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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Man, isn’t She one in a million?
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.
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
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?
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.
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.
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.
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?
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!
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.
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.
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.
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 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
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-
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.
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.
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.
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 ♬
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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, 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 …
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
He almost catapulted off the couch and managed to turn the TV off in one swift motion. Nice move, dude! But too late.
I asked you to clean the room, didn’t I?
Yes, darling, y-
Don’t darling Me, Harold! I’m the boss here and you can address Me as Ma’am.
Yes, yes, of course, sweethe- … uh … Ma’am. I can explain everything, I assure You.
She laughed sarcastically.
Thing is, Ma’am, he hurriedly said, that I didn’t expect You to come home this early … s.so I thought had enough time to watch the news.
Is there a news bulletin at 10:40?
Blimey, he didn’t see that one coming! He looked utterly confused, opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I asked you a question, is there a news bulletin at 10:40, SLAVE?
That word changed his whole demeanor and he shrank in fear. He nervously wrung his hands: N.no, Ma’am, I’m so sorry! I panicked, I don’t know what got int-
Take down your pants, shorts too!
Please, Ma’am! I will clean the room, I promise!
Oh yes, I know you will! But you will do it with a bruised and battered ass. So, pants down! NOW!
He was in a world of trouble. As usual, so no news there.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
N.no … uh … stepmother.
Don’t be absurd, no one calls his stepmother stepmother. You can address Me as Ma’am.
Yes, Ma’am, he said meekly.
There we go, like father, like son, mmm? All in the family. From now on, I will spank you if you misbehave, cage you if you go out without asking Me first, or castrate you if you masturbate without My permission. Now, that’s a lot to take in, I understand that. So go to your room, lights out at ten.
Ten?? I … that’s absu… uh … ok, fine … fine, Ma’am.
God, She loved the married life.
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?
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!!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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?
She almost decapitates me with a vicious slap. The bathroom heels to starboard.
You did it again, didn’t you, spittoon!
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?
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.
By Mistress & Madams Auctioneers (aka M&M’s): On Monday the 16th April 2096, at 2 o’clock P.M., will be sold at the Femdom Hotel in Chicago, the following described slaves:
Dick, aged 26, cook, carpenter & cleaner, energetic boy with a small penis
Fetch, aged 33, human dog, loves being butt scratched, play fetch and tug-of-war
Jack O’, aged 41, aka Of-All-Trades, quiet, humble and obedient, face-slap lover
Rebel, aged 22 , unguided missile, looking for a strict and firm Mistress
Albert E, aged 37, gardener, rare specimen, shows signs of intelligence, foot fetishist
Julian, aged 59, experienced housemaid (Julia) with a fetish for high heels (for himself)
Jeeves, aged 48, head butler, trustworthy, impeccable manners, weakness for shiny satin
Ed, aged 27, human horse, very easy to ride, suitable for dressage or jumping
Billy, aged 40, (aka Idea-Ikea) human furniture, to be used as footstool, doormat or floor lamp
Mark, aged 51, servant, hardcore masochist, bruised and battered item
Digitalus, aged 30, computer nerd, goofball, drinks spit by the gallon
Will, aged 57, bookkeeper, good subject with a piss fetish, nicknamed Pee Willy
All the above slaves are fully guaranteed against the vices and diseases prescribed by law. All slaves can be seen, slapped, kicked and mildly whipped by applying at the office of the Auctioneers. Purchased items can be castrated on request.
Yes, Mistress Valkyrie.
So, what did you do?
I clicked on it, Mistress, I said wit a guilty voice.
Yes, you did. Then what happened?
A dialog box popped up, Mistress, prompting me to apologise for my bad behaviour.
Go on …
I closed the dialog box, I squeaked, because I panicked you see. I put my computer to sleep and went to bed with a book.
And a boner, no doubt.
I nervously giggled: Yes, Mistress Valkyrie.
Because of Your demanding words in the dialog box, Mistress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The next morning I clicked the button again and wrote a sincere apology.
That’s right. And now we’re on the phone, talking about you behaviour. You told Me you are still a novice slave, but you disobeyed Me and you have to be punished. And I’m not talking about paying a fine, I’m talking about a punishment in the flesh. So you have to book a session with Me. That’s a direct order from Me to you, slave. I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it.
And that’s how it all started for me. If it hadn’t been for Mistress Valkyrie, I would still be a novice slave, endlessly waiting for the right moment.
SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP – SLAP
He wriggled nervously in his chair: No, haha, thank You. Yes, You have beauti- but no, no, haha.
He was a quiet man, a bachelor and a passionate bookkeeper. He lived in a small house with four goldfish, named Ollie, Mollie, Hollie and Fred. He lived a perfect life and never asked for more. But then he met Lady Grace and everything changed. Even his scrotum, which had been in lockdown since early childhood, was now boiling and steaming like a geyser.
Kneel down, that’s all there is to it, She said.
Oh, heavens above, he blushed, no, I would never do that, never ever.
She crossed Her legs and dangled Her heel from Her foot.
Are you sure? She asked with a teasing smile.
