Category Archives: BEDTIME STORIES


It was Christmas morning and everything was covered in a thick white blanket of snow. The whole village was still fast asleep when the doorbell rang. Tom bolted upright in bed, startled and somewhat confused.
Jesus Christ, he murmered. It was Christmas after all.
He ran downstairs as fast as he could because the bell kept ringing. He flung the front door wide open … and there She was, his Mistress, dressed as Santa. Her sleigh was in front of the house and the naked sleigh slaves looked like frozen poles. North Poles, needless to say.
Mistress! What a surpr-
She pushed him aside like a rag doll.
M-e-e-e-e-e-e-rrrrrr-y Christmas, She thundered. She grabbed his hair and dragged him through the hall. Santa has brought you a very special present, My boy! She showed him a strap-on dildo in the shape of a Christmas tree. Flickering lights and all.
Shut your mouth and open your ass. NOW!
He moaned, dropped his pants and bend over.
Let’s bring the spirit of Christmas to you and your biggie bum! She bellowed.
She fucked him all over and forced him to sing “Jingle Bells”. All the way. She kept at it for twenty long minutes, pulled the thing out and left him for pegged on the floor.
Have a holly jolly Christmas, My lad, She howled, it’s time for Me to GO-HO-HO.


How long have You been a pig farmer? He asked, watching the pigs in the sty.
For a long time already, She smiled.
He nodded and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
Anyway, he said, over the last twelve months, several men have gone missing after last been seen in this area. Have you seen any of these men, by any chance, Madame? Tim Habberly (Oink! one of the pigs shouted), Adam Calypso (Oink! another one screamed), Harry Frontella (Oink!), Tim Lobster (Oink!), Freddy Chappel (Oink!), Augustus Ha
I could do with a cup of tea, She calmly said, do you care to join me, sir?
He looked a bit taken aback. Tea … yes … yes … thank You.
She threw some herbs into a cauldron and placed it on a fire.
We let this brew for a good few minutes and then you can tell Me all about the missing pi- men, the missing men.
He frowned and wondered. But it was simply too hot for sleuthing and he let it pass.
She poured the tea and handed him a cup.
This, She smiled, is a life changer.
I drink to that, Madame.
And so he did. Minutes later his body began to twitch and jerk violently. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. His body made cracking noises, his ears lengthened and his face became a snout. He turned into a pig.
Welcome to My herd, the Witch laughed, and put him in the pigsty with the others.
He understood everything She said, but he could not speak. All he could do was grunt and wiggle his tail.


The duel between Bill “Coconuts” Branson, undoubtedly the most notorious outlaw of his time, and Tilly the Tit (a niece of Billy the Kid), was witnessed by hundreds of spectators. It was noon, the sun was hot, the sand dry and the salon empty. Tilly shot the gun out of Bill’s hand and then, without blinking an eye, shot his hat from his head. Bill was not happy (he seldom was, to be honest) and came charging at Her like an angry bull. She could have shot him point-blank, but didn’t. Instead She lashed out and punched him hard on the nose, jammed Her fingers into his eyes and kicked him hard between the legs (aka: from coconuts to peanuts). Bill went down like a sack of potatoes and Tilly grabbed Her lasso and reduced him to an oversized roulade.
From now on, I’m the Boss down here, Tilly said to the crowd. If you have a problem with that, then leave. I’ll give you a one day’s head start. If I catch you, and I will, I will cut off your balls and feed them to the pigs. If you’re a woman, I’ll sell you to a whorehouse. You have My word.
She looked down on Bill, who was still in real pain.
And you, She smiled, I’m going to keep you as My pet.
Legend has it that Tilly hasn’t aged a day and still runs the town with an iron fist.


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.


Once upon a time a Girl called Little Red Riding Boots was on Her way to see Her grandmother. And, as always, She met Mr. Wolf along the way.
Good-day, Riding Boots, said he. Whither away so early?
To granny, if you must know, sighed She.
He stared at Her boots and shook his head disapprovingly: These are not riding boots, Little Red!
One word for you, Wolf, She growled: fuck off.
He said something very, very naughty and disappeared into the trees. One hour later She arrived at the cottage. Her grandmother looked very strange.
Oh, grandmother, said She, what hairy arms you have!
It’s true, child, I look like woolly mammoth nowadays. Better call me Hairy Granny from now on.
But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!
Yes, I’ve been sniffing some coke, and I’m tripping all over the place.
Grandmother, what an enormous dick you have.”
All the better to fu-
Little Red Riding Boots grabbed the slithering dick with Her left- and a large butcher’s knife from Her basket with Her right hand. She pushed the knife underneath his scrotum.
Hello, Wolfie! She grinned. Look in My basket.
He obeyed and screamed in horror.
Jesus! Are these … testicles?
Very good! Ain’t they cute? They belong, or should I say belonged, to My other victims.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, said he, with renewed confidence, I know this tale and this is not how the story goes.
True, said She, but this is how your story ends.


