♬ All you need is Gloves (rata-dadada)
All you need is Gloves (rata-dadada)
All you need is Gloves, Gloves
Gloves is all you need ♬
Hats (for men) and gloves (for Women) are out of fashion nowadays. Yeah, yeah, I know, what about mittens, right? Well, fuck mittens, because that’s like saying thermal underwear is the same as lingerie. Sadly enough the real deal gloves are not part of a Lady’s everyday wardrobe anymore. And that’s a real shame, because a Woman with gloves is a masterpiece in itself, I would say. Gloves are elegant, sexy, mesmerising, sensual and intimidating at the same time. I recall my aunt Rebecca wearing gloves. The soft, leather gloves adapted perfectly to the shape of Her hand and it was impossible to take my eyes off them. I was not the easiest kid in the world (to put it mildly), but aunt Rebecca made me eat out of Her (gloved) hand. It did not go unnoticed in the family and I was teased and made fun of. I didn’t care a bit, because everyone now looked up to aunt Rebecca. She had control over me and was praised for it, how awesome was that!
I don’t know how you do it, Rebecca, my mother sighed, he’s as gentle as a lamb with you. You must have magical powers.
I smiled inside, because my aunt didn’t have magical powers, of course. She had gloves.
‘My parents found me a boarding house in Rue Saint-Honoré. Madame Fouet, the landlady, lived on the ground floor. She was a strict Lady and there were many rules to follow. In for the night by nine, no female visitors allowed (no hanky-panky, She said), a neat and tidy room at all times and no music. She convinced my parents that it was in my best interest that She should be in charge of my monthly allowance. So She had me by the balls, because what are we without money? She ruled with a iron fist and I became Her slave, there’s no other word for it. Oh, She was a merciless disciplinarian, She really was. A Woman dominating a man, that was unheard of in the fifties. Even my friends refused to believe it. So I couldn’t tell my parents about it, even if I wanted to. I was Her property for five years. I graduated in ’59 and my dad wanted me to join the family business. So I said goodbye to Madame Fouet en returned home. I missed Her with every inch of my being and I was completely lost without Her. My life would never be the same and I have always been searching for someone that powerful and dominant.’
The nurse shook her head and said: You have such a vivid imagination, Mr. Brown. Now, enough of this nonsense, let me take you to the Bingo game for a bit of real fun!
They would not listen, they’re not listening still
Perhaps they never will
Saturday 15 July-22 July 1525
We made landfall on the northern tip of the island. We had been at sea for 9 days and we were glad to be on land again. We walked for days through the jungle in intense heat and monsoon rains. And then, after six backbreaking days, the city suddenly emerged from the mountain mist.
The City of Fem is, without doubt, the finest and noblest city in the world. It has beautiful canals, marketplaces (including several slave-markets), temples, palaces, taverns, shops, more than a thousand baths and the magnificent hanging gardens are each three kilometers long. The spectaculair waterfalls to the west can be seen from the city itself. The many, grand statues that are everywhere in the city depict Queens, Female Warriors and Princesses, but also defeated, suffering and labouring male slaves. Each square has at least three whipping-posts and several stocks and cages. It’s far more beautiful than Atlantis and it’s fair to say this gorgeous city is a modern version of the Garden of Eden. The city is ruled and governed by the power of approximately 150.000 Women and all 450.000 men are kept in slavery. So if you want to know what Female Supremacy and male slavery is all about, then visit the magnificent City of Fem.
Journal of explorer Abdel Al Mahnat (1492-1532)
She took a cigarette from the pack and put it in Her mouth (the cigarette that is, not the pack). One of Her newbie slaves began to cough excessively. As if he was about to die. What’s the problem
She asked with incoming ice fields from the north, I haven’t even lit the bloody thing yet
He stopped immediately. You must stop smoking, Mistress
, he said undaunted. Excuse Me?
It’s such a filthy habit, Mistress. I’m an ex-smoker myself, so if I can do it, so can You.
Just a few minutes ago the summer sun was shining, but now it was snowing hard.
Are you going to tell Me how to live My life?
I think, I’m not 100% sure, but I think I saw a polar bear in the garden. Let me say this, Mistress: smokers are weak-willed people. They need someone to show them the way, someone to guide them. So let me be Your mentor and master, Mistress. Because this has to stop.
It did stop, because thankfully we never saw him again. Went up in smoke, so to speak.
It was a small party, with only five Mistresses and five slaves invited. One by one we went up the stairs (a stairway to Heaven, so to speak), kneeled down in front of the Ladies and introduced ourselves. Nerve-racking, to say the least. The last to come up was Mac (aka Big Mac), a corpulent, florid man from Great Yarmouth. He had years of experience under his belt and he had even served as a 24/7 lifestyle slave.
I’m sure you did all kinds of things for your Mistress and fulfilled many tasks, one of the Ladies said. Can you name something you’re particularly proud of?
Big Mac looked bewildered, like a rabbit in the headlights. His mouth moved, but there was no sound. I always get very nervous in situations like this, so I began to sweat all over.
Come on, slave, the Lady said encouragingly, just name one thing you’re proud of.
The words came from deep inside him: ……my…..dick?
Silence fell like a ton of bricks. And then a nervous giggle escaped me; it flew from my lips like a tweeting bird. All eyes turned to me and my giggle died a sudden death. If looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now. They said nothing, but boy, I dearly paid for it later that evening. So whatever happens, do not, I repeat do NOT giggle.