic jokes about Women. Is that correct?
Yes, Miss, he said. He tried to sound humble and sincere, but it was hard not to laugh. Because he was sentenced to 8 strokes, how hilarious was that! That was not a punishment, that was just a tickle! Stupid Women!
It’s the 15th today, She said, looking at the CFC (Cruel Femdom Calendar), which means 8 times 15, is 120 strokes.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, he panicked, what do You mean? No, no, that’s not fair! No one said anything about this-times-that!
Oh dear, She giggled. What should we do? Call the police?
They said 8 strokes, he persisted.
Don’t push your luck, Dick!, She snapped, before I double it.
He backed down immediately: I’m sorry, Miss.
Right! Now, let’s see who’s available right now. She ran Her finger through a list of names. Here we go: Lady Beatrice, better known as: The Butcher from Baltimore, is available … and … let Me see … Mistress Slaughter, also know as: The Liquidator from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, can also see you right now. Ah, and Lady Winny, better known as Winny the Whipper. 
I … I would li-
You go straight down the hall to the second door on your left. They hate funny slaves, by the way. So good luck with that! Men In Peril Magazine – November 2088.

A LONGING SO DEEP

What’s the point, I said irritated, Mark is already Your slave.
Now, now, She said, tapping Her finger playfully on my nose, don’t be so jealous. Mark is a friend, not My boyfriend.
Yeah well …., I said grumpy.
She smiled and  looked at me with new eyes. She studied my face intensely, as if She’d just found a secret compartment in a chest of drawers.
Now then, She said, you want to be My slave, is that correct?
Yes, Karin, I whispered.
I’ve always dreamed of having a slave, did you know that? Well, multiple slaves, really.
I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, because this moment was as fragile as porcelain. One false move or one stupid word and this glorious bubble would burst.
I’m not sure, of course, but I think I’m a very demanding, pretty cruel and merciless Mistress, hehe. Be very careful what you wish for.
I’m ready to serve You, Karin, I said with a hoarse and trembling voice.
Sweet God, was this really happening, was my dream about to come true?
Nope.
The daydream exploded into reality and my ears filled with the noise of the school canteen.
Stop staring at Me, you creep, Karin sneered. She was sitting at a table opposite mine, and if looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now.
What’s wrong, hon? Her boyfriend Mark asked.
La freak is staring at Me again.
He looked at me and shook his head: Jesus dude, grow up.
I slipped away into oblivion.

EXERCISE DRILLS

We’re forced to exercise daily on the school track for 45 minutes. Twenty slaves, drilled by eight merciless Mistresses. One Mistress calls the commands and we obey: Up! Down! Push-ups! Faster! Faster! Stand up! Drop down! Knee bends! Faster! Stand up! Drop down! Stand up! Frog-jumps! Faster! Faster!
Imagine doing all that in the summer heat or, even worse, in a muddy field with deep puddles!
I for one dread it more than anything, because sometimes they focus their attention on you, and you alone. They will be standing around you in a circle, shouting orders and commands. I don’t know about you man, but for me that’s enough to shit my pants. Which is a bad idea altogether, especially while squatting.
Sometimes they use stimuli, which, I think, is a fancy word for torture devices. Last week for example, we were forced to jump up and down with clamps on our nipples. Man, that hurt! The week before that we were forced to do a five-kilometer run over rugged terrain with rough hemp ropes tied around our balls.
They want to keep us fit and healthy, they say. Which is funny, because they use their whips freely and there are more scars, scratches and impact craters on my back then on the fucking moon! I’m not allowed to say that oud loud of course, because before you know it I’m forced to do 100 bullwhipped push-ups, 200 face-slapped sit-ups and 150 ballbusting jumps!