Life in the workhouse was hard. Up at six, work till dark, allowing half an hour for breakfast, thirty minutes for luncheon and two quarters of an hour for dinner; in bed by eight in summer and seven in winter. Food was very basic: bread & butter for breakfast and lunch, potatoes and some veggies for dinner. Oliver didn’t know all this when he entered the workhouse. He was new and stupid; a recipe for disaster. So one day, after two potatoes and a spoonful of cabbage, he rose from the table and went to Mistress Cook.
Please Mistress, he whispered, I want some more.
Mistress Cook gazed in stupefied astonishment on Oliver.
What! She said at length, in a faint voice.
Please Mistress, replied the numb-nut, I want some more.
She hit him hard with the ladle on the forehead and the sound of emptiness resonated through the hall. Mistress Cook rushed into Staff Only room in great excitement.
Oliver has asked for more!
Horror was depicted on every face.
For more! Madame Blutwurst screamed with a pale face. He might have shown some appreciation, after all we’ve done for him!
Let’s hang him, Mistress Noose suggested, let’s hang him here and now.
An animated discussion followed and in the end they decided to donate him to a galley ship. So remember lads: be happy with what you’ve got and never, never ever, ask for more.
April 2113 – Young Slave Boys: ISBN 978-122430-422-6


One upon a time there was a Greek philosopher named Aristotle (384-322 BC). He had a brain the size of a Greek island and a dick the size of an Olympic swimming pool. He was the tutor of Alexander the Great, who had a crush on a Lady called Phyllis. Aristotle was not amused: do you want to be great in bed, he asked, or great on the battlefield? A tricky dick question and Alexander decided to go for the battlefield. Alexander the Great Idiot, one might say.
Now it was Phyllis’ turn to be pissed. She decided to seduce Aristotle and teach him a lesson. One day She walked by barefooted, which was the equivalent back then of making a porn movie. Aristotle was smitten with Her and begged Her to have sex with him. Not a romantic dinner, not a walk along the beach at sunset, not a good conversation about psychology or the latest iPhone, no sir! Just wham-bam: Phyllis, I wanna fuck You. The brute.
On one condition, Ari, Phyllis said, you will come to my chamber crawling on hand and foot, in order to carry Me like a horse. 
Aristotle obeyed, put on saddle and bridle and went on all fours. She grabbed a whip and spurred him on with a vengeance. The members of the court watched in awe and admiration, as Phyllis humiliated this great man.
Come on, full throttle, Aristotle! She demanded.
And from that moment on, dear children, everyone called him Aristhrottle.


Once upon a time the sun was shining in Chicago and he was sitting in a bar, drinking alone. Then Lady Death walked in and stared him right in the eye. He became as pale as death (how appropriate), because She was a merciless Enslaver of Men. She looked a bit startled though, but before She could say anything, he took a sprint and jumped straight through the window.
You’re not going to get me, Bitch, he screamed hysterically.
He drove full throttle to JFK airport in New York and flew to Paris. He stopped shaving, pulled out his front teeth, bought glasses, a different outfit and a Fiat 500L (1969). He drove from Paris to Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria and finally to the city of Samarra in Iraq. Turned out his car wasn’t fit for long-distance driving (better said: his car wasn’t fit for driving), so it took him nine days to cover the distance. But he made it, he cheated death and the eternal chains of servitude. He checked into a small hotel and went outside to find something to eat. He walked through a maze of old narrow streets, stairs and alleys, turned a corner and bumped into…Lady Death.
WHAT! he screamed. Are you serious! How is this possible, I escaped you in Chicago!
There you are, My new slave to be, Lady Death smiled. I was so surprised to see you in Chicago, I couldn’t believe My eyes! For I knew we had an appointment here today, in Samarra.


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.