His eyes were glued to Her foot and he was breathing heavily. Turned out his “never-ever” lasted only 27 seconds, then he slid off his chair onto the floor and crawled to Her feet.
That’s better. You may address Me as Princess Ingrid. And now I want you to beg for permission to worship My feet.
Oh God, p.please Princess, I humbly ask Your permission to kiss Your feet. I beg You.
She smiled down on him. He had no idea he was just ten centimeters away from a new, everlasting addiction, and just one kiss away from a life in slavery.
john, do you take this lovely Lady to be your lawfully wedded Mistress, to love, to obey, comfort and honour Her, surrendering yourself to Her alone as long as you shall live. If so say I do, you lucky swine.
Now Karin! Grab john’s ear and repeat after me.
I Karin take thee, john, to be My loyal servant, My devoted slave and My brainless punchbag, from this day forward, to use and abuse, to whip and to cane, to kick and to slap, till death do us part. I pledge to you My guidance, My cruelty, My short-temperedness and My unstoppable need for Power.
Now john, look up to your Lady Owner and repeat after me.
I john are taken by thee, Karin, to be my Mistress, my Lady Owner and Goddess, to obey and to worship from this day forward, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. I pledge to You my obedience, my loyalty, my patience, all my earthy goods, including the Märklin train-set.
Karin, place and lock the collar around john’s neck and throw away the key.
By the authority given to me by Her Majesty, I now pronounce you man and Wife. You may now whip the groom.
We giggled and elbowed each other.
Anything goes, as long as the object of your affection makes you feel small and your dick feel big. A shrine can be anything, from a few pictures on the wall, a statue or figurine on a stand, the worn shoes of a Lady on a pedestal, to a decorated wall with framed pictures, an entire room with an altar, candles and whatnots. Next, place 100 slips of paper in a box. Fifty of the slips are marked 1 hour, thirty are marked 30 minutes and twenty are marked 15 minutes (additional: add to ten of them the words allowed to cum). This will decide how long your worship service will be that day. Because you will be at your shrine every day without fail. So, get to work and send me a picture when you’re finished!
A buzz filled the hall as we discussed what to create and who we would worship.
Now it was Phyllis’ turn to be pissed. She decided to seduce Aristotle and teach him a lesson. One day She walked by barefooted, which was the equivalent back then of making a porn movie. Aristotle was smitten with Her and begged Her to have sex with him. Not a romantic dinner, not a walk along the beach at sunset, not a good conversation about psychology or the latest iPhone, no sir! Just wham-bam: Phyllis, I wanna fuck You. The brute.
On one condition, Ari, Phyllis said, you will come to my chamber crawling on hand and foot, in order to carry Me like a horse.
Aristotle obeyed, put on saddle and bridle and went on all fours. She grabbed a whip and spurred him on with a vengeance. The members of the court watched in awe and admiration, as Phyllis humiliated this great man.
Come on, full throttle, Aristotle! She demanded.
And from that moment on, dear children, everyone called him Aristhrottle.
Jack whined, but obeyed, because Michelle, Eveline and Suze were standing around him and they were ready to kick the shit out of him. Again.
I was a mere spectator, watching from a distance. Dry mouth, wet dick; that was me. Becky removed Her shoes, stepped on Jack’s face and muffled his groans with Her bare feet. She moved Her feet to an fro and I could hear his smothered screams and the snot in his nose moving around. She allowed him to breathe three breaths, then stepped back on his face again with a wicked smile. Oh God, how I wished it was me! Becky shifted Her weight to one leg, and no doubt Jack’s dentist rubbed his hands in glee. Jack however had other things on his mind, because he was in desperate need of oxygen again. He clutched at Her legs and She had to spread Her arms for balance. Michelle and Eveline grabbed Her hands. Becky allowed him to breathe and he squealed like a pig. Tears of a) happiness b) agony c) both rolled down his face.
Before that day, I didn’t know what jealousy was. Turned out I was a quick learner.
Sleep, I guess, he yawned.
Exactly! Now, let’s see, She sighed, thumbing through the papers, you used sleeping tablets, drank a river of Sleeptime Tea, threw away $250 on a bottle of sleeping oil, took yoga classes and went to a sleep coach. Who, you wrote, fell asleep during the session. You’re on a strict diet, stopped smoking, stopped drinking and you had no sex in seven years. You stopped living altogether, one might say. And still sleepless?
Well, you’ve come to the right place, sir. The Femdom Sleep Clinic has a worldwide reputation for putting people to sleep. So, you’ve got your pyjamas on … She paused and looked at them with new eyes … Bambi pyjamas, seriously, sir? Oh well, whatever gets you through the night, right? Now, I will put your head between My legs … don’t worry, sir, it will be fine. You just close your eyes and think of happy things.
She started to squeeze Her legs together and his eyes popped open again.
Yes, sir, that’s correct, that is your neck. She squeezed Her legs tighter and tighter. His face became as red as a tomato. He struggled, but his body started to feel so heavy and everything became blurry. He lost consciousness and slept like a baby. Just like the doctor ordered.
