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GODDESS KALINDA
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Monthly Archives: June 2022
STINGING NETTLES
After about three quarters of an hour we came to a clearing in the forest. The Ladies told me to take off my clothes, but allowed me to keep my boxers on. They tied me to a tree, because that’s what trees are for. I had to suppress a giggle, because they put on gloves. Gloves? It was sweltering hot outside! But I kept my cool and looked at them like it was the most natural thing in the world. They told me to wait there (very funny) and disappeared among the trees. Ten minutes later they returned with a bunch of stinging nettles, which made my not-a-worry-in-the-world smile melt like a glacier.
Ladies, please, I panicked, these things sting like crazy!
(Which shows there’s nothing going on between my ears.)
They laughed and whacked me across the face. And then the battle of the nettle began. They whipped the bloody things across my arms, my chest and legs. Within seconds my skin started itching and burning. I screamed, but they threatened to stuff nettles in my mouth, so I snapped shut. They pulled my boxers down, dropped one handful- two hands full- three hands full of nettles in the crotch and pulled it up again. Jesus Christ! Like sticking your scrotum in fresh lava! One of the Ladies firmly rubbed Her hand over my Vesuvius (well … ) and I wriggled in misery. They untied me and forced me to run through a huge field of nettles.
Chop, chop, we haven’t got all day! That’s it! And again! Faster, faster!
God, how I longed for the winter!
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KINKY CUISINE
A few weeks ago I found a recipe in a vintage Women’s Weekly magazine. It’s called Soup a la Lingerie. Easy to make and packed with flavour. The ingredients are:
- a panty (preferably the one you’re currently wearing)
- duct tape
- handcuffs or rope
- a bowl
- a full bladder
- an idiot, also known as a male creature
Now, tell the empty bottle, the idiot that is, to kneel down and cuff, or tie, his hands behind his back. It does not affect the taste of the soup, but it’s a nice addition. It’s like putting the kettle on, one might say. Next, take off your gorgeous panty and put it in a bowl. Squat over it and take a long hot piss. Soak that panty, drown it and let it suck up all the juice. Season it, if you like, with a bit of spit or a good old-fashioned fart. Tell the creature to open wide and stuff the soaked panty in his mouth. Wrap some duct tape around his head a few times to make sure that nothing goes to waste.
Let him simmer for about two to three hours. He’s been such a good boy (or not), he deserves it (or not). Pinch his nose from time to time if you want to put up the heat. You can also add certain naughty ingredients if you want. Faceslapping for example (aka stirring), carrots up his nose, broccoli in his ears (aka side dishes); anything goes. Well, that’s all for today on ‘Kinky Cuisine’.
Next time: roasted testicles in penis sauce.
Let him simmer for about two to three hours. He’s been such a good boy (or not), he deserves it (or not). Pinch his nose from time to time if you want to put up the heat. You can also add certain naughty ingredients if you want. Faceslapping for example (aka stirring), carrots up his nose, broccoli in his ears (aka side dishes); anything goes. Well, that’s all for today on ‘Kinky Cuisine’.
Next time: roasted testicles in penis sauce.
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FEMDOM IMPRESSMENT
I bought the secondhand book because of the handwritten inscription inside. It read:
Slave, April 16, 14:00, Brither-str. 14-III. Come alone and bring this book. Mistress A.
I knew, of course, that the message was meant for some else. I didn’t know any Mistress A. Also, the message could be years old for all I knew. Still, I was intrigued. So I visited Brither Street a couple of times and saw the house from the outside. I became a bit obsessed and I decided I wouldn’t be stopped by the mere technicality that I hadn’t met this Mistress before. Act innocent, I said to myself, and pretend to be a complete and utter moron. Which was, as you can imagine, easy enough.
April 16th came with stomach pains and I rang the doorbell precisely at two. There was a buzzing sound and the door opened. I was stunned, because I didn’t believe that would actually happen. I went up the stairs and noticed that one of the doors was open. I hesitantly stepped inside.
Hello?
I felt a sharp pain in my neck and turned around quickly. There was a nurse standing behind me, dressed in a short, latex uniform. She was holding a syringe in Her gloved hand.
Jesus, I screamed. You scared the shit out of me. What did you d-
I injected you with a strong sedative, She said. You better sit down.
Why shou-
SIT DOWN!
My legs gave way and I slumped into a chair. The room was spinning round and round.
Was it the word “slave” that made your dick tick like a gigantic sperm bomb, She giggled, or was it the word “Mistress?” Both perhaps. Anyway, you will be taken to the City of Femme, where you’ll spend the rest of your life in slavery.
Don’t be absurd!! I laughed hysterically. Read my lips: I’m not, repeat NOT, going.
I went.
Slave, April 16, 14:00, Brither-str. 14-III. Come alone and bring this book. Mistress A.
