There are several rules of thumb when it comes to clothespins. For example: the thinner the skin, the more unpleasant. Or: the closer together, the more agony. And the most important one: taking them off, hurts more than putting them on. With that in mind, let the fun begin. Now, use enough clothespins to start a laundry business. Put them on his arms, legs, chest, back, nipples, scrotum, ears, nose, tongue and wherever there’s space left. The more, the merrier, that’s the spirit. Let the pins simmer for a while and stir them from time to time. He’ll love that. Or not. Sure, you can remove them one after the other … but ask yourself this: do you break up a jigsaw puzzle piece by piece? Do you know what I mean? Just grab a riding crop and flick them off! It’s much more fun and if you miss ONE, you hit HIM! So cool! Or, and now we’re getting somewhere, attach the clothespins to a thin piece of rope. Removing them is now the easiest thing in the world! Just grab the rope and yank them all off at once! Trust me, he’ll love it. Or not. And, as a final touch, rubbing, squeezing and pinching the tortured skin only adds more joy to the agony.
And that concludes today’s lesson. Next week: how to iron a laundry slave.


The Ladies spoke Czech with each other, so I didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. That didn’t mean I had a day off, or something luxurious like that. Don’t listen but always pay attention, they used to say, slapping me across the face to drive the point home. Anyway, all went well in the beginning. There was a lot of laughter and I, well I was all dick & no brains. Then one of the Ladies looked at me, frowned, grabbed my left ear and turned it like an organ grinder turning the crank and making music. And in this case, I was making the music.
A-h-a-a-a-h, Mistress! My e-a-a-a-r!!!
Are you deaf? She shouted.
I probably would be after this, but I couldn’t say that, could I? Then the other Lady joined the fun and grabbed my right ear. They pulled my ears from left to right and up and down.
Have you not been listening?
Forg-i-i-ve me, Mistress … I didn’t underst-a-a-a-a-a-nd!!
He didn’t understand … the bloody nerve … well, I hope you know what a tug of war is!
They went full throttle and were seriously trying to pull my ears off. I screamed hard and they pulled harder. I do not know who won this brutal tug of ears, I only know who lost. I learned my lesson though; since then I am all ears.


Sending a slave to school to be educated, is like trying to teach an orangutan to sing an aria, or a cactus to run the marathon. Male creatures are below zero, empty vessels frozen in ignorance. The love of their life is their own penis, do I need to say more? Besides, there’s always a risk- however small- that one or two of them will develop a primitive brain of some sorts. They would learn to despise their lot in life, leading to revolutionary sentiments, or, God forbid, resistance, uproar and revolt against the superiority of Women. So no, slaves are not meant to think for themselves, they’re meant to work, obey, serve and suffer. If anything, we should drill them even harder to achieve the highest levels of obedience, efficiency and willingness. A slave doesn’t care if the Nile is wet, that the gestation period of an elephant is 22 months or that the average height for a man in the Netherlands is 186 cm (6’1 ft). He doesn’t care. He’s a simpleton, a mop with a dick, a talking scrotum. A primitive, with primitive needs and wants. He wants to chew and gnaw on boots, wants to be slapped around and wants to swallow spit and piss by the gallon. Let’s keep him simple, for everyone’s sake.
August 2167, Brisbane, Australia – Women’s Convention


I was shocked when he told me about his submissive feelings. I thought I knew him through and through and then, in the blink of an eye, my whole life was in turmoil. I felt betrayed, does that make sense? But after many talks (and a lot of wine) I agreed to play the role of Mistress on five consecutive Saturdays. The first three were a complete disaster, because I honestly didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do. And his whole demeanour changed, I hated that! He was no longer the man I fell in love with, but someone I’d never seen before! We had agreed not to talk about it during the week: no suggestions, no requests, no advice. Thank God for that, because I was well aware I sucked at this.
And then the anger came. All this nonsense about obedience and doing everything for me! Yeah sure! So on the fourth Saturday I ordered him to clean the bathroom. Once finished, I inspected the work and told him I was not satisfied. I ordered him to do it again. To my astonishment he did; the walls, floor, tiles and shower, as if nothing had happened. So I inspected his work again and sneered: “Do you call this cleaning? Do it again and do it properly this time.” And so he did, without a word of complaint. Christ, he even thanked me for it! And then, surely but slowly, it dawned on me: I didn’t need to worry about his suggestions, his ideas and whether or not he liked it. Who the hell was he in the scheme of things? That’s how it all started.
Mistress Selene


I can clearly remember the sunlight filtering through the leaves and the smell of freshly cut grass. But I can also remember a feeling of fear and panic, because Karin scissored me with Her legs. This was not the first time, certainly not, but it was by far the worst time. Because She was livid and squeezed the bejesus out of me. The pain was excruciating and something popped in my neck, I’m sure of that. I screamed like a pig.
Don’t move and shut your mouth, She growled.
I obeyed immediately and She loosened up a bit. She was waiting for Lisa, who was chasing after Robin. I honestly can’t remember what we’d done wrong, but it must have been something pretty awful. We waited for about ten minutes for Lisa to return.
Sorry Karin, he got away, Lisa said. She grinned and looked down on me: I see you had more luck.
She kicked me against my back.
Karin is stronger than me, I screamed in panic.
That made them double up with laughter. But Karin’s anger wasn’t over yet. She tightened Her grip a bit, terrifying me almost into a fit.
Did I tell you to speak?
N-o-o-o-o-o, I yelped.
It’s just a small patch of grass underneath a tree. But to me it’s much more than that. Because in spite of the humiliation- or should I say: because of the humiliation- every inch of it is engraved in my memory.


