Roman emperor Brutus Maximus was and enormous asshole who made Nero look like a choirboy. In the year 523 A.D. he ordered his troops to attack Persia, just for the fun of it. The lunatic. Persia was ruled by Queen Hot-Yummy the 3rd and She led an army of five hundred thousand boners ….. uh … I apologise, I mean five hundred thousand soldiers into battle. Not only was She the most beautiful Queen from here to Venus and back, She was also a strategic mastermind. Brutus met his Waterloo in the Battle of Susa and was captured alive. Back then they would throw you off a cliff or to the lions, or something drastic like that, but Queen Hot-Yummy the 3rd had other plans. She kept Brutus in a cage and used him as a human footstool in front of Queens, Emperors, Generals and dignitary. He was mocked and ridiculed, but somehow he willingly committed himself to a life of slavery. And that was a good thing, because he remained Her footstool for the rest of his miserable life. From mighty emperor to a piece of IKEA furniture, how about that.
Five years ago a Female slave catcher was seen in the town of Hamelin. Her shiny long coat from heel to head, was half of black and half of red. And She Herself was tall and thin, with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin. Light loose hair, the smoothest skin and lips where smiles went out and in.
She promised to free the town of runaway slaves who hid in cellars, barns, attics and alleys. She would use Her secret charm to draw out all slaves beneath the sun, that creep or crawl or walk or run. All She wanted in return was a meal, a bath and a bed in the best hotel in town. The town folk agreed. And so She went into a fitting room and returned wearing a dazzling attire. Shiny gold boots embraced Her beautiful slender legs and a short, shiny, black dress accentuated the gentle curves of Her body. She pulled out an old, weathered megaphone and went out into the street. Surrender, and you will worship My beautiful body every day. Immediately the gullible slaves crept out from everywhere and gathered round Her. She led them to the Weser River and into a new-build prison. In the months that followed She sold each and everyone of them on slave-markets. Hence the saying: it’s easier to fool a slave than a rodent.
The Victory Pose comes with a variety of forms & flavours and they all taste heavenly. She can place Her victorious foot on your 1) chest, 2) throat, 3) face 4) scrotum, 5) back 6) butt or 7) neck. With or without flexed muscles, in- or outdoors. She can also (8) stuff Her foot in your mouth or flex Her muscles while 9) sitting on your chest or 10) face. They’re all delicious, and I will dedicate a post to each and every one of them. The Victory Pose is not a punishment of course, it’s a humiliation. A couple of years ago a Female colleague of mine kicked a tennis ball in my scrotum. Accidentally, She claimed, but that’s what they all say, don’t they? Anyways, I fell down on my knees, wiggle-wiggle-wiggled a bit, then the lights went out and I fell on my snout. I rolled on my back and seconds later She placed Her victorious foot on my chest and said:
And they call us the weaker sex.
Everyone laughed and I tried to get up.
Where do you think you’re going? Want another one?
There was an undertone of seriousness in Her voice and I gave in and lay motionless on the floor.
You told us your husband was your slave!
She laughed and rolled Her eyes.
In a manner of speaking, you idiot! Mistresses and slaves? Come on, grow up!
Well, talking about a straight knock-out! But the worst was yet to come, because one day She told me about Sylvia’s new boyfriend. He turned out to be submissive as well and he’d asked Sylvia to be his Mistress. She was willing to try and it was Sylvia, who turned out to be a natural born dominant!! That guy is now Her 24/7 slave.
True story. True bummer.
What did you just say?
Jeepers, talking about a short term memory! Well, I said, turn left on the next cor-
No, no, no. How did you call Me?
Call you?? I didn’t call you anything. Wha-
Are you sure?
Yes…. I was really flabbergasted.
She shrugged Her shoulders. OK, suit yourself.
Crazy tourists! I walked for an hour or so, bought myself an ice-cream and sat down on a bench by the water. And then, in a split second, everything came to a standstill. Oh my God, I called Her Mistress! I jumped up and sprinted to Heaven. But its doors were closed. On Holiday, a sign said. Bloody hell.
And they’re off, Ladies & gentlemen! Idiot in the middle with Lady Elsa’s Scrotum close behind and Silly Boy is followed by Bag-O’-Shit with Rocking Horse, driven by Madame Cindy, running hard a few heads away. Here comes Mistress Nikki’s Nightmare, neck and neck with Lady Jane’s Eunuch. Goddess Anja’s Idiot is struggling to keep up on the inside, pushing Rocking Horse out of the way. Nikki’s Nightmare is now leading by a nose. Bag-O’-Shit, driven by Baroness Barbara, is trading spots with Countess Carla’s Silly Boy, in the middle of the pack. Idiot is at the back now. And here come’s Lady Elsa’s Scrotum on the outside, running like the wind, passing Nightmare and Eunuch. They’re rounding the corner for the final approach. Everyone is getting up from their seats. Elsa’s Scrotum and Nikki’s Nightmare are now pulling away from the pack. Holy Moses, look at them going! Testicles sweeping from left to right, like castanets gone crazy. The others can’t keep up, they simply can’t keep up. Lady Elsa is skinning Her Scrotum with Her whip. She’s neck and neck with Nikki’s Nightmare …. Elsa’s Scrotum, Nikki’s Nightmare …. Fifty meters to go, the roar of the crowd is deafening … And it’s Elsa’s Scrotum who’s won the Prix d’Amérique 2021!!! What a race and what a nightmare for Mistress Nikki.
The rite to passage at the age of 18, is a transition from boy to man, from masturbation to chastity, from freedom to slavery. The ritual takes place in the month of September, at midnight, on a full moon. The youngsters are forced to crawl between two rows of Mistresses with long, leather paddles. After crawling the gauntlet they’re tied to the whipping-post. Now the real initiation begins. It starts with a soft leather paddle, followed by a 40-strand rubber flogger and then into the darkness of the night with a 4-lash leather whip, the cat-o’-nine-tails and the feared bullwhip. Some of these lads will not make a sound, others moan, groan and scream. After the whipping the chaps are forced to crawl the gauntlet again. This second run is more intens, brutal and cruel than the first one. Some 50 percent of the boys will be castrated, and the other half will spend their days in chastity. In the last stage of the ritual the newborn slaves are branded with a hot iron. It’s a painful, but necessary procedure. They’re now real slaves and ready for a life in servitude. March 2092 – Rites To Passage, Lady Jane, ISBN 923-4-11-724033-0.