Monthly Archives: May 2021


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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