An incoming text message woke him up from a deep sleep.
Come to My house AT ONCE!! Come by bicycle!!!!!
He frowned. Why on earth did he have to use his bike?? Then he heard the rain pattering against the window and the penny dropped. Wicked, wicked Lady! Her message sounded urgent, so he jumped out of bed like an acrobatic flea, grabbed his clothes, his rain suit and a towel (She hated dripping slaves, man, She really did).
It wasn’t raining, it was bucketing down. The night was stormy as well and he had to be careful not to be blown over. By the time he got to Her house, he was panting like a marathon runner with hemorrhoids. He went to the shed, took off his rain gear, dried his hair, face and hands with the towel and knocked on the backdoor.
You took your time, She thundered with a lot of headwind.
I’m so sorry, Mi-
Yeah, yeah, I heard it all before. Get your lazy ass inside, get the dustpan & brush and sweep that up. She pointed at the few grains of sugar on the kitchen floor. He didn’t frown (wise), didn’t raise his eyebrows (wise too) and didn’t ask (wise again); he grabbed the dustpan & brush and swept the floor. It took him less than twenty seconds.
Good! Now, get out and go home. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. Move it!


She flew all the way from Prague to do a movie in my hometown. She wanted me to accompany Her as Her toy, private secretary, slap-around, onlooker, devotee, pet and moron. Yeah baby, I’m a Jack of all trades! The movie was about one Mistress and no less than seven slaves. I suggested the title Frostbite and the seven Dwarfs, but if looks could kill, I would have died on the spot. Anyways, She introduced Herself to the slaves, who stood side-by-side, naked to the dick. Right on that moment someone walked in and asked Her something.
I’ll be right back, She said to the talking dicks, left the dungeon and forgot all about the little fellows (small potatoes, you know). She returned one and a half hour later with make-up on, hair done and dressed in a gorgeous leather outfit. The dwarfs hadn’t moved an inch.
Oh my God, are you still here? She laughed in surprise and delight.
Then She took the reigns and dominated these guys with ease, precision, confidence and professionalism. She was a puppet Mistress who pulled all the strings; a conductor who conducted a symphony orchestra to create a masterpiece. I was truly in awe and mighty waves of submission rolled over me. So there you have it: it doesn’t matter if it’s one or one hundred slaves, a skilled Mistress is always in charge.


Come here slave.
He looked up from his dick and crawled to Her.
You’re really in love with your penis, aren’t you? She shook Her head in disbelief. Well, let’s see if we can take that admiration to the next level.
He felt a glow of happiness spread all over his face. Was She really going to take a picture of his monumental cock, print it, frame it and hang it on Her bedroom wall? Had that day finally come?
She unlocked his chastity cage, ordered him to masturbate like a rabbit and cum in a plastic cup. He almost teared up from happiness, because it wasn’t even the end of the year yet! He was a man, not blessed with an abundance of brain cells and completely oblivious of what was coming. He embraced his dick as if it were a long lost friend and filled the cup in no time.
Such a good boy, She smiled. Now, drink it.
He looked shocked and stared at the thick, white, jelly-like substance in his cup.
C.can I have a diet coke instead, Mistress?
Shall I put your dick in the toaster, slave?
Man, She can be so persuasive!
He shivered, swallowed it down and gagged several times.
Thank you Mistress, that was a real treat.
Glad you liked it slave, She smiled, we’ll do it again tomorrow.


The Lady examined his skin as if it were a papyrus scroll.
She shook Her head: the skin lays over your body like a depleted field. A barren landscape of dust and dirt, that’s what it is. It’s dry, it’s dull and missing its glow. And … wait, wait … hold on … oh no, there’s no skin circulation anymore!!
Jesus Christ, he panicked, no circulation??
Sir, we have to act quickly, before things get out of hand. Lay face down on the table and spread your arms. That’s it, lovely. I need to strap your arms and head, because desperate times call for desperate measures. Normally I would use a body brush or scrubbe-
Stop blathering, Woman, he screamed, DO something.
A cold front moved into Her eyes and She lashed out with Her nails. She dug Her nails deep into his skin and dragged them down. Sometimes agonizing slowly, sometimes with lightning speed. He screamed, wriggled and fought in agony. But She was just getting warmed up and went full throttle on his back, arms and legs. Then She unstrapped him and had him turn over.
Save me, he cried. Save my epidermis!
She nodded, climbed up the table and sat on his chest.
This is going to hurt a bit, She said. She pierced Her sharp nails into his face and scratched the skin of his cheeks. Blood trickled down from the deep cuts. He howled in pain.
Don’t you worry, She said, your skin will be soft, smooth and healthy again in no time.


