Monthly Archives: April 2019

IF WALLS COULD TALK

The room is filled with boxes, children’s toys, an old chest of drawers and other pieces of furniture. It was a SM-room once, equipped with hundreds of whips, canes & chains, a torture rack, a spanking horse, the St. Andrew’s cross, several cages and much more. The iron rings in the wall are still there to tell the tale. A tale of male slavery, pain, suffering, humiliation and adoration. Her worshippers came from far and wide: not only from London, but from all over Britain, mainland Europe and even a few from America. They travelled all the way to serve and worship Her in this very same room. Some were just passing through, never to be heard of again. Others came back over and over again and some of them became Her property. God, She loved to dominate men! They would fall at Her feet, so weak, so helpless, and they would obey Her blindly. Who wouldn’t want to be worshipped like that! So many years ago, it feels like it has been someone else’s life. Yes, once upon a time She was a Mistress of many, now She’s a mother of three.

CBT HOTLINE

Good day, Ladies & gentlemen, my name is Harold and I’m the chairman of the SOS Emergency Hotline for Cock & Ball Torture Victims, better known as the CBT Hotline. Now, a devastating kick or knee to the groin is understandable and necessary at times. And even the Cock Shock Remote CBT Cock Ring has its usefulness, although, I must admit, there is no consensus about that in our group. But humblers, ball-crushers and ball-stretchers are really a bridge too far, Ladies & Ladies. Let alone hammering nails into a man’s scrotum! Our productive organs are invaluable for the survival of our species, and smashing nails into our family jewels can lead to all kinds of nastiness. Some of our callers suffered from insomnia, hysteria, apathy, anxiety disorders and foaming at the mouth. This has to sto-
He heard Her footsteps coming up the stairs.
Harold, are you in the bathroom?
Yes, dear.
Talking to the mirror again, are we?
Well….
What was it this time? Female Domination on planet X? Nipple torture in ancient Greek?
Cock and Ball Torture, if You really must know.
Ah, that old yawn! Your famous CBT speech! Standing ovation, no doubt, Harold?
He giggled. She was such a good sport.
I want you to come downstairs, so hurry up. Bring a hammer and a box of nails, will you?

KISS HER FEET

When She comes home, he will greet Her and kiss Her feet. She doesn’t have to say anything; he’s a well-trained slave and he knows what to do. And when to do it.
This simple gesture of respect, obedience and devotion reinforces Her absolute power over him and his submission to Her. It puts him in his place, because in order to kiss Her fet, he has to kneel down, get down on his belly even, with his head almost to the floor. It’s such a beautiful and powerful symbol of Her supremacy.
One day the mighty Byzantine general Flavius Belisarius (500-565 AD) prostrated himself at the feet of his Wife Antonina. He kissed and licked the soles of Her feet with his tongue, crying that She was his reason for living and that he would be Her faithful slave, instead of Her Lord and Master. Now, if a general knows how to honour a Lady, so can we. So show some respect.

BRING ME A MAN

Men are primitive creatures who carry their brains in their penises. By the time they come here, they’re full of shit. The men of course, not their penises. It’s My job to remove the layers of ignorance, stupidity and stubbornness. It’s like peeling an onion, really. The only difference is that they do all the crying. Some Ladies prefer the lenient approach, but I’m not one of them. Spare the rod and spoil the child, as they saying goes. Men are competitive by nature and they will challenge you. Unconsciously perhaps, but deep down they want to know if you got what it takes. You’ll have to deal with that straight away, that’s My firm believe.
Breaking a loud-mouthed, obnoxious guy into submission is such a rewarding and gratifying experience, it really is. Some try to fight back, like in a bad Hollywood movie. So cute! And so pathetic. To remove that last thick, stubborn layer of male pride, that’s My favourite part of the training. So bring Me a man and I’ll give you a slave.

BYE BYE BOYS

The beautiful, yet intimidating, nurse slapped me in the face, forced Her fingers down my throat, grabbed my nipples and tried to remove them altogether. I howled like a wolf.
Mmmm, a bit sensitive here and there. We need to keep an eye on that. Now, pants down.
I did so and my dick jumped out like a Jack-in-the-box.
Jesus!!! We’ve got a jumper!!
She pushed a red button on the wall and an alarm sounded. Nurses ran into the room immediately. They grabbed my arms and legs and strapped me to a bed with long, leather restraints. I screamed all over the place, because one of them punched me repeatedly in the groin. But it helped, my dick gave in and backed down.
One of the nurses took charge of the situation. She looked down on me and said: I’m so sorry, but we have to remove it.
W.what? Rem.move what?
Your balls, your penis, everything. The Law of Femdom Clinics, Act 2018, Section 212 states that all jumpers must be removed without exception. 
I didn’t know, I pleaded. Please believe me, I didn’t know!!
Of course you didn’t. Now relax and let the anaesthetic do its work.
No! Please stop, not my penis-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s

HEADSCISSORS

Take Ana Conrad for example, better known as Anaconda. She lived down the street and Anaconda’d the bejesus out of each and every man who was foolish enough to put his head between Her legs. Legend has it She choked out an entire soccer team once, including the substitutes and the coach.
Appearances can be deceiving they say, and in this case, it was true. She was thin and petite, and much shorter in statue than me. I can clearly remember the first time She scissored me to sleep. Man alive, as if my head was stuck in a vice! I could hear a cracking sound in my neck and feared She was going to squeeze my brains out of my ears.
Ca…n…’t b.b-reathe, I squeaked.
I know, She giggled, isn’t it fun?
My head looked like a enormous jawbreaker (quite an appropriate name, under the circumstances), turning from pink to red, to purple. I was absolutely powerless to stop it, because not even an escape artist could escape this one. She could put me to sleep, or finish me off in the process. My life was literally in Her hands (aka between Her legs). Breathtaking!

THE SQUEEZE IS ON

Selma jumped off the couch and I Usain Bolted to the toilet and locked myself in. Now, you have to know that one of my ancestors was in Napoleon’s army during the Russian campaign of 1812. He wrote his last letter from Butkiškė, Lithuania, never to be heard of again. Only the letter survived. His brother fought against Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815 and lived to tell the tale. And here I was, a descendant of these battle-hardened men, cowering in a fucking water loo. I opened the door ajar and waved some toilet paper up and down. Selma told me it was safe to come out. I wasn’t too convinced though, because She could be a mean, brutish, cruel, merciless and barbaric bitch sometimes. But then again, you can’t live in a toilet for the rest of your life, so I opene –
She grabbed me by the balls and twisted them viciously. Like sticking your nuts in a mixer.
Selma-ah-ah-aa. I danced up and down like a frog on a hot plate.
Next time you’ll do as you’re told, won’t you?
Yes, yes, I give you my wo-aaa-ord.
She squeezed even harder and my voice reached the high C. She was more deadly than a demolition squad, no question about it.
Don’t let it happen again, She hissed.
She let go of my balls. I fell down on my knees and sobbed in pain.
My ancestors turned in their graves.