THE GOVERNESS

Phil was 18 years old, and yet his father hired an old-school Governess to beat some sense into the lad. The boy was livid and told Governess Emma bluntly to go ✗#$℥ Herself. She was not impressed. Turning a man, any man, into a slave, was a rescue mission and an act of kindness, She believed. It took Her less than three hours to break him in and transform him from a self-centered, arrogant, primitive and downright stupid piece of dick, to a tamed and obedient young man. But She knew: one swallow does not a summer make, so She had to stay alert and train him vigorously for the next six months. Each day, every day, from six in the morning to eight in the evening. Breakfast on the floor at seven, luncheon underneath Her pumps at noon and dinner in a bowl at six in the evening. She was not the friendly, encouraging, stimulating and supportive kind of Governess and patience was most certainly not Her second, third, fourth or even Her fifth name. Fresh, stubborn meat needed to be whipped, kicked and slapped into slave position, much like a blacksmith hammered iron into shape. It was not harsh, cruel or inhumane, it was necessary. Because, as Her mother used to say: power teacheth Women how to rule; pain teacheth men how to obey.

NIKKI NEXT

To say that Goddess Nikki was a natural born dominant, is just as farfetched as saying that I’m Albert Einstein’s grandson. However, She was a lovely Femdom/Fetish model and Her popularity started in 2015. Seems like you guys can’t get enough of Goddess Nikki, the Men-Are-Slaves website wrote that year. And so Nikki whipped, scissored, spat, slapped and humiliated to Her heart’s content. Or should I say: to our heart’s content. She may have been a model more than a Mistress, but She had a natural feel for the camera. Her lovely smile, Her calm voice and Her amazing beauty made Her the ideal Girl-Next-Door with a naughty twist. And yet, it all lasted just five years and it’s about to end in a few days time. I’ve decided to move on to other things and will stop accepting new signups to my website on May 1st, followed by having my content removed on June 1, She wrote on the Goddess Nikki’s Cum Countdown website (no doubt the website will continue under its original name: Cum Countdown). Nikki will be sorely missed by Her many fans, no question about it. But Brat’s, Princesses and Young Goddesses come and go in a flash; it all happened before and it will happen again. The Next Nikki Next is already anxiously waiting to take the stage, I’m sure of that.

VON DICK BIS SCRÖTUM

Countess von Dick bis Scrötum was without doubt the most dominant person he had ever met. Her piercing eyes, the predatory tone in Her voice, the directness of Her questions; it was all very intimidating. And extremely sexy! So when She offered him a job, he gladly took it. In return She took his wallet, passport, cellphone, creditcards and all his passwords and stuff. She even took his clothes and gave him a striped prison uniform instead. He was forced to sleep in a damp, filthy underground cellar of Her enormous estate. She had a household of 122 slaves and his first few months were a hellish nightmare of pain and suffering. Because She believed in strict discipline and total submission to Her will. She was the Countess of Countless Punishments and was, oddly enough, not familiar with the word mercy. Serving and working for Her was a 24/7 occupation, because She didn’t believe in weekends for slaves. Let alone holidays. The very idea itself was absurd. But you know what? In spite of everything, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He was perhaps a victim of Her beauty and a prisoner of Her power, but She gave his life a sense of purpose and direction. This was what he was born to do.

RULES FOR SERVANTS

  1. When being spoken to, stand still, hands behind your back and eyes to the floor.
  2. Keep your mouth shut, unless to ask a necessary question and then do it in as few words as possible.
  3. Always respond when you have received an order and always use the proper address: yes, Mistress, no Madame, yes Goddess, no Empress etc. Mistakes & mixups will be dealt with in the appropriate and painful manner.
  4. Never offer your opinion to a Lady, unless She has spoken directly to you and wants to hear something stupid.
  5. If you encounter one of your betters in the house, make yourself as invisible as possible, turning yourself toward the wall and averting your eyes. Hold your breath and tongue.
  6. If you are required to walk with a Lady in order to carry packages or for any other reason, always keep a few paces back.
  7. You have one half-day off per month, but you are not allowed to leave the premises without consent of a Lady.
  8. Expect that any breakages or damages in the house shall be severely punished.
  9. You have to pay for your own uniform. Loans, at usury rates of course, can be provided.
  10. You will be locked in chastity 24/7. Any attempt to remove the device will be dealt with in the harshest manner possible and can lead to dismissal.