Are you a bit of a gambling man? She asked.
That was weird, he’d just told Her about his mortgage, the alimony and his gambling debts.
As I ju-
I bet you are. Well, I believe in luck, in destiny, in numbers. So I will think of a number between one and ten. Guess it right and glory, glory hallelujah.
He had no idea what She was talking about: Three?
THREE?? Why on earth would it be three??  She shook Her head. Absurd! Try again!
He looked bewildered and confused: F.five?
She doubled up with laughter. Five! Hilarious. If you had guessed it right, then I would have paid all your debts. But now … well, now you leave Me with no other choice then to fire you.
WHAT!! He ejected from his chair like a human cannonball. WHY? You can’t do this to me, Angela! Without an income I will be destitute within weeks.
Man, don’t be so overdramatic. Alright, Jesus!, you can keep your job. On one condition.
He was overjoyed: Thank You so much! And yes, of course, name it!
From now on you will be My slave.
W.what?? His smile crumbled and fell.
You heard Me!
I … I … don’t understand … w.what does that mea-
Alright John, goodbye! Have a good life.
Stop! Stop! OK … I will … you know … do it.
Do what exactly, John? Shout it as loud as you can! NOW!!!!
She smiled. That’s right. Your number is up.


A Woman sitting on a man’s shoulders … that’s just a bit of harmless fun, right? That’s what I thought, anyway. That changed on a sunny day at the local park, when Patricia sat down on my shoulders. She locked Her feet behind my back and squeezed Her legs together.
What are you waiting for! Move!
I giggled and before long I was sweating like a melting glacier.
Come on, She groaned, slapping me across the head, FASTER!
She grabbed my hair and pulled.
Horses don’t talk! So shut up and move!
She tightened Her grip on my head and I walked the bejesus.
Stop, stop!
I obeyed immediatlely, panting to breathe.
Do you want Me to replace you? Is that it? I’m pretty sure there are plenty of guys who would love to take your place. Is that what you want?
No, Patricia, I panicked.
She slapped me on the back of my head.
What did I say about talking horses? Mm?
I opened my mouth, but wisely closed it again.
Better! Now, prove yourself worthy to Me.
And off we went. Left, right, uphill, downhill and always faster, faster, faster. She slapped me, pulled my hair and almost killed me with Her strong legs. I was sure I would faint from exhaustion, but somehow I survived the ordeal. She was not my Mistress, nor would She ever be, but She gave me one hell of a ride that day!


I did (and still do) lots and lots of family research to find out more about my ancestors. Some were successful and quite wealthy, others ended up in the workhouse. Some lived a long life, many others died young. Some were sentenced to jail (for petty theft mostly), one was flogged and died in prison and one of my ancestors was hanged for murder in February 1803. Some received the Yad Vashem title of “Righteous Among the Nations” for helping Jewish families during WW2, several family members died in Nazi concentration camps, while someone else in the family was sentenced to jail by a war tribunal for collaborating with the Nazis. One brother joined Napoleon’s Grand Armée and died during Napoleon’s catastrophic invasion of Russia; while the other brother fought against Napoleon at Waterloo. Many of them were born, got married and died in the same village, others crossed the Atlantic Ocean and found a new home in America. A view of my ancestors became locally famous, others nationally, and at least one of them became world famous: Mata Hari. It’s such an honour to be related to Her, it really is. I often wonder, as I go through the stories of my ancestors, if somewhere, somehow, Female Domination played a (tiny) role in their life as well. Because who knows, maybe I’m not the first to embrace the superiority of Women. Maybe it’s all in the family.


Can you believe it? Jessy, my youngest, turned eighteen last week. Man, time goes so fast! So I wanted to get her something special to commemorate this milestone. I thought about an Orbit-Around-The-Earth-Experience in a spacecraft or an Around-The-World-In-Eighty-Ways travel voucher. But in the end I settled for something she will enjoy for years to come. If not the rest of her life! You probably guessed it already: I decided to give Her a slave. A friend of mine was willing to sell one of Hers, but you know, there’s always a risk of wear and tear and who knows what bad habits he may have picked up! Second hand is second hand, no matter what. And sure, yes, of course you can teach an old slave new tricks, but it’s such a strain on the whipping arm. The lass is a bit too young for that, I think. So I got one directly from the Breeding Facility. He’s a 25-year old blank slate, you might say, healthy, vaccinated, very active and playful and eager to learn. Jessy has decided to call him James, which has a nice old-fashioned ring to it, I think.
She’s very chuffed with him and immediately started with his training. She might be young, but she’s very strict, very ruthless and extremely demanding.
Like mother, like daughter.
Lady Alice, July 2099