I knew, of course, that the message was meant for some else. I didn’t know any Mistress A. Also, the message could be years old for all I knew. Still, I was intrigued. So I visited Brither Street a couple of times and saw the house from the outside. I became a bit obsessed and I decided I wouldn’t be stopped by the mere technicality that I hadn’t met this Mistress before. Act innocent, I said to myself, and pretend to be a complete and utter moron. Which was, as you can imagine, easy enough.
April 16th came with stomach pains and I rang the doorbell precisely at two. There was a buzzing sound and the door opened. I was stunned, because I didn’t believe that would actually happen. I went up the stairs and noticed that one of the doors was open. I hesitantly stepped inside.
Hello?
I felt a sharp pain in my neck and turned around quickly. There was a nurse standing behind me, dressed in a short, latex uniform. She was holding a syringe in Her gloved hand.
Jesus, I screamed. You scared the shit out of me. What did you d-
I injected you with a strong sedative, She said. You better sit down.
Why shou-
SIT DOWN!
My legs gave way and I slumped into a chair. The room was spinning round and round.
Was it the word “slave” that made your dick tick like a gigantic sperm bomb, She giggled, or was it the word “Mistress?” Both perhaps. Anyway, you will be taken to the City of Femme, where you’ll spend the rest of your life in slavery.
Don’t be absurd!! I laughed hysterically. Read my lips: I’m not, repeat NOT, going.
I went.
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A PERFECT POTION
Once upon a time a prince went into the dark and haunted woods of Paroldo. After three hours he reached the cabin of the Witch.
I’m looking for a potion that turns a Woman into a lifestyle Dominant, he shyly whispered.
Interesting, the Witch hissed, a challenge!
She paced up and down, mumbling to Herself. The prince held his breath and tongue.
Two tablespoons of bear-snot, some dragon blood, cinnamon of course, 20 grams of cow’s bladder, one … no, let’s make that two hands of rat’s ass, one rabbit ear, a handful of nettles, a pinch of salt, some vinegar and … a cucumber perhaps? … yes, why not, we only live once …
She threw everything in the cauldron that was bubbling and smoking over the fire.
THEN! She shrieked, cackling with laughter, a special touch: My saliva.
She gargled and spat into the cauldron, grabbed a ladle and stirred it.
Clockwise and anticlockwise, She mumbled, that’s the trick.
It boiled and steamed for almost an hour. Then She took the red hot cauldron off the fire with Her bare hands and placed it on the ground.
Will it actually work, She whispered, or ….
She took the ladle and drank the boiling liquid like ice-tea. Nothing happened.
More nettles perhaps, She pondered, or is it the dragon blood …
I can come back some other time if you wan-
Know thou place, toad to be! She thundered. Don’t make Me whip you unconscious and crush you underneath My boots!
The prince rubbed his hands together and smiled: Can I have five bottles of that potion, please?
I’m looking for a potion that turns a Woman into a lifestyle Dominant, he shyly whispered.
Interesting, the Witch hissed, a challenge!
She paced up and down, mumbling to Herself. The prince held his breath and tongue.
Two tablespoons of bear-snot, some dragon blood, cinnamon of course, 20 grams of cow’s bladder, one … no, let’s make that two hands of rat’s ass, one rabbit ear, a handful of nettles, a pinch of salt, some vinegar and … a cucumber perhaps? … yes, why not, we only live once …
She threw everything in the cauldron that was bubbling and smoking over the fire.
THEN! She shrieked, cackling with laughter, a special touch: My saliva.
She gargled and spat into the cauldron, grabbed a ladle and stirred it.
Clockwise and anticlockwise, She mumbled, that’s the trick.
It boiled and steamed for almost an hour. Then She took the red hot cauldron off the fire with Her bare hands and placed it on the ground.
Will it actually work, She whispered, or ….
She took the ladle and drank the boiling liquid like ice-tea. Nothing happened.
More nettles perhaps, She pondered, or is it the dragon blood …
I can come back some other time if you wan-
Know thou place, toad to be! She thundered. Don’t make Me whip you unconscious and crush you underneath My boots!
The prince rubbed his hands together and smiled: Can I have five bottles of that potion, please?
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ON THE BEAT
Screaming, constable? What do you mean by that?
Well … like: “AHHH-H-H-H”, he said, with a nervous tremor in his voice. He found it hard to breathe and impossible to think clearly because he had never seen such a beautiful Lady before in his life. Her eyes were intense and powerful, Her skin flawless and Her smile irresistible. Her leather dress accentuated Her dazzling figure and there was an undeniable, and quite appealing, air of authority and confidence about Her.
A tormented cry of pain echoed through the building.
Sweet Jesus Christ! What was that! He shouted and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
Calm now, She soothed, that was not a cry of pain, it was a cry of pleasure. Come, follow Me.