FEMDOM HORSE

I’m in the woods, picking wild flowers. Or masturbating, or whatever. I’m in the woods, that’s all that matters. All of a sudden a Woman comes galloping down the hill. Well, Her horse is, of course. Don’t ask me why, but I start to run. Guilty conscience for having a boner perhaps, I don’t know. My lungs are burning, my heart is pounding and sweat is pouring down my face. But I’m no match for Her horse of course. The Woman jumps off the horse onto me and wrestles me to the ground. She overpowers me with ease, ties my hands, and ropes me to the horse. I’m now forced to run and stumble behind Her brown mare. It doesn’t take long before I trip over a branch and fall on my face.
Stop! I scream, like a midget with vertigo.
She looks over Her shoulder, grins and spurs Her horse to go faster. She drags me through green pastures and still waters, hills and hamlets, dirt and puddles. I’m all mud and boner, one might say. At sunset She ties me to a cactus, hand feeds me and knocks me unconscious. I don’t know it yet, but She lives at the far end of the world. It will take us at least a year to get there. It’s the wettest dream come true. I’m Her prisoner and She will take me across countries and continents, in a never-ending parade of Female Power. Her captive and Her trophy for all to see.

FEMDOM RESTAURANT

The Femdom Restaurant is located on Onion Road (what are the odds) and has three separate rooms for dining: the first is called Mild, the second Wild and the third one is called Emergency Room. We decided to go for the Wild one. The room has place for 44 guests and is decorated with characteristic Femdom motifs. A waitress smacked me across the head and tossed the menu card on the table. She told us we had five minutes. We giggled like schoolboys. I ordered the Slap Happy Salade as an appetizer and a Paddle Pasta with Rabbit Ragu as the main course.
The salade came with 25 brutal face-slaps. Bon appétit with a twist! We drank wine, which did not go down well with the waitress. She wanted us to drink Spa Spit or Pepsi Pee. We held our ground and got pulled by the hair and spat on in the process.
The pasta was delicious, as was the paddling. I had to bend over and a lovely waitress paddled my ass strawberry red. And I was the lucky one, because one of my friends had ordered Strapon à la Stroganoff. Man, they fucked him all over the place with a humongous strapon. The poor lad couldn’t sit (or shit) for days. They forced us to clean the table, the dishes and the kitchen afterwards. The hefty bill was a financial rape, but who cares. We’ve booked a table in the Emergency Room for next week. Some of the things on the menu there are Guillotine Soup and Chinese Noodles Noose. Could well be my Last Supper.

A DAY IN THE LIFE (2)

07:30 – Rush hour in the shower.
08:00 – Jim leaves for work. Gosh, he looks so handsome in his new suit.
08:15 – Drop the children off at school. Tell them to behave. They roll their eyes.
08:40 – Arrive at work. Put the heater and the kettle on. Make-up & lemon tea.
09:30 – Slave J. is experienced and confident. He knows what he wants and isn’t shy about it. Hard earned money.
11:00 – Slave B. is a novice. It’s the most beautiful day of his life, he says. He wants it all and he wants it now. Gently does it, though.
12:30 – Homemade sandwiches and tea. How glamorous.
14:00 – Slave S. drove all the way from Manchester again for a two hour session. It’s fun to dominate him, I like him. Ordered him to clean the dungeon as well. Told him how lucky and privileged he was. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. What’s new.
16:15 – At the supermarket. Mom picked up the kids from school and drove them home.
17:15 – Preparing dinner. Jim comes home from work. He looks tired, poor thing.
18:15 – Dinner together. This is what life is all about.
19:30 – Taking the kids to bed. Love them to bits.
21:00 – On the couch with chips and drinks. Jim asks me about my Femdom day. I shrug my shoulders. Same o’, same o’, I say.

A DAY IN THE LIFE (1)