On the road betwixt Sherbourne and Shaftesbury the coach was held up by a masked rider. Sir Duncan, special advisor to the King, stuck his head out of the coach-window.
Why are we stopping? Thee there on the horse, who are thou!
I am thy worst nightmare, a Woman’s voice said, step out of the coach, all of thee.
Four flabbergasted men stepped out with their hands up.
I’m all dick, Sir Duncan murmured. Sorry, sorry, I mean ears. I’m all ears.
Out with thy purses, She demanded.
And if we refuse, the tall man asked.
The Lady pointed the blunderbuss at him: Then thee shall kicketh the bucket the present day.
They immediately dropped their purses.
Thee has stolen so much more than my purse, Sir Duncan blushed.
She smiled, but ignored him.
Drop thy pants, all of thee. Now!
Not in a million years, the bald man screamed.
The blunderbuss roared into life and a bullet ploughed through his hair.
Woman, the fat man lamented, has’t thee nay mercy?
I have no more of that dull commodity than thee has’t, She growled.
She threw their trousers in the bushes, tied Her victims back to back on the stagecoach horses and drove them into the next town, where many people gathered and cheered. The Lady let Her horse prance and drove off into the night.



I was somewhat strapped for cash that season. And then I met a guy called Bill who said he was willing to pay for My pee. I thought he was kidding, but sure enough, he showed up with the cash and paid me $25 for a filled urine container. That’s how it all started. I created a website called Peeper-The-Pee and started peeing on an industrial scale. I didn’t take long before I was peeing all over the country. And beyond. The key to My success is My integrity, My honesty and thousands upon thousands of liters of water. No sir, I don’t sell the urine of My partner, My brother, My aunt, My dogs or whatnot; what I pee, is what you get. And I know; a lot of Women are cutting corners with this and laugh at Me for being so honest. Well, all I can say to them is: piss off and let Me pee in peace (aka pees).
Being a professional pee-er is not as simple as you may think. I drink huge quantities of water and I constantly need to pee. Which makes driving a car, shopping or a walk along the boulevard perilous undertakings. And I don’t go about with a bag filled with urine-containers, thank you very much. Yesterday I went for a drink with My mother. And sure enough, I had to pee. I flushed the toilet, shook My head and sighed: I’m literally flushing money down the toilet.


A picture is worth a thousand words, they say, and I wholeheartedly agree with that. Because a picture allows us to dream, imagine and wonder what happens next. Look at the top picture of this post, for example. That’s not just a Schoolgirl-pin POV snapshot, my friend, that’s a triumph, a masterpiece! My dick and I can stare at that picture for hours on end, without a minute’s pause, no kidding. Make a poster of it, sell it, worship it, lovely!
The lovely Mistress Katja, sitting on top of you, pinning you down to the ground. Her golden hair, hanging down Her breast, Her sexy, shiny lips and Her eyes, Her beautiful eyes, looking down on you with disdain. She can enslave you for life with that powerful gaze. Her strong legs in jeans, pressing down on your chest and arms. One more stupid word from you and She will push Her exquisite bottom onto your face and hold it there till you pass out. So you better lay still and don’t say a fucking word, asshole.
You see? All that from one, single picture, a split second of Power & Beauty, one unforgettable moment of Female Superiority.


I was on my knees in front of Her, my eyes down to the floor. I had been around a time or two, but this mature, amateur Lady made me shiver in fear and admiration. Everything about Her was powerful; Her piercing eyes, Her personality and the tone of Her voice left no doubt that She expected to be obeyed. And She didn’t need a whip for that.
Her black, shiny boots came into view in front of me. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry. Then She put Her finger under my chin and forced me to look at Her.
It was nothing really, just a slight movement of Her hand, a mere trickle in the scheme of things, a painless touch in the world of Dominance and submission. But to me it was just breathtaking and I was in awe of the beauty of the moment. Huge waves of submission swept over me, dragging me under. All it took was an index finger and the tiniest bit of pressure to reach the Glory of Female Power and the Heavens of slavery.
What are you, She asked with a commanding tone of voice.
I’m Your slave, Mistress, I whispered, spiralling down in the vortex of Her eyes.
That’s right, She said.


You don’t remember us bringing you to this cabin last night? I’m not really surprised, you had way too much to drink. Four bottles too much, to be precise. No, I don’t have the keys to the handcuffs, I’m sorry. Alice has them. She will be here in an hour or so. I know, I know, you think She’s a stupid cunt, you said so many times. She was furious when I told Her you said that. I shouldn’t have, I realize that, but one thing led to another, you know how it goes. Anyway, She wants to have a word with you. And “having a word” equals torture, of course. Excuse me? Why? Well, because She’s an amateur Dominatri- Sorry? You didn’t know? Seriously? Oh boy, well, you’re in for a painful surprise then. Rumor has it She’s quite a talent. Yes, whips, canes, clamps; enough equipment to shit yourself like an elephant with diarrhea. Trust me, you will hate Her even more after today. Don’t worry, you will survive … Wait! I take that back. I’m not sure you’re going to survive. Ha-ha, I’m just teasing you, man! On the other hand … we’re just twenty meters away from Dead Man’s Creek … I do hope that’s not a bad omen.


