Monthly Archives: June 2021

WHEN THE DAY COMES

A Woman was not allowed to attend university, to vote (suffrage), divorce Her husband, open a Bank account or sign a legal document without Her husband’s approval. And if that was not enough, a husband was legally allowed to rape and beat his Wife. In the 19th and early 20th century Women stood up against this male-dominated society that had been in place for 4,000 years. The men were not amused. They mocked and ridiculed these Women, assaulted and beat them. In Colchester a mob smashed the windows of the hotel where Josephine Butler was staying, and stones were hurled into Her room. They threatened to burn the place down unless Mrs. Butler was delivered to them. She fled through a back window and hid inside an unused warehouse: I stood there in the darkness and alone, hearing some of the violent men tramping past. Others were imprisoned and force-fed by inserting a tube through their nostrils and shoving it down into the stomach. Militant suffragettes smashed the windows of hundreds of shops, planted bombs, and burned down cricket- and horse-racing pavilions. Suffragette Emily Davison threw herself under King George V’s horse in the 1913 Epsom Derby race. She died of Her injuries. It was, quite literally, a battle of the sexes.
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?

AHH-CHOO: A DOG’S TALE

Once upon a time a Mistress adopted a human dog named Ahh-Choo (aka Gesundheit), because She wanted a dog to protect the property. He was not allowed in the house of course, because that would send Sissy Slave Sasha into a fit of hysteria. And so Ahh-Choo ate and slept in a dog house in the garden. Every morning he walked his Mistress to the train station, because She whipped, caned and tortured in a neighboring city. In the evening he would be waiting for Her again at the station. Each day, every day.
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.

SAILING DAY

Do I like sailing?? Mistress, they call me Catamaran the 3rd, Lord of the Lakes, Dick on Deck, Prince of the High Seas! Look at my mast, look at that solid piece of happiness! Ready to be rigged and sail to new horizons and secret islands!!
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.

THE CARPET BEATER

She wanted Her husband (aka Her slave) to turn the dilapidated barn into a luxurious guest house. To be honest, it would have been easier to turn a shopping cart into a Rolls Royce, but, as always, he had no saying in this. She was in charge and had him by the balls. Figuratively and, quite often, literally. So he did what he’d always done: he obeyed and worked his ass off. The barn was smelly, dirty, dusty and filled with spider webs and by the end of each day he’d gathered more dust than a broom in its heyday. But She, always the practical one, had just the solution for that: an old fashioned carpet beater! Handwoven and made from strong rattan reed. Yes, it’s scary sometimes with the things these Women come up with. Anyways, at the end of a hard days work, She would beat the crap out of him with that thing. Not because She wanted to punish him, but because She wanted to dust him thoroughly, meticulously, exhaustively, rigorously, methodically, painstakingly. After that She would hose him down in the backyard with the garden hose. Because he was not going to contaminate the shower with all sorts of creepy bacteria. No, sir! Not on Her watch!
Man, isn’t She one in a million?

THE BREEDING FACILITY

He opened the front door and a Woman jabbed a needle into his arm. When he woke up he was naked and strapped to a rack.
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.

LABOUR OF LOVE

It was Sunday, so I handed over my pocket-money to Karin.
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.

FEMDOM PILLORY

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