Now, place the spoon in your mouth and the egg in the spoon. Keep your hands behind your back during the race. If you drop the egg, you’re out. The first to reach that tree over there will be the winner. And the winner, numbnuts, is allowed to worship My gorgeous feet!
We looked at each other with murder in our eyes, because Her feet are worth dying for.
I walked slowly, eyes focussed on the egg, wiggling like a duck with a cucumber up its ass. But slave Burt went like a bullet out of a gun. Jesus, the man was in a hurry! I accelerated, but he was hard to keep up with. The others were already way behind us and it was now a neck and neck between me and that rotten egg just ahead of me. We almost sprinted to the finish line, but he was just too fast and he reached the finish line with sixteen lengths to spare over me. May have been seventeen lenghts, eighteen even, but who cares. He was now blessed with the honour of worshipping Her gorgeous feet, while all I could do was suck on my stinking egg.
A good old-fashioned dungeon cell has thicker-than-dick walls, heavy doors and restricted light windows. The cell is freezing cold, damp and unhygienic. No furniture, except a wooden bunk and a bucket. If you are lucky. A cage is a different kettle of fish altogether. A cage is an elegant and sturdy piece of furniture which looks good in a bedroom, study, hallway or living-room. Put a glass top on it and use it as a one-of-a-kind coffee-table. Sweet! Invite your friends to come and watch this caged hound (that would be you, by the way), this bruised and battered piece of Neanderthal (you again, I’m afraid), this still life of stupidity (wait, wait …. yeah, that’s you again, I’m sorry). A caged slave is a piece of furniture and a piece of shit in one, one might say. If he has to stay in there for 23-hours a day, then so be it. Who is he to complaint? It’s nice and warm in the living-room, he can watch (or listen to) the television and, most important of all, he has a room with a view. He can look at his Mistress and worship Her with his eyes. Unless She covers the cage with a Good Night Caged Asshole Cover, of course. In that case (aka in that cage) he can’t see shit.
You begged for it, didn’t you? She warned you, but your dick wouldn’t listen. And so you gave Her the login codes to LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook and the email accounts and phone-numbers of your parents, friends, brothers, uncles, nephew’s, nieces and colleague’s. And tons of compromising photos and clips of yourself. A bit like digging your own grave, wasn’t it? She posted five photos on Her website and you were forced to pay to have them taken down. You loved it, because it was unlikely that anyone of your friends knew about this website. Then She posted the next set of photos. And the next. The tempo went up. As did the price. You wavered and begged Her to slow down. She opened your Facebook account and wrote: Who wants to know my secret? You paid quickly. This wasn’t a game, or at least not the game you thought it was. The thing was, She had many, many slaves, She lost count. Ruining your life was just in a day’s work. So you obeyed when She demanded new and more compromising photos and clips. She had you by the balls, and there was nothing you could do about it. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you? As long as She had complete and total control over you.
There is a similarity, I think, between NASA scientists and unowned slaves. The former is searching for alien life in the universe, the latter is searching for dominant life on planet earth. The difference between the two is that NASA hopes to find life in the cosmos within the next ten to twenty years, while most slaves will never-ever-ever serve a Mistress in real life. They’re destined to remain unnoticed and unowned till the end of time. Their time, that is. They have to settle for Femdom scraps, little bits and pieces that brighten up a submissive day. A Lady in shiny boots in the supermarket, a Young Goddess in leather pants on Main street, an arrogant look, a bitchy remark, a cheap movie-clip on the Internet; anything will do. These insignificant moments set in motion a chain of thoughts, dreams and longings that propels them to other worlds, lightyears away from this dreary place called earth. Far away in the universe are planets where Women rule and men are slaves, where Femdom is a fact of life and not an earthly fantasy for the highest bidder. So maybe we should put our submissive faith in NASA, because who knows what matriarchal surprises the universe has in store for us.
He turend around and saw Her standing there. She looked stunning in Her black riding boots, jodhpurs and white shirt.
Yes, Miss, I’m one of the new volunteers. Brushing the horse-
And you didn’t bother to introduce yourself to Me properly?
His face turned red. I … I … You … actually I … no one …
She silenced him with a wave of Her hand. You’re a very lucky young man, you know. Because I have plenty of time on My hands today to show you the ropes and teach you a few valuable lessons. So that this won’t happen again.
He was very thankful and eager to learn, he said. That changed when She ordered him to drop his pants. Are you crazy, he screamed, and: fuck off, I’m out of here. That changed as well after a devastating kick to the groin.
What’s going on here! a Female voice said. A second Lady in jodhpurs entered the stable.
He was still salvaging his balls, but there was enough adrenaline in his voice to hose the stable. For God’s sake, help me!! This bitch is dangerous! Please, help me!
I’ll help you alright, ungrateful young rascal, the Lady hissed. Tie him to the door, Anna, while I fetch the riding crops.
You can’t do this, he screamed, I’m a volunteer.
So are we, Anna said, and smashed his face against the stable door. We won’t charge you anything, so stop whining, this is a free ride.