A Woman was not allowed to attend university, to vote (suffrage), divorce Her husband, open a Bank account or sign a legal document without Her husband’s approval. And if that was not enough, a husband was legally allowed to rape and beat his Wife. In the 19th and early 20th century Women stood up against this male-dominated society that had been in place for 4,000 years. The men were not amused. They mocked and ridiculed these Women, assaulted and beat them. In Colchester a mob smashed the windows of the hotel where Josephine Butler was staying, and stones were hurled into Her room. They threatened to burn the place down unless Mrs. Butler was delivered to them. She fled through a back window and hid inside an unused warehouse: I stood there in the darkness and alone, hearing some of the violent men tramping past. Others were imprisoned and force-fed by inserting a tube through their nostrils and shoving it down into the stomach. Militant suffragettes smashed the windows of hundreds of shops, planted bombs, and burned down cricket- and horse-racing pavilions. Suffragette Emily Davison threw herself under King George V’s horse in the 1913 Epsom Derby race. She died of Her injuries. It was, quite literally, a battle of the sexes.
So, where will you stand when Women try to seize power? Will you try to stop them, sit idly by or are you willing to fight and suffer for their cause?


Once upon a time a Mistress adopted a human dog named Ahh-Choo (aka Gesundheit), because She wanted a dog to protect the property. He was not allowed in the house of course, because that would send Sissy Slave Sasha into a fit of hysteria. And so Ahh-Choo ate and slept in a dog house in the garden. Every morning he walked his Mistress to the train station, because She whipped, caned and tortured in a neighboring city. In the evening he would be waiting for Her again at the station. Each day, every day.
Then one day Mistress decided to donate all Her whips, clamps and dildos to the old folks home up the road (She had a dark sense of humor, man, what can we say), packed Her bags, drove to the airport and emigrated to Australia. Just like that.
Somehow She forgot all about Her human dog, so Ahh-Choo would sit at the train station all day, waiting for his Mistress to come home. And a year later, when the house got sold, he slept hither and thither. A hot dog seller named Carlos “The Hottest” Adams fed him, while Carla Morgan, who owned a soft drink shop opposite the station, watered him like a plant.
Believe it or not: Ahh-Choo is still alive and is still waiting for his Mistress at Hachikō Station (North Exit). Eleven years, eight months, two weeks and three days to be precise. Talking about loyalty! Please visit him if you’re in the area, OK? And don’t forget to bring some “Good Boy” Dog Snacks with you. They’re his favorites.


Do I like sailing?? Mistress, they call me Catamaran the 3rd, Lord of the Lakes, Dick on Deck, Prince of the High Seas! Look at my mast, look at that solid piece of happiness! Ready to be rigged and sail to new horizons and secret islands!!
Steady pirate, She smiled, don’t fall overboard.
I apologize, Mistress, I apologize, I got carried away by the northeasterly winds, was swept away by the tide of enthusiasm.
Glad to hear it, slave, because we’re going sailing today.
That’s just awes-
In a manner of speaking, of course …
His smile collapsed into a look of bewilderment. He opened his mou-
HUSH!!! I warn you, Captain Cock. One word from you and I’ll nail your tongue to a keel. Savvy? Good! Now, pants down and bend over.
He was visibly disappointed, but he obeyed (such a good boy) while She put on a harness with a strap-on dildo attached to it.
Now, let’s sail the Anal Canal, shall we? The wind is coming from the South at about 2-3 knots, wouldn’t you say, cadet?
He knew there would be hell to pay if he didn’t play along.
Aye, aye, Captain, he whispered.
She laughed sarcastically and sailed straight into his Stinker. She fucked him below decks, ploughed through his harbor with lightning speed. He screamed in agony and begged for parley. But that ship sailed a long time ago.


She wanted Her husband (aka Her slave) to turn the dilapidated barn into a luxurious guest house. To be honest, it would have been easier to turn a shopping cart into a Rolls Royce, but, as always, he had no saying in this. She was in charge and had him by the balls. Figuratively and, quite often, literally. So he did what he’d always done: he obeyed and worked his ass off. The barn was smelly, dirty, dusty and filled with spider webs and by the end of each day he’d gathered more dust than a broom in its heyday. But She, always the practical one, had just the solution for that: an old fashioned carpet beater! Handwoven and made from strong rattan reed. Yes, it’s scary sometimes with the things these Women come up with. Anyways, at the end of a hard days work, She would beat the crap out of him with that thing. Not because She wanted to punish him, but because She wanted to dust him thoroughly, meticulously, exhaustively, rigorously, methodically, painstakingly. After that She would hose him down in the backyard with the garden hose. Because he was not going to contaminate the shower with all sorts of creepy bacteria. No, sir! Not on Her watch!
Man, isn’t She one in a million?