03:15 – Can’t sleep. Go to the living-room to stare at nothing.
03:25 – Time is moving backwards.
05:00 – Showered & clothed and ready to go ….. but I have to wait another six hours …..
06:30 – Too nervous to eat. Who cares about breakfast. Or lunch for that matter.
08:15 – Panic sets in. I’m going to cancel the appointment. Tell Her my late mother is ill. Or that I broke my neck. And back. My neck & back. My neck, back and legs, that’s it! Or that I have a flat tire. Less dramatic and more convincing!
09:00 – Too scared to cancel the appointment. I arrive two hours early. Circle the house like a hungry shark. My heart is pounding like a hammer and I’m ready to puke.
10:20 – Another panic attack. What the hell am I doing here! I’m going home, fuck it!
11:00 – She opens the door and takes my breath away. My head is spinning and my mouth is dry.
11:15 – Heaven is here at last! I’m a slave, Her slave! Each command is like manna, each stroke a miracle. A roller-coaster ride of beauty and pain!
12:05 – Drive home on a cloud of happiness.
14:00 – Can’t think, can’t focus; drowning in happiness.
17:50 – Staring at Her pictures on the Internet. Was I really HER slave today?
22:00 – I’m exhausted and go to bed. This has been the most amazing, unbelievable and unforgettable day of my life!

FEMDOM DESTINY

Once upon a time the sun was shining in Chicago and he was sitting in a bar, drinking alone. Then Lady Death walked in and stared him right in the eye. He became as pale as death (how appropriate), because She was a merciless Enslaver of Men. She looked a bit startled though, but before She could say anything, he took a sprint and jumped straight through the window.
You’re not going to get me, Bitch, he screamed hysterically.
He drove full throttle to JFK airport in New York and flew to Paris. He stopped shaving, pulled out his front teeth, bought glasses, a different outfit and a Fiat 500L (1969). He drove from Paris to Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria and finally to the city of Samarra in Iraq. Turned out his car wasn’t fit for long-distance driving (better said: his car wasn’t fit for driving), so it took him nine days to cover the distance. But he made it, he cheated death and the eternal chains of servitude. He checked into a small hotel and went outside to find something to eat. He walked through a maze of old narrow streets, stairs and alleys, turned a corner and bumped into…Lady Death.
WHAT! he screamed. Are you serious! How is this possible, I escaped you in Chicago!
There you are, My new slave to be, Lady Death smiled. I was so surprised to see you in Chicago, I couldn’t believe My eyes! For I knew we had an appointment here today, in Samarra.

LONG-TERM CHASTITY

Sex with you is not exactly a Viking invasion, isn’t it? It’s more like having sex with a hamster. Although that’s an insult to hamsters and other rodents. I deserve better. Much better. And bigger. Much bigger. Time to lock your tiny little wiener behind bars and throw away the key. Read My lovely lips: you’re not going to have sex anymore for the rest of your life, and that’s the end of it. Don’t look so worried, you’ll get used to it. Or not. I’m curious what the effects of your long-term chastity will be. Who knows, maybe you will lose the ability to cum, or even better: the ability to get an erection! It’s a small step from a micro dick to impotence, I would say. Anyway, it will be very interesting to see what happens. In that respect you’re not so much a hamster but a lab rat. Every now and then the cage will come off and your penis will be cleaned thoroughly. Ah, I see a glimmer of hope in your eyes. Well, make yourself no illusions, your hands will be cuffed behind your back and the chastity cage will be back in place before you know it. And so, I hereby sentence your shadow of a penis to a lifetime in chastity.

HUMILIATING PIN

Ellen, his two years younger Sister, tackled him from behind and he smacked to the ground. The fight was brief and intense, and She came out on top. She pressed his wrists to the sides of his head and and sat on his upper chest. He struggled to throw Her off, but She had Her legs on his arms and Her knees on his wrists. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Now, let’s wait for our siblings to come home, shall we?
Jesus, are you stupid or what, he laughed sarcastically, no one can sit like this for so long. 
Oh, we’ll see about that, She giggled.
You’re such an idiot sometimes, Ellen.
Perhaps, brother mine, but I’m stronger than you and trust Me, I can sit like this forever.
And She was right, because somehow Her legs didn’t go numb.
The humiliation took him through a roller coaster ride of emotions. First he cursed and swore, then he put on a grave face and whined & whimpered and in the end he begged and begged for mercy. It didn’t help. Then the siblings arrived home.
You sat on him for several hours??? one of their sisters asked in disbelief. Way to go, Sis!
Man, you’re  a wimp, the older brother mocked.
I pinned him down for more than three hours, Ellen wrote in Her diary that evening. Surely that’s something for the Guinness Book of Records!