She took him by the hand like a child and lead him into a room filled with cages, chains, whips and strange looking furniture. There was a naked fellow in there, covered in marks and strapped to some sort of bench.
Hello Inspector Barnaby, he said, smiling from ear to ear, this is awesome man!
The Lady squeezed his hand: See? What did I tell you. Are you ready to give it a try, constable?
Try??? No, no, not in a millio-
Oh, but you are! I can see it in your eyes. I will be here with you, every single step of the way. I would be very, very disappointed if you said no. Are you going to do that, constable? Are you really going to disappoint Me??
No … Ma’am, of … of course not, he whispered meekly.
That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get to the bottom, your bottom, of those screams, shall we?
Well … like: “AHHH-H-H-H”, he said, with a nervous tremor in his voice. He found it hard to breathe and impossible to think clearly because he had never seen such a beautiful Lady before in his life. Her eyes were intense and powerful, Her skin flawless and Her smile irresistible. Her leather dress accentuated Her dazzling figure and there was an undeniable, and quite appealing, air of authority and confidence about Her.
A tormented cry of pain echoed through the building.
Sweet Jesus Christ! What was that! He shouted and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
Calm now, She soothed, that was not a cry of pain, it was a cry of pleasure. Come, follow Me.
She took him by the hand like a child and lead him into a room filled with cages, chains, whips and strange looking furniture. There was a naked fellow in there, covered in marks and strapped to some sort of bench.
Hello Inspector Barnaby, he said, smiling from ear to ear, this is awesome man!
The Lady squeezed his hand: See? What did I tell you. Are you ready to give it a try, constable?
Try??? No, no, not in a millio-
Oh, but you are! I can see it in your eyes. I will be here with you, every single step of the way. I would be very, very disappointed if you said no. Are you going to do that, constable? Are you really going to disappoint Me??
No … Ma’am, of … of course not, he whispered meekly.
That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get to the bottom, your bottom, of those screams, shall we?
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TO PUT IT BLUNTLY
People are very, Very, VEry, VERy, VERY sensitive nowadays and even submissive creatures demand to be treated with respect. Now, I never had a high opinion of men in the first place, but this is a new and unprecedented level of stupidity. A demanding slave is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. You’re either demanding or a slave, but you can’t be both. If you think I’m being rude or disrespectful, then I suggest you take a long hard look in the mirror, because you are not a slave. Not even the beginning of a slave. To Me, a slave is like toilet paper – useful at certain times of the day, but ‘respect’ is not the word that comes to mind while wiping My bottom.
And please, for the love of God, don’t tell Me you’re one of those tiresome creatures who demands to be heard! If so, may I suggest you join a choir? Go into politics? Train a parrot? Find a job as a railway station announcer? ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please, the train from God-knows-where is now arriving at platform nummer two’.
And please, for the love of God, don’t tell Me you’re one of those tiresome creatures who demands to be heard! If so, may I suggest you join a choir? Go into politics? Train a parrot? Find a job as a railway station announcer? ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please, the train from God-knows-where is now arriving at platform nummer two’.
Let’s be honest, in the grand scheme of things you’re an insect, a broom with testicles, a fart gone wrong, an empty vase, an afterthought, one of evolution most dreadful mistakes. Why the hell would I want to listen to your boring stories? Call a sex chat line. Or go and see a therapist, while you’re at it. But whatever you do, leave Me out of it. I’m a Mistress for God’s sake, not an extension of the Wailing Wall. So no, I don’t have to convince you that I’m a real Mistress; you have to convince Me that you’re a real slave.
Lady Blunt
Lady Blunt
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BACK IN THE DAY
I never knew when, or even if, there would be a next time. Sometimes She wanted to see me daily, sometimes a couple of times a month and sometimes not at all for long periods of time. The dreadful uncertainty was a wicked touch and a torment in itself. She was an old-school disciplinarian and a passionate believer in Female Superiority. Her word was law and Her authority was beyond all doubt. She was twelve years older than me, and, needless to say, at least twelve-hundred times wiser. She was a beautiful, elegant and sophisticated Lady who never raised voice. Because, She explained: ‘if you can’t control yourself, then how can you possibly control a slave.’ She also never asked whether or not I enjoyed the harsh training sessions. She once said: ‘Don’t ask how the session was for you; ask how it was for Me.’ What made it so special and memorable was the ease and casualness of it all: She led, I followed; She punished, I suffered; She ruled, I obeyed. God, life can be so simple sometimes. I served and suffered for Her for many years and yet I could hardly sleep the night before a meeting (aka beating). I also often stammered and blushed, because I felt so small and insignificant in Her presence. I couldn’t know it back then, but She belonged to the fast dying breed of genuine lifestyle Mistresses and I will always be grateful that I had the privilege of knowing Her.
slave james
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