He opened the front door and a Woman jabbed a needle into his arm. When he woke up he was naked and strapped to a rack.
Congratulations sir, and welcome to our state of the art Breeding Facility Valkyrie IV, a Woman said. You’re now officially a breeder!
I d.don’t understand, he said, still groggy.
Of course not, sir, that is why we have chosen you: you’re strong, healthy, equipped with a robust reproductive organ and you’re not exactly the brightest bulb in the box. In other words: you’re the ideal specimen to create a herd of slaves. Don’t worry, we have the technique to create male embryos only, so there’s no risk of contaminating the bright & the brilliant with your stupidity.
I … wait, wait … WHAT!! … No, no, no, I want to go home! Please!!!
And you will, sir, you will … in ten, twelve years from now.
That is impossible. I’m going to Paris next week to see the Eiffel Tow-
Calm down, sir. You’re livestock, we can do pretty much everything we want.
You don’t understand, he pleaded, I’m Fred, nicknamed “The Impotent”, I’m no-
Don’t worry about that, silly boy, our Girls can make an eunuch cum.
Absolutely not! I forbid it! My sperm is mine!
I suggest you take a long good look between your legs, sir, She snapped.
And lo and behold, his dick was hard as granite. It was the closest he would ever get to seeing the Eiffel Tower.


It was Sunday, so I handed over my pocket-money to Karin.
You don’t have a weekend job, do you?
That was a strange question, because She knew that perfectly well.
No … I said, with a tone of hesitation in my voice.
Well, that’s going to change, because this
(she waved the money in front of my face) is just a pittance. So here’s what we’ll do: find yourself a job for Saturdays and the holidays. I want to know where you’re going to work, for how many hours and how much I get paid. Now, if you behave exceptionally well and do exactly as I say, I’ll give you a few coins from time to time. 
And that was that, end of story. I ended up working in a grocery store from eight in the morning to six in the evening. My boss was a bad-tempered old man who complained a lot and worked a little. I didn’t really care; the tougher the day, the more rewarding it was. Amazing to see how a submissive brain is wired! Handing over my hard-earned money became the highlight of the week for me. I had to bow, give Her the money and thank Her for allowing me to work for Her. Man, I loved it so much.
I was Her working mule for two years and handed Her all the money. She never gave me a cent. I didn’t earn it, She said.


The “Fem Dommes Only” party takes place in June each year. We had no idea what was going on in there, because no men were allowed inside, not even eunuchs. So, was it some sort of danceparty? A kinky party with blindfolded male strippers perhaps? Or just another Totally Tupperware party? We had no clue. A reporter of the New York Days disguised himself as a Woman in order to infiltrate. He’s not been heard of since. So I was absolutely flabbergasted when Milady ordered me to join Her on the opening day! Oh, I was so exited! She had me collared and leashed and dragged me through a crowd of Women. Which was terribly intimidating, because they all glared at me as if they were about to eat me alive.
Then the tumult of a hundred different cries, all shouting at the top of their voices. Rotten tomatoes, get your toma-throws, roared a brunette. Ding, Dong, Fresh Dung, get your bucket full, called another. Spit-on-the-Spot, only tuppence, shouted a blonde Lady. Pee-n-a-Bottle, get your pee-ee-ee, bellowed one. Pick ’em out cheap here! Stinking eggs, shouted a Lady to Her utmost. Milady put me in a pillory and grabbed a microphone. Well Ladies, here he is: the future has arrived. This creature will be on display for the next three days. Let’s show him what a “Fem Dommes Only” party is all about, shall we?”
June 2071 – Party Perils – ISBN 2-67923-118564


All I want is your pin number, She said all flowery.
Yeah, well, and all I want is a blowjob. So, fuck off, Michelle. Let me go!!
I wasn’t going anywhere soon though, because She had me pinned to the floor. She moved on my face and smothered me shitless. I don’t know how long She sat there, but I gasped for air when She finally allowed me to breathe again.
Well? What is the first digit?
One…..I panted.
Excellent, now wh-
One…… thing is certain, I’m going to kick you a-
Hello darkness, my old friend. She sat hard and long on my face, till my head was about to explode. Then She moved back a little, just enough to struggle for a slither of oxygen.
It’s four, I gasped, I swear to God, it’s four.
And the second digit?
I … I always forget that o-
Daytime became nighttime again. And good old oxygen came with a number: IT’S ONE, IT’S ONE!
I hear you, man! Jesus, no need to get all excited, just breathe.
Please Michelle, please let me go. You can’t do this.
Hush! We’re almost there. Are you ready?
I opened my mouth and everything went pitch black again. Oxygen became a distant memory. And just when I was ready to write my will, She gave me the slightest chance of survival.
Six and two, I howled, I swear, I swear.
There you go! Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?


The submissive seeds have been there since the day you were born, hoping, dreaming and praying for a strict voice or a demanding look to flower and bloom. Don’t forget though, obeying a Woman (in real life of course, not on the infantile Internet) is extremely addictive and withdrawal from it is hard, if not impossible. The difficult period after deliberately disobeying a Lady or doing a runner, lasts about eight to twelve months. Common symptoms are: facial tics, obsessive masturbation or the inability to get an erection, loss of smell, loss of appetite, insomnia, feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, worthlessness, sudden hair loss, excessive hair growth in nose and ears, increased appetite or sudden weight loss, panic attacks, talking out loud to screens and pictures or an overwhelming feeling of guilt. The likelihood of relapse is, needless to say, very high. And even if one manages to survive the first year, that craving to obey will never fully disappear. It’s just waiting for the right conditions. The sound of boots on the pavement, a sarcastic laugh, a fetish attire, whether it be in real life, a movie or on television, can set a submissive soul ablaze. Hence the saying: once a loser, always a loser.