DOG SLAVE WALKING SERVICE

Regular dog walking is one of the best ways to keep Your human dog healthy and happy. Our Dog Slave Walking Service specialises in fun-filled group dog walks and dog adventures. Because dogs are naturally pack animals and they love playing with their buddies. From the laziest to sportiest and from the largest to the tiniest; they’re all welcome. We take them to parks, open fields, forests and the beach, where they can run and play to their hearts content. We play fetch and tug-of-war for example to let them burn off excess energy. We also change old and annoying habits into new and appropriate ones. Don’t worry about separation anxiety or leash obedience; our dog walkers are amongst the most brutal in the business and these bloody dogs soon realise they’re barking up the wrong tree. We teach them social skills and commands and it’s amazing to see what a choke collar and a penis shock device can do! Our service is free of charge, because we simply love to humiliate, drill and torture the male species. That’s much more rewarding than a paycheck. Sasha’s Dog Slave Walking Service – Barcelona, Spain.

HD-2020

Matt is chosen to be Human Doormat 2020 at the Femdom Estate! While the Ladies will use him to wipe their feet, he will wipe his tears of happiness. Because it really means the world to him. He has been practising and preparing for this for many, many years. He’s not like all those idiots who think they excel in everything Mistress throws at them. Gardener, cleaner, mechanic, carpenter, painter, technician, writer, all in one? Shut up, no way! Doing one task at the time is already way beyond the capability of most men. And even then! Ask a slave to clean the bathroom and the Lady probably has to do it all over again after the knucklehead has gone home. Matt instead, focuses on one job, one fetish, one calling or whatever you wanna call it. Being a doormat is all about trampling and, if necessary, cleaning the boots, shoes, sneakers and pumps with his tongue. He always has to be on top of his game, because Mistresses don’t talk to  doormats, you know. Few people do, actually. Anyways, his tongue always has to be ready to shift into second gear. No one orders him to, he just knows. You see, that’s the difference between an experienced doormat and a cheap, amateur one.

ON YOUR MARKS

I will never forget my very first session, with two professional Mistresses no less. It all went remarkably smooth, like stepping into a warm bath after a long, exhausting day. In the third, and final hour, one of the Mistresses introduced me to the bullwhip. She wasn’t the squeamish type, because ten minutes earlier She had pierced my nipples with needles. Just like that. Anyways, my arms and legs were spread wide and strapped in place. The whip cracked and seemed to burn itself through my skin. I bellowed in pain.
I see you appreciate the excellent workmanship that went into making this whip, She grinned.
The lashes came in quick succession, leaving me no time to recover. My body winched in pain.
Mistress, have pity on an innocent novice, I shivered.
She laughed out loud and made a serious attempt to whip me in half. That evening I examined my back in the mirror. It looked like a battlefield, with craters and trenches criss-crossing in every direction. The Nazca lines gone wrong, so to speak. I was very proud of them and couldn’t stop looking. They were silent witnesses of one of the most memorable days of my life. Over the weeks this beautiful landscape slowly began to fade, until finally it simply disappeared altogether. As if nothing happened. As if it was all a figment of my imagination.

SUB-TOMBOLA

The Frankfurter Femdom & Fetish Fair was an enormous success, with tons of kinky, naughty and inspiring vendors, manufacturers, shows, educational sessions and workshops. There was also a Sub-Tombola with very fine prizes. For example: 12 Face-Slaps (prize number 10), 15 Kicks-to-the-Groin (number 150), a 30-minutes cuddle with the finest Nipple-Clamps (number 120) or a No-Bullshit-Bullwhipping encounter (prize number 70). Then a bald-headed, beer-bellied guy drew a ticket out of the revolving drum and held it up. It was number 100: the big prize, the jackpot! Immediately a marching band marched in, playing he’s a jolly good fellow. The man was stripped, forced to bend over and strapped to a BDSM table.
Ladies & gentlemen, Mistress Tombola said in the microphone, let’s hear it for the winner! He has won the coveted prize, the dream of all dreams … the-e-e-e-e Strap-On Marathon!!
We cheered loudly, because we were so glad it was him, not us. There was a long queue of Women, strapped-on to the teeth, to have a go at him. One after the other rammed the missile in his enormous ass and fucked his brains out. The poor man was screaming in agony, so the marching band played a few uplifting tunes to bring the atmosphere back in. Rumour has it that 126 Women “congratulated” the prize-winner in this fashion.