Guess the color of My underwear and win a prize, She laughed.
That’s easy, I answered enthusiastically, You are wearing the red, shiny nylon one.
Her smiled collapsed and Her eyes turned deadly.
You have been peeping at My ass again, haven’t you?
The trap snapped shut with brutal force.
I … I … I …  accidental-
Don’t lie to Me!
My face turned red (shiny and nylon) and I didn’t dare to look Her in the eye.
You’re right, I’m so sorry, Angela, I don’t know what go-
She slapped me in the face. Not extremely hard, but totally unexpected.
What did you call Me?
Miss Angela, of course, please forgive me, I apologize.
One hundred strokes for staring and one hundred for being rude!
One hundred … I stammered in disbelief.
No, one hundred + one hundred is ….
Two hundred, Miss Angela, I whispered.
What??? No, no, no, are you stupid or what! Now I have to add another hundred strokes to your punishment. So, one hundred strokes + one hundred strokes + one hundred strokes is …?
T.t.hree hundred? I answered hesitantly.
She shook Her head in disbelief and sighed: Unbelievable. One hundred strokes + one hundred strokes + one hundred strokes = a bloody red ass! See? It’s that simple.


A session with the Baltimore Bondage Babes (aka BaBoBa) can be life changing. Take Mr. Smith for example, who is now lying naked on the floor, gagged to the teeth and with enough rope around his body to rig a schooner. Drop dead blonde Nancy certainly knows Her way with ropes, that’s for sure. She’s sitting on the couch, heavenly legs crossed, eyes fixed on Her prey.
I’m not going to untie you, She says, because what’s the fun in that. Instead, I’m going to call the police and give them your address. How awkward and embarrassing is that, right? Your huge wet boner has a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Smith. Don’t worry, I will leave the front door ajar.
The poor man, in the meantime, is sweating like a turkey on Thanksgiving. He struggles with all his might, eyes as wide as frisbees. Mmmmmfffff, he gags, but without subtitles it’s impossible to know what he means by that.
God, it’s so sexy to see you in fear, Nancy says, placing Her High Heel on his head.
The police arrives 20 minutes later. And when we say police, we mean two beautiful Female Cops in shiny boots and fetish uniforms. They remove his gag, only the gag, and interrogate him. Because he’s not the victim, not to them anyway, he’s the culprit. They are absolutely merciless and Mr. Smith reaches a level of submission that he didn’t know existed.
The Baltimore Bondage Babes are different, adventurous and groundbreaking, what can we say.


Femdeum is like visiting a fameus department steure, like Harreuds in Leundeun, Sir Allan said, swirling the cognac in his glass. First, you cheuse a Lady: hairy, scary, breasted, legged, bleund, dark, leung hair, sheurt hair, peunytails, Latin, Asian; whateuver you fancy. Put your faveurite Lady in the basket and go to the second fleur for the haute couteure: shirts, skirts, dresses, shoes, beuts, leather, latex and seu feurth. Pick your fetish attire and go to the third fleur, where you’ll find Pains, Perils & Humilio’s. Ceurporal punishments, l’urine, feut fetish, human peunies, face-sitting, ceuck & ball teurture; you name it, you pain it. The Neughty Section is there as well, with ceunnilingeus, blowjeubs, handjeubs and other jeubs. Then go to the ceunter, pay for your items and Beub’s your euncle. You’ve picked your faveurite Lady in your faveurite couture and She will do exactly what you want. And seumehow, seumewhere, you’ve got this crazy idea that you are a treu seubmissive man and that Her will is leuw. Extreurdinary.


Silence! When I speak, you listen. I thought I whipped you often and brutal enough to know that by now. So, let Me get this straight: I gave you an evening off to have a drink in The Three Barrels and you ended up in bed with the bartender’s daughter. One orgasm lead to another and now you want My permission to get married and move to another manor. I must say, slave, I’m shocked. Not only by your lack of loyalty, but also by the swiftness of it all. So no, I’m not jumping with joy, to put it mildly. I haven’t even met the girl yet! She is dominant, I presume? NO?? Aha, I think I know what’s going on here! You want to be in charge again! That’s it, isn’t it? Leading the way with your dick in hand. You cheeky little bastard.
But, you know, I’m a reasonable and understanding Mistress, the marks on your back are living proof of that. So yes, I give you permission to marry this woman. But I won’t give you permission to move to another manor. She will live here with you on My land. She may be your wife, young man, but She will be My slave and My property. That’s My decision and that’s final!


He was my classmate, a bully and a predator. Big mouth, tiny dick, tiny brain, you know the type. One day he wanted to beat the shit out of me in the schoolyard. I didn’t hesitate and kicked him as hard as I could in his balls. He screamed in pain, fell to his knees, then flat on his face. I loved the feeling of power I had over him, so I placed my foot on his head and flexed my biceps for all to see. Those biceps changed his tune and my life. Because numerous boys, and even a few of the Girls, wanted to feel my biceps. I quickly realized I could make some money from this and demanded a gift. Almost all of them complied. Once they’d paid I would boss them around, calling them weaklings, sluts, sissies and losers. They loved it. It was amazing, surreal even, but I have many fond memories of that time. I clearly remember a much older Girl for example, who was so intimidated and shook like a leaf. Or that boy with the glasses and the braces, who had an orgasm in his pants when he kissed my biceps. Many of them came back for a second, third and even a fourth time and my biceps were in hot demand for a long, long time.


Is there anything more thrilling, more exiting, more heart-pounding than a slave hunt? Provided you do it the right way, of course. Holding a slave hunt in a garden the size of a postage stamp isn’t exactly the thrill of a lifetime. Think big, that’s the key. A large piece of forest (surrounded by water) for example. The slaves will get a head start of 15 minutes. Then the Mistresses will hunt them down on horseback (that line makes me shiver with delight … hunt them down on horseback … magnificent!). A slave has to kneel down immediately as soon as a Mistress hits him with a (bull)whip. His Captor writes Her initials with a marker on his forehead and directs him to a spot where he has to wait. He will be Her property for the rest of the weekend. Or longer, depending on Her mood. The first three slaves to be caught, will be send home. Because the aim of the hunt is to outsmart the Ladies for as long as possible, so no time for losers (aka: fakers). The last to be caught, will be rewarded. With what and how, is up to the Ladies of course. Which is always tricky, because Her reward may well be his nightmare. After the hunt the slaves are tied together by ropes around their necks and paraded around the field. Needless to say, all Ladies want to capture as many slaves as possible. There’s always a healthy (sometimes known as: unhealthy) rivalry between them, so the more knuckleheads captured, the more status.


I always think of happy things before I go to sleep. And to me, happiness means being bossed around, simple as that. And yes, I admit, I fantasize about celebrities as well. Can’t remember a time that I didn’t, to be honest. So close your eyes and let me show you around in dreamland.
There, on your left, is Emma Watson’s house. She’s all smiles and laughter, as long as you do exactly as She says. Don’t hesitate, don’t frown and for God’s sake, don’t argue, for She will raise Her wand at you. And trust me, being turned into a frog really sucks.
Over there, in the distance, is Gal Gadot’s Grotto. Last week She decided to teach me a lesson. I asked Her why, because I hadn’t done anything. Exactly, She said, and scissored me with Her beautiful legs until I passed out (aka fell asleep).
Over there? That’s Kristen Stewart’s land. She can break even the toughest of the toughest with Her killer smile, no kidding. Enter At Your Own Risk, the sign near the entrance says. ‘Nuff said.
And there … look at my finger … there … that’s Kate Beckinsale’s underworld. This Lady really sinks Her teeth into you and I’ve lost many a pint of blood over there. But then again, I’d give my life for Her, so who cares about a bit (aka bite) of blood. Buffy (the Vampire Slayer) used to live here as well, but She and Kate were constantly at each other’s throats. The whole neighborhood went down the drain. So Buffy moved to the other side of the valley. I often go there and tell Her I’m a vampire. Famous last words (aka: from apatite to epitaph).
There’s much more that I want to show you, man. So meet me again tonight in my imaginary world and wait for me at the junction, alright?


Repeat after Me, slave: I, slave Knucklehead the Idiot, do solemnly swear that I will obey all orders of my Mistress; that I support and defend the Superiority of Women and that I’m willing and ready to give up my nuts, my dick and my miserable life for Her, so help me God.
That’s rather a mouthful, Mistress, I wo-
She pushed the button and shocked his balls into madness. He screamed in pain and the words poured from his mouth: I, slave Knucklehead the Idiot, swear tha-
Do solemnly swear, She shocked.
Arrrghh! Do solemnly swear that I will obey all orders of my Mistress; that I defe-
Support and defend ….
Ahhhhh-ahhh!! Support and defend the Superiority of Women and that I’m willing to give u-
Willing and ready, She growled angrily, pushing the button repeatedly.
He jumped in pain: Jesu-u-u-us!! W.willing and ready to give up my b.balls, m-
Nu-u-u-u-u-u-u-uts. Willing and ready to give up my nuts, my dick and my miserable life for Her, so help me God.
Exactly! Don’t you ever forget it, slave.
No, Mistress, he said and his face beamed with relief. His ordeal was ove-
Now, let’s do one of Shakespeare’s plays, shall we? Only 14,701 words; it’s called “Comedy of Errors”. Here we go!


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.


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.
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.


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.


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.


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


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


♬ 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!


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!


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.


John? Is that you??
His face lit up like a Christmas tree, because he’d recognize that voice anywhere.
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.


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?
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.


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.


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.


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!


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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?


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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


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 … 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:, 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.


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.


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.


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).


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.


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!


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.


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.


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?, 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.


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.


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.
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.


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?


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 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.


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.
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? … 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.


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?
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!!


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.


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.


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.


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.


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?


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!


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.


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?


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.