TEMPLE OF THE GODDESS

The Temple of the Goddess is Japan’s oldest Femdom temple, located in the Kyoto mountains, and is dedicated to all lifestyle Mistresses around the world. A few months ago the authorities finally granted me permission to stay, work and worship at the sanctuary for a few weeks. It’s more beautiful than I’d ever imagined and I wished I could stop the clock and be here forever. I rise at 4am every morning and wash and clean the boots of the 6-metre high statue of a Goddess in the inner sanctum. The statue is made of pure gold and is decorated with diamonds, rubies and sapphires. A couple of devotees wash Her legs, others Her hands etc. The Holy Guards are an elite and highly trained forse, licensed to kick, slap, smother, whip, cane and – no doubt – kill flies like me. They keep a sharp eye on everything. Thousands of male slaves visit the temple each day and offer food, flowers, money and gold to the Goddess. They all get a free meal, so most of the time I’m dishwashing, scrubbing and cleaning in the enormous kitchen. The highest authority of the temple, Princess Juri, arrives in the early afternoon and we all lie prostrate for Her for at least six hours. Sometimes She points at one of the slaves lying on the ground, and he will be punished right in front of Her. Without rhyme or reason as far as I know, but then again: She’s a living Goddess, I’m nothing. Slave T. April 2016.

PUBLIC HUMILIATION

Public humiliations were initially intended to embarrass the naughty ones, not to arouse them. Wrongdoers were tied to a cart and dragged through the streets, had to sit on the repentance stool for a number of Sundays (sometimes with a paper mitre on their head) or ended up in the pillory. Compared to that, going down on your knees in public before your Mistress, is just kid-stuff, wouldn’t you say? I was collared, leashed and paraded through the streets of Paris, wore a slave collar and a T-shirt saying i am a 24/7 slave, in a restaurant in Rome, had to kiss a Lady’s boot on the world famous zebra crossing on Abbey Road, London, was on all fours in Amsterdam with a Mistress sitting on my back, was slapped in the face repeatedly on the Old Town Square in Prague and kneed in the nuts at the airport. One day a Madame took me to a very busy shop and told me to wait at the entrance. Then, after twenty minutes or so, She grabbed me by the ear, dragged me to the shop counter and ordered me (loud and clear) to get my wallet out and pay for Her stuff. All this was meant to humiliate me, but to me these were moments of intense beauty. Because there’s no shame in being a slave. On the contrary: it fills me with enormous pride.

VINTAGE PULP MAGAZINES

I’m a huge fan of the sleazy, adventurous, slightly erotic, pulp magazines of the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s. Especially the ones with strong, powerful and deadly Women on the cover. Some of these covers are genuine pieces of art, as far as I’m concerned. The stories inside range from Female Islands and Tribes, to Harem’s, Bordello’s, Femme Fatale’s and Madame’s, to Pirates, Man-Killers, Sex-Slaves and Nazi. Lots and lots of Nazi’s. The titles of these stories can be mouthwatering:

  • He Was Hostage Of The Orient’s Fabulous Female Brigade
  • Tortured Slave Of The Whip Goddesses
  • Trapped By The Slave Trading Nymphos Of The Nile
  • I Ran the Torture Gauntlet Of Those Blood-Crazed Amazons
  • The Berlin Nudes And Their Studio Of Torture
  • The Wild Raid Of The Lace Panty Commandos
  • Captive Of The All-Girl Ching Dao Jewel Ring
  • The Nazi She-Devil Who Killed For Kicks
  • Attacked By The Girl Pirates Of The Yangtze
  • The Teenage Nazi She-Wolves Of Berlin

She promised a paradise of love and freedom in the sun, but now we were Her slaves with our lives at stake …. That’s enough for the Nobel Prize in Literature if you ask me. Amazing covers, catchy titles and tag-lines allow us to escape the doubts, difficulties, hazards and impossibilities of finding a real & right Mistress in the 21st century. They inspire us to dream and fantasise of undiscovered islands, jungles and worlds where real Women rule.